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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5978-8.txt b/5978-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebf23df --- /dev/null +++ b/5978-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9359 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, An Autobiography, by Anthony Trollope + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Autobiography + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: October 4, 2002 [eBook #5978] +This revision posted on April 28, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY*** + + +E-text prepared by Jesse Chandler +and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + + + + +CONTENTS + + PREFACE. + I. MY EDUCATION, 1815-1834. + II. MY MOTHER. + III. THE GENERAL POST OFFICE, 1834-1841. + IV. IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS, 1841-1848. + V. MY FIRST SUCCESS, 1849-1855. + VI. _BARCHESTER TOWERS_ AND _THE THREE CLERKS_, 1855-1858. + VII. _DOCTOR THORNE_--_THE BERTRAMS_--_THE WEST INDIES + AND THE SPANISH MAIN_. + VIII. THE _CORNHILL MAGAZINE_ AND _FRAMLEY PARSONAGE_. + IX. _CASTLE RICHMOND_--_BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON_--_NORTH + AMERICA_--_ORLEY FARM_. + X. _THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON_--_CAN YOU FORGIVE + HER?_--_RACHEL RAY_--AND THE _FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_. + XI. _THE CLAVERINGS_--THE _PALL MALL GAZETTE_--_NINA + BALATKA_--AND _LINDA TRESSEL_. + XII. ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM. + XIII. ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY. + XIV. ON CRITICISM. + XV. _THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET_--LEAVING THE POST + OFFICE--_ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE_. + XVI. BEVERLEY. + XVII. THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT + WITH AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS. + XVIII. _THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON_--_SIR HARRY HOTSPUR_--_AN + EDITOR'S TALES_--_CÆSAR_. + XIX. _RALPH THE HEIR_--_THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS_--_LADY + ANNA_--_AUSTRALIA_. + XX. _THE WAY WE LIVE NOW_ AND _THE PRIME MINISTER_--CONCLUSION. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said that +he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his death, +containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much of +it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from me, +given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir of my +life. My intention is that they shall be published after my death, +and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your discretion +whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also to your +discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. But I +would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. If you +wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in the shape of +a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there is a postscript: +"The publication, if made at all, should be effected as soon as +possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of December, +1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass the +book through the press conformably to the above instructions. I have +placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, and I +do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions of any +other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my father's +own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. I have +suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount to two +printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any of his +own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +I see from my father's manuscript, and from his papers, that the +first two chapters of this memoir were written in the latter part of +1875, that he began the third chapter early in January, 1876, and +that he finished the record before the middle of April in that year. +I state this, though there are indications in the book by which it +might be seen at what time the memoir was being written. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give in +a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he completed +his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighbourhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his life: +he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed him not +to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke willingly on +hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up his favourite +amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there should be an end +of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South Africa, and returned +early in the following year with a book on the colony already +written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of a party of ladies and +gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland in the "Mastiff," one of +Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey lasted altogether sixteen +days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. Burns were the hospitable +entertainers. When my father returned, he wrote a short account of +_How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland_. The book was printed, but was +intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. He +would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself less +than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was always +done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were published +after the last included in the list which he himself has given at the +end of the second volume:-- + + + An Eye for an Eye, 1879 + Cousin Henry, 1879 + Thackeray, 1879 + The Duke's Children, 1880 + Life of Cicero, 1880 + Ayala's Angel, 1881 + Doctor Wortle's School, 1881 + Frau Frohmann and other Stories, 1882 + Lord Palmerston, 1882 + The Fixed Period, 1882 + Kept in the Dark, 1882 + Marion Fay, 1882 + Mr. Scarborough's Family, 1883 + + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called _The Landleaguers_, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called _An Old Man's Love_, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighbourhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved his +asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen months. +In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but from this +journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested in, and was +very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the country. Few +men knew Ireland better than he did. He had lived there for sixteen +years, and his Post Office work had taken him into every part of +the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his last novel, _The +Landleaguers_, which, as stated above, was unfinished when he died. +This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not rid his mind +of the fact that he had a story already in the course of publication, +but which he had not yet completed. In no other case, except _Framley +Parsonage_, did my father publish even the first number of any novel +before he had fully completed the whole tale. + +On the evening of the 3d of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His mind +also had failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return to +him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became rarer, +but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind was sound +or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of December +following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire to +supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the main +incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In what I +have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +HENRY M. TROLLOPE. +September, 1883. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MY EDUCATION. +1815-1834. + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, or +any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there that +has done none? But this I protest;--that nothing that I say shall be +untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give to myself, +or others, honour which I do not believe to have been fairly won. + +My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young gentleman +could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of poverty and +gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an utter want on +my own part of that juvenile manhood which enables some boys to hold +up their heads even among the distresses which such a position is +sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and of +those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny and of +ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New College, and +Winchester was the destination of my brothers and myself; but as he +had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as the school offered +an education almost gratuitous to children living in the parish, he, +with a certain aptitude to do things differently from others, which +accompanied him throughout his life, determined to use that august +seminary as a "t'other school" for Winchester, and sent three of +us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. My father at +this time was a Chancery barrister practising in London, occupying +dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old Square, Lincoln's +Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion did become absolutely +suicidal.[1] He was, as I have been informed by those quite competent +to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, but plagued +with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from him. In his +early days he was a man of some small fortune and of higher hopes. +These stood so high at the time of my birth, that he was felt to be +entitled to a country house, as well as to that in Keppel Street; and +in order that he might build such a residence, he took the farm. This +place he called Julians, and the land runs up to the foot of the hill +on which the school and church stand,--on the side towards London. +Things there went much against him; the farm was ruinous, and I +remember that we all regarded the Lord Northwick of those days as a +cormorant who was eating us up. My father's clients deserted him. He +purchased various dark gloomy chambers in and about Chancery Lane, +and his purchases always went wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, +an old uncle, whose heir he was to have been, married and had a +family! The house in London was let; and also the house he built at +Harrow, from which he descended to a farmhouse on the land, which +I have endeavoured to make known to some readers under the name of +Orley Farm. This place, just as it was when we lived there, is to +be seen in the frontispiece to the first edition of that novel, +having had the good fortune to be delineated by no less a pencil than +that of John Millais. + + [Footnote 1: A pupil of his destroyed himself in the rooms.] + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow School +from the bigger house, and may probably have been received among the +aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a day-boarder at +Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at any rate as other +day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well treated, but I +doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy which I endured. I +was only seven, and I think that boys at seven are now spared among +their more considerate seniors. I was never spared; and was not even +allowed to run to and fro between our house and the school without a +daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance was against me. I remember +well, when I was still the junior boy in the school, Dr. Butler, +the head-master, stopping me in the street, and asking me, with all +the clouds of Jove upon his brow and all the thunder in his voice, +whether it was possible that Harrow School was disgraced by so +disreputably dirty a little boy as I! Oh, what I felt at that +moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not doubt that I was +dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must have known me had he +seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was in the habit of flogging +me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur Drury. +This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the advice +of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my father's +friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that my +juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the way +of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other boys +than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. Even +here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one occasion, +four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators of some +nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even guess; but +I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged to have +been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out a sermon, +and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the whole of one +term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were not allowed to +visit the playground till the sermon was finished. Mine was only +done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, when she saw us, +shook her head with pitying horror. There were ever so many other +punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke my heart, knowing +myself to be innocent, and suffering also under the almost equally +painful feeling that the other three--no doubt wicked boys--were the +curled darlings of the school, who would never have selected me to +share their wickedness with them. I contrived to learn, from words +that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned me because I, having +come from a public school, might be supposed to be the leader of +wickedness! On the first day of the next term he whispered to me +half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. With all a stupid boy's +slowness, I said nothing; and he had not the courage to carry +reparation further. All that was fifty years ago, and it burns me now +as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered curs those boys must +have been not to have told the truth!--at any rate as far as I was +concerned. I remember their names well, and almost wish to write them +here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and the +younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost his +chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions of my +father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man was +never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the prize +which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our reach. My +eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went to Oxford, +taking three exhibitions from the school, though he lost the great +glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well known to the +public as a writer in connection with all Italian subjects. He is +still living as I now write. But my other brother died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in this +case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming should be +a business in which he might make money without any special education +or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is the one in which an +accurate knowledge of what things should be done, and the best manner +of doing them, is most necessary. And it is one also for success in +which a sufficient capital is indispensable. He had no knowledge, +and, when he took this second farm, no capital. This was the last +step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester, my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that he had +an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little goods, +such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out to the +still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an opening +might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar or +extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money came +I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought, and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval of +some year and a half during which he and I were at Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more of +brotherhood. But in those school-days he was, of all my foes, the +worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which submits, +or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger boys from the +elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher and ruler, he +had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well how he used to +exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. Hang a little boy +for stealing apples, he used to say, and other little boys will not +steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded elsewhere, but he +stuck to it with conservative energy. The result was that, as a part +of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big stick. That such +thrashings should have been possible at a school as a continual part +of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a very ill condition of +school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be done +with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering about +among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare out of +a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It was not that +I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course knew +that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of boys to +be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other they do +usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I suffered +horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend to whom I +could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and ugly, and, I +have no doubt, skulked about in a most unattractive manner. Of course +I was ill-dressed and dirty. But, ah! how well I remember all the +agonies of my young heart; how I considered whether I should always +be alone; whether I could not find my way up to the top of that +college tower, and from thence put an end to everything? And a worse +thing came than the stoppage of the supplies from the shopkeepers. +Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, which we called +battels, and which was advanced to us out of the pocket of the +second master. On one awful day the second master announced to me +that my battels would be stopped. He told me the reason,--the battels +for the last half-year had not been repaid; and he urged his own +unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a shilling a week +would not have been much,--even though pocket-money from other +sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all knew it! Every +now and again, perhaps three or four times in a half-year, these +weekly shillings were given to certain servants of the college, in +payment, it may be presumed, for some extra services. And now, when +it came to the turn of any servant, he received sixty-nine shillings +instead of seventy, and the cause of the defalcation was explained +to him. I never saw one of those servants without feeling that I had +picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed to +have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, have +gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional number +of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there would +have been no funds for my maintenance at the University till I should +have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's endowment, and my +career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm he had +hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three miles from +Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from this house I was +again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let those who know what +is the usual appearance and what the usual appurtenances of a boy at +such a school, consider what must have been my condition among them, +with a daily walk of twelve miles through the lanes, added to the +other little troubles and labours of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, walking +to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst period of +my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age at which I +could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion from all social +intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was despised by all my +companions. The farmhouse was not only no more than a farmhouse, but +was one of those farmhouses which seem always to be in danger of +falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it crept downwards from +house to stables, from stables to barns, from barns to cowsheds, and +from cowsheds to dung-heaps, one could hardly tell where one began +and the other ended! There was a parlour in which my father lived, +shut up among big books; but I passed my most jocund hours in the +kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's daughter. The farm +kitchen might be very well through the evening, when the horrors of +the school were over; but it all added to the cruelty of the days. +A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk at Oxford, has not +pleasant days, or used not to have them half a century ago; but his +position was recognised, and the misery was measured. I was a sizar +at a fashionable school, a condition never premeditated. What right +had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from a dunghill, to sit next +to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, next to the sons of big +tradesmen who had made their ten thousand a-year? The indignities I +endured are not to be described. As I look back it seems to me that +all hands were turned against me,--those of masters as well as boys. +I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor did I learn anything,--for I +was taught nothing. The only expense, except that of books, to which +a house-boarder was then subject, was the fee to a tutor, amounting, +I think, to ten guineas. My tutor took me without the fee; but when +I heard him declare the fact in the pupil-room before the boys, +I hardly felt grateful for the charity. I was never a coward, and +cared for a thrashing as little as any boy, but one cannot make a +stand against the acerbities of three hundred tyrants without a +moral courage of which at that time I possessed none. I know that I +skulked, and was odious to the eyes of those I admired and envied. At +last I was driven to rebellion, and there came a great fight,--at the +end of which my opponent had to be taken home for a while. If these +words be ever printed, I trust that some schoolfellow of those days +may still be left alive who will be able to say that, in claiming +this solitary glory of my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to get +me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hay-field on +holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much profit. +My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years of his +life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering agony +from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when suffering. He +had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopædia Ecclesiastica, as +he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment of his death. It +was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical terms, including the +denominations of every fraternity of monks and every convent of nuns, +with all their orders and subdivisions. Under crushing disadvantages, +with few or no books of reference, with immediate access to no +library, he worked at his most ungrateful task with unflagging +industry. When he died, three numbers out of eight had been published +by subscription; and are now, I fear, unknown, and buried in the +midst of that huge pile of futile literature, the building up of +which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in the +hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. From +my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to take +my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the morning, +and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat the Greek +alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold my head +inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, he might +be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or dropping his +shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for the education of +his children, though I think none ever knew less how to go about the +work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, he never recognised the +need. He allowed himself no distraction, and did not seem to think it +was necessary to a child. I cannot bethink me of aught that he ever +did for my gratification; but for my welfare,--for the welfare of +us all,--he was willing to make any sacrifice. At this time, in the +farmhouse at Harrow Weald, he could not give his time to teach me, +for every hour that he was not in the fields was devoted to his monks +and nuns; but he would require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and +Gradus before me. As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed +determination to make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon +me, or of the hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great +energy in after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly +altered, or whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never +punished me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but +in passion he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with +the great folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were +the two first volumes of Cooper's novel, called _The Prairie_, a +relic--probably a dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's +library. Other books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many +dozen times I read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a walk +along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather fine, +and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same lanes +four times a-day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with all the +accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I might have +been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance by my +boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I was so +known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler when I +was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have said the +same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his life was +able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became Dean of +Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called Orley +Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at Harrow Weald. +Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved circumstances. The +three miles became half a mile, and probably some salutary changes +were made in my wardrobe. My mother and my sisters, too, were +there. And a great element of happiness was added to us all in the +affectionate and life-enduring friendship of the family of our close +neighbour, Colonel Grant. But I was never able to overcome--or even +to attempt to overcome--the absolute isolation of my school position. +Of the cricket-ground or racket-court I was allowed to know nothing. +And yet I longed for these things with an exceeding longing. I +coveted popularity with a covetousness that was almost mean. It +seemed to me that there would be an Elysium in the intimacy of those +very boys whom I was bound to hate because they hated me. Something +of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life. +Not that I have ever shunned to speak of them as openly as I am +writing now, but that when I have been claimed as schoolfellow by +some of those many hundreds who were with me either at Harrow or at +Winchester, I have felt that I had no right to talk of things from +most of which I was kept in estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry to +Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship that +would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. There +were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried for a +sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile attempt +for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then the +idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate it +was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance only +as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt and +ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt had +been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very little +attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember any lessons +either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I certainly was +not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, but I do assert +that I have no recollection of other tuition except that in the dead +languages. At the school at Sunbury there was certainly a writing +master and a French master. The latter was an extra, and I never had +extras. I suppose I must have been in the writing master's class, but +though I can call to mind the man, I cannot call to mind his ferule. +It was by their ferules that I always knew them, and they me. I feel +convinced in my mind that I have been flogged oftener than any human +being alive. It was just possible to obtain five scourgings in one +day at Winchester, and I have often boasted that I obtained them all. +Looking back over half a century, I am not quite sure whether the +boast is true; but if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such waste +of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I read and +enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself understood +in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have acquired +since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork of the +language which will in the process of years make its way slowly, even +through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition in which I do +not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left Harrow I was +nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, I think, the +seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation upwards. I bear +in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used to be showered +about; but I never got a prize. From the first to the last there was +nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except the way in which I +licked the boy who had to be taken home to be cured. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MY MOTHER. + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of all +the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly because +filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent who made +for herself a considerable name in the literature of her day, and +partly because there were circumstances in her career well worthy +of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William Milton, vicar +of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been a fellow of New +College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she married my father. +Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters from her to him fell +into my hand in a very singular way, having been found in the house +of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, sent them to me. They were +then about sixty years old, and had been written some before and some +after her marriage, over the space of perhaps a year. In no novel +of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have I seen a correspondence at +the same time so sweet, so graceful, and so well expressed. But the +marvel of these letters was in the strange difference they bore to +the love-letters of the present day. They are, all of them, on square +paper, folded and sealed, and addressed to my father on circuit; but +the language in each, though it almost borders on the romantic, is +beautifully chosen, and fit, without change of a syllable, for the +most critical eye. What girl now studies the words with which she +shall address her lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? +She dearly likes a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire +familiarity with a new and strange being. There is something in that, +too, pleasant to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life +does not conduce to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my +mother was a writer of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic +feeling clung to her to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family.[2] My married +sister added to the number by one little anonymous high church story, +called _Chollerton_. + + [Footnote 2: The family of Estienne, the great French printers + of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were + at least nine or ten, did more perhaps for the production of + literature than any other family. But they, though they edited, + and not unfrequently translated the works which they published, + were not authors in the ordinary sense.] + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went to +America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the world. +She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal _rôle_, and +professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from the +wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. An +Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from the +clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, or a +French _prolétaire_ with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in every +way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so thorough, +and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she generally +got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it must be +acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her books, +and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best were Dante +and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such ladies +were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept over the +persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized with +avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown Scott, +and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. With the +literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets of the +past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. Her +life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was easy, +luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own aspirations +sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary people, of +whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; but till long +after middle life she never herself wrote a line for publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish my +brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional object +of breaking up her English home without pleading broken fortunes +to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, she built a +bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have been embarked +in that speculation. It could not have been much, and I think that +others also must have suffered. But she looked about her, at her +American cousins, and resolved to write a book about them. This book +she brought back with her in 1831, and published it early in 1832. +When she did this she was already fifty. When doing this she was +aware that unless she could so succeed in making money, there was +no money for any of the family. She had never before earned a +shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable sum from the +publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two sums of £400 +each within a few months; and from that moment till nearly the time +of her death, at any rate for more than twenty years, she was in the +receipt of a considerable income from her writings. It was a late age +at which to begin such a career. + +_The Domestic Manners of the Americans_ was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. What +though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they put +their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? The +Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she told them +so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so pretty in +a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes were very +bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the family from +ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book on +Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which I have +called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate comforts. Of +the mixture of joviality and industry which formed her character, it +is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. The industry was a +thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary that any one who +lived with her should see it. She was at her table at four in the +morning, and had finished her work before the world had begun to be +aroused. But the joviality was all for others. She could dance with +other people's legs, eat and drink with other people's palates, be +proud with the lustre of other people's finery. Every mother can do +that for her own daughters; but she could do it for any girl whose +look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even when she was at work, +the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure to her. She had much, +very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came hard to her, so much being +required,--for she was extravagant, and liked to have money to spend; +but of all people I have known she was the most joyous, or, at any +rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, during +which I was still at the school, and at the end of which I was nearly +nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My father, who, when +he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and nuns, still kept a +horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as it had been decided +that I should leave the school then, instead of remaining, as had +been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned very early in the +morning, to drive him up to London. He had been ill, and must still +have been very ill indeed when he submitted to be driven by any one. +It was not till we had started that he told me that I was to put him +on board the Ostend boat. This I did, driving him through the city +down to the docks. It was not within his nature to be communicative, +and to the last he never told me why he was going to Ostend. +Something of a general flitting abroad I had heard before, but why he +should have flown the first, and flown so suddenly, I did not in the +least know till I returned. When I got back with the gig, the house +and furniture were all in the charge of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +harness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The little +piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand and carried +through successfully was of no special service to any of us. I +drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage to the +ironmonger for £17, the exact sum which he claimed as being due to +himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed to think +that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy that the +ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, for +in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it is +now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, and +a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and things +like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through a gap +between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend Colonel +Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the Grant +girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To such +forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and between us +we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, amidst the +anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal violence, of +the men in charge of the property. I still own a few books that were +thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all +women, his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and +established ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of +Bruges. At this time, and till my father's death, everything was +done with money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the +house,--this being the third that she had put in order since she +came back from America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother Henry +had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. And though +as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began to feel +that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My father was +broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could sit at his table +he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My elder sister and I +were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate hanger-on, that most +hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy of nineteen, without any idea +of a career, or a profession, or a trade. As well as I can remember +I was fairly happy, for there were pretty girls at Bruges with whom +I could fancy that I was in love; and I had been removed from the +real misery of school. But as to my future life I had not even an +aspiration. Now and again there would arise a feeling that it was +hard upon my mother that she should have to do so much for us, that +we should be idle while she was forced to work so constantly; but we +should probably have thought more of that had she not taken to work +as though it were the recognised condition of life for an old lady of +fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity for +peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said so, and +we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's most +visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick men in +the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The novels went +on, of course. We had already learned to know that they would be +forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were forthcoming. +The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal places in my +mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many circumstances; +but I doubt much whether I could write one when my whole heart was by +the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing herself into two +parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear from the troubles of +the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, I never saw equalled. I +do not think that the writing of a novel is the most difficult task +which a man may be called upon to do; but it is a task that may be +supposed to demand a spirit fairly at ease. The work of doing it with +a troubled spirit killed Sir Walter Scott. My mother went through it +unscathed in strength, though she performed all the work of day-nurse +and night-nurse to a sick household;--for there were soon three of +them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and French, +of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year was allowed +me, and in order that it might be accomplished without expense, I +undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school then kept by +William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of the masters at +Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is now, after an +interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating as clergyman at +that place.[3] To Brussels I went, and my heart still sinks within +me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to me the tuition +of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went there to learn +French, and that their parents were not particular as to their +classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions I was sent +to take the school out for a walk; but that after the second attempt +Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not stand any +further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind any learning +by me of other languages; but as I only remained in that position for +six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not been as yet commenced. +At the end of the six weeks a letter reached me, offering me a +clerkship in the General Post Office, and I accepted it. Among my +mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. Freeling, the wife of +Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis Freeling, then ruled the +Post Office. She had heard of my desolate position, and had begged +from her father-in-law the offer of a berth in his own office. + + [Footnote 3: He died two years after these words were written.] + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on the +balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the heart +should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was now +ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, though I +had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any one. And my +father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not know it. And my +mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to England, thinking +that the vicinity of so much sickness might be injurious to her. All +this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in the spring of which +year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother was left alone in +a big house outside the town, with two Belgian women-servants, to +nurse these dying patients--the patients being her husband and +children--and to write novels for the sustenance of the family! +It was about this period of her career that her best novels were +written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average of +men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to fair +fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to have had +everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with him. The touch +of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked in one hopeless +enterprise after another, spending on each all the money he could at +the time command. But the worse curse to him of all was a temper so +irritable that even those whom he loved the best could not endure it. +We were all estranged from him, and yet I believe that he would have +given his heart's blood for any of us. His life as I knew it was one +long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished a +small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the London +Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place with +little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while she herself +was at work every morning long before others had left their beds. But +she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She went up to London, +where she again took and furnished a house, from which my remaining +sister was married and carried away into Cumberland. My mother soon +followed her, and on this occasion did more than take a house. She +bought a bit of land,--a field of three acres near the town,--and +built a residence for herself. This, I think, was in 1841, and she +had thus established and re-established herself six times in ten +years. But in Cumberland she found the climate too severe, and in +1844 she moved herself to Florence, where she remained till her death +in 1863. She continued writing up to 1856, when she was seventy-six +years old,--and had at that time produced 114 volumes, of which the +first was not written till she was fifty. Her career offers great +encouragement to those who have not begun early in life, but are +still ambitious to do something before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, and +a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted nor +accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and even +facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE. +1834-1841. + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's school +at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London Post +Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my father +and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household never was +held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who would sit +up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing novels the +while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them to die under. +Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know where the roof +would have been found. It is now more than forty years ago, and +looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell the story, +though it be the story of my own father and mother, of my own brother +and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done some scene of +intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed full of pathos. +I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition of my father's +life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the strain which my +mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go and leave them. +There was something that comforted me in the idea that I need no +longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon proved. My salary +was to be £90 a year, and on that I was to live in London, keep up my +character as a gentleman, and be happy. That I should have thought +this possible at the age of nineteen, and should have been delighted +at being able to make the attempt, does not surprise me now; but that +others should have thought it possible, friends who knew something +of the world, does astonish me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, +or might do so even in these days, who was properly looked after and +kept under control,--on whose behalf some law of life had been laid +down. Let him pay so much a week for his board and lodging, so much +for his clothes, so much for his washing, and then let him understand +that he has--shall we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and +omnibuses. Any one making the calculation will find the sixpence +far too much. No such calculation was made for me or by me. It was +supposed that a sufficient income had been secured to me, and that +I should live upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the £90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at the +Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future labours +in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the secretary, +but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at first by a +new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest son Henry +Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him I was examined +as to my fitness. The story of that examination is given accurately +in one of the opening chapters of a novel written by me, called _The +Three Clerks_. If any reader of this memoir would refer to that +chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have been admitted +into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader will learn how +Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the Secretary's office +of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked to copy some lines +from the _Times_ newspaper with an old quill pen, and at once made a +series of blots and false spellings. "That won't do, you know," said +Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. Clayton, who was my friend, +urged that I was nervous, and asked that I might be allowed to do a +bit of writing at home and bring it as a sample on the next day. I +was then asked whether I was a proficient in arithmetic. What could +I say? I had never learned the multiplication table, and had no more +idea of the rule of three than of conic sections. "I know a little +of it," I said humbly, whereupon I was sternly assured that on the +morrow, should I succeed in showing that my handwriting was all that +it ought to be, I should be examined as to that little of arithmetic. +If that little should not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge +of all the ordinary rules, together with practised and quick skill, +my career in life could not be made at the Post Office. Going down +the main stairs of the building,--stairs which have I believe been +now pulled down to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton +Freeling told me not to be too downhearted. I was myself inclined +to think that I had better go back to the school in Brussels. But +nevertheless I went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder +brother made a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. +With a faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. +With my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should +come to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in St. +Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the comers. +I object to this, that at present there exists no known mode of +learning who is best, and that the method employed has no tendency +to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide who among a +certain number of lads will best answer a string of questions, for +the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, who have sprung +up for the purpose since this fashion of election has been adopted. +When it is decided in a family that a boy shall "try the Civil +Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of cramming. +But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever with +education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was before +for the future work of his life. But his very success fills him with +false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far unfits him. +And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that no one is in +truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, or even for +the character of the youth. The responsibility was perhaps slight +before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say that, +had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost a valuable +public servant. This is a statement that will not, I think, be denied +by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything of my work. +Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of the small +acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be schools in +which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, or French +should be learned. But all that could be ascertained without the +perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those who +have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. There +had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it had +become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence for +the purchase of political support. A member of the House of Commons, +holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships to give away +in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them among those +who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing pleasant to the +distributer of patronage. Do away with the system altogether, and +he would have as much chance of support as another. He bartered +his patronage only because another did so also. The beggings, +the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were simply +troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed to rid +themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their hands are +the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do doubt whether +the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There are +places in life which can hardly be well filled except by "Gentlemen." +The word is one the use of which almost subjects one to ignominy. If +I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a bishop, I am met with +a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." Were I to make such an +assertion with reference to the House of Commons, nothing that I ever +said again would receive the slightest attention. A man in public +life could not do himself a greater injury than by saying in public +that the commissions in the army or navy, or berths in the Civil +Service, should be given exclusively to gentlemen. He would be defied +to define the term,--and would fail should he attempt to do so. But +he would know what he meant, and so very probably would they who +defied him. It may be that the son of the butcher of the village +shall become as well fitted for employments requiring gentle culture +as the son of the parson. Such is often the case. When such is the +case, no one has been more prone to give the butcher's son all the +welcome he has merited than I myself; but the chances are greatly +in favour of the parson's son. The gates of the one class should be +open to the other; but neither to the one class nor to the other can +good be done by declaring that there are no gates, no barrier, no +difference. The system of competitive examination is, I think, based +on a supposition that there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling I +had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. I could +speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as elsewhere +that I never acquired the power of really talking French. I have been +able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but never got much +beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences I was completely +ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My spelling was +imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination would have +been possible on which I could have gone through an examination +otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew more than the +average of young men of the same rank who began life at nineteen. +I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets of +all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably of +historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate idea +of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the names +of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, and +all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, but +one that had not been acquired without other matter which was more +useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could talk +about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to me. I had +already made up my mind that _Pride and Prejudice_ was the best novel +in the English language,--a palm which I only partially withdrew +after a second reading of _Ivanhoe_, and did not completely bestow +elsewhere till _Esmond_ was written. And though I would occasionally +break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If I had a thing +to say, I could so say it in written words that the readers should +know what I meant,--a power which is by no means at the command of +all those who come out from these competitive examinations with +triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, I had commenced the +dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this I maintained for +ten years. The volumes remained in my possession unregarded--never +looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, with many blushes, +destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, ignorance, indiscretion, +idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But they had habituated me to +the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught me how to express myself +with facility. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from still +earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay when I +thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, must have +tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a child, I +was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking of my +school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not play with +me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays within myself. +Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it has always been. +Study was not my bent, and I could not please myself by being all +idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always going about with some +castle in the air firmly built within my mind. Nor were these efforts +in architecture spasmodic, or subject to constant change from day +to day. For weeks, for months, if I remember rightly, from year to +year, I would carry on the same tale, binding myself down to certain +laws, to certain proportions, and proprieties, and unities. Nothing +impossible was ever introduced,--nor even anything which, from +outward circumstances, would seem to be violently improbable. +I myself was of course my own hero. Such is a necessity of +castle-building. But I never became a king, or a duke,--much less +when my height and personal appearance were fixed could I be an +Antinous, or six feet high. I never was a learned man, nor even a +philosopher. But I was a very clever person, and beautiful young +women used to be fond of me. And I strove to be kind of heart, and +open of hand, and noble in thought, despising mean things; and +altogether I was a very much better fellow than I have ever succeeded +in being since. This had been the occupation of my life for six or +seven years before I went to the Post Office, and was by no means +abandoned when I commenced my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be +a more dangerous mental practice; but I have often doubted whether, +had it not been my practice, I should ever have written a novel. I +learned in this way to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to +dwell on a work created by my own imagination, and to live in a world +altogether outside the world of my own material life. In after years +I have done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded +the hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own +identity aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch which +was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved a +character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black sheep +by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very good public +servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if I did not +take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour in my early +days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton Freeling,--who, +as I write this, is still living, and who, with tears in her eyes, +besought me to think of my mother. That was during the life of Sir +Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a little more than +twelve months after I joined the office. And yet the old man showed +me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing to me with his own +hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of me +as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost feel, +without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my anguish +when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful work. I did +struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing which was not +easy without any struggling--but to show that I was willing to do it. +My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, and was not to be got rid +of by any efforts within my power. I do admit that I was irregular. +It was not considered to be much in my favour that I could write +letters--which was mainly the work of our office--rapidly, correctly, +and to the purpose. The man who came at ten, and who was always still +at his desk at half-past four, was preferred before me, though when +at his desk he might be less efficient. Such preference was no doubt +proper; but, with a little encouragement, I also would have been +punctual. I got credit for nothing, and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one of +our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all night. +Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and play _écarté_ +for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways are possible +now in our public offices. And here we used to have suppers and +card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much smoking of +tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a whole bevy of +clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was to make up and +receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that they worked later +or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but there was supposed to +be something special in foreign letters, which required that the men +who handled them should have minds undistracted by the outer world. +Their salaries, too, were higher than those of their more homely +brethren; and they paid nothing for their lodgings. Consequently +there was a somewhat fast set in those apartments, given to cards and +to tobacco, who drank spirits and water in preference to tea. I was +not one of them, but was a good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance of +my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on the +secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was not +marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had not been +moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was gone. In the +meantime I had returned to the room, again in the performance of some +duty. When the letter was missed I was sent for, and there I found +the Colonel much moved about his letter, and a certain chief clerk, +who, with a long face, was making suggestions as to the probable fate +of the money. "The letter has been taken," said the Colonel, turning +to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has been nobody in the room but +you and I." As he spoke, he thundered his fist down upon the table. +"Then," said I, "by G----! you have taken it." And I also thundered +my fist down;--but, accidentally, not upon the table. There was there +a standing movable desk, at which, I presume, it was the Colonel's +habit to write, and on this movable desk was a large bottle full of +ink. My fist unfortunately came on the desk, and the ink at once flew +up, covering the Colonel's face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight +to see that senior clerk, as he seized a quire of blotting-paper, and +rushed to the aid of his superior officer, striving to mop up the +ink; and a sight also to see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right +out through the blotting-paper at that senior clerk's unoffending +stomach. At that moment there came in the Colonel's private +secretary, with the letter and the money, and I was desired to go +back to my own room. This was an incident not much in my favour, +though I do not know that it did me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had taken +it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very foolish +young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. I need +not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise than by +protesting that no young man in such a position was ever much less to +blame than I had been in this. The invitation had come from her, and +I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided negative; but I had left +the house within half an hour, going away without my dinner, and had +never returned to it. Then there was a correspondence,--if that can +be called a correspondence in which all the letters came from one +side. At last the mother appeared at the Post Office. My hair almost +stands on my head now as I remember the figure of the woman walking +into the big room in which I sat with six or seven other clerks, +having a large basket on her arm and an immense bonnet on her head. +The messenger had vainly endeavoured to persuade her to remain in the +ante-room. She followed the man in, and walking up the centre of the +room, addressed me in a loud voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you +going to marry my daughter?" We have all had our worst moments, and +that was one of my worst. I lived through it, however, and did not +marry the young lady. These little incidents were all against me in +the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely at +this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state of +things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I think, +£12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. With that +man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, I formed +a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. In cash I once +received from him £4. For that and for the original amount of the +tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated renewals, I paid +ultimately something over £200. That is so common a story as to be +hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of this man was that he +became so attached to me as to visit me every day at my office. For a +long period he found it to be worth his while to walk up those stone +steps daily, and come and stand behind my chair, whispering to me +always the same words: "Now I wish you would be punctual. If you only +would be punctual, I should like you to have anything you want." He +was a little, clean, old man, who always wore a high starched white +cravat, inside which he had a habit of twisting his chin as he +uttered his caution. When I remember the constant persistency of his +visits, I cannot but feel that he was paid very badly for his time +and trouble. Those visits were very terrible, and can have hardly +been of service to me in the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of the +Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion when +I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty years +old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven in the +evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think Saxony, +but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night mails sent +out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, this was +a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see it. But +preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit of the +office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion we were +taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore gave the +orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, walking +backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great peril as +I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite satisfied +with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most important +duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, no doubt, +were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They had come +and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure in two +glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two barons +consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result of that +conversation one of them handed me half-a-crown! That also was a bad +moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon £90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was £140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I asked +her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But who in +such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of it? The +debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now how I could +have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such a burden of +duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny documents, of +which I never understood anything, were common attendants on me. And +yet I do not remember that I was ever locked up, though I think I was +twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some one paid for me. And now, +looking back at it, I have to ask myself whether my youth was very +wicked. I did no good in it; but was there fair ground for expecting +good from me? When I reached London no mode of life was prepared +for me,--no advice even given to me. I went into lodgings, and then +had to dispose of my time. I belonged to no club, and knew very few +friends who would receive me into their houses. In such a condition +of life a young man should no doubt go home after his work, and spend +the long hours of the evening in reading good books and drinking tea. +A lad brought up by strict parents, and without having had even a +view of gayer things, might perhaps do so. I had passed all my life +at public schools, where I had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed +them. Towards the good books and tea no training had been given me. +There was no house in which I could habitually see a lady's face and +hear a lady's voice. No allurement to decent respectability came in +my way. It seems to me that in such circumstances the temptations of +loose life will almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course +if the mind be strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together +of sufficiently stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But +such minds and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation +at any rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being +turned loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, +of all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is +sent to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept +from danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood +to anticipate pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding +circumstances. I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had +been among those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And +I had filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. And now, except +during official hours, I was entirely without control,--without the +influences of any decent household around me. I have said something +of the comedy of such life, but it certainly had its tragic aspect. +Turning it all over in my own mind, as I have constantly done in +after years, the tragedy has always been uppermost. And so it was as +the time was passing. Could there be any escape from such dirt? I +would ask myself; and I always answered that there was no escape. +The mode of life was itself wretched. I hated the office. I hated +my work. More than all I hated my idleness. I had often told myself +since I left school that the only career in life within my reach was +that of an author, and the only mode of authorship open to me that of +a writer of novels. In the journal which I read and destroyed a few +years since, I found the matter argued out before I had been in the +Post Office two years. Parliament was out of the question. I had not +means to go to the Bar. In official life, such as that to which I +had been introduced, there did not seem to be any opening for real +success. Pens and paper I could command. Poetry I did not believe to +be within my grasp. The drama, too, which I would fain have chosen, +I believed to be above me. For history, biography, or essay writing I +had not sufficient erudition. But I thought it possible that I might +write a novel. I had resolved very early that in that shape must the +attempt be made. But the months and years ran on, and no attempt was +made. And yet no day was passed without thoughts of attempting, and a +mental acknowledgment of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader +will not understand the agony of remorse produced by such a condition +of mind? The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in +the morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when +the evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_, because he +spoke sneeringly of _Lycidas_. That was Northumberland Street by the +Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment my +room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must have +almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my constant +inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast to +pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I had +no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham Road I +had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post Office, and +almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings of money, +sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew of +my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this week. +I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those days I +lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he had a home +in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury which I endured. +For more than fifty years he and I have been close friends. And then +there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in life will not permit +me to give his full name, but whom I dearly loved. He had been +at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places had fallen into +trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps I had better say +usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was unfortunate in all +things, and died some years ago in poverty. He was most perverse; +bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable to restrain himself in +anything, but yet with a conscience that was always stinging him; a +loving friend, though very quarrelsome; and, perhaps, of all men I +have known, the most humorous. And he was entirely unconscious of his +own humour. He did not know that he could so handle all matters as to +create infinite amusement out of them. + +Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point at which +life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience +to which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to +London. Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but +Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were +the happiest hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least +innocent, although we were frequently in peril from the village +authorities whom we outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to +spend above five shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected +ruler of the hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our +statutes. I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- +enacted an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got +ourselves a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached +the lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by a +pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled through +the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! But the +fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun as told by +me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for many +years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married my +sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was stationed +as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more than forty +years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House of Lords, +who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who assisted +us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized by the +Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and dearest +friends of my life; and I can thank God that three of them are still +alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of the +Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always fearing +that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of escape. There +had latterly been created in the service a new body of officers +called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time seven surveyors +in England, two in Scotland, and three in Ireland. To each of these +officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose duty it was to +travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. There had been +much doubt among the young men in the office whether they should +or should not apply for these places. The emoluments were good and +the work alluring; but there was at first supposed to be something +derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that the first +surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his beer; and +that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen to the wash. +There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be worse than +the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks were all +appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for anything, +nor would anything have been given me. But after a while there came +a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent there was +absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that none but a man +absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the west of Ireland. +When the report reached the London office I was the first to read +it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having debts on my head and +quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a full conviction that my +life was taking me downwards to the lowest pits. So I went to the +Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland if he would send me. He +was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. This happened in August, +1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My salary in Ireland was to +be but £100 a year; but I was to receive fifteen shillings a day for +every day that I was away from home, and sixpence for every mile that +I travelled. The same allowances were made in England; but at that +time travelling in Ireland was done at half the English prices. My +income in Ireland, after paying my expenses, became at once £400. +This was the first good fortune of my life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS. +1841-1848. + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but in truth I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature of +whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel certain +now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few friends who +had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were half afraid +of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to be loved,--of +a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No child, no boy, no +lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I had been so poor; and +so little able to bear poverty. But from the day on which I set my +foot in Ireland all these evils went away from me. Since that time +who has had a happier life than mine? Looking round upon all those +I know, I cannot put my hand upon one. But all is not over yet. And, +mindful of that, remembering how great is the agony of adversity, how +crushing the despondency of degradation, how susceptible I am myself +to the misery coming from contempt,--remembering also how quickly +good things may go and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to +hope, almost to pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going +well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy to +happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think it +must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life in +London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were at this +time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know my intention +in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted no one, except +a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I borrowed £200 to +help me out of England. He lent me the money, and looked upon me with +pitying eyes,--shaking his head. "After all you were right to go," he +said to me when I paid him the money a few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk +to an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of £100 a +year, at twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even +myself,--except that anything was right which would take me away from +the General Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were also +my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, seated +at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into books those +which others had written. I had never been called upon to do anything +I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that in Ireland I +was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, and that among +other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' accounts! But +as no other person asked a question as to my fitness for this work, +it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. I +went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered some +whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the punch +was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a country in +which there was not a single individual whom I had ever spoken to +or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into Connaught +and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never learned the +multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must in all probability +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I had +acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of which +I told in the _Tales of All Countries_, under the names of _The +O'Conors of Castle Conor_, and _Father Giles of Ballymoy_. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of each +is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were this the +place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had been sent +kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. I do not +think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never rode to +hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of the great +joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the sport, having +learned to love it with an affection which I cannot myself fathom +or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I have done, or +hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and natural +disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in reference +to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have often had to +travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that I might hunt the +next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good horseman. And I have +passed the greater part of my hunting life under the discipline of +the Civil Service. But it has been for more than thirty years a +duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have performed that duty with a +persistent energy. Nothing has ever been allowed to stand in the way +of hunting,--neither the writing of books, nor the work of the Post +Office, nor other pleasures. As regarded the Post Office, it soon +seemed to be understood that I was to hunt; and when my services +were re-transferred to England, no word of difficulty ever reached +me about it. I have written on very many subjects, and on most of +them with pleasure; but on no subject with such delight as that +on hunting. I have dragged it into many novels,--into too many no +doubt,--but I have always felt myself deprived of a legitimate joy +when the nature of the tale has not allowed me a hunting chapter. +Perhaps that which gave me the greatest delight was the description +of a run on a horse accidentally taken from another sportsman,--a +circumstance which occurred to my dear friend Charles Buxton, who +will be remembered as one of the members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I was +always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my past +life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even break +my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the working +classes very much more intelligent than those of England--economical, +and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift nature; but +extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He will count the +shillings in a pound much more accurately than an Englishman, and +will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth from each. But +they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound by the love of +truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally leaving the +country until 1859, and I had the means of studying their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon his +capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. They +adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor has +nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt with +were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. I +went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach me +the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course he was dismissed;--but he had been +a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty in the +matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and is +to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant and +to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole as confidence is engendered, and a feeling is +produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own and +does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and to me +always easy, as it required at its close no more than the writing +of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no keeping of +books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. I must tell +of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result I think it +was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in that +scorn which is so easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and +I drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle +of a snow-storm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open +jaunting-car, and was on my way from one little town to another, +the cause of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance +between the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water,--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then he +assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as that, +and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy and +water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. I +shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought up +the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I such +a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my wine, +and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept in his +arm-chair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was too +sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It was +absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning after +breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed then. He +shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable disgust,--almost +in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" I asked. "Anything +you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you want an excuse for +yourself. Here I sit all the day,--with nothing to do; and I like +writing letters." I did report that Mr. ---- was now quite satisfied +with the postal arrangement of his district; and I felt a soft regret +that I should have robbed my friend of his occupation. Perhaps he was +able to take up the Poor Law Board, or to attack the Excise. At the +Post Office nothing more was heard from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering-place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been paid +off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When I had +been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the 11th of +June, 1844;--and perhaps I ought to name that happy day as the +commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which I first +landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from my +mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of novels. +When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor had I +done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being then +twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first work. +This constant putting off of the day of work was a great sorrow to +me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had learned my +work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe in my hands; +and I held a position altogether the reverse of that in which I +was always trembling while I remained in London. But that did not +suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that there might be a +career before me, if I could only bring myself to begin the work. I +do not think I much doubted my own intellectual sufficiency for the +writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt was my own industry, +and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time is +not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found the +vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I had not as +yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a young man; +but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power to alter +the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties of +publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who could +fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before the +public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, how +little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! I had +already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort was +made after the following fashion. I was located at a little town +called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, where the +postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and my friend +John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As we were taking +a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned up through a +deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, till we came +to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of the most +melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it here, because +I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. We wandered +about the place, suggesting to each other causes for the misery we +saw there, and while I was still among the ruined walls and decayed +beams I fabricated the plot of _The Macdermots of Ballycloran_. As to +the plot itself, I do not know that I ever made one so good,--or, at +any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. I am aware that I broke down +in the telling, not having yet studied the art. Nevertheless, _The +Macdermots_ is a good novel, and worth reading by any one who wishes +to understand what Irish life was before the potato disease, the +famine, and the Encumbered Estates Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter or +two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was only +now and then that I found either time or energy for a few pages. I +commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written a volume +when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no special +interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place at Rotherham +in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a bank. We were not +very rich, having about £400 a year on which to live. Many people +would say that we were two fools to encounter such poverty together. +I can only reply that since that day I have never been without money +in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means of paying what I +owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to pass over our heads +before I received any payment for any literary work which afforded an +appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an Irish +circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he should +marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is expected +of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. I had given +offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, that +I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people have +spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages are now +nearly double what they were then. The Post Office at any rate is +paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week when it used +to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. Banks have sprung +up in almost every village. Rents are paid with more than English +punctuality. And the religious enmity between the classes, though it +is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I reached Banagher in 1841, +I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. I was informed next day +by a Protestant gentleman who had been very hospitable to me that I +must choose my party. I could not sit both at Protestant and Catholic +tables. Such a caution would now be impossible in any part of +Ireland. Home-rule no doubt is a nuisance,--and especially a nuisance +because the professors of the doctrine do not at all believe it +themselves. There are probably no other twenty men in England or +Ireland who would be so utterly dumfounded and prostrated were +Home-rule to have its way as the twenty Irish members who profess +to support it in the House of Commons. But it is not to be expected +that nuisances such as these should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule +is at any rate better and more easily managed than the rebellion at +the close of the last century; it is better than the treachery of +the Union; less troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less +dangerous than Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at +Ballingary; and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent +from O'Connell to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a +political disease, which we had no right to hope would be cured by +any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In July, +1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of my +writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I +am sure I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I +ever read a word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one +exception,--which shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never +consulted a friend as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I +have been doing. My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing +with her that it would be as well that she should not look at it +before she gave it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me +credit for the sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could +see in the faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who +were around me at the house in Cumberland--my mother, my sister, my +brother-in-law, and, I think, my brother--that they had not expected +me to come out as one of the family authors. There were three or +four in the field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd +that another should wish to add himself to the number. My father +had written much--those long ecclesiastical descriptions--quite +unsuccessfully. My mother had become one of the popular authors of +the day. My brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for +his work. My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was +at the time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her +name, and was called _Chollerton_. I could perceive that this attempt +of mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother however did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby of Mortimer Street was to publish the book. It was to +be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the profits. +Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such an +undertaking. I can with truth declare that I expected nothing. And +I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. I was +sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. I +never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was any +notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. I +never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on the +subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, in +duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I did +not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong me in +that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell fifty +copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I am +quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I may +say that after the publication I never said a word about the book, +even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published it, and +that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere with my +life or with my determination to make the best I could of the Post +Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had written a +novel. But I went on writing. _The Macdermots_ was published in 1847, +and _The Kellys and the O'Kellys_ followed in 1848. I changed my +publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second Irish story was +sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had long been my mother's +publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough Street, and I believe +created the business which is now carried on by Messrs. Hurst & +Blackett. He had previously been in partnership with Mr. Bentley in +New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement as before as to half +profits, and with precisely the same results. The book was not only +not read, but was never heard of,--at any rate in Ireland. And yet it +is a good Irish story, much inferior to _The Macdermots_ as to plot, +but superior in the mode of telling. Again I held my tongue, and not +only said nothing but felt nothing. Any success would, I think, have +carried me off my legs, but I was altogether prepared for failure. +Though I thoroughly enjoyed the writing of these books, I did not +imagine, when the time came for publishing them, that any one would +condescend to read them. + +But in reference to _The O'Kellys_ there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend of +mine to whom the book had been sent--as have all my books--wrote me +word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man high +in authority among the gods of the _Times_ newspaper, and that this +special god had almost promised that _The O'Kellys_ should be noticed +in that most influential of "organs." The information moved me very +much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it ever +appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate more honest, +if it had been produced by other means;--if for instance the writer +of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits of the +book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made up my mind +then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, I would have +no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would neither ask for +nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a critic for praise, +or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for censure. To this +rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and this rule I would +recommend to all young authors. What can be got by touting among the +critics is never worth the ignominy. The same may of course be said +of all things acquired by ignominious means. But in this matter it +is so easy to fall into the dirt. _Facilis descensus Averni._ There +seems to be but little fault in suggesting to a friend that a few +words in this or that journal would be of service. But any praise so +obtained must be an injustice to the public, for whose instruction, +and not for the sustentation of the author, such notices are +intended. And from such mild suggestion the descent to crawling at +the critic's feet, to the sending of presents, and at last to a +mutual understanding between critics and criticised, is only too +easy. Other evils follow, for the denouncing of which this is hardly +the place;--though I trust I may find such place before my work is +finished. I took no notice of my friend's letter, but I was not the +less careful in watching _The Times_. At last the review came,--a +real review in _The Times_. I learned it by heart, and can now +give, if not the words, the exact purport. "Of _The Kellys and the +O'Kellys_ we may say what the master said to his footman, when the +man complained of the constant supply of legs of mutton on the +kitchen table. 'Well, John, legs of mutton are good substantial +food;' and we may say also what John replied: 'Substantial, +sir;--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" That was the +review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, I +presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and that +he had incurred a loss of £63, 10s. 1½d. The truth of the account I +never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom of the advice +given to me in the following letter, though I never thought of +obeying it-- + + + Great Marlborough Street, + November 11, 1848. + + MY DEAR SIR.--I am sorry to say that absence from town + and other circumstances have prevented me from earlier + inquiring into the results of the sale of _The Kellys and + the O'Kellys_, with which the greatest efforts have been + used, but in vain. The sale has been, I regret to say, + so small that the loss upon the publication is very + considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although + in consequence of the great number of novels that are + published, the sale of each, with some few exceptions, + must be small, yet it is evident that readers do not + like novels on Irish subjects as well as on others. Thus + you will perceive it is impossible for me to give any + encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + + As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the + novel _La Vendée_, perhaps you will favour me with a sight + of it when convenient.--I remain, &c. &c. + + H. COLBURN. + + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling a +plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the greatest +efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which might be made +for the popularity of a book ought to have come from the author;--but +I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that he could not +encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would have bet twenty +to one against my own success. But by continuing I could lose only +pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty did turn up in my +favour, then how much might I win! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MY FIRST SUCCESS. +1849-1855. + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly completed +it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the former. I find +however that the agreement for its publication was not made till +1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must have forgotten +the disastrous result of _The O'Kellys_, as he thereby agrees to give +me £20 down for my "new historical novel, to be called _La Vendée_." +He agreed also to pay me £30 more when he had sold 350 copies, and +£50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I got my £20, and then +heard no more of _La Vendée_, not even receiving any account. Perhaps +the historical title had appeared more alluring to him than an Irish +subject; though it was not long afterwards that I received a warning +from the very same house of business against historical novels,--as I +will tell at length when the proper time comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. The +story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendée country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits of +my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read the +book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception as to +the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters are +distinct; and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, this +morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on the +book. + +I had, however, received £20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness to +authors in the same men;--but by nothing so much as by the ease with +which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small sums of +money. If you will only make the payment future instead of present, +you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your client's +favour. "You might as well promise her £20. This day six months will +do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the money will +never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to rid himself of +your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing _La Vendée_ I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland the +desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of the +pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that time +to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which the +misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their worst. +The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts--I may say the successful efforts--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal +the Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian corn. +The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by many. The +people themselves wished of course to be fed without working; and +the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, were disposed +to think that the management of affairs was taken too much out of +their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with the matter, and, +thinking that the Government was right, I was inclined to defend +them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. (Lord Sydney Godolphin +Osborne) was at that time denouncing the Irish scheme of the +Administration in the _Times_, using very strong language,--as +those who remember his style will know. I fancied then--as I still +think--that I understood the country much better than he did; and I +was anxious to show that the steps taken for mitigating the terrible +evil of the times were the best which the Minister of the day could +have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, and, full of my purpose, I +presented myself to Mr. John Forster--who has since been an intimate +and valued friend--but who was at that time the editor of the +_Examiner_. I think that that portion of the literary world which +understands the fabrication of newspapers will admit that neither +before his time, nor since, has there been a more capable editor of +a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he was not without his faults. +That which the cabman is reported to have said of him before the +magistrate is quite true. He was always "an arbitrary cove." As a +critic, he belonged to the school of Bentley and Gifford,--who would +always bray in a literary mortar all critics who disagreed from +them, as though such disagreement were a personal offence requiring +personal castigation. But that very eagerness made him a good editor. +Into whatever he did he put his very heart and soul. During his time +the _Examiner_ was almost all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. +So to John Forster I went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's +Inn Fields in which, some three or four years earlier, Dickens had +given that reading of which there is an illustration with portraits +in the second volume of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man could +get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself as in +part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some degree +by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that any one +would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any claim. I +stated my name and official position, and the fact that opportunities +had been given me of seeing the poor-houses in Ireland, and of +making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the time. Would +a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the _Examiner_? +The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased to say +that if the letters should recommend themselves by their style +and matter, if they were not too long, and if--every reader will +know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself--if this +and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland did +not declare that the Government had at last been adequately defended, +nor did the treasurer of the _Examiner_ send me a cheque in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. A +man who writes a single letter to a newspaper of course is not paid +for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal to +himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and have +been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On this +occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not much +disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could not +refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I said. +But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its +predecessors, the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, +after all, that was my proper line. I had never thought of +questioning the justice of the verdict expressed against me. The +idea that I was the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never +troubled me. I did not look at the books after they were published, +feeling sure that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. +But still I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. +Then and therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a +play. I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called _The Noble Jilt_. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called _Can You Forgive Her?_ I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, and +re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then sent +it to my very old friend, George Bartley the actor, who had when I +was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, and +who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give me +the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter which +I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. "When I +commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. I did not +think it opened dramatically, but that might have been remedied." I +knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend warmed to the +subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, till my ears +tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the character of your +heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, but you have done it +for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." Madame Brudo was the +heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never play the jilt again; 'tis +a most unbecoming character. Play it with what skill you will, it +meets but little sympathy.' And this, be assured, would be its +effect upon an audience. So that I must reluctantly add that, had +I been still a manager, _The Noble Jilt_ is not a play I could have +recommended for production." This was a blow that I did feel. The +neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact which grows upon an author +by degrees. There is no special moment of agony,--no stunning +violence of condemnation. But a piece of criticism such as this, from +a friend, and from a man undoubtedly capable of forming an opinion, +was a blow in the face! But I accepted the judgment loyally, and said +not a word on the subject to any one. I merely showed the letter to +my wife, declaring my conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. +And as critical gospel it has since been accepted. In later days I +have more than once read the play, and I know that he was right. The +dialogue, however, I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of +the scenes be not the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, and +for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced to +Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for Ireland. +I explained to him that I knew the country better than most other +people, perhaps better than any other person, and could do it well. +He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send him a certain +number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer within a fortnight +after he should have received my work. I came back to Ireland, and +for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" the city of Dublin, and +the county of Kerry, in which lies the lake scenery of Killarney; and +I "did" the route from Dublin to Killarney, altogether completing +nearly a quarter of the proposed volume. The roll of MS. was sent to +Albemarle Street,--but was never opened. At the expiration of nine +months from the date on which it reached that time-honoured spot it +was returned without a word, in answer to a very angry letter from +myself. I insisted on having back my property,--and got it. I need +hardly say that my property has never been of the slightest use to +me. In all honesty I think that had he been less dilatory, John +Murray would have got a very good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery of +letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had been +done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier would be +sent in one direction in which there were but few letters to be +delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at the request +of some influential person, while in another direction there was no +letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted himself. +It was intended to set this right throughout England, Ireland, and +Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish district to which +I was attached. I was then invited to do the same in a portion of +England, and I spent two of the happiest years of my life at the +task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think I may say, every +nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, the greater part +of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, +Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, Monmouthshire, and +the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I had an opportunity of +seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, with a minuteness +which few have enjoyed. And I did my business after a fashion in +which no other official man has worked, at least for many years. I +went almost everywhere on horseback. I had two hunters of my own, +and here and there, where I could, I hired a third horse. I had an +Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has now been in my service for +thirty-five years; and in this manner I saw almost every house--I +think I may say every house of importance--in this large district. +The object was to create a postal network which should catch all +recipients of letters. In France it was, and I suppose still is, the +practice to deliver every letter. Wherever the man may live to whom +a letter is addressed, it is the duty of some letter-carrier to take +that letter to his house, sooner or later. But this, of course, must +be done slowly. With us a delivery much delayed was thought to be +worse than none at all. In some places we did establish posts three +times a week, and perhaps occasionally twice a week; but such halting +arrangements were considered to be objectionable, and we were bound +down by a salutary law as to expense, which came from our masters at +the Treasury. We were not allowed to establish any messenger's walk +on which a sufficient number of letters would not be delivered to +pay the man's wages, counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the +counting was in our own hands, and an enterprising official might be +sanguine in his figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare +false accounts; but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who +absolutely had the country to do became aware that I was anxious for +good results. It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a +man. During those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover +the country with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any +case a rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; +but I fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, +or because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short cuts; +and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would have +to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a day. +I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it was +necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for my +equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have often +surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen or heard +of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the morning, with +a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating him as to the +disposal of every letter which came into his office. And in the same +guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, or other lone +residences about the country, and ask the people how they got their +letters, at what hour, and especially whether they were delivered +free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept into use, which +came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin for which there was +no pardon, in accordance with which these rural letter-carriers used +to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the house was out of their +beat, and that they must be paid for their extra work. I think that +I did stamp out that evil. In all these visits I was, in truth, +a beneficent angel to the public, bringing everywhere with me an +earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery of letters. But +not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission was imperfectly +understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to get on, and did +not allow as much time as was necessary to explain to the wondering +mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, why it was that +a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions which might be +considered impertinent, as applying to his or her private affairs. +"Good morning, sir. I have just called to ask a few questions. I am +a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get your letters? As I am +a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain at once." Then I would +take out my pencil and notebook, and wait for information. And in +fact there was no other way in which the truth could be ascertained. +Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's storm upon them, the very +people who were robbed by our messengers would not confess the +robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It was necessary to startle +them into the revelations which I required them to make for their own +good. And I did startle them. I became thoroughly used to it, and +soon lost my native bashfulness;--but sometimes my visits astonished +the retiring inhabitants of country houses. I did, however, do my +work, and can look back upon what I did with thorough satisfaction. +I was altogether in earnest; and I believe that many a farmer now has +his letters brought daily to his house free of charge, who but for me +would still have had to send to the post-town for them twice a week, +or to have paid a man for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting to +make another effort, and often turning over in my head some fragment +of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not come in which +I could sit down with pen and paper and begin another novel. For, +after all, what could it be but a novel? The play had failed more +absolutely than the novels, for the novels had attained the honour of +print. The cause of this pressure of official work lay, not in the +demands of the General Post Office, which more than once expressed +itself as astonished by my celerity, but in the necessity which was +incumbent on me to travel miles enough to pay for my horses, and upon +the amount of correspondence, returns, figures, and reports which +such an amount of daily travelling brought with it. I may boast that +the work was done very quickly and very thoroughly,--with no fault +but an over-eagerness to extend postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one midsummer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of _The Warden_,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one at +their commencement could have had less reason than myself to presume +himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been often asked +in what period of my early life I had lived so long in a cathedral +city as to have become intimate with the ways of a Close. I never +lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never knew anything of +any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar intimacy with +any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be life-like, and +for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond affection, was, I +think, the simple result of an effort of my moral consciousness. It +was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon should be,--or, +at any rate, would be with such advantages as an archdeacon might +have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who has been declared +by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon down to the very +ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had not then even +spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment to be very great. +The archdeacon came whole from my brain after this fashion;--but +in writing about clergymen generally, I had to pick up as I went +whatever I might know or pretend to know about them. But my first +idea had no reference to clergymen in general. I had been struck by +two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to be evils,--and with an +absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I thought that I might +be able to expose them, or rather to describe them, both in one and +the same tale. The first evil was the possession by the Church of +certain funds and endowments which had been intended for charitable +purposes, but which had been allowed to become incomes for idle +Church dignitaries. There had been more than one such case brought +to public notice at the time, in which there seemed to have been an +egregious malversation of charitable purposes. The second evil was +its very opposite. Though I had been much struck by the injustice +above described, I had also often been angered by the undeserved +severity of the newspapers towards the recipients of such incomes, +who could hardly be considered to be the chief sinners in the matter. +When a man is appointed to a place, it is natural that he should +accept the income allotted to that place without much inquiry. It is +seldom that he will be the first to find out that his services are +overpaid. Though he be called upon only to look beautiful and to be +dignified upon State occasions, he will think £2000 a year little +enough for such beauty and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt +that there had been some tearing to pieces which might have been +spared. But I was altogether wrong in supposing that the two things +could be combined. Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after +the fashion of an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. +He should take up one side and cling to that, and then he may be +powerful. There should be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples +make a man impotent for such work. It was open to me to have +described a bloated parson, with a red nose and all other iniquities, +openly neglecting every duty required from him, and living riotously +on funds purloined from the poor,--defying as he did do so the +moderate remonstrances of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a +man as good, as sweet, and as mild as my warden, who should also have +been a hard-working, ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have +subjected him to the rancorous venom of some daily _Jupiter_, who, +without a leg to stand on, without any true case, might have been +induced, by personal spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with +poisonous, anonymous, and ferocious leading articles. But neither of +these programmes recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though +it may exaggerate the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating +it in order that it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become +a slander, and satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither +of the red-nosed clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous +assassin of the journals. I did believe that through want of care and +the natural tendency of every class to take care of itself, money +had slipped into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have +gone elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which was +cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects should not +have been combined--and I now know myself well enough to be aware +that I was not the man to have carried out either of them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began _The Warden_, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion I +did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +£450 to about £800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work to +which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other parts +of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly finished +the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have liked to ride +over the whole country, and to have sent a rural post letter-carrier +to every parish, every village, every hamlet, and every grange in +England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town in +the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the centre +of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But our house +there had been given up when it was known that I should be detained +in England; and then we had wandered about in the western counties, +moving our headquarters from one town to another. During this time we +had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, at Cheltenham, and +at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled ourselves for eighteen +months at Belfast. After that we took a house at Donnybrook, the +well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters and +their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my book at +once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, and it +was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was only one +small volume, and in later days would have been completed in six +weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had pressed. +On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published till 1855. +I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, with +William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an assurance +that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked at," and +Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half profits. I had +no reason to love "half profits," but I was very anxious to have my +book published, and I acceded. It was now more than ten years since +I had commenced writing _The Macdermots_, and I thought that if any +success was to be achieved, the time surely had come. I had not been +impatient; but, if there was to be a time, surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about _The Warden_; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, and +after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. At +the end of 1855 I received a cheque for £9, 8s. 8d., which was the +first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that £20 which poor +Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been earned +at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of £10, 15s. 1d. +The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded remuneration +for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. A thousand +copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or six years, +about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold as +belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form _The Warden_ never +reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in the +purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its own,--a +merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see wherein lay +whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the bishop, of the +archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially of the warden, +are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to myself a series of +portraits, and had been able so to put them on the canvas that my +readers should see that which I meant them to see. There is no gift +which an author can have more useful to him than this. And the style +of the English was good, though from most unpardonable carelessness +the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. With such results I had no +doubt but that I would at once begin another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the _Times_ newspaper as to _The Warden_. +In an article--if I remember rightly, on _The Warden_ and _Barchester +Towers_ combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the _Times_ are actuated by +higher motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel +are spoken of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. +But there was added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid +condition of the author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in +personalities,--the personalities in question having reference to +some editor or manager of the _Times_ newspaper. For I had introduced +one Tom Towers as being potent among the contributors to the +_Jupiter_, under which name I certainly did allude to the _Times_. +But at that time, living away in Ireland, I had not even heard the +name of any gentleman connected with the _Times_ newspaper, and could +not have intended to represent any individual by Tom Towers. As I had +created an archdeacon, so had I created a journalist, and the one +creation was no more personal or indicative of morbid tendencies than +the other. If Tom Towers was at all like any gentleman then connected +with the _Times_, my moral consciousness must again have been very +powerful. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_BARCHESTER TOWERS_ AND _THE THREE CLERKS_. +1855-1858. + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the rural +posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. I had +read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of Charles +Merivale's _History of the Romans under the Empire_, and had got into +some correspondence with the author's brother as to the author's +views about Cæsar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to investigate +the character of probably the greatest man who ever lived, which +tendency in after years produced a little book of which I shall have +to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste generally for Latin +literature, which has been one of the chief delights of my later +life. And I may say that I became at this time as anxious about +Cæsar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as to his character, as +we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these latter days. I lived +in Cæsar, and debated with myself constantly whether he crossed the +Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In order that I might review +Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that I was dealing unwarrantably +with a subject beyond me, I studied the Commentaries thoroughly, and +went through a mass of other reading which the object of a magazine +article hardly justified,--but which has thoroughly justified itself +in the subsequent pursuits of my life. I did write two articles, +the first mainly on Julius Cæsar, and the second on Augustus, which +appeared in the _Dublin University Magazine_. They were the result +of very much labour, but there came from them no pecuniary product. +I had been very modest when I sent them to the editor, as I had been +when I called on John Forster, not venturing to suggest the subject +of money. After a while I did call upon the proprietor of the +magazine in Dublin, and was told by him that such articles were +generally written to oblige friends, and that articles written to +oblige friends were not usually paid for. The Dean of Ely, as the +author of the work in question now is, was my friend; but I think +I was wronged, as I certainly had no intention of obliging him +by my criticism. Afterwards, when I returned to Ireland, I wrote +other articles for the same magazine, one of which, intended to be +very savage in its denunciation, was on an official blue-book just +then brought out, preparatory to the introduction of competitive +examinations for the Civil Service. For that and some other article, +I now forget what, I was paid. Up to the end of 1857 I had received +£55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on _Barchester Towers_ that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not any +longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very many +hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though Carlyle +has since told me that a man when travelling should not read, but +"sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended to make a +profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same time, to do +my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours to more account +than I could do even by reading. I made for myself therefore a little +tablet, and found after a few days' exercise that I could write as +quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at my desk. I worked with a +pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied afterwards. In this way was +composed the greater part of _Barchester Towers_ and of the novel +which succeeded it, and much also of others subsequent to them. My +only objection to the practice came from the appearance of literary +ostentation, to which I felt myself to be subject when going to work +before four or five fellow-passengers. But I got used to it, as I had +done to the amazement of the west country farmers' wives when asking +them after their letters. + +In the writing of _Barchester Towers_ I took great delight. The +bishop and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the +troubles of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was +done, Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his +reader; and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and +voluminous criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was +accompanied by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, +with a payment of £100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on +condition that I would comply with the suggestions made by his +critic. One of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel +down to two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, +rejecting one and accepting another, almost alternately, but +declaring at last that no consideration should induce me to cut out +a third of my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could be +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book on +the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn from +a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have been +attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the attempt. +Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's terms; and the +book was published, certainly none the worse, and I do not think much +the better, for the care that had been taken with it. + +The work succeeded just as _The Warden_ had succeeded. It achieved no +great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel readers +were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon myself more +than I have a right to do in saying now that _Barchester Towers_ has +become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, which live +and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if that be so, +its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of some of its +younger brothers. _Barchester Towers_ would hardly be so well known +as it is had there been no _Framley Parsonage_ and no _Last Chronicle +of Barset_. + +I received my £100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural self-sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, as +may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author forget +the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make a money +return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will be much +offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory and +my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice of a +so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in my eyes, +would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like clergymen who +preach sermons against the love of money, but who know that the love +of money is so distinctive a characteristic of humanity that such +sermons are mere platitudes called for by customary but unintelligent +piety. All material progress has come from man's desire to do the +best he can for himself and those about him, and civilisation and +Christianity itself have been made possible by such progress. Though +we do not all of us argue this matter out within our breasts, we do +all feel it; and we know that the more a man earns the more useful he +is to his fellow-men. The most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been +those who have made the greatest incomes,--and it is the same with +the doctors. It would be the same in the Church if they who have the +choosing of bishops always chose the best man. And it has in truth +been so too in art and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard +their pecuniary rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always +for money, giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as +an actor. In our own century what literary names stand higher than +those of Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? +And I think I may say that none of those great men neglected the +pecuniary result of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among +us who in any calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious +teaching, in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm +utterly disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man is +a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few in +doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable to +his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent to his +children, and to be himself free from the carking fear which poverty +creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet authors +are told that they should disregard payment for their work, and be +content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of the public. +Brains that are unbought will never serve the public much. Take away +from English authors their copyrights, and you would very soon take +away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what to +me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in which +professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen what +prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature with +industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair average +talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man does in +another profession. The result with me has been comfortable but not +splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the combination +of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be no +more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and I think +beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last infirmity of +noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who lacks it is +either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. But I confess +that my first object in taking to literature as a profession was that +which is common to the barrister when he goes to the Bar, and to the +baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to make an income on which +I and those belonging to me might live in comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures badly, +because he can make his money faster in that fashion than by doing +them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the best he can +do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he is dishonest, as +is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the barrister who takes +money that he does not earn, or the clergyman who is content to +live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the author may have a +difficulty which will not occur to the seller of cloth, in settling +within himself what is good work and what is bad,--when labour enough +has been given, and when the task has been scamped. It is a danger as +to which he is bound to be severe with himself--in which he should +feel that his conscience should be set fairly in the balance against +the natural bias of his interest. If he do not do so, sooner or later +his dishonesty will be discovered, and will be estimated accordingly. +But in this he is to be governed only by the plain rules of honesty +which should govern us all. Having said so much, I shall not scruple +as I go on to attribute to the pecuniary result of my labours all the +importance which I felt them to have at the time. + +_Barchester Towers_, for which I had received £100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from the +publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am writing, +that book and _The Warden_ together have given me almost every year +some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, and I find that +I have received £727, 11s. 3d. for the two. It is more than I got for +the three or four works that came afterwards, but the payments have +been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, _The Three Clerks_, in +my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum down +was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to buy it +from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, and I +argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into a +position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than I +gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. "It +is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your title-page +are not worth more to you than the increased payment." This seemed +to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the contempt of money +which I have never admired. I did think much of Messrs. Longman's +name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by a +remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply that +they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a fertile +writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- (naming +the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) three +novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard to a +man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I did not +know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that I had +better go elsewhere. + +I had then written _The Three Clerks_, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. Hurst +& Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had made an +appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that gentleman was +unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, and had but +one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. I sat for an +hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return of the peccant +publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about to depart with +my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the house came to me. He +seemed to think it a pity that I should go, and wished me to leave +my work with him. This, however, I would not do, unless he would +undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he lacked authority. +Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. But while we debated +the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope it's not historical, +Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, don't be historical; your +historical novel is not worth a damn." Thence I took _The Three +Clerks_ to Mr. Bentley; and on the same afternoon succeeded in +selling it to him for £250. His son still possesses it, and the firm +has, I believe, done very well with the purchase. It was certainly +the best novel I had as yet written. The plot is not so good as that +of the _Macdermots_; nor are there any characters in the book equal +to those of Mrs. Proudie and the Warden; but the work has a more +continued interest, and contains the first well-described love-scene +that I ever wrote. The passage in which Kate Woodward, thinking that +she will die, tries to take leave of the lad she loves, still brings +tears to my eyes when I read it. I had not the heart to kill her. +I never could do that. And I do not doubt but that they are living +happily together to this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, and +I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this novel +now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I introduced +a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by which +I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme of +competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles Trevelyan +was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended for Sir +Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who had taken +an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him Sir Gregory," +Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came to know her and +her husband. I never learned to love competitive examination; but +I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. Sir Stafford +Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, was then leagued +with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears in _The Three Clerks_ +under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick West End. + +But for all that _The Three Clerks_ was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, paying +a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in 1857, and +she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in which she had +not written, and she expressed to me her delight that her labours +should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning in the same +field. In truth they had already been continued for a dozen years, +but a man's career will generally be held to date itself from +the commencement of his success. On those foreign tours I always +encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon them now, tempt me +almost to write a little book of my long past Continental travels. On +this occasion, as we made our way slowly through Switzerland and over +the Alps, we encountered again and again a poor forlorn Englishman, +who had no friend and no aptitude for travelling. He was always +losing his way, and finding himself with no seat in the coaches and +no bed at the inns. On one occasion I found him at Coire seated at +5 A.M. in the _coupé_ of a diligence which was intended to start at +noon for the Engadine, while it was his purpose to go over the Alps +in another which was to leave at 5.30, and which was already crowded +with passengers. "Ah!" he said, "I am in time now, and nobody shall +turn me out of this seat," alluding to former little misfortunes of +which I had been a witness. When I explained to him his position, +he was as one to whom life was too bitter to be borne. But he made +his way into Italy, and encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in +Florence. "Can you tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, +having touched my shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't +like to ask them. Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent +him to the Uffizzi, but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, and +on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. Thence +we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. The misery +is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of another case +in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to get out of the +conveyance into the middle of the street because the horse could not +be made to go any further. Such was our condition. I induced the +driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was nearest to him, +and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the porter to get the +master to come down to me; and, though my French is ordinarily very +defective, I spoke with such eloquence to that German innkeeper that +he, throwing his arms round my neck in a transport of compassion, +swore that he would never leave me nor my wife till he had put us to +bed. And he did so; but, ah! there were so many in those beds! It +is such an experience as this which teaches a travelling foreigner +how different on the Continent is the accommodation provided for him, +from that which is supplied for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that we +had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that night. +There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and we asked +some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering supper and +beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but we persisted, +and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves charged twenty +zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at Milan, and the +prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We paid our twenty +zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the thought of our +ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached Verona, there +arose a great cry along the platform for Signor Trollope. I put +out my head and declared my identity, when I was waited upon by a +glorious personage dressed like a beau for a ball, with half-a-dozen +others almost as glorious behind him, who informed me, with his hat +in his hand, that he was the landlord of the "Due Torre." It was +a heating moment, but it became more hot when he asked me after +my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, and point to my +wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." There were three +carriages provided for us, each with a pair of grey horses. When we +reached the house it was all lit up. We were not allowed to move +without an attendant with a lighted candle. It was only gradually +that the mistake came to be understood. On us there was still the +horror of the bill, the extent of which could not be known till the +hour of departure had come. The landlord, however, had acknowledged +to himself that his inductions had been ill-founded, and he treated +us with clemency. He had never before received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished _The Three Clerks_ just before I +left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for a new +plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a plot, +and he drew out that of my next novel, called _Doctor Thorne_. I +mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in which +I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains for the +thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted incidents +from what I have read,--either from history or from works of +imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not been +aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's work, and +deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from censuring this +practice in others. Our greatest masters in works of imagination +have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare dug out of such +quarries wherever he could find them. Ben Jonson, with heavier hand, +built up his structures on his studies of the classics, not thinking +it beneath him to give, without direct acknowledgment, whole pieces +translated both from poets and historians. But in those days no such +acknowledgment was usual. Plagiary existed, and was very common, but +was not known as a sin. It is different now; and I think that an +author, when he uses either the words or the plot of another, should +own as much, demanding to be credited with no more of the work than +he has himself produced. I may say also that I have never printed as +my own a word that has been written by others.[4] It might probably +have been better for my readers had I done so, as I am informed that +_Doctor Thorne_, the novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger +sale than any other book of mine. + + [Footnote 4: I must make one exception to this declaration. The + legal opinion as to heirlooms in _The Eustace Diamonds_ was + written for me by Charles Merewether, the present Member for + Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling authority + on the subject.] + +Early in 1858, while I was writing _Doctor Thorne_, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded £400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures after +I had left him, and had found that £300 would be the outside value +of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman & +Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward Chapman +in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great many +words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. Looking +at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had stopped him +on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might as well do as +I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it was a sale. I +remember that he held the poker in his hand all the time that I was +with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined to buy the book, +there would have been no danger. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_DOCTOR THORNE_--_THE BERTRAMS_--_THE +WEST INDIES AND THE SPANISH MAIN_. + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper on +the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my state +room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but still I did +my work. _Labor omnia vincit improbus_. I do not say that to all men +has been given physical strength sufficient for such exertion as +this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable most men to +work at almost any season. I had previously to this arranged a system +of task-work for myself, which I would strongly recommend to those +who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not made absolutely +obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should never be allowed +to become spasmodic. There was no day on which it was my positive +duty to write for the publishers, as it was my duty to write reports +for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if I pleased. But as I had +made up my mind to undertake this second profession, I found it to be +expedient to bind myself by certain self-imposed laws. When I have +commenced a new book, I have always prepared a diary, divided into +weeks, and carried it on for the period which I have allowed myself +for the completion of the work. In this I have entered, day by day, +the number of pages I have written, so that if at any time I have +slipped into idleness for a day or two, the record of that idleness +has been there, staring me in the face, and demanding of me increased +labour, so that the deficiency might be supplied. According to the +circumstances of the time,--whether my other business might be then +heavy or light, or whether the book which I was writing was or was +not wanted with speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. +The average number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as +20, and has risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page +has been made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, +will have a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as +I went. In the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of +course, with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always +to supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that the +excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing my +work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided myself +especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and I have +always done so. There has ever been the record before me, and a week +passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a blister to my +eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not be +disobeyed. It has the force of the water-drop that hollows the stone. +A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a +spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always catches the hare. +The hare has no chance. He loses more time in glorifying himself +for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise to make half his +journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They have +ever been as boys struggling to learn their lesson as they entered +the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they have +failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work,--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of +being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." The +needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always been in +the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates and ruled +spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly demand upon +my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to such a +taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his imagination +should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves him. When I have +heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been able to repress my +scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the shoemaker were to +wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for the divine moment of +melting. If the man whose business it is to write has eaten too many +good things, or has drunk too much, or smoked too many cigars,--as +men who write sometimes will do,--then his condition may be +unfavourable for work; but so will be the condition of a shoemaker +who has been similarly imprudent. I have sometimes thought that the +inspiration wanted has been the remedy which time will give to the +evil results of such imprudence.--_Mens sana in corpore sano_. The +author wants that as does every other workman,--that and a habit of +industry. I was once told that the surest aid to the writing of a +book was a piece of cobbler's wax on my chair. I certainly believe in +the cobbler's wax much more than the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready to +admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by the +products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own very +high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do the +work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the habit +of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I therefore +venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship as the +business of their lives, even when they propose that that authorship +be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic rushes with +their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day by day as +though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit until the +allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished _Doctor Thorne_, and on the +following day began _The Bertrams_. I was moved now by a +determination to excel, if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. +An ignoble ambition for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But +not, I think, altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to +look at his work as does any other workman. This had become my task, +this was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing +the doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to +work at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good as +I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between each +they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I finished +_Doctor Thorne_ on one day, and began _The Bertrams_ on the next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last succeeded +in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty years have +passed since that time, and other years may yet run on before these +pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official sin by describing +here the nature of the difficulty which met me. I found, on my +arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer of the Pasha, who +was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have been the gentleman +who has lately dealt with our Government as to the Suez Canal shares, +and who is now well known to the political world as Nubar Pasha. I +found him a most courteous gentleman, an Armenian. I never went to +his office, nor do I know that he had an office. Every other day he +would come to me at my hotel, and bring with him servants, and pipes, +and coffee. I enjoyed his coming greatly; but there was one point on +which we could not agree. As to money and other details, it seemed +as though he could hardly accede fast enough to the wishes of the +Postmaster-General; but on one point he was firmly opposed to me. +I was desirous that the mails should be carried through Egypt in +twenty-four hours, and he thought that forty-eight hours should be +allowed. I was obstinate, and he was obstinate; and for a long time +we could come to no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity +seemed to desert him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with +almost more than British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick +transit, a terrible responsibility would rest on my head. I made this +mistake, he said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which +would be easy and secure in England could be attained with safety +in Egypt. "The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede +to any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no longer +any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and he assured +me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his care to see +that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually kept, and, I +believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my persistency +was not the result of any courage specially personal to myself. +While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered to me that +the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had conceived that +forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their traffic better +than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great paymasters on the +railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, who managed the railway, +might probably wish to accommodate them. I often wondered who +originated that frightful picture of blood and desolation. That it +came from an English heart and an English hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the Post +Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with true tales +of my adventures. The _Tales of All Countries_ have, most of them, +some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called _John Bull +on the Guadalquivir_, the chief incident in which occurred to me and +a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We both of +us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to be a +bullfighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, too, +who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet how +thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received £400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for _Doctor Thorne_, and agreed to sell them _The Bertrams_ for +the same sum. This latter novel was written under very vagrant +circumstances,--at Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at +sea, and at last finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West +Indies I will say a few words presently, but I may as well speak of +these two novels here. _Doctor Thorne_ has, I believe, been the most +popular book that I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof +of comparative popularity. _The Bertrams_ has had quite an opposite +fortune. I do not know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even +by my friends, and I cannot remember that there is any character in +it that has dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that +they are of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. +They fall away very much from _The Three Clerks_, both in pathos +and humour. There is no personage in either of them comparable to +Chaffanbrass the lawyer. The plot of _Doctor Thorne_ is good, and +I am led therefore to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own +feeling, is the most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which +will most raise it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The +plots of _Tom Jones_ and of _Ivanhoe_ are almost perfect, and they +are probably the most popular novels of the schools of the last and +of this century; but to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged +strength of Burley and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those +great novelists than the gift of construction shown in the two works +I have named. A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened +by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of +attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not +of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created +personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. To +my thinking, the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you +have the vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which +the agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There +must, however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. +That of _The Bertrams_ was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book +was relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of _Doctor +Thorne_. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add £600 a-year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a-week, on £1400 +a-year. If more should come, it would be well;--but £600 a-year I was +prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but was +very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and then +I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to _The Bertrams_, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated for +residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous for +want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the stables +had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in some of the +islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to the island +Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I was then to go +on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish authorities, and +to Panama for the same purpose with the Government of New Grenada. +All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and I hope to that of +my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, as +having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard as the +best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I think I may +venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as I had learned +from the secretary at the General Post Office that this journey +would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. Chapman & Hall, +demanding £250 for a single volume. The contract was made without +any difficulty, and when I returned home the work was complete in my +desk. I began it on board the ship in which I left Kingston, Jamaica, +for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried it on as I went. From Cuba +I made my way to St. Thomas, and through the island down to Demerara, +then back to St. Thomas,--which is the starting-point for all places +in that part of the globe,--to Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, +over the Isthmus to Panama, up the Pacific to a little harbour on the +coast of Costa Rica, thence across Central America, through Costa +Rica, and down the Nicaragua river to the Mosquito coast, and after +that home by Bermuda and New York. Should any one want further +details of the voyage, are they not written in my book? The fact +memorable to me now is that I never made a single note while +writing or preparing it. Preparation, indeed, there was none. The +descriptions and opinions came hot on to the paper from their causes. +I will not say that this is the best way of writing a book intended +to give accurate information. But it is the best way of producing +to the eye of the reader, and to his ear, that which the eye of the +writer has seen and his ear heard. There are two kinds of confidence +which a reader may have in his author,--which two kinds the reader +who wishes to use his reading well should carefully discriminate. +There is a confidence in facts and a confidence in vision. The one +man tells you accurately what has been. The other suggests to you +what may, or perhaps what must have been, or what ought to have been. +The former requires simple faith. The latter calls upon you to judge +for yourself, and form your own conclusions. The former does not +intend to be prescient, nor the latter accurate. Research is the +weapon used by the former; observation by the latter. Either may be +false,--wilfully false; as also may either be steadfastly true. As +to that, the reader must judge for himself. But the man who writes +_currente calamo_, who works with a rapidity which will not admit of +accuracy, may be as true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who +bases every word upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I +have travelled about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have +always written the exact truth as I saw it;--and I have, I think, +drawn my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies of black +men and white men was the view of the _Times_ newspaper at that +period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for it +even by the _Times_ newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position as +an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad for +literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future chapter. +But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to Chapman & +Hall and successfully demanded £600 for my next novel. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE _CORNHILL MAGAZINE_ AND _FRAMLEY PARSONAGE_. + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my own +district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and there +my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return to +England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all with +whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable home, and +I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great delight to +me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a house in the +neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be abandoned.[5] +Nevertheless I thought that a man who could write books ought not to +live in Ireland,--ought to live within the reach of the publishers, +the clubs, and the dinner-parties of the metropolis. So I made my +request at headquarters, and with some little difficulty got myself +appointed to the Eastern District of England,--which comprised Essex, +Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and the greater +part of Hertfordshire. + + [Footnote 5: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years had + passed away.] + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest at +the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had been, some +time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by Mr. Rowland +Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never had any +sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most accurate, +but I never came across any one who so little understood the ways of +men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two brothers the +servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to have formed a +large army in old days,--were so many machines who could be counted +on for their exact work without deviation, as wheels may be counted +on, which are kept going always at the same pace and always by the +same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious public servant, anxious +for the good of his country; but he was a hard taskmaster, and one +who would, I think, have put the great department with which he was +concerned altogether out of gear by his hardness, had he not been at +last controlled. He was the Chief Secretary, my brother-in-law--who +afterwards succeeded him--came next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother +was the Junior Secretary. In the natural course of things, I had not, +from my position, anything to do with the management of affairs;--but +from time to time I found myself more or less mixed up in it. I was +known to be a thoroughly efficient public servant; I am sure I may +say so much of myself without fear of contradiction from any one who +has known the Post Office;--I was very fond of the department, and +when matters came to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my +own. I have no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I +know that I sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because +I knew my business and was useful. I had given official offence by +the publication of _The Three Clerks_. I afterwards gave greater +offence by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of +the large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On +this occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether he +was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was no threat +to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in that fashion. +The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed no order. In +the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing to bring me to +shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil servant is +only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he is beyond +that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in his +general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in open +professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted now, +but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one in the +Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style of +official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands of +reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them dealing +with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; some few in +which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos might find an +entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these reports, habituating +myself always to write them in the form in which they should be +sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus that a man can throw on +to his paper the exact feeling with which his mind is impressed at +the moment. A rough copy, or that which is called a draft, is written +in order that it may be touched and altered and put upon stilts. The +waste of time, moreover, in such an operation, is terrible. If a man +knows his craft with his pen, he will have learned to write without +the necessity of changing his words or the form of his sentences. +I had learned so to write my reports that they who read them should +know what it was that I meant them to understand. But I do not think +that they were regarded with favour. I have heard horror expressed +because the old forms were disregarded and language used which had no +savour of red-tape. During the whole of this work in the Post Office +it was my principle always to obey authority in everything instantly, +but never to allow my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my +opinion. They who had the ordering of me very often did not know +the work as I knew it,--could not tell as I could what would be the +effect of this or that change. When carrying out instructions which +I knew should not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the +fatuity of the improper order in the strongest language that I could +decently employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, +and look back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. +But I am not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which could +hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our residence +towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing _Castle Richmond_, +the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for £600. But +there arose at this time a certain literary project which probably +had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling on postal +service abroad, or riding over the rural districts in England, or +arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the last eighteen years +had now been my life,--I had no opportunity of becoming acquainted +with literary life in London. It was probably some feeling of this +which had made me anxious to move my penates back to England. But +even in Ireland, where I was still living in October, 1859, I had +heard of the _Cornhill Magazine_, which was to come out on the 1st of +January, 1860, under the editorship of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of _Tales of All Countries_. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the _Cornhill_, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + + 36 Onslow Square, S.W., + October 28th. + + MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their + proposals; and the business part done, let me come to the + pleasure, and say how very glad indeed I shall be to have + you as a co-operator in our new magazine. And looking over + the annexed programme, you will see whether you can't help + us in many other ways besides tale-telling. Whatever a man + knows about life and its doings, that let us hear about. + You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and + have countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. + Please to think if you can furbish up any of these besides + a novel. When events occur, and you have a good lively + tale, bear us in mind. One of our chief objects in this + magazine is the getting out of novel spinning, and back + into the world. Don't understand me to disparage our + craft, especially _your_ wares. I often say I am like the + pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread + and cheese; but the public love the tarts (luckily for + us), and we must bake and sell them. There was quite an + excitement in my family one evening when Paterfamilias + (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always when he tries + it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room wide + awake and calling for the second volume of _The Three + Clerks_. I hope the _Cornhill Magazine_ will have as + pleasant a story. And the Chapmans, if they are the honest + men I take them to be, I've no doubt have told you with + what sincere liking your works have been read by yours + very faithfully, + + W. M. THACKERAY. + + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me £1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to come +out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion of it +should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in all this +that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which was more +than double what I had yet received, and nearly double that which +I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. Then there was +the suddenness of the call. It was already the end of October, and a +portion of the work was required to be in the printer's hands within +six weeks. _Castle Richmond_ was indeed half written, but that was +sold to Chapman. And it had already been a principle with me in my +art, that no part of a novel should be published till the entire +story was completed. I knew, from what I read from month to month, +that this hurried publication of incompleted work was frequently, +I might perhaps say always, adopted by the leading novelists of the +day. That such has been the case, is proved by the fact that Dickens, +Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell died with unfinished novels, of which +portions had been already published. I had not yet entered upon the +system of publishing novels in parts, and therefore had never been +tempted. But I was aware that an artist should keep in his hand the +power of fitting the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is +his first duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour +to do so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of +remedying any defect in this respect. + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, be +"impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he is, +will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should be +always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his pigs +to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path which he +has intended for them. When some young lady at the end of a story +cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid description +of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines of her portrait +should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the rushing mode of +publication to which the system of serial stories had given rise, +and by which small parts as they were written were sent hot to the +press, was injurious to the work done. If I now complied with the +proposition made to me, I must act against my own principle. But such +a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot be superseded on a just +occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the principle should for the +occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as judge, and decreed that the +present reason was "tanti." On this my first attempt at a serial +story, I thought it fit to break my own rule. I can say, however, +that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day this +new _Cornhill Magazine_ should be in want of a novel! Perhaps some +of my future readers will be able to remember the great expectations +which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's was a good name +with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. Smith & Elder, were +most liberal in their manner of initiating the work, and were able to +make an expectant world of readers believe that something was to be +given them for a shilling very much in excess of anything they had +ever received for that or double the money. Whether these hopes were +or were not fulfilled it is not for me to say, as, for the first few +years of the magazine's existence, I wrote for it more than any other +one person. But such was certainly the prospect;--and how had it come +to pass that, with such promises made, the editor and the proprietors +were, at the end of October, without anything fixed as to what must +be regarded as the chief dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. He +had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed its +commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. There +was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. I think +there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, I had the +Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his own energy, +that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was but four years +my senior in life, but he was at the top of the tree, while I was +still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d of +November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime I +had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit the +_Cornhill_, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the _Cornhill_, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that _Castle Richmond_ was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that _Castle Richmond_ would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must call +the plot of _Framley Parsonage_. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of what +I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English clergyman +who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation by his own +youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of those around +him. The love of his sister for the young lord was an adjunct +necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And then by placing +Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to fall back upon my +old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out of these slight +elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the real plot consisted +at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the man she loved till the +man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. Nothing could be less +efficient or artistic. But the characters were so well handled, that +the work from the first to the last was popular,--and was received as +it went on with still increasing favour by both editor and proprietor +of the magazine. The story was thoroughly English. There was a little +fox-hunting and a little tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some +Christian cant. There was no heroism and no villainy. There was much +Church, but more love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in +which there was no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too +ethereal to be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the +part of the man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. +Each of them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say +so. Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked _Framley Parsonage._ I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in _The Three +Clerks_, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed I +doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than Lucy +Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak +part,--no long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in +serial form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not +allow himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a fault +that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he embarks +in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have many +pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's eye at +the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first volume of +_Waverley_ coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised this when I +was writing _Framley Parsonage_; and working on the conviction which +had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written on +me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than myself, +and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him to a kind +of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel Hawthorne, the +American, whom I did not then know, but whose works I knew. Though it +praises myself highly, I will insert it here, because it certainly +is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he says, "that my own +individual taste is for quite another class of works than those which +I myself am able to write. If I were to meet with such books as +mine by another writer, I don't believe I should be able to get +through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony Trollope? +They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, written on the +strength of beef and through the inspiration of ale, and just as real +as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of the earth and put it +under a glass case, with all its inhabitants going about their daily +business, and not suspecting that they were being made a show of. +And these books are just as English as a beef-steak. Have they ever +been tried in America? It needs an English residence to make them +thoroughly comprehensible; but still I should think that human nature +would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +_Framley Parsonage_; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed in +impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty +is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a +girl will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a +man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; +that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done +beautiful and gracious. I do not say that lessons such as these may +not be more grandly taught by higher flights than mine. Such lessons +come to us from our greatest poets. But there are so many who will +read novels and understand them, who either do not read the works of +our great poets, or reading them miss the lesson! And even in prose +fiction the character whom the fervid imagination of the writer has +lifted somewhat into the clouds, will hardly give so plain an example +to the hasty normal reader as the humbler personage whom that reader +unconsciously feels to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a +girl would more probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than +after Flora Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard the +reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be simply +an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as among the +tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a wicked world. +I have regarded my art from so different a point of view that I have +ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as +one which I could make both salutary and agreeable to my audience. +I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading of my pages less +modest than she was before, and that some may have learned from them +that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth +has been taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the +road to manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it +is to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the +lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought it might best be +done by representing to my readers characters like themselves,--or to +which they might liken themselves. + +_Framley Parsonage_--or, rather, my connection with the +_Cornhill_--was the means of introducing me very quickly to that +literary world from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of +my residence in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very +hard at work on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern +District, and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from +London, in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and +Middlesex,--which was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This +I took on lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about +£1000 on improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent +both in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity +came, among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the _Cornhill Magazine_ but the _Pall Mall +Gazette_--gave a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a +memorable banquet in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that +occasion I first met many men who afterwards became my most intimate +associates. It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be +the first starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that +table, and on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor +(Sir)--than whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert +Bell, G. H. Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men +I afterwards lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak +specially of the last, because from that time he was joined with me +in so much of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate _Framley Parsonage_, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's _Unspoken +Dialogue_. The first drawing he did for _Framley Parsonage_ did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When I +did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated _Orley +Farm_, _The Small House at Allington_, _Rachel Ray_, and _Phineas +Finn_. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to have +learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of which +may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To which class +Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good artist, it was +open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to study the work of +the author from whose writing he was bound to take his subject. I +have too often found that the former alternative has been thought to +be the better, as it certainly is the easier method. An artist will +frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas to those of an author, +and will sometimes be too idle to find out what those ideas are. But +this artist was neither proud nor idle. In every figure that he drew +it was his object to promote the views of the writer whose work he +had undertaken to illustrate, and he never spared himself any pains +in studying that work, so as to enable him to do so. I have carried +on some of those characters from book to book, and have had my own +early ideas impressed indelibly on my memory by the excellence of his +delineations. Those illustrations were commenced fifteen years ago, +and from that time up to this day my affection for the man of whom I +am speaking has increased. To see him has always been a pleasure. His +voice has been a sweet sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never +heard him praised without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a +word spoken against him without opposing the censurer. These words, +should he ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will +tell him of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that evening, +and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very close, was +born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the necessities +of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But he lived much +with those who did so,--and could have done it himself had want or +ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick Club, to which, +however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best dinners of my time, +and was,--happily I may say is,[6]--the best giver of dinners. A man +rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, odious to those who dislike +him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he is the prince of friends, +honest as the sun, and as open-handed as Charity itself. + + [Footnote 6: Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went + from us.] + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back over +the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd to me +that we should have known each other for no more than six years. He +was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; and was so +far successful that I do not think that want ever came near him. But +he never made that mark which his industry and talents would have +seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary men, but not +known to readers. As a journalist he was useful and conscientious, +but his plays and novels never made themselves popular. He wrote +a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated edition of the +British poets; but he achieved no great success. I have known no +man better read in English literature. Hence his conversation had a +peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy with his pen. He will +long be remembered at the Literary Fund Committees, of which he was +a staunch and most trusted supporter. I think it was he who first +introduced me to that board. It has often been said that literary men +are peculiarly apt to think that they are slighted and unappreciated. +Robert Bell certainly never achieved the position in literature which +he once aspired to fill, and which he was justified in thinking that +he could earn for himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects +with him, but I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to +his own literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, +and he loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no +sound ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. He is, +I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His severity, +however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when honesty +may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has not +required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged himself +to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. I am not +speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in another, but of +that confidence in literary excellence, which is, I think, necessary +for the full enjoyment of literature. In one modern writer he did +believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming than the unstinted +admiration which he has accorded to everything that comes from the +pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has been united. To her +name I shall recur again when speaking of the novelists of the +present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say that +I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the more +astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a little +the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But "Billy" +also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, or +at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the _Times_, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would have +risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer in his +day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, a man +of very different calibre, who has not yet culminated, but who, no +doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many others;--but +I cannot now recall their various names as identified with those +banquets. + +Of _Framley Parsonage_ I need only further say, that as I wrote it +I became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of +Parliament, and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all +the great lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the +rectors and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had +placed the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of +the dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name +given to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of +which I know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered +there. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_CASTLE RICHMOND_--_BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON_--_NORTH +AMERICA_--_ORLEY FARM_. + + +When I had half-finished _Framley Parsonage_, I went back to my other +story, _Castle Richmond_, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion on +which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same time. +This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. Many +of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all his +belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family history; +and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we rode so +unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, once a +gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary Cann, whose +marriage with the wheelwright we did something to expedite;--though +we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our brain the club +gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or any incident of +our London intimacies. In our lives we are always weaving novels, and +we manage to keep the different tales distinct. A man does, in truth, +remember that which it interests him to remember; and when we hear +that memory has gone as age has come on, we should understand that +the capacity for interest in the matter concerned has perished. A +man will be generally very old and feeble before he forgets how much +money he has in the funds. There is a good deal to be learned by +any one who wishes to write a novel well; but when the art has been +acquired, I do not see why two or three should not be well written +at the same time. I have never found myself thinking much about the +work that I had to do till I was doing it. I have indeed for many +years almost abandoned the effort to think, trusting myself, with the +narrowest thread of a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is +in my hand. But my mind is constantly employing itself on the work I +have done. Had I left either _Framley Parsonage_ or _Castle Richmond_ +half-finished fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales +now with very little trouble. I have not looked at _Castle Richmond_ +since it was published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the +incidents. + +_Castle Richmond_ certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of itself +a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. The heroine +has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other a prig. As +regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. Rivalry of the +same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray in his _Esmond_; +but there the mother's love seems to be justified by the girl's +indifference. In _Castle Richmond_ the mother strives to rob her +daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no character; and +the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. The dialogue +is often lively, and some of the incidents are well told; but the +story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, however, that it +was roughly handled by the critics when it came out; and I much doubt +whether anything so hard was said of it then as that which I have +said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages and +strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with which +institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged to +it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited to +fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that august +body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little among men, +having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as a boy been +banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at first the +gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine there--which +I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play a rubber in the +little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking now of the old +club in King Street. This playing of whist before dinner has since +that become a habit with me, so that unless there be something else +special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am wanted to ride in the +park by the young tyrant of my household--it is "my custom always +in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore with myself for this +persistency, feeling that I was making myself a slave to an amusement +which has not after all very much to recommend it. I have often +thought that I would break myself away from it, and "swear off," +as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing off has been like that of +Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of it coolly, I do not know but +that I have been right to cling to it. As a man grows old he wants +amusement, more even than when he is young; and then it becomes so +difficult to find amusement. Reading should, no doubt, be the delight +of men's leisure hours. Had I to choose between books and cards, I +should no doubt take the books. But I find that I can seldom read +with pleasure for above an hour and a half at a time, or more than +three hours a day. As I write this I am aware that hunting must soon +be abandoned. After sixty it is given but to few men to ride straight +across country, and I cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of +riding. I think that without cards I should now be much at a loss. +When I began to play at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked +the society of the men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. I +have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, which +I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be liked by +those around me,--a wish that during the first half of my life was +never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my misery came +from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of popular boys. +They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while the desolation +of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, when I was in London +as a young man, I had but few friends. Among the clerks in the Post +Office I held my own fairly for the first two or three years; but +even then I regarded myself as something of a pariah. My Irish life +had been much better. I had had my wife and children, and had been +sustained by a feeling of general respect. But even in Ireland I had +in truth lived but little in society. Our means had been sufficient +for our wants, but insufficient for entertaining others. It was not +till we had settled ourselves at Waltham that I really began to live +much with others. The Garrick Club was the first assemblage of men at +which I felt myself to be popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. Then +I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not from +judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left for the +same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected by the +Committee at the Athenæum. For this I was indebted to the kindness +of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when I was +informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member of the +Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in Charles +Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, and its +members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! The +gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met Jacob +Omnium, Monckton Milnes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry Reeve, +Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally a strong +political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain spirit to +the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, Lord Enfield, +Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, Bromley Davenport, +Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to whisper the secrets +of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I became a member of the +Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or the reverse--only for the +playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the _Cornhill Magazine_. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called _The +Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson_. In this I attempted a style +for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never had +again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, and was +intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think that there +is some good fun in it, but I have heard no one else express such an +opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion expressed on it, +except by the publisher, who kindly remarked that he did not think +it was equal to my usual work. Though he had purchased the copyright, +he did not republish the story in a book form till 1870, and then +it passed into the world of letters _sub silentio_. I do not know +that it was ever criticised or ever read. I received £600 for it. +From that time to this I have been paid at about that rate for my +work--£600 for the quantity contained in an ordinary novel volume, or +£3000 for a long tale published in twenty parts, which is equal in +length to five such volumes. I have occasionally, I think, received +something more than this, never I think less for any tale, except +when I have published my work anonymously.[7] Having said so much, +I need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_ was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + + [Footnote 7: Since the date at which this was written I have + encountered a diminution in price.] + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from the +first I interested myself much in the question. My mother had thirty +years previously written a very popular, but, as I had thought, a +somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. She had seen +what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, but had hardly +recognised their energy. I had entertained for many years an ambition +to follow her footsteps there, and to write another book. I had +already paid a short visit to New York City and State on my way home +from the West Indies, but had not seen enough then to justify me in +the expression of any opinion. The breaking out of the war did not +make me think that the time was peculiarly fit for such inquiry as I +wished to make, but it did represent itself as an occasion on which a +book might be popular. I consequently consulted the two great powers +with whom I was concerned. Messrs. Chapman & Hall, the publishers, +were one power, and I had no difficulty in arranging my affairs +with them. They agreed to publish the book on my terms, and bade me +God-speed on my journey. The other power was the Postmaster-General +and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of the Post Office. I wanted +leave of absence for the unusual period of nine months, and fearing +that I should not get it by the ordinary process of asking the +Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. "Is it on the plea of +ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, which was then that of +a very robust man. His lordship knew the Civil Service as well as +any one living, and must have seen much of falseness and fraudulent +pretence, or he could not have asked that question. I told him that I +was very well, but that I wanted to write a book. "Had I any special +ground to go upon in asking for such indulgence?" I had, I said, done +my duty well by the service. There was a good deal of demurring, but +I got my leave for nine months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. +Hill attached to the minute granting me the leave an intimation that +it was to be considered as a full equivalent for the special services +rendered by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the +grace with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions +of the Postmaster-General.[8] + + [Footnpte 8: During the period of my service in the Post + Office I did very much special work for which I never asked + any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments for + special services were common in the department at that time. + But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did + not choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon + it by Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected because +new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, is that +we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances around us. +Though three parts of London were in flames I should no doubt expect +to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the quarter which was +free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it was +not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, I think, +be of future value to those who wish to make themselves acquainted +with the United States. It was published about the middle of the +war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those who loved +the South were most buoyant, and the fears of those who stood +by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, and +on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, and +that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was right in +my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which they were +made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked the quarrel +because its political supremacy was checked by the election of Mr. +Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man against a +big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a feeling based +on a misconception as to American character that the Southerners are +better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did create great +sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too just to be led +into political action by a spirit of romance, and I was warranted +in that belief. There was a moment in which the Northern cause was +in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the prospect of British +interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two men insignificant in +themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the Southern party, and had +managed to get on board the British mail steamer called "The Trent," +at the Havannah. A most undue importance was attached to this mission +by Mr. Lincoln's government, and efforts were made to stop them. A +certain Commodore Wilkes, doing duty as policeman on the seas, did +stop the "Trent," and took the men out. They were carried, one to +Boston and one to New York, and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph +of the nation. Commodore Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a +brave man could take glory, was made a hero and received a prize +sword. England of course demanded her passengers back, and the States +for a while refused to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that +time the Secretary of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political +faults, was a wise man. I was at Washington at the time, and it +was known there that the contest among the leading Northerners was +very sharp on the matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under +Mr. Lincoln, the two chiefs of the party. It was understood that +Mr. Sumner was opposed to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward +in favour of it. Mr. Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the +President, and England's declaration of war was prevented. I dined +with Mr. Seward on the day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at +his house, and was told as I left the dining-room what the decision +had been. During the afternoon I and others had received intimation +through the embassy that we might probably have to leave Washington +at an hour's notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the +Northern cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It served +its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public and by +the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed _Orley Farm_, a novel +which appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which +_Pickwick_, _Nicholas Nickleby_, and many others had been published. +Most of those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, +and are competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is +the best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify me +in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of _Orley Farm_ is +probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of declaring +itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. When Lady +Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the will, the +plot of _Orley Farm_ has unravelled itself;--and this she does in +the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the novel +is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, Mr. +Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, are all +good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. Moulder +carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his tables and +chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull page in the +book. I am fond of _Orley Farm_;--and am especially fond of its +illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in any novel +in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the _Macdermots_ in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured to +myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged £4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps to +have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but I +have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has come +easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used to +cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing myself +to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride in +having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to reach +the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters should +be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is generally +done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as a great +blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much of +shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned too +quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred by +the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps foolishly, +to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to the comfort +of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost say the last +twenty years, though no man in his youth had less prospect of doing +so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five to have had such +luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, +and the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty boots +and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling myself +that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but that the mud +and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me mud and solitude +and poverty through my life. Those lads about me would go into +Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires of parishes, +or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not live with me +now,--but neither should I be able to live with them in after years. +Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the age in which others +go to the universities, I became a clerk in the Post Office, I felt +that my old visions were being realised. I did not think it a high +calling. I did not know then how very much good work may be done by +a member of the Civil Service who will show himself capable of doing +it. The Post Office at last grew upon me and forced itself into my +affections. I became intensely anxious that people should have their +letters delivered to them punctually. But my hope to rise had always +been built on the writing of novels, and at last by the writing of +novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education is +to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son of a +peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed men +than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the wife of +him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her whose husband +has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think it. The discerning +man will recognise the information and the graces when they are +achieved without such assistance, and will honour the owners of them +the more because of the difficulties they have overcome;--but the +fact remains that the society of the well-born and of the wealthy +will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this now, because these are +the rules by which I have lived, and these are the causes which have +instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? If +a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his intimacy, +am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close acquaintance +or his high rank? I have always said that where the difference in +position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy should always +come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be ever fixed, then +that rank should be held of no account. It seems to me that intimate +friendship admits of no standing but that of equality. I cannot be +the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the friend of many very much +beneath the Sovereign, because such equality is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than in +Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was too +light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the money +came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First one +horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home I +have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, and +gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had been an +Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more closely +than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding capacities +of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me by Essex +men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my delight +in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my own +satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little about +hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the field. I +am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore tell whether +the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the notice I take of +hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so constituted that +I can never see the nature of a fence. I either follow some one, +or ride at it with the full conviction that I may be going into a +horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into both one and the +other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden expensive horses. I am +also now old for such work, being so stiff that I cannot get on to my +horse without the aid of a block or a bank. But I ride still after +the same fashion, with a boy's energy, determined to get ahead if it +may possibly be done, hating the roads, despising young men who ride +them, and with a feeling that life can not, with all her riches, have +given me anything better than when I have gone through a long run to +the finish, keeping a place, not of glory, but of credit, among my +juniors. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON_--_CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?_--_RACHEL +RAY_--AND THE _FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_. + + +During the early months of 1862 _Orley Farm_ was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_ was +appearing in the _Cornhill Magazine_. In September, 1862, the _Small +House at Allington_ began its career in the same periodical. The work +on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, the +first number of _Can You Forgive Her?_ was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called _Rachel Ray_. In +addition to these I published during the time two volumes of stories +called _The Tales of All Countries_. In the early spring of 1865 +_Miss Mackenzie_ was issued in the same form as _Rachel Ray_; and +in May of the same year _The Belton Estate_ was commenced with the +commencement of the _Fortnightly Review_, of which periodical I will +say a few words in this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers and +readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. Of +publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins were, I +think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received from them +individually. What I wrote for the _Cornhill Magazine_, I always +wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were published +by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts made by me +with them, and always made with their good-will. Could I have been +two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom one might have +been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests of the firm +in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as I preserved my +identity in both places, I myself became aware that my name was too +frequent on title-pages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too great +rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving to the +subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of my own work +as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I believe that the +work which has been done quickest has been done the best. I have +composed better stories--that is, have created better plots--than +those of _The Small House at Allington_ and _Can You Forgive Her?_ +and I have portrayed two or three better characters than are to be +found in the pages of either of them; but taking these books all +through, I do not think that I have ever done better work. Nor would +these have been improved by any effort in the art of story telling, +had each of these been the isolated labour of a couple of years. How +short is the time devoted to the manipulation of a plot can be known +only to those who have written plays and novels;--I may say also, +how very little time the brain is able to devote to such wearing +work. There are usually some hours of agonising doubt, almost of +despair,--so at least it has been with me,--or perhaps some days. And +then, with nothing settled in my brain as to the final development +of events, with no capability of settling anything, but with a most +distinct conception of some character or characters, I have rushed +at the work as a rider rushes at a fence which he does not see. +Sometimes I have encountered what, in hunting language, we call a +cropper. I had such a fall in two novels of mine, of which I have +already spoken--_The Bertrams_ and _Castle Richmond_. I shall have to +speak of other such troubles. But these failures have not arisen from +over-hurried work. When my work has been quicker done,--and it has +sometimes been done very quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by +hot pressure, not in the conception, but in the telling of the story. +Instead of writing eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead +of working five days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my +usual average, and have done so in circumstances which have enabled +me to give up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been +writing. This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, no +ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done has +had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have been able +to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself thoroughly +with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered alone +among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to the +rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far from +well in reference to the style in which that work has been given to +the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for conveying +his thoughts to the public should not be less important to him than +the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to be popular +unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; but then +comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, I may +say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire a mode +of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible to the +reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he can be +neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him to obey +those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have been +taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does obey +them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will achieve +such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has learned +that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has learned +with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not while he +is writing that which shall please, but long before. His language +must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the great +performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the indignant +orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained compositor; +as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form themselves to the +ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of his words as he +writes them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil. +I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry we know what care +is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. A +singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because other +pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into plural +tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in demanding +fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has been already +expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, which must have +been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the long sentences of +Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity of divisions, has +done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer will hardly avoid +these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I am ready to declare +that, with much training, I have been unable to avoid them. But the +writer for the press is rarely called upon--a writer of books should +never be called upon--to send his manuscript hot from his hand to the +printer. It has been my practice to read everything four times at +least--thrice in manuscript and once in print. Very much of my work +I have read twice in print. In spite of this I know that inaccuracies +have crept through,--not single spies, but in battalions. From +this I gather that the supervision has been insufficient, not +that the work itself has been done too fast. I am quite sure that +those passages which have been written with the greatest stress of +labour, and consequently with the greatest haste, have been the most +effective and by no means the most inaccurate. + +_The Small House at Allington_ redeemed my reputation with the +spirited proprietor of the _Cornhill_, which must, I should think, +have been damaged by _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_. In it appeared +Lily Dale, one of the characters which readers of my novels have +liked the best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have +hardly joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of +a French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, _The Small House at Allington_ is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. I +have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have taken +the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, whose +life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, I think, +well described. + +Of _Can You Forgive Her?_ I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase my +reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that of +the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, the +circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The play had +been called _The Noble Jilt_; but I was afraid of the name for a +novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. There +was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. The +character of the girl is carried through with considerable strength, +but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are also +taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open chooses +the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is the better +looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain Bellfield and +Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun of novels is. But +that which endears the book to me is the first presentation which I +made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in making +any reader understand how much these characters with their belongings +have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently I have used them +for the expression of my political or social convictions. They have +been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. Cobden, or the dominion +of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have not been able to speak from +the benches of the House of Commons, or to thunder from platforms, or +to be efficacious as a lecturer, they have served me as safety-valves +by which to deliver my soul. Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared +in _The Small House at Allington_, but his birth had not been +accompanied by many hopes. In the last pages of that novel he is made +to seek a remedy for a foolish false step in life by marrying the +grand heiress of the day;--but the personage of the great heiress +does not appear till she comes on the scene as a married woman in +_Can You Forgive Her?_ He is the nephew and heir to a duke--the +Duke of Omnium--who was first introduced in _Doctor Thorne_, and +afterwards in _Framley Parsonage_, and who is one of the belongings +of whom I have spoken. In these personages and their friends, +political and social, I have endeavoured to depict the faults and +frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, the graces, and the +strength of our highest classes; and if I have not made the strength +and virtues predominant over the faults and vices, I have not painted +the picture as I intended. Plantagenet Palliser I think to be a very +noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies to the nation the seeming +anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of primogeniture. His wife is +in all respects very inferior to him; but she, too, has, or has been +intended to have, beneath the thin stratum of her follies a basis of +good principle, which enabled her to live down the conviction of the +original wrong which was done to her, and taught her to endeavour to +do her duty in the position to which she was called. She had received +a great wrong,--having been made, when little more than a child, to +marry a man for whom she cared nothing;--when, however, though she +was little more than a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She +had very heavy troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in +vindication of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. +In the pages of _Can You Forgive Her?_ the girl's first love is +introduced,--beautiful, well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a +girl from wasting herself, and an heiress from wasting her property +on such a scamp, was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But +it must ever be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she +does not love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom +she does love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected +the young wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to +whom her heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish +ground, leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one of +the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my novels +read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book which +caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to vicious +sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, he +did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should it +not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made known +nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, and ought +not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no attraction +to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full of grace, +and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation without +abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much too long +for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with him in the +country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, however, +has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then +of political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after +his thorough nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is +imperfectly true to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been +maintained by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to +nature,--but also of those changes which time always produces. There +are, perhaps, but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will +be found to have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man +will still be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of +showing or of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also +our power of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my +study that these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the +changes which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. +The Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime +Minister's wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost +longs to go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will +never do so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and +sore spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place +when they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the +changes which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. +To do all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I +do not know that the game has been worth the candle. To carry out my +scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide a canvas that I +cannot expect that any lover of such art should trouble himself to +look at it as a whole. Who will read _Can You Forgive Her?_, _Phineas +Finn_, _Phineas Redux_, and _The Prime Minister_ consecutively, in +order that they may understand the characters of the Duke of Omnium, +of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? Who will ever know +that they should be so read? But in the performance of the work I had +much gratification, and was enabled from time to time to have in this +way that fling at the political doings of the day which every man +likes to take, if not in one fashion then in another. I look upon +this string of characters,--carried sometimes into other novels +than those just named,--as the best work of my life. Taking him +altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser stands more firmly on +the ground than any other personage I have created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +_Cornhill Magazine_,--a position for which he was hardly fitted +either by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in +writing for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had +grown into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys and +troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in early +life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an afflicted +wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before his children +were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much upon clubs, +and taught him to dislike general society. But it never affected his +heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel in the pangs +and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as he did to the +very last--the duty of showing to his readers the evil consequences +of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault as a writer that he +could never abstain from that dash of satire which he felt to be +demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around him. The satirist who +writes nothing but satire should write but little,--or it will seem +that his satire springs rather from his own caustic nature than from +the sins of the world in which he lives. I myself regard _Esmond_ as +the greatest novel in the English language, basing that judgment upon +the excellence of its language, on the clear individuality of the +characters, on the truth of its delineations in regard to the time +selected, and on its great pathos. There are also in it a few scenes +so told that even Scott has never equalled the telling. Let any one +who doubts this read the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the +Duke of Hamilton to think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be +honoured if Colonel Esmond will give away the bride. When he went +from us he left behind living novelists with great names; but I think +that they who best understood the matter felt that the greatest +master of fiction of this age had gone. + +_Rachel Ray_ underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called _Good Words_ +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he was +wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel to +the readers of _Good Words_, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with any +specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for _Good Words_. He persisted in his request, and I came to +terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it to +him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable portion +having been printed--with an intimation that it would not do. A +letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. It was, +he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. He should +have known better. But the story, such as it was, he could not give +to his readers in the pages of _Good Words_. Would I forgive him? Any +pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject me the owner of +the publication would willingly make good. There was some loss--or +rather would have been--and that money I exacted, feeling that the +fault had in truth been with the editor. There is the tale now to +speak for itself. It is not brilliant, nor in any way very excellent; +but it certainly is not very wicked. There is some dancing in one +of the early chapters, described, no doubt, with that approval of +the amusement which I have always entertained; and it was this to +which my friend demurred. It is more true of novels than perhaps of +anything else, that one man's food is another man's poison. + +_Miss Mackenzie_ was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who was +overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before the +end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. There +is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made with a +violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such attempts +at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg to say +that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. _Miss +Mackenzie_ was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our trust +or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, and +have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but we +would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say it, +speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility of +his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity +of Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a +publication as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one +or two who had proposed to join us. But we went on, and our +company--limited--was formed. We subscribed, I think, £1250 each. +I at least subscribed that amount, and--having agreed to bring out +our publication every fortnight, after the manner of the well-known +French publication,--we called it _The Fortnightly_. We secured +the services of G. H. Lewes as our editor. We agreed to manage our +finances by a Board, which was to meet once a fortnight, and of which +I was the Chairman. And we determined that the payments for our +literature should be made on a liberal and strictly ready-money +system. We carried out our principles till our money was all gone, +and then we sold the copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a +trifle. But before we parted with our property we found that a +fortnightly issue was not popular with the trade through whose hands +the work must reach the public; and, as our periodical had not +become sufficiently popular itself to bear down such opposition, +we succumbed, and brought it out once a month. Still it was _The +Fortnightly_, and still it is _The Fortnightly_. Of all the serial +publications of the day, it probably is the most serious, the most +earnest, the least devoted to amusement, the least flippant, the +least jocose,--and yet it has the face to show itself month after +month to the world, with so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know +the laws of modern literature are aware, a very serious thing to +change the name of a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether +new enterprise. Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas +this was very ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined to +support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry will never object to +appear in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit +to think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result has +been good; and though there is much in the now established principles +of _The Fortnightly_ with which I do not myself agree, I may safely +say that the publication has assured an individuality, and asserted +for itself a position in our periodical literature, which is well +understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving +after some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still +desirable, but which is hardly to be attained by the means which then +recommended themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a +paper advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of my +case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether the +reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of political +writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other subjects. +Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very bad +indeed;--so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty and +incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are criticised +by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism of the +incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, editors +would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that we should +get but little criticism, and that the public would put but little +trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care to have his +books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation of the +great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the _Times_, the +_Spectator_, or the _Saturday_. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In _The +Fortnightly_ everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals have +become much more common since _The Fortnightly_ was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that the +work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss in him +was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in finding a +successor. I must say that the present proprietor has been fortunate +in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done the work with +admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course he has got around +him a set of contributors whose modes of thought are what we may call +much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, would not work with +other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone of its own; but it +holds its own with ability, and though there are many who perhaps +hate it, there are none who despise it. When the company sold it, +having spent about £9000 on it, it was worth little or nothing. Now I +believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter of +fox-hunting.[9] There came out in it an article from the pen of +Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning the amusement, which I love, +on the grounds of cruelty and general brutality. Was it possible, +asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, that any educated man should +find delight in so coarse a pursuit? Always bearing in mind my own +connection with _The Fortnightly_, I regarded this almost as a rising +of a child against the father. I felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. +Freeman in the same columns, and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission +to do so. I wrote my defence of fox-hunting, and there it is. In +regard to the charge of cruelty, Mr. Freeman seems to assert that +nothing unpleasant should be done to any of God's creatures except +for a useful purpose. The protection of a lady's shoulders from the +cold is a useful purpose; and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals +may be snared in the snow and left to starve to death in the wires, +in order that the lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of +wool would serve the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the +congregation and healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, +on whose behalf a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a +useful purpose. I think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that +amusement is as needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. +The absurdity of the further charge as to the general brutality of +the pursuit, and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is +to be attributed to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done +and said in the hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of +Cicero's words. There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked +for space for further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, +if I much wished it; but he preferred that the subject should be +closed. Of course I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. +Freeman,--and against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would +cease to exist in England. And I felt that _The Fortnightly_ was +hardly the place for the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman +kindly suggested to me that he would be glad to publish my article +in a little book to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting +generally. He was to have the last word and the first word, and that +power of picking to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a +manner, without any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If +he would give me the last word, as he would have the first, then, I +told him, I should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did +not however meet his views. + + [Footnote 9: I have written various articles for it since, + especially two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in +opposition to my own ideas on the subject, that the _Fortnightly +Review_ should always contain a novel. It was of course natural that +I should write the first novel, and I wrote _The Belton Estate_. It +is similar in its attributes to _Rachel Ray_ and to _Miss Mackenzie_. +It is readable, and contains scenes which are true to life; but it +has no peculiar merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a +novelist. I have not looked at it since it was published; and now +turning back to it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it +than of any book that I have written. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_THE CLAVERINGS_--THE _PALL MALL GAZETTE_--_NINA +BALATKA_--AND _LINDA TRESSEL_. + + +_The Claverings_, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the _Cornhill_; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the same +length as _Framley Parsonage_, and the price was £2800. Whether much +or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, and was +paid in a single cheque. + +In _The Claverings_ I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar to +myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had appeared +before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider the story +as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the public has ever +corroborated that verdict. The chief character is that of a young +woman who has married manifestly for money and rank,--so manifestly +that she does not herself pretend, even while she is making +the marriage, that she has any other reason. The man is old, +disreputable, and a worn-out debauchee. Then comes the punishment +natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom she had loved, +and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. He vacillates and +is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the book, as he plays the +part of hero. But she is strong--strong in her purpose, strong in her +desires, and strong in her consciousness that the punishment which +comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of _The Claverings_ is in the genuine fun of some +of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined to +think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, and +Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of Sophie, +is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference in a +somewhat masterly manner. In _The Claverings_, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her sorrow +is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is well told. +But I doubt now whether any one reads _The Claverings_. When I +remember how many novels I have written, I have no right to expect +that above a few of them shall endure even to the second year +beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +_Cornhill Magazine_;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate form, +and who about this time established the _Pall Mall Gazette_, to which +paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the _Pall Mall Gazette_ was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means of +his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him a +society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at once under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the _Pall Mall +Gazette_ owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met at a +Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the House of +Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even on important +occasions. There are many who now remember--and no doubt when this is +published there will be left some to remember--the great stroke of +business which was done by the revelations of a visitor to one of the +casual wards in London. A person had to be selected who would undergo +the misery of a night among the usual occupants of a casual ward in a +London poor-house, and who should at the same time be able to record +what he felt and saw. The choice fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, +who certainly possessed the courage and the powers of endurance. The +description, which was very well given, was, I think, chiefly written +by the brother of the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which +was increased by secrecy as to the person who encountered all the +horrors of that night. I was more than once assured that Lord +Houghton was the man. I heard it asserted also that I myself had been +the hero. At last the unknown one could no longer endure that his +honours should be hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, +I fear, to promises to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction +that if known he could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, +however, that record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more +to establish the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of +Stephen, or the polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of +Lewes. + +My work was very various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed also +some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had a +considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description +of the different classes of people who are to be met in the +hunting-field. There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was +considered to be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my +head the critical wrath of a great dean of that period. The most +ill-natured review that was ever written upon any work of mine +appeared in the _Contemporary Review_ with reference to these +Clerical Sketches. The critic told me that I did not understand +Greek. That charge has been made not unfrequently by those who have +felt themselves strong in that pride-producing language. It is much +to read Greek with ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do +so. To pretend to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. +The critic, however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that +Deans of the Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the +metropolitan moon. + +I also did some critical work for the _Pall Mall_,--as I did also for +_The Fortnightly_. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, +and said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter +time altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. +In doing this for the _Pall Mall_, I fell into great sorrow. A +gentleman, whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister, +was in some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had +been blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a +pamphlet. This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and +express my opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I +thought the request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. +He met me again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very +hard. I promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself +able I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I then +went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was one +requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the conduct +of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that charges +made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. This I said, +emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the opinion which I +had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often be the case when a +man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club or a sledge-hammer,--in +using which, either for defence or attack, a man can hardly measure +the strength of the blows he gives. Of course there was offence,--and +a breaking off of intercourse between loving friends,--and a sense of +wrong received, and I must own, too, of wrong done. It certainly was +not open to me to whitewash with honesty him whom I did not find to +be white; but there was no duty incumbent on me to declare what was +his colour in my eyes,--no duty even to ascertain. But I had been +ruffled by the persistency of the gentleman's request,--which should +not have been made,--and I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing +a wrong myself. I must add, that before he died his wife succeeded in +bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until human +nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during an +entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give a +graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. I +did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called _A Zulu in Search of a Religion_. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of such +martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on a +newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn its +ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any word was altered +in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of course, +was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my own +subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of a +staff I was no use, and after two or three years I dropped out of the +work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date from +the beginning of the _Cornhill Magazine_, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me that +a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed had +never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter of +course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom the +critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when they +wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner would +not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope no one +will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy of others. +Though I never reached that height, still I had so far progressed +that that which I wrote was received with too much favour. The +injustice which struck me did not consist in that which was withheld +from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt that aspirants +coming up below me might do work as good as mine, and probably much +better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. In order to test +this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a +course of novels anonymously, in order that I might see whether I +could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made one mark by +such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so +again. In 1865 I began a short tale called _Nina Balatka_, which +in 1866 was published anonymously in _Blackwood's Magazine_. In +1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called _Linda +Tressel_. I will speak of them together, as they are of the same +nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself read the +MS. of _Nina Balatka_, expressed an opinion that it would not from +its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but it was +discovered by Mr. Hutton of the _Spectator_, who found the repeated +use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear too +frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other works of +mine. He declared in his paper that _Nina Balatka_ was by me, showing +I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, however, to +complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he has been the +most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. _Nina Balatka_ +never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make its detection a +matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the story mentioned +by readers who did not know me to be the author, and always with +praise; but it had no real success. The same may be said of _Linda +Tressel_. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, was willing to +publish them, trusting that works by an experienced writer would make +their way, even without the writer's name, and he was willing to pay +me for them, perhaps half what they would have fetched with my name. +But he did not find the speculation answer, and declined a third +attempt, though a third such tale was written for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They were +both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of labour; +and both were written immediately after visits to the towns in which +the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of course I had +endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, but my manner +of story-telling also; and in this, _pace_ Mr. Hutton, I think that +I was successful. English life in them there was none. There was more +of romance proper than had been usual with me. And I made an attempt +at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes and places, which has +not been usual with me. In all this I am confident that I was in a +measure successful. In the loves, and fears, and hatreds, both of +Nina and of Linda, there is much that is pathetic. Prague is Prague, +and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know that the stories are good, but +they missed the object with which they had been written. Of course +there is not in this any evidence that I might not have succeeded a +second time as I succeeded before, had I gone on with the same dogged +perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, had I still further reduced my price, +would probably have continued the experiment. Another ten years of +unpaid unflagging labour might have built up a second reputation. But +this at any rate did seem clear to me, that with all the increased +advantages which practice in my art must have given me, I could not +at once induce English readers to read what I gave to them, unless I +gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with +public judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course +that in all things the public should trust to established reputation. +It is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to +a library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a +lady when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry, by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the _Times_ would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human +and has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts +on the matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much +consideration is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to aspire, +because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their reach. +"My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn your +stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, I can +only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be better +suited to your abilities." What old-established successful author has +not said such words as these to humble aspirants for critical advice, +till they have become almost formulas? No doubt there is cruelty in +such answers; but the man who makes them has considered the matter +within himself, and has resolved that such cruelty is the best mercy. +No doubt the chances against literary aspirants are very great. +It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! A man cannot make a watch +or a shoe without a variety of tools and many materials. He must +also have learned much. But any young lady can write a book who +has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can be done anywhere; in +any clothes--which is a great thing; at any hours--to which happy +accident in literature I owe my success. And the success, when +achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of course, are very many; +and the experienced councillor, when asked for his candid judgment as +to this or that effort, knows that among every hundred efforts there +will be ninety-nine failures. Then the answer is so ready: "My dear +young lady, do darn your stockings; it will be for the best." Or +perhaps, less tenderly, to the male aspirant: "You must earn some +money, you say. Don't you think that a stool in a counting-house +might be better?" The advice will probably be good advice,--probably, +no doubt, as may be proved by the terrible majority of failures. But +who is to be sure that he is not expelling an angel from the heaven +to which, if less roughly treated, he would soar,--that he is not +dooming some Milton to be mute and inglorious, who, but for such +cruel ill-judgment, would become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who consents +to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in this matter +no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the matter +subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an assured +answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your vocation;" +or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But cases as to +which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The critic who wrote +the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which produced the +_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, was justified in his criticism +by the merits of the _Hours of Idleness_. The lines had nevertheless +been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. In a little +satire called _The Biliad_, which, I think, nobody knows, are the +following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's _Taste_ was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--_the lines were Pindar's!_" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we are +so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to desist. + +There is perhaps no career of life so charming as that of a +successful man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which +I just now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, +live in the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, +choose the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, hardly +even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those which bind +other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? The judge +must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making his £20,000 +a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister must be in his +place on that weary front bench shortly after prayers, and must sit +there, either asleep or awake, even though ---- or ---- should be +addressing the House. During all that Sunday which he maintains +should be a day of rest, the active clergyman toils like a +galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, is bound to his +footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there from ten till +four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve to six is just +as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five in the morning +when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the morning before he +goes there. And the author wants no capital, and encounters no risks. +When once he is afloat, the publisher finds all that;--and indeed, +unless he be rash, finds it whether he be afloat or not. But it is +in the consideration which he enjoys that the successful author +finds his richest reward. He is, if not of equal rank, yet of equal +standing with the highest; and if he be open to the amenities of +society, may choose his own circles. He without money can enter doors +which are closed against almost all but him and the wealthy. I have +often heard it said that in this country the man of letters is not +recognised. I believe the meaning of this to be that men of letters +are not often invited to be knights and baronets. I do not think that +they wish it;--and if they had it they would, as a body, lose much +more than they would gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put +after my name, or to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom +Hughes and Charles Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not +know how I might feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left +unbedecked. As it is, the man of letters who would be selected for +titular honour, if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives +from the general respect of those around him a much more pleasant +recognition of his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant,--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not he +has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He makes +an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! So many +have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or twice! Who +will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to find out +that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple to that +office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much merit in +his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also to +foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may be +said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel given, +that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not begin by +trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as recommended +to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours as may belong +to you, let the praise which has come from the lips of that soft man +induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. Should you fail, +then your failure will not be fatal,--and what better could you have +done with the leisure hours had you not so failed? Such double toil, +you will say, is severe. Yes; but if you want this thing, you must +submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed for +the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and in +that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. I +may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which I +regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should be +glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it now, +because the experience I have acquired in being active in its cause +forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly on a +literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I should have +failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere while I was +making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I commenced with +some aid from the fact that others of my family were in the same +profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, ink, and paper +which I was using; and then when, with all my experience in my art, I +began again as from a new springing point, I should have failed again +unless again I could have given years to the task. Of course there +have been many who have done better than I,--many whose powers have +been infinitely greater. But then, too, I have seen the failure of +many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with my +well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, cannot +earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in a little +room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The very +charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him than to +others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that gives it to +him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding with a sense +of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM. + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write a +history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary to read +an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so to read them +as to point out the excellences of those which are most excellent, +and to explain the defects of those which, though defective, had +still reached sufficient reputation to make them worthy of notice. +I did read many after this fashion,--and here and there I have the +criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, they were written on +some blank page within the book. I have not, however, even a list of +the books so criticised. I think that the _Arcadia_ was the first, +and _Ivanhoe_ the last. My plan, as I settled it at last, had been to +begin with _Robinson Crusoe_, which is the earliest really popular +novel which we have in our language, and to continue the review so as +to include the works of all English novelists of reputation, except +those who might still be living when my task should be completed. But +when Dickens and Bulwer died, my spirit flagged, and that which I had +already found to be very difficult had become almost impossible to me +at my then period of life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +_Robinson Crusoe_, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the _Arcadia_, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present day +have become what they are, to point out the effects which they have +produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on the +whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still think +that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as a +novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature which +has created and nourished the profession which I follow. And I was +stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that there still +exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect to novels which +might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This prejudice is +not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their general +acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference to the +appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it robs them +of much of that high character which they may claim to have earned by +their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to good. I +have written many novels, and have known many writers of novels, and +I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with them and with +myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have received from +the public a full measure of credit for such genius, ingenuity, +or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that there is +still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence of their +calling, and a general understanding of the high nature of the work +which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes the +highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and all +but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before she +can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed it +is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in truth +achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above the +earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. He +who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, nor +does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but his +teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to the same +end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false notions of +humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, false worship +may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue may be taught. But +by each, equally, may true honour, true love, true worship, and true +humanity be inculcated; and that will be the greatest teacher who +will spread such truth the widest. But at present, much as novels, as +novels, are bought and read, there exists still an idea, a feeling +which is very prevalent, that novels at their best are but innocent. +Young men and women,--and old men and women too,--read more of them +than of poetry, because such reading is easier than the reading of +poetry; but they read them,--as men eat pastry after dinner,--not +without some inward conviction that the taste is vain if not vicious. +I take upon myself to say that it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily labour +and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted and +then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them to +be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what had +been the nature of English novels since they first became common in +our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they had +done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young days, +they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms which +they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they were +not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in the +preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, _Peregrine Pickle_ +was hidden beneath the bolster, and _Lord Ainsworth_ put away under +the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission was +given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many they +were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct morality +of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men and women +understand that lessons which were good in poetry could not be bad +in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was laid upon +novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist a much heavier +tax than that want of full appreciation of which I now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own hands +to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right and left, +above stairs and below, in town houses and in country parsonages, by +young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old lawyers and by +young students. It has not only come to pass that a special provision +of them has to be made for the godly, but that the provision so made +must now include books which a few years since the godly would have +thought to be profane. It was this necessity which, a few years +since, induced the editor of _Good Words_ to apply to me for a +novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but which now, +probably, owing to further change in the same direction, would have +been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little of +their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right in +saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, when +the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently assaulted +by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the easiest road +to greatness; when the temptations to which men are subjected dulls +their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; when it is so hard +for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, which so many are +handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's conduct will be +actuated much by that which is from day to day depicted to them as +leading to glorious or inglorious results. The woman who is described +as having obtained all that the world holds to be precious, by +lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily and heartlessly, +will induce other women to do the same with theirs,--as will she who +is made interesting by exhibitions of bold passion teach others to +be spuriously passionate. The young man who in a novel becomes a +hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, and almost a Prime Minister, by +trickery, falsehood, and flash cleverness, will have many followers, +whose attempts to rise in the world ought to lie heavily on the +conscience of the novelists who create fictitious Cagliostros. There +are Jack Sheppards other than those who break into houses and out of +prisons,--Macheaths, who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, for +which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or drawn +would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and odious. +The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and the nose, +is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there are outskirts +on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers seem to grow, and +grass to be green. It is in these border-lands that the danger lies. +The novelist may not be dull. If he commit that fault he can do +neither harm nor good. He must please, and the flowers and the grass +in these neutral territories sometimes seem to give him so easy an +opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And he must +teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach lessons of +virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to his readers? +That sermons are not in themselves often thought to be agreeable we +all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy supposed to be +pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, if he have +a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same purpose as the +clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. If he can do this +efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and vice ugly, while he +charms his readers instead of wearying them, then I think Mr. Carlyle +need not call him distressed, nor talk of that long ear of fiction, +nor question whether he be or not the most foolish of existing +mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists may +boast as a class that such has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such to +have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George Eliot. +Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, with that +absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I will boast +that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any one by +search through the works of the six great English novelists I have +named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach a girl to +be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their pages have +been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have they not ever +been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, baldly and simply: +"Because you lied here, or were heartless there, because you Lydia +Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, or you Earl Leicester +were false through your ambition, or you Beatrix loved too well the +glitter of the world, therefore you shall be scourged with scourges +either in this world or in the next;" but it is for him to show, as +he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, or his Leicester, or his +Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation of all readers by his +or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, beautiful, attractive,--so +as to make men love her, and women almost envy her,--and let her be +made also heartless, unfeminine, and ambitious of evil grandeur, as +was Beatrix, what a danger is there not in such a character! To the +novelist who shall handle it, what peril of doing harm! But if at +last it have been so handled that every girl who reads of Beatrix +shall say: "Oh! not like that;--let me not be like that!" and that +every youth shall say: "Let me not have such a one as that to press +my bosom, anything rather than that!"--then will not the novelist +have preached his sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel can +hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few might +be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the softness +of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. _Pickwick_ +has been named as an exception to the rule, but even in _Pickwick_ +there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little amatory longings +give a softness to the work. I tried it once with _Miss Mackenzie_, +but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this frequent allusion +to the passion which most stirs the imagination of the young, there +must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction is probably well aware. +Then the question has to be asked, whether the danger may not be so +averted that good may be the result,--and to be answered. + +In one respect the necessity of dealing with love is +advantageous,--advantageous from the very circumstance which has made +love necessary to all novelists. It is necessary because the passion +is one which interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has +felt it, or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness +which still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, +can so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will be +very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their business +better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; but it is +done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make young men and +women believe that truth in love will make them happy, then, if my +writings be popular, I shall have a very large class of pupils. No +doubt the cause for that fear which did exist as to novels arose from +an idea that the matter of love would be treated in an inflammatory +and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," says Sir Anthony in the +play, "a circulating library in a town is an evergreen tree of +diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the year; and depend on it, +Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves will +long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony was no doubt right. But he +takes it for granted that the longing for the fruit is an evil. The +novelist who writes of love thinks differently, and thinks that the +honest love of an honest man is a treasure which a good girl may +fairly hope to win,--and that if she can be taught to wish only for +that, she will have been taught to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love by +reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in truth a +very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but the girl's +love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became a wife so +womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, so wifely, so +worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told that they ought to +worship their husbands,--that I cannot believe that any girl can be +injured, or even not benefited, by reading of Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still are +some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear nothing +of love till the time come in which she is to be married. That, no +doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. Malaprop. +But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system was more +favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia Languish, though +she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide the book, yet had +_Peregrine Pickle_ in her collection. While human nature talks of +love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn to be silent on the +subject. "Naturam expellas furcâ, tamen usque recurret." There are +countries in which it has been in accordance with the manners of the +upper classes that the girl should be brought to marry the man almost +out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out of the convent--without +having enjoyed that freedom of thought which the reading of novels +and of poetry will certainly produce; but I do not know that the +marriages so made have been thought to be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English novelists, +a great division is made. There are sensational novels and +anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed to +be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to take +delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by the other +are charmed by the continuation and gradual development of a plot. +All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises from the +inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time realistic +and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in the highest +degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure in art. Let +those readers who believe that they do not like sensational scenes in +novels think of some of those passages from our great novelists which +have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in the castle with Ivanhoe; of +Burley in the cave with Morton; of the mad lady tearing the veil of +the expectant bride, in _Jane Eyre_; of Lady Castlewood as, in her +indignation, she explains to the Duke of Hamilton Henry Esmond's +right to be present at the marriage of his Grace with Beatrix;--may +I add, of Lady Mason, as she makes her confession at the feet of Sir +Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that the authors of these passages +have sinned in being over-sensational? No doubt, a string of horrible +incidents, bound together without truth in detail, and told as +affecting personages without character,--wooden blocks, who cannot +make themselves known to the reader as men and women,--does not +instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with awe. Horrors heaped +upon horrors, and which are horrors only in themselves, and not as +touching any recognised and known person, are not tragic, and soon +cease even to horrify. And such would-be tragic elements of a story +may be increased without end, and without difficulty. I may tell you +of a woman murdered,--murdered in the same street with you, in the +next house,--that she was a wife murdered by her husband,--a bride +not yet a week a wife. I may add to it for ever. I may say that the +murderer roasted her alive. There is no end to it. I may declare that +a former wife was treated with equal barbarity; and may assert that, +as the murderer was led away to execution, he declared his only +sorrow, his only regret to be, that he could not live to treat a +third wife after the same fashion. There is nothing so easy as the +creation and the cumulation of fearful incidents after this fashion. +If such creation and cumulation be the beginning and the end of the +novelist's work,--and novels have been written which seem to be +without other attractions,--nothing can be more dull or more useless. +But not on that account are we averse to tragedy in prose fiction. +As in poetry, so in prose, he who can deal adequately with tragic +elements is a greater artist and reaches a higher aim than the writer +whose efforts never carry him above the mild walks of everyday life. +The _Bride of Lammermoor_ is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its +comic elements. The life of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, +is a tragedy. Rochester's wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in _Jane +Eyre_, is a tragedy. But these stories charm us not simply because +they are tragic, but because we feel that men and women with flesh +and blood, creatures with whom we can sympathise, are struggling +amidst their woes. It all lies in that. No novel is anything, for +the purposes either of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can +sympathise with the characters whose names he finds upon the pages. +Let an author so tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and +draw his tears, and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let +there be,--truth of description, truth of character, human truth as +to men and women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel +can be too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on the +art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage of the +experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, be too long +for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet got the rules +quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say a few words on one +or two points which my own practice has pointed out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down to +commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell a story, +but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first novel will +generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series of events, +or some development of character, will have presented itself to his +imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he thinks he can +present his picture in strong and agreeable language to others. He +sits down and tells his story because he has a story to tell; as you, +my friend, when you have heard something which has at once tickled +your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry to tell it to the +first person you meet. But when that first novel has been received +graciously by the public and has made for itself a success, then the +writer, naturally feeling that the writing of novels is within his +grasp, looks about for something to tell in another. He cudgels his +brains, not always successfully, and sits down to write, not because +he has something which he burns to tell, but because he feels it +to be incumbent on him to be telling something. As you, my friend, +if you are very successful in the telling of that first story, +will become ambitious of further story-telling, and will look out +for anecdotes,--in the narration of which you will not improbably +sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that it +would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the art of +British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of that portion +of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential to success. +That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of writing to be +a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing has become a +habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the weary novelist +refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of observation and +reception from which has come his power, without which work his power +cannot be continued,--which work should be going on not only when he +is at his desk, but in all his walks abroad, in all his movements +through the world, in all his intercourse with his fellow-creatures. +He has become a novelist, as another has become a poet, because he +has in those walks abroad, unconsciously for the most part, been +drawing in matter from all that he has seen and heard. But this +has not been done without labour, even when the labour has been +unconscious. Then there comes a time when he shuts his eyes and shuts +his ears. When we talk of memory fading as age comes on, it is such +shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. The things around cease to +interest us, and we cannot exercise our minds upon them. To the +novelist thus wearied there comes the demand for further novels. He +does not know his own defect, and even if he did he does not wish to +abandon his own profession. He still writes; but he writes because he +has to tell a story, not because he has a story to tell. What reader +of novels has not felt the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? +The characters do not live and move, but are cut out of blocks and +are propped against the wall. The incidents are arranged in certain +lines--the arrangement being as palpable to the reader as it has been +to the writer--but do not follow each other as results naturally +demanded by previous action. The reader can never feel--as he +ought to feel--that only for that flame of the eye, only for that +angry word, only for that moment of weakness, all might have been +different. The course of the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in +which there is no room for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, but +can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That they +are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that they +apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last because +we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to himself, + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories when +they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather than from +innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at work when +the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently at work +as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much about +the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially on +thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been very +thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected plot has +been at any period within my power. But the novelist has other aims +than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make his readers so +intimately acquainted with his characters that the creatures of his +brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, human creatures. +This he can never do unless he know those fictitious personages +himself, and he can never know them unless he can live with them in +the full reality of established intimacy. They must be with him as he +lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his dreams. He must learn +to hate them and to love them. He must argue with them, quarrel with +them, forgive them, and even submit to them. He must know of them +whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, whether true or false, +and how far true, and how far false. The depth and the breadth, +and the narrowness and the shallowness of each should be clear to +him. And, as here, in our outer world, we know that men and women +change,--become worse or better as temptation or conscience may guide +them,--so should these creations of his change, and every change +should be noted by him. On the last day of each month recorded, every +person in his novel should be a month older than on the first. If the +would-be novelist have aptitudes that way, all this will come to him +without much struggling;--but if it do not come, I think he can only +make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and of +all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, and +the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very clothes +they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have said +these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would then +have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this intimacy +ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be turned out to +grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, I will by no +means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than Gil Blas' canon; +but I do know that the power indicated is one without which the +teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject +his work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity +of his position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, +much more is necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed +be pleasant without being correct,--as I think can be proved by +the works of more than one distinguished novelist. But he must +be intelligible,--intelligible without trouble; and he must be +harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by the +word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning that +may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language should be +so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without an effort of +the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, but the very +sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended to put into +his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by all writers: +"How little the all-important art of making meaning pellucid is +studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself thinks of it." +The language used should be as ready and as efficient a conductor of +the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader as is the electric +spark which passes from one battery to another battery. In all +written matter the spark should carry everything; but in matters +recondite the recipient will search to see that he misses nothing, +and that he takes nothing away too much. The novelist cannot +expect that any such search will be made. A young writer, who will +acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will often feel himself +tempted by the difficulties of language to tell himself that some one +little doubtful passage, some single collocation of words, which is +not quite what it ought to be, will not matter. I know well what a +stumbling-block such a passage may be. But he should leave none such +behind him as he goes on. The habit of writing clearly soon comes to +the writer who is a severe critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel +written in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a +novelist who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony +which is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are +few ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to +them, decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. +And the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza be +or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, well +instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such a +stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion _canendo lapides_, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with none +of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, become +familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover the +fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is harmonious +in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him in his +business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able to weigh the +rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, when it has been +done for a time, even for a short time, will become so habitual to +him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration of every +syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon paper. The +art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how each sound +which he is about to utter will affect the force of his climax. If a +writer will do so he will charm his readers, though his readers will +probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden of +many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should cover +a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels are +not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of the +ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they are +subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks to +novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this burden +of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden to the +end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have by their +practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to preach;--but +they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault and by dint +of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a novel. Every +sentence, every word, through all those pages, should tend to the +telling of the story. Such episodes distract the attention of the +reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not felt this to be +the case even with _The Curious Impertinent_ and with the _History of +the Man of the Hill_. And if it be so with Cervantes and Fielding, +who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you have to write +must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion of episodes +should be carried down into the smallest details. Every sentence and +every word used should tend to the telling of the story. "But," the +young novelist will say, "with so many pages before me to be filled, +how shall I succeed if I thus confine myself;--how am I to know +beforehand what space this story of mine will require? There must be +the three volumes, or the certain number of magazine pages which I +have contracted to supply. If I may not be discursive should occasion +require, how shall I complete my task? The painter suits the size of +his canvas to his subject, and must I in my art stretch my subject to +my canvas?" This undoubtedly must be done by the novelist; and if he +will learn his business, may be done without injury to his effect. He +may not paint different pictures on the same canvas, which he will do +if he allow himself to wander away to matters outside his own story; +but by studying proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to +tell his story that it shall naturally fall into the required length. +Though his story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. +Though the plot itself may require but few characters, it may be +so enlarged as to find its full development in many. There may be +subsidiary plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main +story, and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make any +two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer presumes +himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, or sport, +may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and the writer, +while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt to think that +he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no greater mistake. +The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part of a novel; but it +is only so as long as it tends in some way to the telling of the main +story. It need not seem to be confined to that, but it should always +have a tendency in that direction. The unconscious critical acumen of +a reader is both just and severe. When a long dialogue on extraneous +matter reaches his mind, he at once feels that he is being cheated +into taking something which he did not bargain to accept when he +took up that novel. He does not at that moment require politics or +philosophy, but he wants his story. He will not perhaps be able to +say in so many words that at some certain point the dialogue has +deviated from the story; but when it does so he will feel it, and the +feeling will be unpleasant. Let the intending novel-writer, if he +doubt this, read one of Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much +to charm,--and then ask himself whether he has not been offended by +devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into the +mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably use. +He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short sharp expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people is +often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue must +so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would give to +his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly inaccuracy +of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would offend by an +appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of his readers a +sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem to attempt to be +funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to be unreal. And above +all, let the speeches be short. No character should utter much above +a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer can justify to himself +a longer flood of speech by the speciality of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been set +at defiance. I might name _Caleb Williams_ as one and _Adam Blair_ +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove the +rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does so +with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate human +nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this or +that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to print +his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by constant +and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to listen and to +observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners of people in his +memory, as to be able to say to himself with assurance that these +words might have been said in a given position, and that those other +words could not have been said,--I do not think that in these days he +can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, in +paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be said +with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his readers. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY. + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists of +my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour to +point whence their success has come, and why they have failed when +there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of human +nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human beings, +with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been within the +reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know no +character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the reader +becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. How great +a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we admire the man +of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there any one of whom +we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel Newcombe? It is +not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman that we think +Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but because he has had +the power to describe him as such, and to force us to love him, a +weak and silly old man, on account of this grace of character. + +It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he lived with the +characters he was creating. He had always a story to tell until quite +late in life; and he shows us that this was so, not by the interest +which he had in his own plots,--for I doubt whether his plots did +occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing us that his characters +were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, with Lady Castlewood and +her daughter, and with Esmond, with Warrington, Pendennis, and +the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and with Barry Lyndon, he must +have lived in perpetual intercourse. Therefore he has made these +personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, he +deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining his work +minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of every scene, +adds something to the clearness with which the story is told. Among +all his stories there is not one which does not leave on the mind +a feeling of distress that women should ever be immodest or men +dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so devoted and men +so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of Pendennis, the +worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how we love the +honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, and the devoted +affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil and love of good can +hardly have come upon so many readers without doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used, I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in _The Virginians_ and in _Philip_ the +reader is introduced to no character with which he makes a close +and undying acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because +Thackeray himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary +of that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She is +best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, and +not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will come +from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far removed +indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. Her +imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather than +in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled to pieces so +that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if possible by her +readers as clearly as by herself. This searching analysis is carried +so far that, in studying her latter writings, one feels oneself to +be in company with some philosopher rather than with a novelist. I +doubt whether any young person can read with pleasure either _Felix +Holt_, _Middlemarch_, or _Daniel Deronda_. I know that they are very +difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and Tom +Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in _Romola_, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to have +been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever of that +weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces him to +declare that the author has written himself out. It is not from +decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because the +author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly the +signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour of +affectation. In _Daniel Deronda_, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to take +home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I may be +permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my dearest +and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, I will +not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, in +criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a novelist +is to please; and this man's novels have been found more pleasant +than those of any other writer. It might of course be objected to +this, that though the books have pleased they have been injurious, +that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching vicious; but +it is almost needless to say that no such charge has ever been made +against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. From all which, +there arises to the critic a question whether, with such evidence +against him as to the excellence of this writer, he should not +subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of the world of +readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong to place Dickens +after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do that so great a +majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any of +the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been the +peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has invested +his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense with human +nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, very much +below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the intellect of +all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect of many. Nor +is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and melodramatic. But +it is so expressed that it touches every heart a little. There is +no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, his devotion for +Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and incompatible with +each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. Every reader can find +a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like Boucicault's plays. He +has known how to draw his lines broadly, so that all should see the +colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and he, +too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, ceased to +charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember Mrs. Gamp +and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, dwell in +the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such a +one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result has +been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from Bulwer's +novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result rather +of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than of mere +intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their way. It is +perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as he wrote in +varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as _Pelham_ and +_Ernest Maltravers_, pictures of a fictitious life, and afterwards +pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in _My Novel_ and _The +Caxtons_. But from all of them there comes the same flavour of an +effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it would have +been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, with +the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking always +of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not think he ever +knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do we know them. Even +Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to us, as are Pickwick, +and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and +successful. The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie +Collins, that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there +is no plot. The story comes naturally without calling for too much +attention, and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's +intellect. His language is clear, good, intelligible English, but +it is defaced by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his +fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and his +rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did a sense +of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from man's +voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and whether in +sickness or in health, I have never come across him without finding +him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the men I have +encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have known many +witty men, many who could say good things, many who would sometimes +be ready to say them when wanted, though they would sometimes +fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of the night, and +wit would come from him before he was half awake. And yet he never +monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would take no more than +his own share of the words spoken, and would yet seem to brighten all +that was said during the night. His earlier novels--the later I have +not read--are just like his conversation. The fun never flags, and +to me, when I read them, they were never tedious. As to character +he can hardly be said to have produced it. Corney Delaney, the old +man-servant, may perhaps be named as an exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to be +alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I do not +know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and that he +never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was seated with +a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Brontë was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be right +to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of one novel, +and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as strong as he +shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, I should be +inclined to put Miss Brontë very high indeed. I know no interest +more thrilling than that which she has been able to throw into the +characters of Rochester and the governess, in the second volume of +_Jane Eyre_. She lived with those characters, and felt every fibre of +the heart, the longings of the one and the sufferings of the other. +And therefore, though the end of the book is weak, and the beginning +not very good, I venture to predict that _Jane Eyre_ will be read +among English novels when many whose names are now better known shall +have been forgotten. _Jane Eyre_, and _Esmond_, and _Adam Bede_ will +be in the hands of our grandchildren, when _Pickwick_, and _Pelham_, +and _Harry Lorrequer_ are forgotten; because the men and women +depicted are human in their aspirations, human in their sympathies, +and human in their actions. + +In _Villette_, too, and in _Shirley_, there is to be found human +life as natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of +interest as those told in _Jane Eyre_. The character of Paul in the +former of the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in +love with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined +to prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled me by +his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as Charles +Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but as one who +has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of reasoning. He +can see what is grandly noble and admire it with all his heart. He +can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate it with equal ardour. +But in the common affairs of life he cannot see what is right or +wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be guided by the opinion +of others, he is constantly making mistakes in his literary career, +and subjecting himself to reproach which he hardly deserves. He means +to be honest. He means to be especially honest,--more honest than +other people. He has written a book called _The Eighth Commandment_ +on behalf of honesty in literary transactions,--a wonderful work, +which has I believe been read by a very few. I never saw a copy +except that in my own library, or heard of any one who knew the +book. Nevertheless it is a volume that must have taken very great +labour, and have been written,--as indeed he declares that it was +written,--without the hope of pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal +to the British Parliament and British people on behalf of literary +honesty, declaring that should he fail--"I shall have to go on +blushing for the people I was born among." And yet of all the writers +of my day he has seemed to me to understand literary honesty the +least. On one occasion, as he tells us in this book, he bought for a +certain sum from a French author the right of using a plot taken from +a play,--which he probably might have used without such purchase, and +also without infringing any international copyright act. The French +author not unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling +him that he is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in +a novel; and a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his +discovery to the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called +his critic a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact +of his own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we +all mean when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. +The sin of which the author is accused is not that of taking another +man's property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had found +the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which there +was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, had he +given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness of +purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so strong +a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, that I +have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has accused. +So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist ever before +had combined! In story-telling he has occasionally been almost great. +Among his novels I would especially recommend _The Cloister and the +Hearth_. I do not know that in this work, or in any, that he has left +a character that will remain; but he has written some of his scenes +so brightly that to read them would always be a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in a +certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch which +I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural that his +work should be very much lost upon me individually. When I sit down +to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very much care, +how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct his that he +not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to the minutest +detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots it all back +again, to see that there is no piece of necessary dove-tailing which +does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The construction is most +minute and most wonderful. But I can never lose the taste of the +construction. The author seems always to be warning me to remember +that something happened at exactly half-past two o'clock on Tuesday +morning; or that a woman disappeared from the road just fifteen yards +beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is constrained by mysteries and +hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, however, that the mysteries will +be made clear, and the difficulties overcome at the end of the third +volume. Such work gives me no pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared +to acknowledge that the want of pleasure comes from fault of my +intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare +how much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and +Rhoda Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former +almost as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that good +produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which she need +be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be proud. But +she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, and who allows +her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though she +too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, does take +the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the ground. And +she has the gift of making them speak as men and women do speak. "You +beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man who was to be her +husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her brother. Now Nancy, +whether right or wrong, was just the girl who would, as circumstances +then were, have called her brother a beast. There is nothing wooden +about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and in these days so many +novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured as are those by +Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to nature. In Miss +Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and missish, she has made +her ladies do and say things which ladies would not do and say. They +throw themselves at men's heads, and when they are not accepted only +think how they may throw themselves again. Miss Broughton is still +so young that I hope she may live to overcome her fault in this +direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing _Vivian Grey_ when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written by +a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his _Sketches by +Boz_, and as young when he was writing the _Pickwick Papers_. It was +hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought out +_Lothair_, and between the two there were eight or ten others. To +me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. In +whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment and +aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, more +rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the glory +has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been a wealth of +tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and the enterprise +has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious conjurer has +generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful cleverness, +can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to his hand. Through +it all there is a feeling of stage properties, a smell of hair-oil, +an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, and that pricking of the +conscience which must be the general accompaniment of paste diamonds. +I can understand that Mr. Disraeli should by his novels have +instigated many a young man and many a young woman on their way in +life, but I cannot understand that he should have instigated any +one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably as many followers as Jack +Sheppard, and has led his followers in the same direction. + +_Lothair_, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended _Vivian Grey_. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, that +flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes out +stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than Vivian +Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more inane and +unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the very bathos +of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as often excused to +myself, that lack of public judgment which enables readers to put up +with bad work because it comes from good or from lofty hands. I never +felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little able to excuse it, +as when a portion of the reading public received _Lothair_ with +satisfaction. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ON CRITICISM. + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is bad, +in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. English +criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as this. It +attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether a book be +or be not worth public attention; and, in the second place, so to +describe the purport of the work as to enable those who have not time +or inclination for reading it to feel that by a short cut they can +become acquainted with its contents. Both these objects, if fairly +well carried out, are salutary. Though the critic may not be a +profound judge himself; though not unfrequently he be a young man +making his first literary attempts, with tastes and judgment still +unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the matter, and +would not have been selected for that work had he not shown some +aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible guide to +the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. Real +substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and that +which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is given +to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without it +would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner in +which the work is done generally, so are others open to very severe +censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are chiefly due +on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is not critical +ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence that we are +bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we pay is not +attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, and when +displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that critics should +be honest we have a right to demand, and critical dishonesty we are +bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what he thinks, though +his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, we can forgive him; +but when he tells us what he does not think, actuated either by +friendship or by animosity, then there should be no pardon for him. +This is the sin in modern English criticism of which there is most +reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It has +become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse so +many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling author +learns that so much has been done for A by the _Barsetshire Gazette_, +so much for B by the _Dillsborough Herald_, and, again, so much for C +by that powerful metropolitan organ the _Evening Pulpit_, and is told +also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal interest, +he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' wives,--or +perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their wives' first +or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon an editor +or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced by other +considerations than the duty he owes to the public, all sense of +critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. _Facilis +descensus Averni_. In a very short time that editorial honesty +becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that he wields +the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what should +be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him to be +quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last twenty +years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out now +with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty begets +dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice to +be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself a +continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both in the +giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should neither +have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated with +scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by his +contract with certain employers to review such books as were sent +to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present for +praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever noticed +at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence of +honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar with +the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the forms +which their struggles will take:--how little presents will be sent to +men who write little articles; how much flattery may be expended even +on the keeper of a circulating library; with what profuse and distant +genuflexions approaches are made to the outside railing of the temple +which contains within it the great thunderer of some metropolitan +periodical publication! The evil here is not only that done to the +public when interested counsel is given to them, but extends to the +debasement of those who have at any rate considered themselves fit to +provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the +conscience and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling +could be produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for +praise,--and demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every +walk of life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only +of the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very +disagreeable. He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or +she. It may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an +author successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, as +coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author try to +obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if possible, by +care and industry. But when they come, let him take them as coming +from some source which he cannot influence, and with which he should +not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken of +the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing can be +gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book which he has +disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by the praise +of others; if bad, his judgment will be confirmed by others. Or if, +unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil a condition +generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, the author may +be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own book will not set +matters right. If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To do so is +consonant with the dignity of the position which he ought to assume. +To shriek, and scream, and sputter, to threaten actions, and to swear +about the town that he has been belied and defamed in that he has +been accused of bad grammar or a false metaphor, of a dull chapter, +or even of a borrowed heroine, will leave on the minds of the public +nothing but a sense of irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or he +will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than he +went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a right +to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will be +again, though the circumstances of English literature do not tend to +produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to speak with +authority. These great men have declared, _tanquam ex cathedra_, that +such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or that it has been +altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world has believed them. +When making such assertions they have given their reasons, explained +their causes, and have carried conviction. Very great reputations +have been achieved by such critics, but not without infinite study +and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. In +the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young writer, +who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever book is sent +to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through for the +purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the amount of +labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure his work by +his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this must for the +most part be, the general reader has no right to expect philosophical +analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence may be placed. But +he probably may believe that the books praised will be better than +the books censured, and that those which are praised by periodicals +which never censure are better worth his attention than those which +are not noticed. And readers will also find that by devoting an +hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms of the week, they will +enable themselves to have an opinion about the books of the day. The +knowledge so acquired will not be great, nor will that little be +lasting; but it adds something to the pleasure of life to be able to +talk on subjects of which others are speaking; and the man who has +sedulously gone through the literary notices in the _Spectator_ +and the _Saturday_ may perhaps be justified in thinking himself as +well able to talk about the new book as his friend who has brought +that new book on the _tapis_, and who, not improbably, obtained his +information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which have +been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know where +I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only greasy +adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the delight +of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find an equal +mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much judgment, as +to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its staff. Among it +all there is much chaff, which I have learned how to throw to the +winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or blames;--but I have +also found some corn, on which I have fed and nourished myself, and +for which I have been thankful. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET_--LEAVING +THE POST OFFICE--_ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE_. + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weather-tight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve miles +from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse with +the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country for +hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it had to +be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to the Essex +meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much or more than I +had a right to expect. It was within my own postal district, and had, +upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work I did during the twelve years that I remained there, from +1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that in +amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department no +slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least twice a +week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I lived much +in society in London, and was made happy by the presence of many +friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always spent six +weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived a fuller +life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether to the +virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table every +morning at 5.30 A.M.; and it was also my practice to allow myself no +mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, and to whom I +paid £5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no mercy. During +all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once late with the +coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not know that I ought +not to feel that I owe more to him than to any one else for the +success I have had. By beginning at that hour I could complete my +literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily as +literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day will +produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should so have +trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously during +those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall not be +necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the wall +before him, till he shall have found the words with which he wants +to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and it +still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient to +myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from myself +250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 words +have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my three +hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began my task +by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take +me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear +the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly recommend this +practice to all tyros in writing. That their work should be read +after it has been written is a matter of course,--that it should be +read twice at least before it goes to the printers, I take to be +a matter of course. But by reading what he has last written, just +before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and +spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming +to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed me to produce +over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up +through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of +three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount which so greatly +acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which must at any +rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers of the world +can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or two +or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I to die +now there are three such besides _The Prime Minister_, half of which +has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years finished, +and has never seen the light since it was first tied up in the +wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, and +to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of a +period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed from +me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 _The Last Chronicle of Barset_ was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without other +accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might be had +for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was always +included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel alone. +Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference to +novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined to +make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me £3000 for the +use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If I remember +right, the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have written. +I was never quite satisfied with the development of the plot, which +consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made against a +clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty on the part of +the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the cheque had found +its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself believe that even +such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten how he got it; nor +would the generous friend who was anxious to supply his wants have +supplied them by tendering the cheque of a third person. Such fault I +acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same time that I have never been +capable of constructing with complete success the intricacies of a +plot that required to be unravelled. But while confessing so much, +I claim to have portrayed the mind of the unfortunate man with great +accuracy and great delicacy. The pride, the humility, the manliness, +the weakness, the conscientious rectitude and bitter prejudices of +Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true to nature and well described. The +surroundings too are good. Mrs. Proudie at the palace is a real +woman; and the poor old warden dying at the deanery is also real. +The archdeacon in his victory is very real. There is a true savour +of English country life all through the book. It was with many +misgivings that I killed my old friend Mrs. Proudie. I could not, +I think, have done it, but for a resolution taken and declared under +circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenæum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on the +other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were reading, +and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The gravamen +of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced the same +characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon whom we +have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," said the +other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till everybody is +tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I would not write +novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. Proudie. It was +impossible for me not to hear their words, and almost impossible +to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing between them, I +acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. Proudie," I said, +"I will go home and kill her before the week is over." And so I did. +The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, and one of them begged me +to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all +the little shades of her character. It was not only that she was a +tyrant, a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one +who would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means a +hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; but +I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still live much +in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote _Can You Forgive Her?_ +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called _The Noble Jilt_. Some year or two after the completion +of _The Last Chronicle_, I was asked by the manager of a theatre +to prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy _Did He Steal It?_ But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was less +attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley nearly +crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason given. I +have little doubt but that the manager was right. That he intended to +express a true opinion, and would have been glad to have taken the +piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be _The Warden_, _Barchester +Towers_, _Doctor Thorne_, _Framley Parsonage_, and _The Last +Chronicle of Barset_. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are +in the hands of four different persons, including myself, and with +one of the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert +with the others.[10] + + [Footnote 10: Since this was written I have made arrangements for + doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will + now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was the +resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described how it +was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties with my +other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but even this +did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which no scruple +of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I was driven to +work at night. In the winter when hunting was going on, I had to keep +myself very much on the alert. And during the London season, when +I was generally two or three days of the week in town, I found the +official work to be a burden. I had determined some years previously, +after due consideration with my wife, to abandon the Post Office when +I had put by an income equal to the pension to which I should be +entitled if I remained in the department till I was sixty. That I had +now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and my +brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I applied +for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained this I +should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my literary +work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and would have +returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the General +Post Office. There was very much against such a change in life. The +increase of salary would not have amounted to above £400 a year, and +I should have lost much more than that in literary remuneration. I +should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance at an office, +from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty years. I +should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. But I was +attached to the department, had imbued myself with a thorough love of +letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by the post,--and was +anxious for their welfare as though they were all my own. In short, I +wished to continue the connection. I did not wish, moreover, that any +younger officer should again pass over my head. I believed that I had +been a valuable public servant, and I will own to a feeling existing +at that time that I had not altogether been well treated. I was +probably wrong in this. I had been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I +pleased, and to say what I liked, and had in that way received my +reward. I applied for the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to +it. He no doubt was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He +understood the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was +a great accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in +regard to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed +by the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A +man shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a +pension,--unless his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to +one-sixtieth of his salary for every year he has served up to forty +years. If his health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work +before the age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to +one-sixtieth for every year he has served. I could not say that my +health had failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I +have since felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left +the Post Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to +my literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still a +little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined after +my death that I had slighted the public service to which I belonged, +I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to the letter +containing my resignation. + + + General Post Office, + October 9th, 1867. + + SIR,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in + which you tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post + Office service, and state as your reason for this step + that you have adopted another profession, the exigencies + of which are so great as to make you feel you cannot give + to the duties of the Post Office that amount of attention + which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right to + expect. + + You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous + members of the Post Office, which, on several occasions + when you have been employed on large and difficult + matters, has reaped much benefit from the great abilities + which you have been able to place at its disposal; and in + mentioning this, I have been especially glad to record + that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you + have never permitted your other avocations to interfere + with your Post Office work, which has been faithfully and + indeed energetically performed. + +There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," but still it +did not displease me. + + In accepting your resignation, which he does with much + regret, the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you + his own sense of the value of your services, and to state + how alive he is to the loss which will be sustained by the + department in which you have long been an ornament, and + where your place will with difficulty be replaced. + + (Signed) J. TILLEY. + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, and +some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy me more +than to think that I should even be supposed to have been among the +number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which I +had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not say +devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have their +letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar letter-boxes +should be put up for them (of which accommodation in the streets +and ways of England I was the originator, having, however, got the +authority for the erection of the first at St. Heliers in Jersey); +that the letter-carriers and sorters should not be overworked; that +they should be adequately paid, and have some hours to themselves, +especially on Sundays; above all, that they should be made to earn +their wages; and latterly that they should not be crushed by what +I thought to be the damnable system of so-called merit;--these were +the matters by which I was stirred to what the secretary was pleased +to call energetic performance of my duties. How I loved, when I was +contradicted,--as I was very often and no doubt very properly,--to +do instantly as I was bid, and then to prove that what I was doing +was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, and impracticable! And then there +were feuds,--such delicious feuds! I was always an anti-Hillite, +acknowledging, indeed, the great thing which Sir Rowland Hill had +done for the country, but believing him to be entirely unfit to +manage men or to arrange labour. It was a pleasure to me to differ +from him on all occasions;--and looking back now, I think that in all +such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything to +improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to do so +gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own reports +unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant to be +read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing myself to +re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but sending them +up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots and erasures +there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a man should search +after a fine neatness at the expense of so much waste labour; or +that he should not be able to exact from himself the necessity of +writing words in the form in which they should be read. If a copy be +required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand or by machine, as may +be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his words to prevail with +the reader, should send them out as written by himself, by his own +hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, correct or incorrect, +with the evidence upon them that they have come out from his own +mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the world +where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for him, +and had offered me a salary of £1000 a year for the work, over and +above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had known +something of magazines, and did not believe that they were generally +very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some publishers +as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business was +chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, this +consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I very +strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to him that +a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine in +accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it on any +other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate return to +him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, listened +to my arguments with great patience, and then told me that if I would +not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should from month to month give in to +him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that he should +pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and thirdly, that the +arrangement should remain in force at any rate for two years. To all +this he made no objection; and during the time that he and I were +thus bound together, he not only complied with these stipulations, +but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine that I made to +him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide liberality and +absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, and perpetual good +humour, would have produced success, our magazine certainly would +have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first great difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none,--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. _The Liberal_ may cease to be liberal, or _The +Fortnightly_, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But _The Cornhill_ +and _The Argosy_ are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or possibly the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. _Blackwood's_ has indeed always +remained _Blackwood's_, and _Fraser's_, though it has been bought +and sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called _Anthony Trollope's_. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town--still are about the town--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would have +driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we settled +on _St. Paul's_ as the name for our bantling,--not as being in any +way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks with many +others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, it was not +by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. Lynn +Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles Lever, +E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. H. Lewes, +C. Mackay, Hardman (of the _Times_), George Macdonald, W. R. Greg, +Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton Cook,--and +others, whose names would make the list too long. It might have been +thought that with such aid the _St. Paul's_ would have succeeded. +I do not think that the failure--for it did fail--arose from bad +editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the fault. I was +too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of what might be +lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two +occasions may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set +on foot on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything +short of a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set +a magazine afloat, though when afloat it will sustain it. Time +is wanted,--or the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by +ubiquitous sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may +be effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time and +intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done better +than _Blackwood's_. The _Cornhill_, too, after Thackeray had left +it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in quite +efficient hands,--those hands being the hands of proprietor and +publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and what +he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into that +worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for the +sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so sin +very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My dear +friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus,--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn in +his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know that +I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work did +not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did so, +I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that such +editors as Thackeray and myself--if I may for the moment be allowed +to couple men so unequal--will always be liable to commit such +faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors will be +less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to be +open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, or why +the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that may be +sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce a periodical +that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably best do by +securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BEVERLEY. + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning to +fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who was +himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should like +best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether I +wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far as he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to look +for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one by +leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could get a +seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that bourne +from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there feel that +he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to every +educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that every +educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in Parliament as +a probable or even a possible career; but that the man in Parliament +has reached a higher position than the man out,--that to serve one's +country without pay is the grandest work that a man can do,--that +of all studies the study of politics is the one in which a man may +make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and that of all +lives, public political lives are capable of the highest efforts. So +thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too late an age at +which to commence a new career,--I resolved with much hesitation that +I would make the attempt. + +Writing now at an age beyond sixty, I can say that my political +feelings and convictions have never undergone any change. They are +now what they became when I first began to have political feelings +and convictions. Nor do I find in myself any tendency to modify them +as I have found generally in men as they grow old. I consider myself +to be an advanced, but still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard +not only as a possible but as a rational and consistent phase of +political existence. I can, I believe, in a very few words, make +known my political theory; and as I am anxious that any who know +aught of me should know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It +should, I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel +superiority, unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do +not understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are therefore +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that we +see,--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from a +full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but still +we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of our +brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for in +this matter I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tost-bound life of those who cannot even feed +themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling of +injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck by +apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. Make +all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they shall be +all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the conscientious +philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being surely convinced +that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells himself that it +is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the preservation of the +welfare of the world depends on the maintenance of those distances +between the prince and the peasant by which he finds himself to be +surrounded;--and perhaps, I may add, that the duty is not unpleasant, +as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it is +apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his duty +to retard. He cannot prevent it; and therefore the society to which +he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, at times, +assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, under the +gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and holdfasts +which he may add, the movement would be slower than it would become +if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. Such, I think, +are Conservatives;--and I speak of men who, with the fear of God +before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm in their +hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best +understood, I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious +Liberal is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that +these distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness;--but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of steps +towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even willing +to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he knows, +as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. What +is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the word +is offensive, and presents to the imaginations of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and therefore he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any political +doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition of his +fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, and a +conjurer,--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be +stilted, overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. +Many will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active part +in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals or +Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings as +to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is so;--and +in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further and +further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are the +intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply such a +game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater results. To +the minds that create and lead and sway political opinion, some such +theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. But +I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about myself +in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, must be +able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied with +doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must patiently +get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, and then be +satisfied with himself when at last he has induced a Chancellor of +the Exchequer to say that he will consider the impost at the first +opportunity. He must be content to be beaten six times in order that, +on a seventh, his work may be found to be of assistance to some one +else. He must remember that he is one out of 650, and be content with +1-650th part of the attention of the nation. If he have grand ideas, +he must keep them to himself, unless by chance he can work his way +up to the top of the tree. In short, he must be a practical man. +Now I knew that in politics I could never become a practical man. I +should never be satisfied with a soft word from the Chancellor of the +Exchequer, but would always be flinging my over-taxed ketchup in his +face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a good +speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied the +art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I had +found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion,--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else all +impromptu,--which was very bad indeed, unless I had something special +on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by going into +Parliament,--that the time for it, if there could have been a time, +had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire to sit there, +and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn had not been +deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a +dissolution, I should stand for one division of the county of Essex; +and I had promised that I would do so, though the promise at that +time was as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this +by the late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was +very anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex was +portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, one of +which--that adjacent to London--would, it was thought, be altogether +Liberal. After the promise which I had given, the performance of +which would have cost me a large sum of money absolutely in vain, it +was felt by some that I should be selected as one of the candidates +for the new division,--and as such I was proposed by Mr. Charles +Buxton. But another gentleman, who would have been bound by previous +pledges to support me, was put forward by what I believe to have been +the defeating interest, and I had to give way. At the election this +gentleman, with another Liberal, who had often stood for the county, +were returned without a contest. Alas! alas! They were both unseated +at the next election, when the great Conservative reaction took +place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself,--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or at least the East +Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly better +than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of canvassing, +and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the prospect +of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they who knew +Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," said he, +"you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely that I was +thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he said. Again +I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but nevertheless +I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh no!" continued he, with +good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I don't suppose you really +expect it. But there is a fine career open to you. You will spend +£1000, and lose the election. Then you will petition, and spend +another £1000. You will throw out the elected members. There will be +a commission, and the borough will be disfranchised. For a beginner +such as you are, that will be a great success." And yet, in the teeth +of this, from a man who knew all about it, I persisted in going to +Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented by +Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying that +he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of the seat. +There had been many contests, many petitions, many void elections, +many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept his seat, +if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next door to +permanence. I fancy that with a little management between the parties +the borough might at this time have returned a member of each colour +quietly;--but there were spirits there who did not love political +quietude, and it was at last decided that there should be two Liberal +and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry was joined by a young man +of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was grouped with Mr. Maxwell, +the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch Roman Catholic peer who +lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure me +a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands for at any rate +the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. Maxwell and +I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves but the one +holiday during this period of intense labour; but I was assured, +as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, that if we +committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert us. From +morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes and by-ways +of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, exposed to the +rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable to assume that air +of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful candidate should be +invested. At night, every night I had to speak somewhere,--which was +bad; and to listen to the speaking of others,--which was much worse. +When, on one Sunday, I proposed to go to the Minster Church, I was +told that was quite useless, as the Church party were all certain to +support Sir Henry! "Indeed," said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes +there in a kind of official profession, and you had better not allow +yourself to be seen in the same place." So I stayed away and omitted +my prayers. No Church of England church in Beverley would on such +an occasion have welcomed a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be +a kind of pariah in the borough, to whom was opposed all that was +pretty, and all that was nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the +conviction that my political ideas were all leather and prunella +to the men whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for +my doctrines, and could not be made to understand that I should +have any. I had been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry +Edwards,--which, however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or +to cause him the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, +and expense. There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my +wished-for supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two +points I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious +for the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extended electoral divisions and by an +increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parliamentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so utterly +unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into Yorkshire +merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not have said more +than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of course I was +not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became members for +Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid £400 for my +expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the cost. +He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque for £400, +and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. How it came +to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never knew, but +such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from me, but from +the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen were unseated, the +borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards was put on his trial for +some kind of Parliamentary offence and was acquitted. In this way +Beverley's privilege as a borough and my Parliamentary ambition were +brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should do, +I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed to me +that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing more +absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, than +the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had come +to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. There +was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal there +turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should be no +bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. It was a +matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were appreciated +because they might subserve electoral purposes, and how little it +was understood that electoral purposes, which are in themselves a +nuisance, should be endured in order that they may subserve politics. +And then the time, the money, the mental energy, which had been +expended in making the borough a secure seat for a gentleman who +had realised the idea that it would become him to be a member of +Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be realised and +approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants had taught +themselves to think that it was for such purposes that boroughs were +intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, even in one +town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS. + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, as +being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has been +brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go over to +the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. This, as +I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and of course I +went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made two since. +As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was very far from +being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, a place I do +not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by incompetence, and +opposed by what I felt to be personal and not national views. I had +to deal with two men,--with one who was a working officer of the +American Post Office, than whom I have never met a more zealous, or, +as far as I could judge, a more honest public servant. He had his +views and I had mine, each of us having at heart the welfare of the +service in regard to his own country,--each of us also having certain +orders which we were bound to obey. But the other gentleman, who was +in rank the superior,--whose executive position was dependent on his +official status, as is the case with our own Ministers,--did not +recommend himself to me equally. He would make appointments with me +and then not keep them, which at last offended me so grievously, +that I declared at the Washington Post Office that if this treatment +were continued, I would write home to say that any further action +on my part was impossible. I think I should have done so had it not +occurred to me that I might in this way serve his purpose rather +than my own, or the purposes of those who had sent me. The treaty, +however, was at last made,--the purport of which was, that everything +possible should be done, at a heavy expenditure on the part of +England, to expedite the mails from England to America, and that +nothing should be done by America to expedite the mails from thence +to us. The expedition I believe to be now equal both ways; but it +could not be maintained as it is without the payment of a heavy +subsidy from Great Britain, whereas no subsidy is paid by the +States.[11] + + [Footnote 11: This was a state of things which may probably have + appeared to American politicians to be exactly that which they + should try to obtain. The whole arrangement has again been + altered since the time of which I have spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands in +the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have never +had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my work; +but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found many years +ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, being then in +the States, the details of which are sufficiently amusing[12]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though I +do not know that I have raised my price against them on that score, +I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from the American +market. But I do know that what the publishers have received here is +very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & Hall, my present +publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States as much as 5 per +cent on the price they pay me for my manuscript. But the American +readers are more numerous than the English, and taking them all +through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get £1000 for a book +here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be able to get as much +there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes in place of 300, +there is no question as to such result. Why not, then, if I can +supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + + [Footnote 12: In answer to a question from myself, a certain + American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised + me that if any other American publisher republished my work + on America before he had done so, he would not bring out a + competing edition, though there would be no law to hinder + him. I then entered into an agreement with another American + publisher, stipulating to supply him with early sheets; and he + stipulating to supply me a certain royalty on his sales, and to + supply me with accounts half-yearly. I sent the sheets with + energetic punctuality, and the work was brought out with equal + energy and precision--by my old American publishers. The + gentleman who made the promise had not broken his word. No + other American edition had come out before his. I never got any + account, and, of course, never received a dollar.] + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having a +certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers,[13] that an assent to an +international copyright would be the result. The state of things as +it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers will not pay +them on a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply their customers +with modern English literature without paying for it. The English +amount of production so much exceeds the American, that the rate at +which the former can be published rules the market. It is equally +injurious to American booksellers,--except to two or three of the +greatest houses. No small man can now acquire the exclusive right of +printing and selling an English book. If such a one attempt it, the +work is printed instantly by one of the leviathans,--who alone are +the gainers. The argument of course is, that the American readers are +the gainers,--that as they can get for nothing the use of certain +property, they would be cutting their own throats were they to pass +a law debarring themselves from the power of such appropriation. In +this argument all idea of honesty is thrown to the winds. It is not +that they do not approve of a system of copyright,--as many great men +have disapproved,--for their own law of copyright is as stringent as +is ours. A bold assertion is made that they like to appropriate the +goods of other people; and that, as in this case, they can do so +with impunity, they will continue to do so. But the argument, as +far as I have been able to judge, comes not from the people, but +from the bookselling leviathans, and from those politicians whom +the leviathans are able to attach to their interests. The ordinary +American purchaser is not much affected by slight variations in +price. He is at any rate too high-hearted to be affected by the +prospect of such variation. It is the man who wants to make money, +not he who fears that he may be called upon to spend it, who controls +such matters as this in the United States. It is the large speculator +who becomes powerful in the lobbies of the House, and understands how +wise it may be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation +of a great business, or in protecting that which he has created from +competition. Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done +since (up to 1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is +now about to sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a +member; and the question must then be handled, though nothing done +by a Royal Commission here can affect American legislators. But +I do believe that if the measure be consistently and judiciously +urged, the enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. +Some years since we had some _quasi_ private meetings, under the +presidency of Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the +subject of international copyright. At one of these I discussed this +matter of American international copyright with Charles Dickens, +who strongly declared his conviction that nothing would induce an +American to give up the power he possesses of pirating British +literature. But he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, +would not realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this +matter the American decision had been, according to his thinking, +dishonest, therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be +expected from Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now +protest. American dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among +a few. It is the great misfortune of the community that those few +have been able to dominate so large a portion of the population among +which all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + + [Footneote 13: I might also say American publishers, if I might + count them by the number of heads, and not by the amount of work + done by the firms.] + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has sat +and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and could +serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which are +discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that £20 was paid to my publisher in England for the use +of the early sheets of a novel for which I received £1600 in England. +When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that the firm +with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to another firm?" +I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because no other firm +would care to run counter to that great firm which had assumed to +itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after received a copy +of my own novel in the American form, and found that it was published +for 7½d. That a great sale was expected can be argued from the fact +that without a great sale the paper and printing necessary for the +republication of a three-volume novel could not be supplied. Many +thousand copies must have been sold. But from these the author +received not one shilling. I need hardly point out that the sum of +£20 would not do more than compensate the publisher for his trouble +in making the bargain. The publisher here no doubt might have refused +to supply the early sheets, but he had no means of exacting a higher +price than that offered. I mention the circumstance here because it +has been boasted, on behalf of the American publishers, that though +there is no international copyright, they deal so liberally with +English authors as to make it unnecessary that the English author +should be so protected. With the fact of the £20 just brought to my +knowledge, and with the copy of my book published at 7½d. now in my +hands, I feel that an international copyright is very necessary for +my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love of +education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions in the +minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk upright, +fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for his own +actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by private +munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where can the +English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than the normal +American, when once the American shall have found the Englishman to +be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is so much an object +of heart-felt admiration of the American man and the American woman +as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman or Englishman? +These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost in the minds of the +unprejudiced English traveller as he makes acquaintance with these +near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant of their official doings, +of their politics, of their municipal scandals, of their great +ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and briberies, and the infinite +baseness of their public life. There at the top of everything he +finds the very men who are the least fit to occupy high places. +American public dishonesty is so glaring that the very friends he +has made in the country are not slow to acknowledge it,--speaking of +public life as a thing-apart from their own existence, as a state +of dirt in which it would be an insult to suppose that they are +concerned! In the midst of it all the stranger, who sees so much +that he hates and so much that he loves, hardly knows how to express +himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with what +energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the clean +outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight outnumber +the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead you. It is +not by the private lives of the millions that the outside world will +judge you, but by the public career of those units whose venality is +allowed to debase the name of your country. There never was plainer +proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of every honest +citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond of +pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which makes +no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen high +in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two old +gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high in public +estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned the occasion +into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious at first, and +fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of manners which +with us has become a habit from our childhood. But they are never +fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be a +memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of the +chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last fifteen +years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. She +is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark by +thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do any +good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages would +amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of myself +without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. I trust +she may live to read the words I have now written, and to wipe away a +tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and on +my return I went back with energy to my work at the _St. Paul's +Magazine_. The first novel in it from my own pen was called _Phineas +Finn_, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, I +took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my seat +on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon by the +Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a seat in the +gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with the ways and +doings of the House in which some of my scenes were to be placed. The +Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running order for, I think, +a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, to enable me often to +be very tired,--and, as I have been assured by members, to talk of +the proceedings almost as well as though Fortune had enabled me to +fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing _Phineas Finn_, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my own +sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with perhaps +a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this way I think +I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly a blunder to +take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the circumstance that +I created the scheme of the book during a visit to Ireland. There +was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and there was an added +difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection for a politician +belonging to a nationality whose politics are not respected in +England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It was not a +brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant with +political matters could not care much for a hero who spent so much of +his time either in the House of Commons or in a public office. But +the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the book, and the +women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish read it also. As +this was what I had intended, I was contented. It is all fairly good +except the ending,--as to which till I got to it I made no provision. +As I fully intended to bring my hero again into the world, I was +wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish girl, who could only be +felt as an encumbrance on such return. When he did return I had no +alternative but to kill the simple pretty Irish girl, which was an +unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing _Phineas Finn_ I had constantly before me the necessity of +progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and women +which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In most +novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +_Ivanhoe_, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as they +become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this in _Tom +Jones_, which is one of the greatest novels in the English language, +for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature may fall away +under temptation and be again strengthened and made to stand upright. +But I do not think that novelists have often set before themselves +the state of progressive change,--nor should I have done it, had +I not found myself so frequently allured back to my old friends. +So much of my inner life was passed in their company, that I was +continually asking myself how this woman would act when this or that +event had passed over her head, or how that man would carry himself +when his youth had become manhood, or his manhood declined to old +age. It was in regard to the old Duke of Omnium, of his nephew and +heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady Glencora, that I was anxious to +carry out this idea; but others added themselves to my mind as I +went on, and I got round me a circle of persons as to whom I knew +not only their present characters, but how those characters were +to be affected by years and circumstances. The happy motherly +life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the girl's honest but +long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady Laura, which was +equally due to the sale she made of herself in her wretched marriage; +and the long suffering but final success of the hero, of which he +had deserved the first by his vanity, and the last by his constant +honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from the first. As to the +incidents of the story, the circumstances by which these personages +were to be affected, I knew nothing. They were created for the most +part as they were described. I never could arrange a set of events +before me. But the evil and the good of my puppets, and how the evil +would always lead to evil, and the good produce good,--that was clear +to me as the stars on a summer night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in _Phineas Finn_ and its +sequel _Phineas Redux_,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel, though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the _St. Paul's Magazine_ in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the _Graphic_ in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel-readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, or +that any little interest which might have been taken in the career +of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that such +interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the same +popularity as the former part, and among the same class of readers. +Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet had become--and +the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the new duke, and the +young duchess, either kept their old friends or made new friends for +themselves. _Phineas Finn_, I certainly think, was successful from +first to last. I am aware, however, that there was nothing in it to +touch the heart like the abasement of Lady Mason when confessing her +guilt to her old lover, or any approach in delicacy of delineation to +the character of Mr. Crawley. + +_Phineas Finn_, the first part of the story, was completed in May, +1867. In June and July I wrote _Linda Tressel_ for _Blackwood's +Magazine_, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called _The Golden Lion of Granpère_, which +was intended also for _Blackwood_,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in _Good Words_. It was +written on the model of _Nina Balatka_ and _Linda Tressel_, but is +very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, 1867, +I began a very long novel, which I called _He Knew He Was Right_, +and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of the _St. +Paul's Magazine_, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not know that +in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short of my own +intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create sympathy +for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do his duty to all +around him, should be led constantly astray by his unwillingness to +submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. The man is made to +be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he does is apparent. So far +I did not fail, but the sympathy has not been created yet. I look +upon the story as being nearly altogether bad. It is in part redeemed +by certain scenes in the house and vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. +But a novel which in its main parts is bad cannot, in truth, be +redeemed by the vitality of subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced _The Vicar of +Bullhampton_, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began _Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite_, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by it +during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the _St. +Paul's Magazine_, in reference to which I had read an enormous amount +of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I had +written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and had +made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had hunted +three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy I was +with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered as a +part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained my +experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched American +Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able to escape +from that capital till July; but all that had added to the activity +of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; but I had +read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a part of my +duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my novels I +had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation and scorn +produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I was nevertheless +proud of having done so much. I always had a pen in my hand. Whether +crossing the seas, or fighting with American officials, or tramping +about the streets of Beverley, I could do a little, and generally +more than a little. I had long since convinced myself that in such +work as mine the great secret consisted in acknowledging myself to +be bound to rules of labour similar to those which an artisan or a +mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker when he has finished one +pair of shoes does not sit down and contemplate his work in idle +satisfaction. "There is my pair of shoes finished at last! What a +pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker who so indulged himself would +be without wages half his time. It is the same with a professional +writer of books. An author may of course want time to study a new +subject. He will at any rate assure himself that there is some such +good reason why he should pause. He does pause, and will be idle for +a month or two while he tells himself how beautiful is that last pair +of shoes which he has finished! Having thought much of all this, and +having made up my mind that I could be really happy only when I was +at work, I had now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as +soon as the first was out of my hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON_--_SIR HARRY HOTSPUR_--_AN EDITOR'S +TALES_--_CÆSAR_. + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then the +sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. Chapman +& Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the firm. He +remained there three years and a half; but he did not like it, nor +do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he left the +business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might have been +expected from the short period of his labours, and has since taken +himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will work at it so +hard as his father, and write as many books, may be doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone out to +Australia, having resolved on a colonial career when he found that +boys who did not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This +departure was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted +on the understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, +and then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, and +in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I have since +that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which at any rate +I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the Australasian +Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word or two further +on of him and his doings. + +_The Vicar of Bullhampton_ was written in 1868 for publication in +_Once a Week_, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & +Evans. It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont, had +made my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my +terms and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before +it was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was +the first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have I +ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I had +stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled to +suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to console +myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of virtue. The +industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple will always be +the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, who keep none +waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for the unpunctual. +But these earthly sufferers know that they are making their way +heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. If the former +reflection does not suffice for consolation, the deficiency is made +up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on the matter of the +publication of my new Vicar, and had to think very much of the +ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. About the end of +March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the editor. All the _Once +a Week_ people were in a terrible trouble. They had bought the right +of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern novels, _L'Homme Qui Rit_; +they had fixed a date, relying on positive pledges from the French +publishers; and now the great French author had postponed his work +from week to week and from month to month, and it had so come to +pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would have to appear exactly +at the same time as my clergyman. Was it not quite apparent to me, +the editor asked, that _Once a Week_ could not hold the two? Would +I allow my clergyman to make his appearance in the _Gentleman's +Magazine_ instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by the +stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he had +put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches on +his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +_Gentleman's Magazine_, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, my novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no doubt +are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is irregular. +He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till three months +after the time named." In these emergencies I have given perhaps half +what was wanted, and have refused to give the other half. I have +endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and at the same time not +to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But the circumstances have +impressed on my mind the great need there is that men engaged in +literature should feel themselves to be bound to their industry as +men know that they are bound in other callings. There does exist, I +fear, a feeling that authors, because they are authors, are relieved +from the necessity of paying attention to everyday rules. A writer, +if he be making £800 a year, does not think himself bound to live +modestly on £600, and put by the remainder for his wife and children. +He does not understand that he should sit down at his desk at a +certain hour. He imagines that publishers and booksellers should keep +all their engagements with him to the letter;--but that he, as a +brain-worker, and conscious of the subtle nature of the brain, should +be able to exempt himself from bonds when it suits him. He has his +own theory about inspiration which will not always come,--especially +will not come if wine-cups overnight have been too deep. All this +has ever been odious to me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in +health, and therefore unable to do as he has contracted in whatever +grade of life. He who has been blessed with physical strength to +work day by day, year by year--as has been my case--should pardon +deficiencies caused by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect +have been a little hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my +repentance. But I think that no allowance should be given to claims +for exemption from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score +still with the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The _Vicar of Bullhampton_ was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for a fallen woman, and of +raising a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other +women. I could not venture to make this female the heroine of my +story. To have made her a heroine at all would have been directly +opposed to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should +be a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference +to her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the +heroine with their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I +affixed a preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my +old-established principle. I do not know that any one read it; but +as I wish to have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + + I have introduced in the _Vicar of Bullhampton_ the character + of a girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall + not in its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured + to endow her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I + have brought her back at last from degradation, at least to + decency. I have not married her to a wealthy lover, and I have + endeavoured to explain that though there was possible to her a + way out of perdition, still things could not be with her as they + would have been had she not fallen. + + There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who + professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, + should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as + that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within + the memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a + condition of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our + sisters and daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of + them. Whether that ignorance was good may be questioned; but + that it exists no longer is beyond question. Then arises the + further question,--how far the conditions of such unfortunates + should be made a matter of concern to the sweet young hearts of + those whose delicacy and cleanliness of thought is a matter of + pride to so many of us. Cannot women, who are good, pity the + sufferings of the vicious, and do something perhaps to mitigate + and shorten them without contamination from the vice? It will be + admitted probably by most men who have thought upon the subject + that no fault among us is punished so heavily as that fault, + often so light in itself but so terrible in its consequences to + the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a woman falls. + All her own sex is against her, and all those of the other sex + in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought to have + contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were her + trouble any other than it is. + + She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, + unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has + placed her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It + may be said, no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts + as a protection to female virtue,--deterring, as all known + punishments do deter, from vice. But this punishment, which is + horrible beyond the conception of those who have not regarded + it closely, is not known beforehand. Instead of the punishment, + there is seen a false glitter of gaudy life,--a glitter which + is damnably false,--and which, alas! has been more often + portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of young girls, + than have those horrors which ought to deter, with the dark + shadowings which belong to them. + + To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, + as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life + is happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice + and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter + be handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been + thoughtless, may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may + be softened. + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that feeling +I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her family. I have +not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I presented her to +the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of those fallacious +luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more seductive to evil +than love itself. She is introduced as a poor abased creature, who +hardly knows how false were her dreams, with very little of the +Magdalene about her--because though there may be Magdalenes they are +not often found--but with an intense horror of the sufferings of +her position. Such being her condition, will they who naturally are +her friends protect her? The vicar who has taken her by the hand +endeavours to excite them to charity; but father, and brother, and +sister are alike hard-hearted. It had been my purpose at first that +the hand of every Brattle should be against her; but my own heart was +too soft to enable me to make the mother cruel,--or the unmarried +sister who had been the early companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. The +characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping with +human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. It is +not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have myself +forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she tumbles +into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should remember her. +But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said by any of the +Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out of +ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is of +such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is the +woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? Then +comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone that +we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument used in +favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse given for their +severity by women who will relax nothing of their harshness. But in +truth the severity of the punishment is not known beforehand; it is +not in the least understood by women in general, except by those +who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, the contumely +of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all good things, +the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed round with +lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the weary pavement, +the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then the quick +depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted paint, +garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still can +hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the life to +which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their error we +close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find pardon +easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope to +recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at all, must +be induced to obey the summons before they have reached the last +stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. To me the +mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that the girl who +has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if possible, at any +rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, and that this +ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, but in part also from +a dread of the taint which the sin brings with it. Very low as is the +degradation to which a girl is brought when she falls through love +or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for luxurious ease, still much +lower is that to which she must descend perforce when, through the +hardness of the world around her, she converts that sin into a trade. +Mothers and sisters, when the misfortune comes upon them of a fallen +female from among their number, should remember this, and not fear +contamination so strongly as did Carry Brattle's married sister and +sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of the +three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had nothing +to do with it except to write it. These were _Sir Harry Hotspur of +Humblethwaite_, _An Editors Tales_, and a little volume on Julius +Cæsar. _Sir Harry Hotspur_ was written on the same plan as _Nina +Balatka_ and _Linda Tressel_, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. _Nina_ and _Linda Tressel_ and _The Golden +Lion_ had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English +story. In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I +think, by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love +of the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in _Macmillan's Magazine_, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it should +have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of a good +many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, the +subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. Macmillan, +and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them as a novel +in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel in one volume, +and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that the +public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is the object +of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they can, and that +the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, however, did not +overcome me, and I stood to my guns. _Sir Harry_ was published in +one volume, containing something over the normal 300 pages, with +an average of 220 words to a page,--which I had settled with my +conscience to be the proper length of a novel volume. I may here +mention that on one occasion, and on one occasion only, a publisher +got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He had a two-volume +novel of mine running through a certain magazine, and had it printed +complete in three volumes before I knew where I was,--before I had +seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for a while, but I had not +the heart to make him break up the type. + +The _Editor's Tales_ was a volume republished from the _St. Paul's +Magazine_, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned the +memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it the +outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance of +some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation with me, +I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed his little +article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with a becoming +pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how I was appealed +to by the dearest of little women whom here I have called Mary +Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle over an +abortive periodical which was intended to be the best thing ever +done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, who with +infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort to reclaim +himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly how a poor +weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened litigation +from a rejected contributor. Of these stories _The Spotted Dog_, +with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I know now, +however, that when the things were good they came out too quick one +upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, luckily, when they +were bad. + +The _Cæsar_ was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had +set on foot a series of small volumes called _Ancient Classics for +English Readers_, and had placed the editing of them, and the +compiling of many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, +a clergyman who, from my connection with the series, became a most +intimate friend. The _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ had already come out +when I was at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing +my very strong admiration for those two little volumes,--which I +here recommend to all young ladies as the most charming tales they +can read,--he asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. +_Herodotus_ was in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine +should be next. Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the +readers of English on _The Commentaries of Julius Cæsar_. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation or +English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has since +become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an hour with +some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After the reading +what my author had left behind him, I fell into the reading of what +others had written about him, in Latin, in English, and even in +French,--for I went through much of that most futile book by the late +Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a short period I ever +worked harder. The amount I had to write was nothing. Three weeks +would have done it easily. But I was most anxious, in this soaring +out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace myself. I do not think +that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was anxious for something more. +If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by +all, old and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an +account of Cæsar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary +intention,--and the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. +A well-educated girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps +know as much about Cæsar and his writings as she need know. Beyond +the consolation of thinking as I do about it, I got very little +gratification from the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very +learned friend to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Cæsar," but +said no more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into +me. Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There was, +however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that of others, +a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing English novels +could not be fit to write about Cæsar. It was as when an amateur +gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. What business had +I there? _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_. In the press it was most faintly +damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having read the book again +within the last month or two, I make bold to say that it is a good +book. The series, I believe, has done very well. I am sure that it +ought to do well in years to come, for, putting aside Cæsar, the work +has been done with infinite scholarship, and very generally with a +light hand. With the leave of my sententious and sonorous friend, +who had not endured that subjects which had been grave to him should +be treated irreverently, I will say that such a work, unless it be +light, cannot answer the purpose for which it is intended. It was not +exactly a school-book that was wanted, but something that would carry +the purposes of the school-room even into the leisure hours of adult +pupils. Nothing was ever better suited for such a purpose than the +_Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, as done by Mr. Collins. The _Virgil_, also +done by him, is very good; and so is the _Aristophanes_ by the same +hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_RALPH THE HEIR_--_THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS_--_LADY ANNA_--_AUSTRALIA_. + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we would +go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before doing so +I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the Colonies. For +such a work as this I had always been aware that I could not fairly +demand more than half the price that would be given for the same +amount of fiction; and as such books have an indomitable tendency +to stretch themselves, so that more is given than what is sold, +and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the writing of them is not +remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes not, I think, generally +from the ambition of the writer, but from his inability to comprise +the different parts in their allotted spaces. If you have to deal +with a country, a colony, a city, a trade, or a political opinion, +it is so much easier to deal with it in twenty than in twelve pages! +I also made an engagement with the editor of a London daily paper to +supply him with a series of articles,--which were duly written, duly +published, and duly paid for. But with all this, travelling with the +object of writing is not a good trade. If the travelling author can +pay his bills, he must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London be +cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, and +was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, away, and +the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of my friends +told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up the fabrication +of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon go, and I would +not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. And then, why +should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that I had fixed on that +place in reference to the Post Office? It was therefore determined +that we would flit, and as we were to be away for eighteen months, +we determined also to sell our furniture. So there was a packing up, +with many tears, and consultations as to what should be saved out of +the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let, +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. I +lost by the transaction about £800. As I continually hear that other +men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am not well +adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made money by +selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of horseflesh I am +so inefficient that I have generally given away horses that I have +not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May 1871, _Ralph the Heir_ was +running through the _St. Paul's_. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should not +write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and that part +which appertains to politics, and which recounts the electioneering +experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well enough. +Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same place. +Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good in their +way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only lover, but +also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But the main thread +of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the young gentlemen +and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is not good. Ralph +the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph who is not the +heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has none. The same may be +said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she who was meant to be the +chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, without leaving a trace of +remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of _The Fortnightly_, ready +for production on the 1st of July following, a story called _The +Eustace Diamonds_. In that I think that my friend's dictum was +disproved. There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. +The character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine +and as well told as that of Lucy Robarts or Lily Dale. + +But _The Eustace Diamonds_ achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a series +of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant to the +reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented itself to +me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but in planning +the character I had not thought of this, and I believe that Lizzie +would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had never been +described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, well +arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. I had no +idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got my heroine to +bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment of the thieves, +till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with the news that her +door had been broken open. All these things, and many more, Wilkie +Collins would have arranged before with infinite labour, preparing +things present so that they should fit in with things to come. I +have gone on the very much easier plan of making everything as it +comes fit in with what has gone before. At any rate, the book was +a success, and did much to repair the injury which I felt had come +to my reputation in the novel-market by the works of the last few +years. I doubt whether I had written anything so successful as _The +Eustace Diamonds_ since _The Small House at Allington_. I had written +what was much better,--as, for instance, _Phineas Finn_ and _Nina +Balatka_; but that is by no means the same thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of _Phineas +Redux_, a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I +subsequently sold to the proprietors of the _Graphic_ newspaper. The +editor of that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that +the public would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was +dissatisfied with me when I replied that I had no objection to them +doing so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any +other language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, I +could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +_An Eye for an Eye_, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. When +making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting a desk put +up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the Great Britain, +so that I could go to work the day after we left Liverpool. This I +did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished a story called +_Lady Anna_. Every word of this was written at sea, during the two +months required for our voyage, and was done day by day--with the +intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, at the rate of 66 +pages of manuscript in each week, every page of manuscript containing +250 words. Every word was counted. I have seen work come back to an +author from the press with terrible deficiencies as to the amount +supplied. Thirty-two pages have perhaps been wanted for a number, +and the printers with all their art could not stretch the matter to +more than twenty-eight or -nine! The work of filling up must be very +dreadful. I have sometimes been ridiculed for the methodical details +of my business. But by these contrivances I have been preserved +from many troubles; and I have saved others with whom I have +worked--editors, publishers, and printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, _Lady Anna_ appeared in _The +Fortnightly_, following _The Eustace Diamonds_. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for her, +and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown in her +way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. And the +charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that she is bound +by her troth to the man who had always been true to her overcomes +everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my wish of course to +justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers along with me in my +sympathy with her. But everybody found fault with me for marrying her +to the tailor. What would they have said if I had allowed her to jilt +the tailor and marry the good-looking young lord? How much louder, +then, would have been the censure! The book was read, and I was +satisfied. If I had not told my story well, there would have been no +feeling in favour of the young lord. The horror which was expressed +to me at the evil thing I had done, in giving the girl to the tailor, +was the strongest testimony I could receive of the merits of the +story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say that +this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew a man +work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might be +enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them all. +Making my head-quarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New South +Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of Western +Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was absent in all +eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in learning much of the +political, social, and material condition of these countries. I wrote +my book as I was travelling, and brought it back with me to England +all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much more +to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much more is +said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter than from +the former book. I am sure that any one who will take the trouble to +read the book on Australia, will learn much from it. But the West +Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that either of the other +works are, in the proper sense of that word. When I go back to them +I find that the pages drag with me;--and if so with me, how must it +be with others who have none of that love which a father feels even +for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all the needs a book has the chief +need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like to +pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had heard +so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to enter, and +inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him that I was not +a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. +"I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured him that I was +not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him that I did so by +writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then he turned +upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the door. I was +properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive that he would +have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made to +the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No real +resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four horses +I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the two +summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival I bought +another, and settled myself down to hunting from London three days a +week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, but finding that +to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton Buzzard, and became +one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode with the "Baron" +and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer was alive, and the +riding with his hounds was very good. I did not care so much for Mr. +Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and 1875, I had my horses +back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, always trying to resolve +that I would give it up. But still I bought fresh horses, and, as +I did not give it up, I hunted more than ever. Three times a week +the cab has been at my door in London very punctually, and not +unfrequently before seven in the morning. In order to secure this +attendance, the man has always been invited to have his breakfast in +the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern Railway,--ah! so often +with the fear that frost would make all my exertions useless, and so +often too with that result! And then, from one station or another +station, have travelled on wheels at least a dozen miles. After the +day's sport, the same toil has been necessary to bring me home to +dinner at eight. This has been work for a young man and a rich man, +but I have done it as an old man and comparatively a poor man. Now at +last, in April, 1876, I do think that my resolution has been taken. +I am giving away my old horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles +and horse-furniture. + + "Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum; + Tendunt extorquere poëmata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + +This is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport. + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_THE WAY WE LIVE NOW_ AND _THE PRIME MINISTER_--CONCLUSION. + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I had +arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and early +in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope to live +and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to place upon +new shelves the books which I had collected round myself at Waltham. +And this work, which was in itself great, entailed also the labour +of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, a catalogue +is nothing unless it show the spot on which every book is to be +found,--information which every volume also ought to give as to +itself. Only those who have done it know how great is the labour of +moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the present moment +I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to me even than the +horses which are going, or than the wine in the cellar, which is very +apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I began a +novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I conceived +to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the world does +or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a question which +probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since the world began to +think. That men have become less cruel, less violent, less selfish, +less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but have they become less +honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from day to day in honesty, +be considered to be in a state of progress? We know the opinion on +this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. If he be right, we are +all going straight away to darkness and the dogs. But then we do not +put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor in Mr. Ruskin and his other +followers. The loudness and extravagance of their lamentations, +the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes from them, over a +world which is supposed to have gone altogether shoddy-wards, are so +contrary to the convictions of men who cannot but see how comfort +has been increased, how health has been improved, and education +extended,--that the general effect of their teaching is the opposite +of what they have intended. It is regarded simply as Carlylism to say +that the English-speaking world is growing worse from day to day. And +it is Carlylism to opine that the general grand result of increased +intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its +walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all +its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, +and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man +dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I +say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to +write _The Way We Live Now_. And as I had ventured to take the whip +of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the iniquities of the +great speculator who robs everybody, and made an onslaught also on +other vices,--on the intrigues of girls who want to get married, +on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain single, and on the +puffing propensities of authors who desire to cheat the public into +buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can so +moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects _The Way We Live Now_ was, +as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers is +weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to have +two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them both with +interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be no more than +padding to the other. And so it was in _The Way We Live Now_. The +interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish people,--with +Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, with the +American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the girl of his +heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta Carbury are +uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon the book as +one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by the public or +the press. + +While I was writing _The Way We Live Now_, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the _Graphic_ for a Christmas story. I feel, with +regard to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and +undertaker feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has +to supply it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and +he will starve if he neglect it. So have I felt that, when anything +in the shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. +Nothing can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish +of Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be the +ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire for +Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, better +still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens when +he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the things +written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas like +children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour of +Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! at this +very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to supply +within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always require a +long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling my brain +for the last month. I can't send away the order to another shop, but +I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the _Graphic_, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not loth +to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, by +the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote _Harry Heathcote of Gangoil_, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no worse +success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When _Harry Heathcote_ was over, I returned with a full heart to Lady +Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed picture +of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The personages +with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps even +the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in a +wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would be +destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst of +human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as a +rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box into +the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves into +one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to set aside +his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal contact of men +who must often be personally disagreeable, having been thoroughly +taught that in no other way can they serve either their country or +their own ambition. These are the men who are publicly useful, and +whom the necessities of the age supply,--as to whom I have never +ceased to wonder that stones of such strong calibre should be so +quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But I had also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of a +party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but also +even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a very +little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. The +time may come, the glorious time when some great self action shall be +possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave up the Corn +Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, should not allow +himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, smooth, hard, +useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he must harden his +skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and again we see the +attempt made by men who cannot get their skins to be hard--who after +a little while generally fall out of the ranks. The statesman of whom +I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was one who did not fall +out of the ranks, even though his skin would not become hard. He +should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary habits, by which +to bind him to the service of his country; and he should also have +unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love of country. That +virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. They who are without +it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should have it as the ruling +principle of his life; and it should so rule him that all other +things should be made to give way to it. But he should be scrupulous, +and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to the highest place in the +council of his Sovereign, he should feel with true modesty his own +insufficiency; but not the less should the greed of power grow upon +him when he had once allowed himself to taste and enjoy it. Such was +the character I endeavoured to depict in describing the triumph, the +troubles, and the failure of my Prime Minister. And I think that I +have succeeded. What the public may think, or what the press may say, +I do not yet know, the work having as yet run but half its course.[14] + + [Footnote 14: Writing this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly + three years, I am obliged to say that, as regards the public, + _The Prime Minister_ was a failure. It was worse spoken of by + the press than any novel I had written. I was specially hurt by + a criticism on it in the _Spectator_. The critic who wrote the + article I know to be a good critic, inclined to be more than fair + to me; but in this case I could not agree with him, so much do I + love the man whose character I had endeavoured to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand it--or +that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been a matter +of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing that the +operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, which +might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who commenced +it. It has been carried on through three or four, each of which will +be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost as soon as read. +In _The Prime Minister_, my Prime Minister will not allow his wife +to take office among, or even over, those ladies who are attached by +office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," he says to her, +"that my wife should have any duties unconnected with our joint +family and home." Who will remember in reading those words that, +in a former story, published some years before, he tells his wife, +when she has twitted him with his willingness to clean the Premier's +shoes, that he would even allow her to clean them if it were for the +good of the country? And yet it is by such details as these that I +have, for many years past, been manufacturing within my own mind the +characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over a +woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think it +probable that my name will remain among those who in the next century +will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but if it +does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the character +of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself, with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I have +an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my political +hero as the mainstay of another story. When _The Prime Minister_ was +finished, I at once began another novel, which is now completed in +three volumes, and which is called _Is He Popenjoy?_ There are two +Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title held by the other; +but as they are both babies, and do not in the course of the story +progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, should the tale ever +be published, will not be much interested in them. Nevertheless the +story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. Since that I have written +still another three-volume novel, to which, very much in opposition +to my publisher, I have given the name of _The American Senator_.[15] +It is to appear in _Temple Bar_, and is to commence its appearance on +the first of next month. Such being its circumstances, I do not know +that I can say anything else about it here. + + [Footnote 15: _The American Senator_ and _Popenjoy_ have + appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has + encountered that reproach which, in regard to _The Prime + Minister_, seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should + be brought to a close. And yet I feel assured that they are + very inferior to _The Prime Minister_.] + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I think +are more in amount than the works of any other living English author. +If any English authors not living have written more--as may probably +have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find that, taking +the books which have appeared under our names, I have published +much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also published +considerably more than Voltaire, even including his letters. We are +told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written 480 volumes, and +that he went on writing for eight years longer. I wish I knew what +was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort myself by reflecting +that the amount of manuscript described as a book in Varro's time +was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; whereas I am still +living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates given +are the years in which the works were published as a whole, most of +them having appeared before in some serial form. + + + Date of Total Sums + Names of Works. Publication. Received. + --------------- ------------ ----------- + The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 £48 6 9 + The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 + La Vendée, 1850 20 0 0 + The Warden, 1855 \ / + Barchester Towers, 1857 / \ 727 11 3 + The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 + Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 + The West Indies and the Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 + The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 + Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 + Tales of All Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + 2d " 1863 } 1830 0 0 + 3d " 1870 / + Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 + North America, 1862 1250 0 0 + Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 + The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 + Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 + Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 + The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 + The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 + The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 + Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 + Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 + Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 + He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 + Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 + The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 + An Editor's Tales, l870 378 0 0 + Cæsar (Ancient Classics),[16] 1870 0 0 0 + Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 + Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 + The Golden Lion of Granpère, 1872 550 0 0 + The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 + Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 + Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 + Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 + The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 + The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 + The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 + Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 + South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 + John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 + Sundries, 7800 0 0 + -------------- + £68,939 17 5 + + [Footnote 16: This was given by me as a present to my friend + John Blackwood.] + + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as to +quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary excellence. +That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is a vice +and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave a doubt +on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit should be +accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. And I make +the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for the benefit of +those who may read these pages, and when young may intend to follow +the same career. _Nulla dies sine lineâ._ Let that be their motto. +And let their work be to them as is his common work to the common +labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. He need tie +no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours at his desk +without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they have sat. More +than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done in the last +twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed another +profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving due time, +if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. But +I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer all +difficulties. _Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed sæpe cadendo._ + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near £70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but not +splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed in much +the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his life? If +the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my blood; if a cup +of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought tobacco at midnight +in pleasant company to be one of the elements of an earthly paradise; +if now and again I have somewhat recklessly fluttered a £5 note +over a card-table;--of what matter is that to any reader? I have +betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no sorrow. It has been the +companionship of smoking that I have loved, rather than the habit. +I have never desired to win money, and I have lost none. To enjoy +the excitement of pleasure, but to be free from its vices and ill +effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the bitter untasted,--that +has been my study. The preachers tell us that this is impossible. It +seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded fairly well. I will not +say that I have never scorched a finger,--but I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still chiefly +to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with me, God +may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according to my +view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who love +me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while I am +reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men do, +what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is so +with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found my +greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want of +truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but from +curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. If +I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies of +these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY*** + + +******* This file should be named 5978-8.txt or 5978-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/7/5978 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a +href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> +<p class="noindent">Title: An Autobiography</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: October 4, 2002 [eBook #5978]<br /> +This revision posted on April 28, 2013</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Jesse Chandler<br /> + and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h1> + +<h3>by</h3> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table class="med" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td> <td><a href="#cpref">PREFACE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td><a href="#c1">MY EDUCATION, 1815-1834.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td><a href="#c2">MY MOTHER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td><a href="#c3">THE GENERAL POST OFFICE, 1834-1841.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td><a href="#c4">IRELAND—MY FIRST TWO NOVELS, 1841-1848.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td><a href="#c5">MY FIRST SUCCESS, 1849-1855.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td><a href="#c6"><i>BARCHESTER TOWERS</i> AND<br /><i>THE THREE CLERKS</i>, 1855-1858.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td><a href="#c7"><i>DOCTOR THORNE</i>—<i>THE BERTRAMS</i>—<i>THE WEST<br />INDIES AND THE SPANISH MAIN</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#c8">THE <i>CORNHILL MAGAZINE</i> AND<br /><i>FRAMLEY PARSONAGE</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td><a href="#c9"><i>CASTLE RICHMOND</i>—<i>BROWN, JONES, AND<br />ROBINSON</i>—<i>NORTH AMERICA</i>—<i>ORLEY FARM</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td><a href="#c10"><i>THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON</i>—<i>CAN YOU<br />FORGIVE HER?</i>—<i>RACHEL RAY</i>—AND THE<br /><i>FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td><a href="#c11"><i>THE CLAVERINGS</i>—THE <i>PALL MALL<br />GAZETTE</i>—<i>NINA BALATKA</i>—AND<br /><i>LINDA TRESSEL</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td><a href="#c12">ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#c13">ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#c14">ON CRITICISM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td><a href="#c15"><i>THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET</i>—LEAVING<br />THE POST OFFICE—<i>ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#c16">BEVERLEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#c17">THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY—THE<br />QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH<br />AMERICA—FOUR MORE NOVELS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c18"><i>THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON</i>—<i>SIR HARRY<br />HOTSPUR</i>—<i>AN EDITOR'S TALES</i>—<i>CÆSAR</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#c19"><i>RALPH THE HEIR</i>—<i>THE EUSTACE<br />DIAMONDS</i>—<i>LADY ANNA</i>—<i>AUSTRALIA</i>.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td><a href="#c20"><i>THE WAY WE LIVE NOW</i> AND <i>THE PRIME<br />MINISTER</i>—CONCLUSION.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + + +<p><a id="cpref"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> +<h4><br /> </h4> + + +<p>It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In the +summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir of his +own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said that he had +written me a letter, not to be opened until after his death, +containing instructions for publication.</p> + +<p>This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much of +it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from me, +given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir of my +life. My intention is that they shall be published after my death, +and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your discretion +whether to publish or to suppress the work;—and also to your +discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. But I +would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. If you +wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in the shape of +a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there is a postscript: +"The publication, if made at all, should be effected as soon as +possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of December, +1882.</p> + +<p>It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass the +book through the press conformably to the above instructions. I have +placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, and I do +not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions of any +other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my father's +own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. I have +suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount to two +printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any of his +own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published.</p> + +<p>I see from my father's manuscript, and from his papers, that the +first two chapters of this memoir were written in the latter part of +1875, that he began the third chapter early in January, 1876, and +that he finished the record before the middle of April in that year. +I state this, though there are indications in the book by which it +might be seen at what time the memoir was being written.</p> + +<p>So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give in +a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he completed +his autobiography.</p> + +<p>He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighbourhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his life: +he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed him not +to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke willingly on +hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up his favourite +amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there should be an end +of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South Africa, and returned +early in the following year with a book on the colony already +written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of a party of ladies and +gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland in the "Mastiff," one of +Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey lasted altogether sixteen +days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. Burns were the hospitable +entertainers. When my father returned, he wrote a short account of +<i>How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland</i>. The book was printed, but was +intended only for private circulation.</p> + +<p>Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. He +would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself less +than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was always +done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were published +after the last included in the list which he himself has given at the +end of the second <span class="nowrap">volume:—</span><br /> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"> +<tr><td>An Eye for an Eye,</td><td align="right">1879</td></tr> +<tr><td>Cousin Henry,</td><td align="right">1879</td></tr> +<tr><td>Thackeray,</td><td align="right">1879</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Duke's Children,</td><td align="right">1880</td></tr> +<tr><td>Life of Cicero,</td><td align="right">1880</td></tr> +<tr><td>Ayala's Angel,</td><td align="right">1881</td></tr> +<tr><td>Doctor Wortle's School,</td><td align="right">1881</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="nowrap">Frau Frohmann and other Stories, </span></td><td align="right">1882</td></tr> +<tr><td>Lord Palmerston,</td><td align="right">1882</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Fixed Period,</td><td align="right">1882</td></tr> +<tr><td>Kept in the Dark,</td><td align="right">1882</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marion Fay,</td><td align="right">1882</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mr. Scarborough's Family,<br /> </td><td align="right" valign="top">1883</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called <i>The Landleaguers</i>, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called <i>An Old Man's Love</i>, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighbourhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May of +that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did him +much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved his +asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen months. +In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but from this +journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested in, and was +very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the country. Few +men knew Ireland better than he did. He had lived there for sixteen +years, and his Post Office work had taken him into every part of the +island. In the summer of 1882 he began his last novel, <i>The +Landleaguers</i>, which, as stated above, was unfinished when he died. +This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not rid his mind of +the fact that he had a story already in the course of publication, +but which he had not yet completed. In no other case, except <i>Framley +Parsonage</i>, did my father publish even the first number of any novel +before he had fully completed the whole tale.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the 3d of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His mind +also had failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return to +him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became rarer, +but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind was sound +or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of December +following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack.</p> + +<p>I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire to +supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the main +incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In what I +have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions.</p> + +<p>HENRY M. TROLLOPE.</p> +<p>September, 1883.</p> + + +<p><a id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>MY EDUCATION.<br /> +1815-1834.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;—nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, or +any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there that +has done none? But this I protest;—that nothing that I say shall be +untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give to myself, +or others, honour which I do not believe to have been fairly won.</p> + +<p>My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young gentleman +could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of poverty and +gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an utter want on +my own part of that juvenile manhood which enables some boys to hold +up their heads even among the distresses which such a position is +sure to produce.</p> + +<p>I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and of +those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny and of +ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New College, and +Winchester was the destination of my brothers and myself; but as he +had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as the school offered an +education almost gratuitous to children living in the parish, he, +with a certain aptitude to do things differently from others, which +accompanied him throughout his life, determined to use that august +seminary as a "t'other school" for Winchester, and sent three of us +there, one after the other, at the age of seven. My father at this +time was a Chancery barrister practising in London, occupying dingy, +almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old Square, Lincoln's +Inn,—chambers which on one melancholy occasion did become absolutely +suicidal. <a id="fnr01"></a><a href="#fn01">[1]</a> He +was, as I have been informed by those quite +competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, but +plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from him. +In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of higher +hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that he was felt +to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that in Keppel +Street; and in order that he might build such a residence, he took +the farm. This place he called Julians, and the land runs up to the +foot of the hill on which the school and church stand,—on the side +towards London. Things there went much against him; the farm was +ruinous, and I remember that we all regarded the Lord Northwick of +those days as a cormorant who was eating us up. My father's clients +deserted him. He purchased various dark gloomy chambers in and about +Chancery Lane, and his purchases always went wrong. Then, as a final +crushing blow, an old uncle, whose heir he was to have been, married +and had a family! The house in London was let; and also the house he +built at Harrow, from which he descended to a farmhouse on the land, +which I have endeavoured to make known to some readers under the name +of Orley Farm. This place, just as it was when we lived there, is to +be seen in the frontispiece to the first edition of that novel, +having had the good fortune to be delineated by no less a pencil than +that of John Millais.</p> + +<p>My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow School +from the bigger house, and may probably have been received among the +aristocratic crowd,—not on equal terms, because a day-boarder at +Harrow in those days was never so received,—but at any rate as other +day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well treated, but I +doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy which I endured. I +was only seven, and I think that boys at seven are now spared among +their more considerate seniors. I was never spared; and was not even +allowed to run to and fro between our house and the school without a +daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance was against me. I remember +well, when I was still the junior boy in the school, Dr. Butler, the +head-master, stopping me in the street, and asking me, with all the +clouds of Jove upon his brow and all the thunder in his voice, +whether it was possible that Harrow School was disgraced by so +disreputably dirty a little boy as I! Oh, what I felt at that moment! +But I could not look my feelings. I do not doubt that I was +dirty;—but I think that he was cruel. He must have known me had he +seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was in the habit of flogging +me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise me by my face.</p> + +<p>At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it.</p> + +<p>Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur Drury. +This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the advice of +Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my father's +friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that my +juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the way +of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other boys +than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. Even +here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one occasion, +four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators of some +nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even guess; but I +was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged to have been +the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out a sermon, and +my sermon was the longest of the four. During the whole of one +term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were not allowed to +visit the playground till the sermon was finished. Mine was only done +a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, when she saw us, shook +her head with pitying horror. There were ever so many other +punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke my heart, knowing +myself to be innocent, and suffering also under the almost equally +painful feeling that the other three—no doubt wicked boys—were the +curled darlings of the school, who would never have selected me to +share their wickedness with them. I contrived to learn, from words +that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned me because I, having come +from a public school, might be supposed to be the leader of +wickedness! On the first day of the next term he whispered to me half +a word that perhaps he had been wrong. With all a stupid boy's +slowness, I said nothing; and he had not the courage to carry +reparation further. All that was fifty years ago, and it burns me now +as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered curs those boys must +have been not to have told the truth!—at any rate as far as I was +concerned. I remember their names well, and almost wish to write them +here.</p> + +<p>When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and the +younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost his +chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions of my +father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man was +never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the prize +which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our reach. My +eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went to Oxford, +taking three exhibitions from the school, though he lost the great +glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well known to the +public as a writer in connection with all Italian subjects. He is +still living as I now write. But my other brother died early.</p> + +<p>While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,—and in this +case a highly educated and a very clever man,—that farming should be +a business in which he might make money without any special education +or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is the one in which an +accurate knowledge of what things should be done, and the best manner +of doing them, is most necessary. And it is one also for success in +which a sufficient capital is indispensable. He had no knowledge, +and, when he took this second farm, no capital. This was the last +step preparatory to his final ruin.</p> + +<p>Soon after I had been sent to Winchester, my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then no +more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that he had +an idea that money might be made by sending goods,—little goods, +such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,—out to the +still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an opening +might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar or +extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money came I +do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were bought, +and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,—a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval of +some year and a half during which he and I were at Winchester +together.</p> + +<p>Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk in +the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been fast +friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect friendship +bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more of +brotherhood. But in those school-days he was, of all my foes, the +worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which submits, +or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger boys from the +elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher and ruler, he +had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well how he used to +exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. Hang a little boy +for stealing apples, he used to say, and other little boys will not +steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded elsewhere, but he +stuck to it with conservative energy. The result was that, as a part +of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big stick. That such +thrashings should have been possible at a school as a continual part +of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a very ill condition of +school discipline.</p> + +<p>At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays—the +midsummer holidays—in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,—as to what should be done +with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering about +among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare out of +a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It was not that +I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing else to read.</p> + +<p>After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father to +America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. My +college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course knew +that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of boys to be +cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other they do +usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I suffered +horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend to whom I +could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and ugly, and, I +have no doubt, skulked about in a most unattractive manner. Of course +I was ill-dressed and dirty. But, ah! how well I remember all the +agonies of my young heart; how I considered whether I should always +be alone; whether I could not find my way up to the top of that +college tower, and from thence put an end to everything? And a worse +thing came than the stoppage of the supplies from the shopkeepers. +Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, which we called +battels, and which was advanced to us out of the pocket of the second +master. On one awful day the second master announced to me that my +battels would be stopped. He told me the reason,—the battels for the +last half-year had not been repaid; and he urged his own +unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a shilling a week +would not have been much,—even though pocket-money from other +sources never reached me,—but that the other boys all knew it! Every +now and again, perhaps three or four times in a half-year, these +weekly shillings were given to certain servants of the college, in +payment, it may be presumed, for some extra services. And now, when +it came to the turn of any servant, he received sixty-nine shillings +instead of seventy, and the cause of the defalcation was explained to +him. I never saw one of those servants without feeling that I had +picked his pocket.</p> + +<p>When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed to +have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, have +gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional number +of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there would +have been no funds for my maintenance at the University till I should +have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's endowment, and my +career at Oxford must have been unfortunate.</p> + +<p>When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm he had +hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three miles from +Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from this house I was +again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let those who know what +is the usual appearance and what the usual appurtenances of a boy at +such a school, consider what must have been my condition among them, +with a daily walk of twelve miles through the lanes, added to the +other little troubles and labours of a school life!</p> + +<p>Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, walking +to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst period of my +life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age at which I could +appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion from all social +intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was despised by all my +companions. The farmhouse was not only no more than a farmhouse, but +was one of those farmhouses which seem always to be in danger of +falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it crept downwards from +house to stables, from stables to barns, from barns to cowsheds, and +from cowsheds to dung-heaps, one could hardly tell where one began +and the other ended! There was a parlour in which my father lived, +shut up among big books; but I passed my most jocund hours in the +kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's daughter. The farm +kitchen might be very well through the evening, when the horrors of +the school were over; but it all added to the cruelty of the days. A +sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk at Oxford, has not +pleasant days, or used not to have them half a century ago; but his +position was recognised, and the misery was measured. I was a sizar +at a fashionable school, a condition never premeditated. What right +had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from a dunghill, to sit next to +the sons of peers,—or much worse still, next to the sons of big +tradesmen who had made their ten thousand a-year? The indignities I +endured are not to be described. As I look back it seems to me that +all hands were turned against me,—those of masters as well as boys. +I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor did I learn anything,—for I +was taught nothing. The only expense, except that of books, to which +a house-boarder was then subject, was the fee to a tutor, amounting, +I think, to ten guineas. My tutor took me without the fee; but when I +heard him declare the fact in the pupil-room before the boys, I +hardly felt grateful for the charity. I was never a coward, and cared +for a thrashing as little as any boy, but one cannot make a stand +against the acerbities of three hundred tyrants without a moral +courage of which at that time I possessed none. I know that I +skulked, and was odious to the eyes of those I admired and envied. At +last I was driven to rebellion, and there came a great fight,—at the +end of which my opponent had to be taken home for a while. If these +words be ever printed, I trust that some schoolfellow of those days +may still be left alive who will be able to say that, in claiming +this solitary glory of my school-days, I am not making a false boast.</p> + +<p>I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother—Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus—was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always in +debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,—generally, I fear, in vain,—to get me +to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hay-field on +holidays I was often compelled to go,—not, I fear, with much profit. +My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years of his +life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering agony +from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when suffering. He +had at this time commenced a work,—an Encyclopædia Ecclesiastica, as +he called it,—on which he laboured to the moment of his death. It +was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical terms, including the +denominations of every fraternity of monks and every convent of nuns, +with all their orders and subdivisions. Under crushing disadvantages, +with few or no books of reference, with immediate access to no +library, he worked at his most ungrateful task with unflagging +industry. When he died, three numbers out of eight had been published +by subscription; and are now, I fear, unknown, and buried in the +midst of that huge pile of futile literature, the building up of +which has broken so many hearts.</p> + +<p>And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to get +a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in the +hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. From +my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to take my +place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the morning, +and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat the Greek +alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold my head +inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, he might +be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or dropping his +shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for the education of +his children, though I think none ever knew less how to go about the +work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, he never recognised the +need. He allowed himself no distraction, and did not seem to think it +was necessary to a child. I cannot bethink me of aught that he ever +did for my gratification; but for my welfare,—for the welfare of us +all,—he was willing to make any sacrifice. At this time, in the +farmhouse at Harrow Weald, he could not give his time to teach me, +for every hour that he was not in the fields was devoted to his monks +and nuns; but he would require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and +Gradus before me. As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed +determination to make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon +me, or of the hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great +energy in after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly +altered, or whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never +punished me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but in +passion he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with the +great folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were the two +first volumes of Cooper's novel, called <i>The Prairie</i>, a +relic—probably a dishonest relic—of some subscription to Hookham's +library. Other books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many +dozen times I read those two first volumes.</p> + +<p>It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a walk +along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather fine, +and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same lanes +four times a-day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with all the +accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I might have +been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance by my +boots and trousers,—and was conscious at all times that I was so +known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler when I +was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have said the +same thing any day,—only that Dr. Longley never in his life was able +to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became Dean of +Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of Canterbury.</p> + +<p>I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest of +the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,—not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called Orley +Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at Harrow Weald. +Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved circumstances. The +three miles became half a mile, and probably some salutary changes +were made in my wardrobe. My mother and my sisters, too, were there. +And a great element of happiness was added to us all in the +affectionate and life-enduring friendship of the family of our close +neighbour, Colonel Grant. But I was never able to overcome—or even +to attempt to overcome—the absolute isolation of my school position. +Of the cricket-ground or racket-court I was allowed to know nothing. +And yet I longed for these things with an exceeding longing. I +coveted popularity with a covetousness that was almost mean. It +seemed to me that there would be an Elysium in the intimacy of those +very boys whom I was bound to hate because they hated me. Something +of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life. +Not that I have ever shunned to speak of them as openly as I am +writing now, but that when I have been claimed as schoolfellow by +some of those many hundreds who were with me either at Harrow or at +Winchester, I have felt that I had no right to talk of things from +most of which I was kept in estrangement.</p> + +<p>Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry to +Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship that +would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. There +were exhibitions from Harrow—which I never got. Twice I tried for a +sizarship at Clare Hall,—but in vain. Once I made a futile attempt +for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,—but failed again. Then the +idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate it was +that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance only as a +scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt and +ignominy.</p> + +<p>When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt had +been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very little +attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember any lessons +either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I certainly was +not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, but I do assert +that I have no recollection of other tuition except that in the dead +languages. At the school at Sunbury there was certainly a writing +master and a French master. The latter was an extra, and I never had +extras. I suppose I must have been in the writing master's class, but +though I can call to mind the man, I cannot call to mind his ferule. +It was by their ferules that I always knew them, and they me. I feel +convinced in my mind that I have been flogged oftener than any human +being alive. It was just possible to obtain five scourgings in one +day at Winchester, and I have often boasted that I obtained them all. +Looking back over half a century, I am not quite sure whether the +boast is true; but if I did not, nobody ever did.</p> + +<p>And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such waste +of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,—that is to say, I read and +enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself understood +in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have acquired since +I left school,—no doubt aided much by that groundwork of the +language which will in the process of years make its way slowly, even +through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition in which I do +not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left Harrow I was +nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, I think, the +seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation upwards. I bear +in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used to be showered +about; but I never got a prize. From the first to the last there was +nothing satisfactory in my school career,—except the way in which I +licked the boy who had to be taken home to be cured.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn01"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 1</span>: + A pupil of + his destroyed himself in the rooms.] + <br /><a href="#fnr01"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>MY MOTHER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of all +the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,—partly because +filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent who made +for herself a considerable name in the literature of her day, and +partly because there were circumstances in her career well worthy of +notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William Milton, vicar of +Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been a fellow of New +College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she married my father. +Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters from her to him fell +into my hand in a very singular way, having been found in the house +of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, sent them to me. They were +then about sixty years old, and had been written some before and some +after her marriage, over the space of perhaps a year. In no novel of +Richardson's or Miss Burney's have I seen a correspondence at the +same time so sweet, so graceful, and so well expressed. But the +marvel of these letters was in the strange difference they bore to +the love-letters of the present day. They are, all of them, on square +paper, folded and sealed, and addressed to my father on circuit; but +the language in each, though it almost borders on the romantic, is +beautifully chosen, and fit, without change of a syllable, for the +most critical eye. What girl now studies the words with which she +shall address her lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? +She dearly likes a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire +familiarity with a new and strange being. There is something in that, +too, pleasant to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life +does not conduce to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my +mother was a writer of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic +feeling clung to her to the last.</p> + +<p>In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. My +elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; but +she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals during +my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,—with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single +family. <a id="fnr02"></a><a href="#fn02">[2]</a> My married +sister added to the number by one little anonymous high church story, +called <i>Chollerton</i>.</p> + +<p>From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went to +America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the world. +She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal <i>rôle</i>, +and professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from the +wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. An +Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from the +clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, or a +French <i>prolétaire</i> with distant ideas of sacrificing himself +to the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality of +her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had been +gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,—as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in every +way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so thorough, +and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she generally got +herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it must be +acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her books, +and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best were Dante +and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such ladies were +raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept over the +persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized with +avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown Scott, +and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. With the +literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets of the +past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. Her +life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was easy, +luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own aspirations +sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary people, of +whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; but till long +after middle life she never herself wrote a line for publication.</p> + +<p>In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,—a +certain Miss Wright,—who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish my +brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional object +of breaking up her English home without pleading broken fortunes to +all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, she built a +bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have been embarked +in that speculation. It could not have been much, and I think that +others also must have suffered. But she looked about her, at her +American cousins, and resolved to write a book about them. This book +she brought back with her in 1831, and published it early in 1832. +When she did this she was already fifty. When doing this she was +aware that unless she could so succeed in making money, there was no +money for any of the family. She had never before earned a shilling. +She almost immediately received a considerable sum from the +publishers,—if I remember rightly, amounting to two sums of £400 +each within a few months; and from that moment till nearly the time +of her death, at any rate for more than twenty years, she was in the +receipt of a considerable income from her writings. It was a late age +at which to begin such a career.</p> + +<p><i>The Domestic Manners of the Americans</i> was the first of a series of +books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation was +in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women do, +from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, it +ought to be ugly to all eyes,—and if ugly, it must be bad. What +though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they put +their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? The +Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,—and she told them +so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so pretty in a +drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes were very +bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the family from +ruin.</p> + +<p>Book followed book immediately,—first two novels, and then a book on +Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which I have +called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate comforts. Of +the mixture of joviality and industry which formed her character, it +is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. The industry was a +thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary that any one who +lived with her should see it. She was at her table at four in the +morning, and had finished her work before the world had begun to be +aroused. But the joviality was all for others. She could dance with +other people's legs, eat and drink with other people's palates, be +proud with the lustre of other people's finery. Every mother can do +that for her own daughters; but she could do it for any girl whose +look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even when she was at work, +the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure to her. She had much, +very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came hard to her, so much being +required,—for she was extravagant, and liked to have money to spend; +but of all people I have known she was the most joyous, or, at any +rate, the most capable of joy.</p> + +<p>We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, during +which I was still at the school, and at the end of which I was nearly +nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My father, who, when +he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and nuns, still kept a +horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as it had been decided +that I should leave the school then, instead of remaining, as had +been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned very early in the +morning, to drive him up to London. He had been ill, and must still +have been very ill indeed when he submitted to be driven by any one. +It was not till we had started that he told me that I was to put him +on board the Ostend boat. This I did, driving him through the city +down to the docks. It was not within his nature to be communicative, +and to the last he never told me why he was going to Ostend. +Something of a general flitting abroad I had heard before, but why he +should have flown the first, and flown so suddenly, I did not in the +least know till I returned. When I got back with the gig, the house +and furniture were all in the charge of the sheriff's officers.</p> + +<p>The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair—horse, gig, and +harness—would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The little +piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand and carried +through successfully was of no special service to any of us. I drove +the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage to the +ironmonger for £17, the exact sum which he claimed as being due to +himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed to think +that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy that the +ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness.</p> + +<p>When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through her +various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, for +in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it is +now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, and a +very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and things +like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through a gap +between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend Colonel +Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the Grant +girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To such +forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and between us +we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, amidst the +anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal violence, of +the men in charge of the property. I still own a few books that were +thus purloined.</p> + +<p>For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all +women, his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and +established ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of +Bruges. At this time, and till my father's death, everything was done +with money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the +house,—this being the third that she had put in order since she came +back from America two years and a half ago.</p> + +<p>There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother Henry +had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. And though +as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began to feel +that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My father was +broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could sit at his table +he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My elder sister and I +were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate hanger-on, that most +hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy of nineteen, without any idea +of a career, or a profession, or a trade. As well as I can remember I +was fairly happy, for there were pretty girls at Bruges with whom I +could fancy that I was in love; and I had been removed from the real +misery of school. But as to my future life I had not even an +aspiration. Now and again there would arise a feeling that it was +hard upon my mother that she should have to do so much for us, that +we should be idle while she was forced to work so constantly; but we +should probably have thought more of that had she not taken to work +as though it were the recognised condition of life for an old lady of +fifty-five.</p> + +<p>Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. It +was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity for +peculiar care,—but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said so, and +we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's most +visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick men in +the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The novels went +on, of course. We had already learned to know that they would be +forthcoming at stated intervals,—and they always were forthcoming. +The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal places in my +mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many circumstances; +but I doubt much whether I could write one when my whole heart was by +the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing herself into two +parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear from the troubles of +the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, I never saw equalled. I +do not think that the writing of a novel is the most difficult task +which a man may be called upon to do; but it is a task that may be +supposed to demand a spirit fairly at ease. The work of doing it with +a troubled spirit killed Sir Walter Scott. My mother went through it +unscathed in strength, though she performed all the work of day-nurse +and night-nurse to a sick household;—for there were soon three of +them dying.</p> + +<p>At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and French, +of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year was allowed +me, and in order that it might be accomplished without expense, I +undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school then kept by +William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of the masters at +Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is now, after an +interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating as clergyman at +that place. <a id="fnr03"></a><a href="#fn03">[3]</a> To +Brussels I went, and my heart still sinks within me as I +reflect that any one should have intrusted to me the tuition of +thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went there to learn +French, and that their parents were not particular as to their +classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions I was sent +to take the school out for a walk; but that after the second attempt +Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not stand any +further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind any learning +by me of other languages; but as I only remained in that position for +six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not been as yet commenced. +At the end of the six weeks a letter reached me, offering me a +clerkship in the General Post Office, and I accepted it. Among my +mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. Freeling, the wife of +Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis Freeling, then ruled the +Post Office. She had heard of my desolate position, and had begged +from her father-in-law the offer of a berth in his own office.</p> + +<p>I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and found +that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger sister, +Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on the +balance,—who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the heart +should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,—was now +ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, though I +had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any one. And my +father was very ill,—ill to dying, though I did not know it. And my +mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to England, thinking +that the vicinity of so much sickness might be injurious to her. All +this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in the spring of which year +we had come to Bruges; and then my mother was left alone in a big +house outside the town, with two Belgian women-servants, to nurse +these dying patients—the patients being her husband and +children—and to write novels for the sustenance of the family! It +was about this period of her career that her best novels were +written.</p> + +<p>To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,—and with him died that tedious task of his, which +I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average of +men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to fair +fortunes,—who, when he started in the world, may be said to have had +everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with him. The touch +of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked in one hopeless +enterprise after another, spending on each all the money he could at +the time command. But the worse curse to him of all was a temper so +irritable that even those whom he loved the best could not endure it. +We were all estranged from him, and yet I believe that he would have +given his heart's blood for any of us. His life as I knew it was one +long tragedy.</p> + +<p>After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished a +small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the London +Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place with +little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while she herself +was at work every morning long before others had left their beds. But +she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She went up to London, +where she again took and furnished a house, from which my remaining +sister was married and carried away into Cumberland. My mother soon +followed her, and on this occasion did more than take a house. She +bought a bit of land,—a field of three acres near the town,—and +built a residence for herself. This, I think, was in 1841, and she +had thus established and re-established herself six times in ten +years. But in Cumberland she found the climate too severe, and in +1844 she moved herself to Florence, where she remained till her death +in 1863. She continued writing up to 1856, when she was seventy-six +years old,—and had at that time produced 114 volumes, of which the +first was not written till she was fifty. Her career offers great +encouragement to those who have not begun early in life, but are +still ambitious to do something before they depart hence.</p> + +<p>She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, with +great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was endowed +too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, and a +genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted nor +accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and even +facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn02"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 2</span>: + The family of Estienne, the great French printers + of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were + at least nine or ten, did more perhaps for the production of + literature than any other family. But they, though they edited, + and not unfrequently translated the works which they published, + were not authors in the ordinary sense.] + <br /><a href="#fnr02"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn03"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 3</span>: + He died two years after these words were written.] + <br /><a href="#fnr03"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h4>THE GENERAL POST OFFICE.<br /> +1834-1841.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's school +at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London Post +Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my father and +my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household never was held +together. They were all dying; except my mother, who would sit up +night after night nursing the dying ones and writing novels the +while,—so that there might be a decent roof for them to die under. +Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know where the roof +would have been found. It is now more than forty years ago, and +looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell the story, +though it be the story of my own father and mother, of my own brother +and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done some scene of +intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed full of pathos. +I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition of my father's +life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the strain which my +mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go and leave them. +There was something that comforted me in the idea that I need no +longer be a burden,—a fallacious idea, as it soon proved. My salary +was to be £90 a year, and on that I was to live in London, keep up my +character as a gentleman, and be happy. That I should have thought +this possible at the age of nineteen, and should have been delighted +at being able to make the attempt, does not surprise me now; but that +others should have thought it possible, friends who knew something of +the world, does astonish me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, or +might do so even in these days, who was properly looked after and +kept under control,—on whose behalf some law of life had been laid +down. Let him pay so much a week for his board and lodging, so much +for his clothes, so much for his washing, and then let him understand +that he has—shall we say?—sixpence a day left for pocket-money and +omnibuses. Any one making the calculation will find the sixpence far +too much. No such calculation was made for me or by me. It was +supposed that a sufficient income had been secured to me, and that I +should live upon it as other clerks lived.</p> + +<p>But as yet the £90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London I +went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at the +Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future labours +in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the secretary, but +he was greatly too high an official to be seen at first by a new +junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest son Henry +Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him I was examined +as to my fitness. The story of that examination is given accurately +in one of the opening chapters of a novel written by me, called <i>The +Three Clerks</i>. If any reader of this memoir would refer to that +chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have been admitted +into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader will learn how +Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the Secretary's office of +the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked to copy some lines from +the <i>Times</i> newspaper with an old quill pen, and at once made a +series of blots and false spellings. "That won't do, you know," said +Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. Clayton, who was my friend, +urged that I was nervous, and asked that I might be allowed to do a +bit of writing at home and bring it as a sample on the next day. I +was then asked whether I was a proficient in arithmetic. What could I +say? I had never learned the multiplication table, and had no more +idea of the rule of three than of conic sections. "I know a little of +it," I said humbly, whereupon I was sternly assured that on the +morrow, should I succeed in showing that my handwriting was all that +it ought to be, I should be examined as to that little of arithmetic. +If that little should not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge +of all the ordinary rules, together with practised and quick skill, +my career in life could not be made at the Post Office. Going down +the main stairs of the building,—stairs which have I believe been +now pulled down to make room for sorters and stampers,—Clayton +Freeling told me not to be too downhearted. I was myself inclined to +think that I had better go back to the school in Brussels. But +nevertheless I went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder +brother made a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. +With a faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. +With my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should +come to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in St. +Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship.</p> + +<p>That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I was +examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;—and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard to +the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And I +think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule of +the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the comers. +I object to this, that at present there exists no known mode of +learning who is best, and that the method employed has no tendency to +elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide who among a +certain number of lads will best answer a string of questions, for +the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, who have sprung +up for the purpose since this fashion of election has been adopted. +When it is decided in a family that a boy shall "try the Civil +Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of cramming. But +such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever with +education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was before +for the future work of his life. But his very success fills him with +false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far unfits him. +And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that no one is in +truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, or even for +the character of the youth. The responsibility was perhaps slight +before; but existed, and was on the increase.</p> + +<p>There might have been,—in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,—a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,—though I will have the hardihood to say that, +had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost a valuable +public servant. This is a statement that will not, I think, be denied +by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything of my work. +Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of the small +acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be schools in +which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, or French +should be learned. But all that could be ascertained without the +perils of competitive examination.</p> + +<p>The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object—perhaps not the chief object—of those who +have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. There +had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it had +become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence for +the purchase of political support. A member of the House of Commons, +holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships to give away +in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them among those who +sent him to the House. In this there was nothing pleasant to the +distributer of patronage. Do away with the system altogether, and he +would have as much chance of support as another. He bartered his +patronage only because another did so also. The beggings, the +refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were simply +troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed to rid +themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their hands are +the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do doubt whether +the offices are on the whole better manned.</p> + +<p>As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,—though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There are +places in life which can hardly be well filled except by "Gentlemen." +The word is one the use of which almost subjects one to ignominy. If +I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a bishop, I am met with +a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." Were I to make such an +assertion with reference to the House of Commons, nothing that I ever +said again would receive the slightest attention. A man in public +life could not do himself a greater injury than by saying in public +that the commissions in the army or navy, or berths in the Civil +Service, should be given exclusively to gentlemen. He would be defied +to define the term,—and would fail should he attempt to do so. But +he would know what he meant, and so very probably would they who +defied him. It may be that the son of the butcher of the village +shall become as well fitted for employments requiring gentle culture +as the son of the parson. Such is often the case. When such is the +case, no one has been more prone to give the butcher's son all the +welcome he has merited than I myself; but the chances are greatly in +favour of the parson's son. The gates of the one class should be open +to the other; but neither to the one class nor to the other can good +be done by declaring that there are no gates, no barrier, no +difference. The system of competitive examination is, I think, based +on a supposition that there is no difference.</p> + +<p>I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling I +had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. I could +speak no foreign language,—and I may as well say here as elsewhere +that I never acquired the power of really talking French. I have been +able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but never got much +beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences I was completely +ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My spelling was +imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination would have +been possible on which I could have gone through an examination +otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew more than the +average of young men of the same rank who began life at nineteen. I +could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets of all +countries, with their subjects and periods,—and probably of +historians,—than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate idea +of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the names +of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, and +all the Cabinet Ministers,—not a very useful knowledge indeed, but +one that had not been acquired without other matter which was more +useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could talk +about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to me. I had +already made up my mind that <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> was the best novel +in the English language,—a palm which I only partially withdrew +after a second reading of <i>Ivanhoe</i>, and did not completely bestow +elsewhere till <i>Esmond</i> was written. And though I would occasionally +break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If I had a thing +to say, I could so say it in written words that the readers should +know what I meant,—a power which is by no means at the command of +all those who come out from these competitive examinations with +triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, I had commenced the +dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this I maintained for ten +years. The volumes remained in my possession unregarded—never looked +at—till 1870, when I examined them, and, with many blushes, +destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, ignorance, indiscretion, +idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But they had habituated me to +the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught me how to express myself +with facility.</p> + +<p>I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from still +earlier years,—which I myself often regarded with dismay when I +thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, must have +tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a child, I was +thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking of my +school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not play with +me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays within myself. +Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it has always been. +Study was not my bent, and I could not please myself by being all +idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always going about with some +castle in the air firmly built within my mind. Nor were these efforts +in architecture spasmodic, or subject to constant change from day to +day. For weeks, for months, if I remember rightly, from year to year, +I would carry on the same tale, binding myself down to certain laws, +to certain proportions, and proprieties, and unities. Nothing +impossible was ever introduced,—nor even anything which, from +outward circumstances, would seem to be violently improbable. I +myself was of course my own hero. Such is a necessity of +castle-building. But I never became a king, or a duke,—much less +when my height and personal appearance were fixed could I be an +Antinous, or six feet high. I never was a learned man, nor even a +philosopher. But I was a very clever person, and beautiful young +women used to be fond of me. And I strove to be kind of heart, and +open of hand, and noble in thought, despising mean things; and +altogether I was a very much better fellow than I have ever succeeded +in being since. This had been the occupation of my life for six or +seven years before I went to the Post Office, and was by no means +abandoned when I commenced my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be a +more dangerous mental practice; but I have often doubted whether, had +it not been my practice, I should ever have written a novel. I +learned in this way to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to +dwell on a work created by my own imagination, and to live in a world +altogether outside the world of my own material life. In after years +I have done the same,—with this difference, that I have discarded +the hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own +identity aside.</p> + +<p>I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning at +the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels with +the authorities there by having in my possession a watch which was +always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved a character +for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black sheep by men +around me who were not themselves, I think, very good public +servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if I did not take +care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour in my early days, +through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton Freeling,—who, as I +write this, is still living, and who, with tears in her eyes, +besought me to think of my mother. That was during the life of Sir +Francis Freeling, who died,—still in harness,—a little more than +twelve months after I joined the office. And yet the old man showed +me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing to me with his own +hand more than once from his death-bed.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of me as +he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost feel, +without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my anguish +when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful work. I did +struggle—not to do the work, for there was nothing which was not +easy without any struggling—but to show that I was willing to do it. +My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, and was not to be got rid +of by any efforts within my power. I do admit that I was irregular. +It was not considered to be much in my favour that I could write +letters—which was mainly the work of our office—rapidly, correctly, +and to the purpose. The man who came at ten, and who was always still +at his desk at half-past four, was preferred before me, though when +at his desk he might be less efficient. Such preference was no doubt +proper; but, with a little encouragement, I also would have been +punctual. I got credit for nothing, and was reckless.</p> + +<p>As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one of +our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all night. +Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, +and play <i>écarté</i> +for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways are possible now +in our public offices. And here we used to have suppers and +card-parties at night—great symposiums, with much smoking of +tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a whole bevy of +clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was to make up and +receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that they worked later +or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but there was supposed to +be something special in foreign letters, which required that the men +who handled them should have minds undistracted by the outer world. +Their salaries, too, were higher than those of their more homely +brethren; and they paid nothing for their lodgings. Consequently +there was a somewhat fast set in those apartments, given to cards and +to tobacco, who drank spirits and water in preference to tea. I was +not one of them, but was a good deal with them.</p> + +<p>I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of my +Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve of +being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance of +my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on the +secretary's table,—which letter I had duly opened, as it was not +marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had not been +moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was gone. In the +meantime I had returned to the room, again in the performance of some +duty. When the letter was missed I was sent for, and there I found +the Colonel much moved about his letter, and a certain chief clerk, +who, with a long face, was making suggestions as to the probable fate +of the money. "The letter has been taken," said the Colonel, turning +to me angrily, "and, by +<span class="nowrap">G——!</span> there +has been nobody in the room but +you and I." As he spoke, he thundered his fist down upon the table. +"Then," said I, "by +<span class="nowrap">G——!</span> you +have taken it." And I also thundered +my fist down;—but, accidentally, not upon the table. There was there +a standing movable desk, at which, I presume, it was the Colonel's +habit to write, and on this movable desk was a large bottle full of +ink. My fist unfortunately came on the desk, and the ink at once flew +up, covering the Colonel's face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight +to see that senior clerk, as he seized a quire of blotting-paper, and +rushed to the aid of his superior officer, striving to mop up the +ink; and a sight also to see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out +through the blotting-paper at that senior clerk's unoffending +stomach. At that moment there came in the Colonel's private +secretary, with the letter and the money, and I was desired to go +back to my own room. This was an incident not much in my favour, +though I do not know that it did me special harm.</p> + +<p>I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had taken +it into her head that she would like to marry me,—and a very foolish +young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. I need not +tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise than by +protesting that no young man in such a position was ever much less to +blame than I had been in this. The invitation had come from her, and +I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided negative; but I had left +the house within half an hour, going away without my dinner, and had +never returned to it. Then there was a correspondence,—if that can +be called a correspondence in which all the letters came from one +side. At last the mother appeared at the Post Office. My hair almost +stands on my head now as I remember the figure of the woman walking +into the big room in which I sat with six or seven other clerks, +having a large basket on her arm and an immense bonnet on her head. +The messenger had vainly endeavoured to persuade her to remain in the +ante-room. She followed the man in, and walking up the centre of the +room, addressed me in a loud voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you +going to marry my daughter?" We have all had our worst moments, and +that was one of my worst. I lived through it, however, and did not +marry the young lady. These little incidents were all against me in +the office.</p> + +<p>And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely at +this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state of +things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I think, +£12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. With that +man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, I formed +a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. In cash I once +received from him £4. For that and for the original amount of the +tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated renewals, I paid +ultimately something over £200. That is so common a story as to be +hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of this man was that he +became so attached to me as to visit me every day at my office. For a +long period he found it to be worth his while to walk up those stone +steps daily, and come and stand behind my chair, whispering to me +always the same words: "Now I wish you would be punctual. If you only +would be punctual, I should like you to have anything you want." He +was a little, clean, old man, who always wore a high starched white +cravat, inside which he had a habit of twisting his chin as he +uttered his caution. When I remember the constant persistency of his +visits, I cannot but feel that he was paid very badly for his time +and trouble. Those visits were very terrible, and can have hardly +been of service to me in the office.</p> + +<p>Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of the +Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion when I +was still little more than a lad,—perhaps one-and-twenty years +old,—I was filling this responsible position. At about seven in the +evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,—I think Saxony, +but I am sure it was a Queen,—wanted to see the night mails sent +out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, this was a +show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see it. But +preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit of the +office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion we were +taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore gave the +orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, walking +backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great peril as I +did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite satisfied with +my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most important duty. +There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, no doubt, were +German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They had come and, when +they had seen the sights, took their departure in two glass coaches. +As they were preparing to go, I saw the two barons consulting +together in deep whispers, and then as the result of that +conversation one of them handed me half-a-crown! That also was a bad +moment.</p> + +<p>I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly life +upon £90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was £140. During the whole of +this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with my +mother, and therefore lived in comfort,—but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,—paid all that I asked +her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But who in +such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of it? The +debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now how I could +have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such a burden of +duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny documents, of +which I never understood anything, were common attendants on me. And +yet I do not remember that I was ever locked up, though I think I was +twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some one paid for me. And now, +looking back at it, I have to ask myself whether my youth was very +wicked. I did no good in it; but was there fair ground for expecting +good from me? When I reached London no mode of life was prepared for +me,—no advice even given to me. I went into lodgings, and then had +to dispose of my time. I belonged to no club, and knew very few +friends who would receive me into their houses. In such a condition +of life a young man should no doubt go home after his work, and spend +the long hours of the evening in reading good books and drinking tea. +A lad brought up by strict parents, and without having had even a +view of gayer things, might perhaps do so. I had passed all my life +at public schools, where I had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed +them. Towards the good books and tea no training had been given me. +There was no house in which I could habitually see a lady's face and +hear a lady's voice. No allurement to decent respectability came in +my way. It seems to me that in such circumstances the temptations of +loose life will almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course +if the mind be strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together +of sufficiently stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But +such minds and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation +at any rate prevailed with me.</p> + +<p>I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being turned +loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, of all +phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is sent to +mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept from +danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood to +anticipate pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding +circumstances. I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had +been among those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And I +had filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. And now, except +during official hours, I was entirely without control,—without the +influences of any decent household around me. I have said something +of the comedy of such life, but it certainly had its tragic aspect. +Turning it all over in my own mind, as I have constantly done in +after years, the tragedy has always been uppermost. And so it was as +the time was passing. Could there be any escape from such dirt? I +would ask myself; and I always answered that there was no escape. The +mode of life was itself wretched. I hated the office. I hated my +work. More than all I hated my idleness. I had often told myself +since I left school that the only career in life within my reach was +that of an author, and the only mode of authorship open to me that of +a writer of novels. In the journal which I read and destroyed a few +years since, I found the matter argued out before I had been in the +Post Office two years. Parliament was out of the question. I had not +means to go to the Bar. In official life, such as that to which I had +been introduced, there did not seem to be any opening for real +success. Pens and paper I could command. Poetry I did not believe to +be within my grasp. The drama, too, which I would fain have chosen, I +believed to be above me. For history, biography, or essay writing I +had not sufficient erudition. But I thought it possible that I might +write a novel. I had resolved very early that in that shape must the +attempt be made. But the months and years ran on, and no attempt was +made. And yet no day was passed without thoughts of attempting, and a +mental acknowledgment of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader +will not understand the agony of remorse produced by such a condition +of mind? The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in +the morning,—always angering me by his hateful presence,—but when +the evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him.</p> + +<p>In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, and +remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, where I +lived, a volume of Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>, because he spoke +sneeringly of <i>Lycidas</i>. That was Northumberland Street by the +Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment my +room looked out—a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must have +almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my constant +inability to pay her what I owed.</p> + +<p>How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast to +pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I had +no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham Road I +had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post Office, and +almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings of money, +sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery.</p> + +<p>Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, I +must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew of +my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this week. +I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those days I +lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he had a home +in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury which I endured. +For more than fifty years he and I have been close friends. And then +there was one <span class="nowrap">W——</span> +<span class="nowrap">A——,</span> whose +misfortunes in life will not permit +me to give his full name, but whom I dearly loved. He had been at +Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places had fallen into trouble. +He then became a schoolmaster,—or perhaps I had better say +usher,—and finally he took orders. But he was unfortunate in all +things, and died some years ago in poverty. He was most perverse; +bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable to restrain himself in +anything, but yet with a conscience that was always stinging him; a +loving friend, though very quarrelsome; and, perhaps, of all men I +have known, the most humorous. And he was entirely unconscious of his +own humour. He did not know that he could so handle all matters as to +create infinite amusement out of them.</p> + +<p>Poor W—— A——! To him there came no happy turning-point at which +life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous.</p> + +<p>W—— A——, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience to +which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to London. +Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but +Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were +the happiest hours of my then life—and perhaps not the least +innocent, although we were frequently in peril from the village +authorities whom we outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to +spend above five shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected +ruler of the hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our +statutes. I would fain tell here some of our adventures:—how +<span class="nowrap">A——</span> +enacted an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got +ourselves a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached +the lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by a +pitchfork,—and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled through +the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! But the +fun was the fun of <span class="nowrap">W——</span> +<span class="nowrap">A——,</span> and +would cease to be fun as told by me.</p> + +<p>It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for many +years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married my +sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was stationed +as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more than forty +years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House of Lords, +who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who assisted us +in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized by the +Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and dearest +friends of my life; and I can thank God that three of them are still +alive.</p> + +<p>When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of the +Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always fearing +that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of escape. There +had latterly been created in the service a new body of officers +called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time seven surveyors in +England, two in Scotland, and three in Ireland. To each of these +officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose duty it was to +travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. There had been +much doubt among the young men in the office whether they should or +should not apply for these places. The emoluments were good and the +work alluring; but there was at first supposed to be something +derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that the first +surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his beer; and +that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen to the wash. +There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be worse than the +berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks were all +appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for anything, +nor would anything have been given me. But after a while there came a +report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent there was +absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that none but a man +absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the west of Ireland. +When the report reached the London office I was the first to read it. +I was at that time in dire trouble, having debts on my head and +quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a full conviction that my +life was taking me downwards to the lowest pits. So I went to the +Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland if he would send me. He +was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. This happened in August, +1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My salary in Ireland was to be +but £100 a year; but I was to receive fifteen shillings a day for +every day that I was away from home, and sixpence for every mile that +I travelled. The same allowances were made in England; but at that +time travelling in Ireland was done at half the English prices. My +income in Ireland, after paying my expenses, became at once £400. +This was the first good fortune of my life.</p> + + +<p><a id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>IRELAND—MY FIRST TWO NOVELS.<br /> +1841-1848.<br /> </h4> + + + +<p>In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,—years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but in truth I was wretched,—sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,—as a creature of +whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel certain +now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few friends who +had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were half afraid +of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to be loved,—of +a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No child, no boy, no +lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I had been so poor; and +so little able to bear poverty. But from the day on which I set my +foot in Ireland all these evils went away from me. Since that time +who has had a happier life than mine? Looking round upon all those I +know, I cannot put my hand upon one. But all is not over yet. And, +mindful of that, remembering how great is the agony of adversity, how +crushing the despondency of degradation, how susceptible I am myself +to the misery coming from contempt,—remembering also how quickly +good things may go and evil things come,—I am often again tempted to +hope, almost to pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going +well <span class="nowrap">now—</span></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +"Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris;<br /> + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p class="noindent">There is unhappiness +so great that the very fear of it is an alloy to +happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,—have +since lost another sister and my mother;—but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child.</p> + +<p>When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think it +must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life in +London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were at this +time abroad, and were not consulted;—did not even know my intention +in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted no one, except a +dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I borrowed £200 to help +me out of England. He lent me the money, and looked upon me with +pitying eyes,—shaking his head. "After all you were right to go," he +said to me when I paid him the money a few years afterwards.</p> + +<p>But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk to an +Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of £100 a year, at +twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even +myself,—except that anything was right which would take me away from +the General Post Office and from London.</p> + +<p>My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were also +my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, seated +at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into books those +which others had written. I had never been called upon to do anything +I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that in Ireland I +was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, and that among +other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' accounts! But +as no other person asked a question as to my fitness for this work, +it seemed unnecessary for me to do so.</p> + +<p>On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to be +made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. I +went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered some +whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the punch was +gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a country in +which there was not a single individual whom I had ever spoken to or +ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into Connaught and +adjust accounts,—the destiny of me who had never learned the +multiplication table, or done a sum in long division!</p> + +<p>On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very bad +character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but I felt +a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he had been +informed that I was worthless, and must in all probability be +dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your own +merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, I +never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before I +found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I had +acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant.</p> + +<p>The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;—two of which I +told in the <i>Tales of All Countries</i>, under the names of <i>The +O'Conors of Castle Conor</i>, and <i>Father Giles of Ballymoy</i>. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of each +is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were this the +place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had been sent +kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. I do not +think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never rode to +hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of the great +joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the sport, having +learned to love it with an affection which I cannot myself fathom or +understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I have done, or +hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and natural +disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been—in reference +to hunting—a poor man, and am now an old man. I have often had to +travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that I might hunt the +next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good horseman. And I have +passed the greater part of my hunting life under the discipline of +the Civil Service. But it has been for more than thirty years a duty +to me to ride to hounds; and I have performed that duty with a +persistent energy. Nothing has ever been allowed to stand in the way +of hunting,—neither the writing of books, nor the work of the Post +Office, nor other pleasures. As regarded the Post Office, it soon +seemed to be understood that I was to hunt; and when my services were +re-transferred to England, no word of difficulty ever reached me +about it. I have written on very many subjects, and on most of them +with pleasure; but on no subject with such delight as that on +hunting. I have dragged it into many novels,—into too many no +doubt,—but I have always felt myself deprived of a legitimate joy +when the nature of the tale has not allowed me a hunting chapter. +Perhaps that which gave me the greatest delight was the description +of a run on a horse accidentally taken from another sportsman,—a +circumstance which occurred to my dear friend Charles Buxton, who +will be remembered as one of the members for Surrey.</p> + +<p>It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I was +always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my past +life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even break my +head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever—the working +classes very much more intelligent than those of England—economical, +and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift nature; but +extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He will count the +shillings in a pound much more accurately than an Englishman, and +will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth from each. But +they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound by the love of +truth. I lived for many years among them—not finally leaving the +country until 1859, and I had the means of studying their character.</p> + +<p>I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon his +capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. They +adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor has +nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt with +were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. I +went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach me +the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course he was dismissed;—but he had been +a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty in the +matter.</p> + +<p>But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and is to +send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant and to +inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole as confidence is engendered, and a feeling is +produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own and +does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and to me +always easy, as it required at its close no more than the writing of +a report. There were no accounts in this business, no keeping of +books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. I must tell +of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result I think it +was emblematic of many.</p> + +<p>A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The nature +of his grievance has no present significance; but it was so +unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in that +scorn which is so easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and I +drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle of a +snow-storm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open +jaunting-car, and was on my way from one little town to another, the +cause of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance +between the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water,—very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before I +troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then he +assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as that, +and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy and +water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. I +shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought up +the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I such a +Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my wine, and +then heard the young lady sing while her father slept in his +arm-chair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was too +sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It was +absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning after +breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed then. He +shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable disgust,—almost +in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" I asked. "Anything +you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you want an excuse for +yourself. Here I sit all the day,—with nothing to do; and I like +writing letters." I did report that Mr. +<span class="nowrap">——</span> was now quite satisfied +with the postal arrangement of his district; and I felt a soft regret +that I should have robbed my friend of his occupation. Perhaps he was +able to take up the Poor Law Board, or to attack the Excise. At the +Post Office nothing more was heard from him.</p> + +<p>I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering-place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been paid +off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When I had +been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the 11th of +June, 1844;—and perhaps I ought to name that happy day as the +commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which I first +landed in Ireland.</p> + +<p>For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I had +not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,—of which I could write a volume of stories were +this the place to tell them,—were continually driving from my mind +the still cherished determination to become a writer of novels. When +I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor had I done so +when I became engaged. And when I was married, being then +twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first work. +This constant putting off of the day of work was a great sorrow to +me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had learned my +work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe in my hands; +and I held a position altogether the reverse of that in which I was +always trembling while I remained in London. But that did not +suffice,—did not nearly suffice. I still felt that there might be a +career before me, if I could only bring myself to begin the work. I +do not think I much doubted my own intellectual sufficiency for the +writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt was my own industry, +and the chances of the market.</p> + +<p>The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time is +not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found the +vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I had not as +yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a young man; +but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power to alter +the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties of +publishing,—a subject of which I shall have to say much should I +ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who could +fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before the +public;—and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, how +little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! I had +already learned that many a book—many a good +<span class="nowrap">book—</span></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td align="right"> +"is born to blush unseen<br /> +And waste its sweetness on the desert air." +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort was +made after the following fashion. I was located at a little town +called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, where the +postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and my friend +John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As we were taking +a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned up through a +deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, till we came to +the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of the most +melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it here, because +I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. We wandered +about the place, suggesting to each other causes for the misery we +saw there, and while I was still among the ruined walls and decayed +beams I fabricated the plot of <i>The Macdermots of Ballycloran</i>. As to +the plot itself, I do not know that I ever made one so good,—or, at +any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. I am aware that I broke down +in the telling, not having yet studied the art. Nevertheless, <i>The +Macdermots</i> is a good novel, and worth reading by any one who wishes +to understand what Irish life was before the potato disease, the +famine, and the Encumbered Estates Bill.</p> + +<p>When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter or +two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was only +now and then that I found either time or energy for a few pages. I +commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written a volume +when I was married in June, 1844.</p> + +<p>My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no special +interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place at Rotherham +in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a bank. We were not +very rich, having about £400 a year on which to live. Many people +would say that we were two fools to encounter such poverty together. +I can only reply that since that day I have never been without money +in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means of paying what I +owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to pass over our heads +before I received any payment for any literary work which afforded an +appreciable increase to our income.</p> + +<p>Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an Irish +circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he should +marry some young lady in that society;—but it certainly is expected +of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. I had given +offence, and I was made to feel it.</p> + +<p>There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, that +I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people have +spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages are now +nearly double what they were then. The Post Office at any rate is +paying almost double for its rural labour,—9s. a week when it used +to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. Banks have sprung +up in almost every village. Rents are paid with more than English +punctuality. And the religious enmity between the classes, though it +is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I reached Banagher in 1841, +I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. I was informed next day by +a Protestant gentleman who had been very hospitable to me that I must +choose my party. I could not sit both at Protestant and Catholic +tables. Such a caution would now be impossible in any part of +Ireland. Home-rule no doubt is a nuisance,—and especially a nuisance +because the professors of the doctrine do not at all believe it +themselves. There are probably no other twenty men in England or +Ireland who would be so utterly dumfounded and prostrated were +Home-rule to have its way as the twenty Irish members who profess to +support it in the House of Commons. But it is not to be expected that +nuisances such as these should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule is +at any rate better and more easily managed than the rebellion at the +close of the last century; it is better than the treachery of the +Union; less troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less +dangerous than Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at +Ballingary; and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent +from O'Connell to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a +political disease, which we had no right to hope would be cured by +any one remedy.</p> + +<p>When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In July, +1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted the +MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far as +I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of my +writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I am sure +I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I ever read a +word of my own writing aloud,—even to her. With one +exception,—which shall be mentioned as I come to it,—I have never +consulted a friend as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I +have been doing. My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing +with her that it would be as well that she should not look at it +before she gave it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me +credit for the sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could +see in the faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who +were around me at the house in Cumberland—my mother, my sister, my +brother-in-law, and, I think, my brother—that they had not expected +me to come out as one of the family authors. There were three or four +in the field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd that +another should wish to add himself to the number. My father had +written much—those long ecclesiastical descriptions—quite +unsuccessfully. My mother had become one of the popular authors of +the day. My brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for +his work. My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was +at the time in manuscript—which was published afterwards without her +name, and was called <i>Chollerton</i>. I could perceive that this attempt +of mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease.</p> + +<p>My mother however did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby of Mortimer Street was to publish the book. It was to +be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the profits. +Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such an +undertaking. I can with truth declare that I expected nothing. And I +got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. I was +sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. I +never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was any +notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. I +never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on the +subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, in +duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I did +not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong me in +that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell fifty +copies of the work;—but of what he did sell he gave me no account.</p> + +<p>I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I am +quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I may +say that after the publication I never said a word about the book, +even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published it, and +that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere with my +life or with my determination to make the best I could of the Post +Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had written a +novel. But I went on writing. <i>The Macdermots</i> was published in 1847, +and <i>The Kellys and the O'Kellys</i> followed in 1848. I changed my +publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second Irish story was +sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had long been my mother's +publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough Street, and I believe +created the business which is now carried on by Messrs. Hurst & +Blackett. He had previously been in partnership with Mr. Bentley in +New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement as before as to half +profits, and with precisely the same results. The book was not only +not read, but was never heard of,—at any rate in Ireland. And yet it +is a good Irish story, much inferior to <i>The Macdermots</i> as to plot, +but superior in the mode of telling. Again I held my tongue, and not +only said nothing but felt nothing. Any success would, I think, have +carried me off my legs, but I was altogether prepared for failure. +Though I thoroughly enjoyed the writing of these books, I did not +imagine, when the time came for publishing them, that any one would +condescend to read them.</p> + +<p>But in reference to <i>The O'Kellys</i> there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend of +mine to whom the book had been sent—as have all my books—wrote me +word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man high +in authority among the gods of the <i>Times</i> newspaper, and that this +special god had almost promised that <i>The O'Kellys</i> should be noticed +in that most influential of "organs." The information moved me very +much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it ever +appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate more honest, +if it had been produced by other means;—if for instance the writer +of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits of the +book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made up my mind +then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, I would have +no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would neither ask for +nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a critic for praise, or +quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for censure. To this rule I +have adhered with absolute strictness, and this rule I would +recommend to all young authors. What can be got by touting among the +critics is never worth the ignominy. The same may of course be said +of all things acquired by ignominious means. But in this matter it is +so easy to fall into the dirt. <i>Facilis descensus Averni.</i> There +seems to be but little fault in suggesting to a friend that a few +words in this or that journal would be of service. But any praise so +obtained must be an injustice to the public, for whose instruction, +and not for the sustentation of the author, such notices are +intended. And from such mild suggestion the descent to crawling at +the critic's feet, to the sending of presents, and at last to a +mutual understanding between critics and criticised, is only too +easy. Other evils follow, for the denouncing of which this is hardly +the place;—though I trust I may find such place before my work is +finished. I took no notice of my friend's letter, but I was not the +less careful in watching <i>The Times</i>. At last the review came,—a +real review in <i>The Times</i>. I learned it by heart, and can now give, +if not the words, the exact purport. "Of <i>The Kellys and the +O'Kellys</i> we may say what the master said to his footman, when the +man complained of the constant supply of legs of mutton on the +kitchen table. 'Well, John, legs of mutton are good substantial +food;' and we may say also what John replied: 'Substantial, +sir;—yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" That was the +review, and even that did not sell the book!</p> + +<p>From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies of +the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,—to those, I +presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,—and that +he had incurred a loss of £63, 10s. 1½d. The truth of the account I +never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom of the advice +given to me in the following letter, though I never thought of +obeying <span class="nowrap">it—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Great Marlborough Street,<br /> +November 11, 1848.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Sir</span>.—I am sorry to say that absence from town and +other circumstances have prevented me from earlier +inquiring into the results of the sale of <i>The Kellys and +the O'Kellys</i>, with which the greatest efforts have been +used, but in vain. The sale has been, I regret to say, so +small that the loss upon the publication is very +considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although in +consequence of the great number of novels that are +published, the sale of each, with some few exceptions, +must be small, yet it is evident that readers do not like +novels on Irish subjects as well as on others. Thus you +will perceive it is impossible for me to give any +encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing.</p> + +<p>As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the +novel <i>La Vendée</i>, perhaps you will favour me with a sight +of it when convenient.—I remain, &c. &c.</p> + +<p class="ind14"><span class="smallcaps">H. Colburn</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling a +plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the greatest +efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which might be made +for the popularity of a book ought to have come from the author;—but +I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that he could not +encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would have bet twenty +to one against my own success. But by continuing I could lose only +pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty did turn up in my +favour, then how much might I win!</p> + + +<p><a id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h4>MY FIRST SUCCESS.<br /> +1849-1855.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly completed +it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the former. I find +however that the agreement for its publication was not made till +1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must have forgotten +the disastrous result of <i>The O'Kellys</i>, as he thereby agrees to give +me £20 down for my "new historical novel, to be called <i>La Vendée</i>." +He agreed also to pay me £30 more when he had sold 350 copies, and +£50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I got my £20, and then +heard no more of <i>La Vendée</i>, not even receiving any account. Perhaps +the historical title had appeared more alluring to him than an Irish +subject; though it was not long afterwards that I received a warning +from the very same house of business against historical novels,—as I +will tell at length when the proper time comes.</p> + +<p>I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was no +better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. The +story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;—chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendée country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits of +my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read the +book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception as to +the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters are +distinct; and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, this +morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on the +book.</p> + +<p>I had, however, received £20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I was +well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had been +"talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of my +brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much of +publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,—by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness to +authors in the same men;—but by nothing so much as by the ease with +which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small sums of +money. If you will only make the payment future instead of present, +you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your client's +favour. "You might as well promise her £20. This day six months will +do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the money will +never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to rid himself of +your importunity at so cheap a price.</p> + +<p>But while I was writing <i>La Vendée</i> I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland the +desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of the +pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that time to +be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which the +misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their worst. The +western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts—I may say the successful efforts—made by +the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:—how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal +the Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian corn. +The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by many. The +people themselves wished of course to be fed without working; and the +gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, were disposed to +think that the management of affairs was taken too much out of their +own hands. My mind at the time was busy with the matter, and, +thinking that the Government was right, I was inclined to defend them +as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. (Lord Sydney Godolphin +Osborne) was at that time denouncing the Irish scheme of the +Administration in the <i>Times</i>, using very strong language,—as those +who remember his style will know. I fancied then—as I still +think—that I understood the country much better than he did; and I +was anxious to show that the steps taken for mitigating the terrible +evil of the times were the best which the Minister of the day could +have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, and, full of my purpose, I +presented myself to Mr. John Forster—who has since been an intimate +and valued friend—but who was at that time the editor of the +<i>Examiner</i>. I think that that portion of the literary world which +understands the fabrication of newspapers will admit that neither +before his time, nor since, has there been a more capable editor of a +weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he was not without his faults. +That which the cabman is reported to have said of him before the +magistrate is quite true. He was always "an arbitrary cove." As a +critic, he belonged to the school of Bentley and Gifford,—who would +always bray in a literary mortar all critics who disagreed from them, +as though such disagreement were a personal offence requiring +personal castigation. But that very eagerness made him a good editor. +Into whatever he did he put his very heart and soul. During his time +the <i>Examiner</i> was almost all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. +So to John Forster I went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's +Inn Fields in which, some three or four years earlier, Dickens had +given that reading of which there is an illustration with portraits +in the second volume of his life.</p> + +<p>At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living with +my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man could +get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself as in +part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some degree by +my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that any one +would admit my claim;—nor on this occasion did I make any claim. I +stated my name and official position, and the fact that opportunities +had been given me of seeing the poor-houses in Ireland, and of making +myself acquainted with the circumstances of the time. Would a series +of letters on the subject be accepted by the <i>Examiner</i>? The great +man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased to say that if the +letters should recommend themselves by their style and matter, if +they were not too long, and if—every reader will know how on such +occasions an editor will guard himself—if this and if that, they +should be favourably entertained. They were favourably +entertained,—if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland did +not declare that the Government had at last been adequately defended, +nor did the treasurer of the <i>Examiner</i> send me a cheque in return.</p> + +<p>Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. A +man who writes a single letter to a newspaper of course is not paid +for it,—nor for any number of letters on some point personal to +himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and have +been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On this +occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not much +disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could not +refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I said. +But I know that I did my best in writing them.</p> + +<p>When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its +predecessors, the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, +after all, that was my proper line. I had never thought of +questioning the justice of the verdict expressed against me. The idea +that I was the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never +troubled me. I did not look at the books after they were published, +feeling sure that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. +But still I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. +Then and therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a +play. I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called <i>The Noble Jilt</i>. The plot I +afterwards used in a novel called <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must own +that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, and +re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then sent +it to my very old friend, George Bartley the actor, who had when I +was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, and +who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give me +the full benefit of his professional experience.</p> + +<p>I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,—a letter which +I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. "When I +commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. I did not +think it opened dramatically, but that might have been remedied." I +knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend warmed to the +subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, till my ears +tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the character of your +heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, but you have done it +for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." Madame Brudo was the +heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never play the jilt again; 'tis +a most unbecoming character. Play it with what skill you will, it +meets but little sympathy.' And this, be assured, would be its effect +upon an audience. So that I must reluctantly add that, had I been +still a manager, <i>The Noble Jilt</i> is not a play I could have +recommended for production." This was a blow that I did feel. The +neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact which grows upon an author +by degrees. There is no special moment of agony,—no stunning +violence of condemnation. But a piece of criticism such as this, from +a friend, and from a man undoubtedly capable of forming an opinion, +was a blow in the face! But I accepted the judgment loyally, and said +not a word on the subject to any one. I merely showed the letter to +my wife, declaring my conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. +And as critical gospel it has since been accepted. In later days I +have more than once read the play, and I know that he was right. The +dialogue, however, I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of +the scenes be not the brightest and best work I ever did.</p> + +<p>Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, and +for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced to +Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for Ireland. +I explained to him that I knew the country better than most other +people, perhaps better than any other person, and could do it well. +He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send him a certain +number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer within a fortnight +after he should have received my work. I came back to Ireland, and +for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" the city of Dublin, and +the county of Kerry, in which lies the lake scenery of Killarney; and +I "did" the route from Dublin to Killarney, altogether completing +nearly a quarter of the proposed volume. The roll of MS. was sent to +Albemarle Street,—but was never opened. At the expiration of nine +months from the date on which it reached that time-honoured spot it +was returned without a word, in answer to a very angry letter from +myself. I insisted on having back my property,—and got it. I need +hardly say that my property has never been of the slightest use to +me. In all honesty I think that had he been less dilatory, John +Murray would have got a very good Irish Guide at a cheap rate.</p> + +<p>Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to write +nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery of +letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had been +done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier would be +sent in one direction in which there were but few letters to be +delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at the request +of some influential person, while in another direction there was no +letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted himself. It +was intended to set this right throughout England, Ireland, and +Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish district to which I +was attached. I was then invited to do the same in a portion of +England, and I spent two of the happiest years of my life at the +task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think I may say, every +nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, the greater part of +Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, +Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, Monmouthshire, and +the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I had an opportunity of +seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, with a minuteness +which few have enjoyed. And I did my business after a fashion in +which no other official man has worked, at least for many years. I +went almost everywhere on horseback. I had two hunters of my own, and +here and there, where I could, I hired a third horse. I had an Irish +groom with me,—an old man, who has now been in my service for +thirty-five years; and in this manner I saw almost every house—I +think I may say every house of importance—in this large district. +The object was to create a postal network which should catch all +recipients of letters. In France it was, and I suppose still is, the +practice to deliver every letter. Wherever the man may live to whom a +letter is addressed, it is the duty of some letter-carrier to take +that letter to his house, sooner or later. But this, of course, must +be done slowly. With us a delivery much delayed was thought to be +worse than none at all. In some places we did establish posts three +times a week, and perhaps occasionally twice a week; but such halting +arrangements were considered to be objectionable, and we were bound +down by a salutary law as to expense, which came from our masters at +the Treasury. We were not allowed to establish any messenger's walk +on which a sufficient number of letters would not be delivered to pay +the man's wages, counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the +counting was in our own hands, and an enterprising official might be +sanguine in his figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare +false accounts; but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who +absolutely had the country to do became aware that I was anxious for +good results. It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a +man. During those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover +the country with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any +case a rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; +but I fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, +or because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as to +the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across the +fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short cuts; and +as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would have to +make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to them.</p> + +<p>All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a day. +I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it was +necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for my +equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have often +surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen or heard +of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the morning, with a +red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating him as to the +disposal of every letter which came into his office. And in the same +guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, or other lone +residences about the country, and ask the people how they got their +letters, at what hour, and especially whether they were delivered +free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept into use, which +came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin for which there was +no pardon, in accordance with which these rural letter-carriers used +to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the house was out of their +beat, and that they must be paid for their extra work. I think that I +did stamp out that evil. In all these visits I was, in truth, a +beneficent angel to the public, bringing everywhere with me an +earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery of letters. But not +unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission was imperfectly +understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to get on, and did not +allow as much time as was necessary to explain to the wondering +mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, why it was that +a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions which might be +considered impertinent, as applying to his or her private affairs. +"Good morning, sir. I have just called to ask a few questions. I am a +surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get your letters? As I am a +little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain at once." Then I would +take out my pencil and notebook, and wait for information. And in +fact there was no other way in which the truth could be ascertained. +Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's storm upon them, the very +people who were robbed by our messengers would not confess the +robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It was necessary to startle +them into the revelations which I required them to make for their own +good. And I did startle them. I became thoroughly used to it, and +soon lost my native bashfulness;—but sometimes my visits astonished +the retiring inhabitants of country houses. I did, however, do my +work, and can look back upon what I did with thorough satisfaction. I +was altogether in earnest; and I believe that many a farmer now has +his letters brought daily to his house free of charge, who but for me +would still have had to send to the post-town for them twice a week, +or to have paid a man for bringing them irregularly to his door.</p> + +<p>This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting to +make another effort, and often turning over in my head some fragment +of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not come in which +I could sit down with pen and paper and begin another novel. For, +after all, what could it be but a novel? The play had failed more +absolutely than the novels, for the novels had attained the honour of +print. The cause of this pressure of official work lay, not in the +demands of the General Post Office, which more than once expressed +itself as astonished by my celerity, but in the necessity which was +incumbent on me to travel miles enough to pay for my horses, and upon +the amount of correspondence, returns, figures, and reports which +such an amount of daily travelling brought with it. I may boast that +the work was done very quickly and very thoroughly,—with no fault +but an over-eagerness to extend postal arrangements far and wide.</p> + +<p>In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one midsummer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of <i>The Warden</i>,—from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one at +their commencement could have had less reason than myself to presume +himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been often asked +in what period of my early life I had lived so long in a cathedral +city as to have become intimate with the ways of a Close. I never +lived in any cathedral city,—except London, never knew anything of +any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar intimacy with any +clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be life-like, and for +whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond affection, was, I +think, the simple result of an effort of my moral consciousness. It +was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon should be,—or, +at any rate, would be with such advantages as an archdeacon might +have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who has been declared by +competent authorities to be a real archdeacon down to the very +ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had not then even spoken +to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment to be very great. The +archdeacon came whole from my brain after this fashion;—but in +writing about clergymen generally, I had to pick up as I went +whatever I might know or pretend to know about them. But my first +idea had no reference to clergymen in general. I had been struck by +two opposite evils,—or what seemed to me to be evils,—and with an +absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I thought that I might +be able to expose them, or rather to describe them, both in one and +the same tale. The first evil was the possession by the Church of +certain funds and endowments which had been intended for charitable +purposes, but which had been allowed to become incomes for idle +Church dignitaries. There had been more than one such case brought to +public notice at the time, in which there seemed to have been an +egregious malversation of charitable purposes. The second evil was +its very opposite. Though I had been much struck by the injustice +above described, I had also often been angered by the undeserved +severity of the newspapers towards the recipients of such incomes, +who could hardly be considered to be the chief sinners in the matter. +When a man is appointed to a place, it is natural that he should +accept the income allotted to that place without much inquiry. It is +seldom that he will be the first to find out that his services are +overpaid. Though he be called upon only to look beautiful and to be +dignified upon State occasions, he will think £2000 a year little +enough for such beauty and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt +that there had been some tearing to pieces which might have been +spared. But I was altogether wrong in supposing that the two things +could be combined. Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after +the fashion of an advocate,—or his writing will be ineffective. He +should take up one side and cling to that, and then he may be +powerful. There should be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples +make a man impotent for such work. It was open to me to have +described a bloated parson, with a red nose and all other iniquities, +openly neglecting every duty required from him, and living riotously +on funds purloined from the poor,—defying as he did do so the +moderate remonstrances of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a +man as good, as sweet, and as mild as my warden, who should also have +been a hard-working, ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have +subjected him to the rancorous venom of some daily <i>Jupiter</i>, who, +without a leg to stand on, without any true case, might have been +induced, by personal spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with +poisonous, anonymous, and ferocious leading articles. But neither of +these programmes recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though it +may exaggerate the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating it in +order that it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become a +slander, and satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither of +the red-nosed clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous +assassin of the journals. I did believe that through want of care and +the natural tendency of every class to take care of itself, money had +slipped into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have gone +elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which was +cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects should not +have been combined—and I now know myself well enough to be aware +that I was not the man to have carried out either of them.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,—having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,—I began <i>The Warden</i>, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion I +did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent to +take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,—of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,—now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +£450 to about £800;—for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work to +which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other parts +of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly finished +the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have liked to ride +over the whole country, and to have sent a rural post letter-carrier +to every parish, every village, every hamlet, and every grange in +England.</p> + +<p>We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town in +the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the centre +of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But our house +there had been given up when it was known that I should be detained +in England; and then we had wandered about in the western counties, +moving our headquarters from one town to another. During this time we +had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, at Cheltenham, and +at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled ourselves for eighteen +months at Belfast. After that we took a house at Donnybrook, the +well-known suburb of Dublin.</p> + +<p>The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters and +their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my book at +once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, and it +was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was only one +small volume, and in later days would have been completed in six +weeks,—or in two months at the longest, if other work had pressed. +On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published till 1855. +I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, with +William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an assurance +that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked at," and +Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half profits. I had +no reason to love "half profits," but I was very anxious to have my +book published, and I acceded. It was now more than ten years since I +had commenced writing <i>The Macdermots</i>, and I thought that if any +success was to be achieved, the time surely had come. I had not been +impatient; but, if there was to be a time, surely it had come.</p> + +<p>The novel-reading world did not go mad about <i>The Warden</i>; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, and +after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. At +the end of 1855 I received a cheque for £9, 8s. 8d., which was the +first money I had ever earned by literary work;—that £20 which poor +Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been earned +at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of £10, 15s. 1d. +The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded remuneration +for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. A thousand +copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or six years, +about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold as +belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form <i>The Warden</i> never +reached the essential honour of a second edition.</p> + +<p>I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in the +purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its own,—a +merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see wherein lay +whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the bishop, of the +archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially of the warden, +are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to myself a series of +portraits, and had been able so to put them on the canvas that my +readers should see that which I meant them to see. There is no gift +which an author can have more useful to him than this. And the style +of the English was good, though from most unpardonable carelessness +the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. With such results I had no +doubt but that I would at once begin another novel.</p> + +<p>I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the <i>Times</i> newspaper as to <i>The Warden</i>. +In an article—if I remember rightly, on <i>The Warden</i> and <i>Barchester +Towers</i> combined—which I would call good-natured, but that I take it +for granted that the critics of the <i>Times</i> are actuated by higher +motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel are spoken +of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. But there was +added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid condition of the +author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in +personalities,—the personalities in question having reference to +some editor or manager of the <i>Times</i> newspaper. For I had introduced +one Tom Towers as being potent among the contributors to the +<i>Jupiter</i>, under which name I certainly did allude to the <i>Times</i>. +But at that time, living away in Ireland, I had not even heard the +name of any gentleman connected with the <i>Times</i> newspaper, and could +not have intended to represent any individual by Tom Towers. As I had +created an archdeacon, so had I created a journalist, and the one +creation was no more personal or indicative of morbid tendencies than +the other. If Tom Towers was at all like any gentleman then connected +with the <i>Times</i>, my moral consciousness must again have been very +powerful.</p> + + +<p><a id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h4><i>BARCHESTER TOWERS</i> AND <i>THE THREE CLERKS</i>.<br /> +1855-1858.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the rural +posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. I had +read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of Charles +Merivale's <i>History of the Romans under the Empire</i>, and had got into +some correspondence with the author's brother as to the author's +views about Cæsar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to investigate +the character of probably the greatest man who ever lived, which +tendency in after years produced a little book of which I shall have +to speak when its time comes,—and also a taste generally for Latin +literature, which has been one of the chief delights of my later +life. And I may say that I became at this time as anxious about +Cæsar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as to his character, as +we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these latter days. I lived +in Cæsar, and debated with myself constantly whether he crossed the +Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In order that I might review Mr. +Merivale's book without feeling that I was dealing unwarrantably with +a subject beyond me, I studied the Commentaries thoroughly, and went +through a mass of other reading which the object of a magazine +article hardly justified,—but which has thoroughly justified itself +in the subsequent pursuits of my life. I did write two articles, the +first mainly on Julius Cæsar, and the second on Augustus, which +appeared in the <i>Dublin University Magazine</i>. They were the result of +very much labour, but there came from them no pecuniary product. I +had been very modest when I sent them to the editor, as I had been +when I called on John Forster, not venturing to suggest the subject +of money. After a while I did call upon the proprietor of the +magazine in Dublin, and was told by him that such articles were +generally written to oblige friends, and that articles written to +oblige friends were not usually paid for. The Dean of Ely, as the +author of the work in question now is, was my friend; but I think I +was wronged, as I certainly had no intention of obliging him by my +criticism. Afterwards, when I returned to Ireland, I wrote other +articles for the same magazine, one of which, intended to be very +savage in its denunciation, was on an official blue-book just then +brought out, preparatory to the introduction of competitive +examinations for the Civil Service. For that and some other article, +I now forget what, I was paid. Up to the end of 1857 I had received +£55 for the hard work of ten years.</p> + +<p>It was while I was engaged on <i>Barchester Towers</i> that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not any +longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very many +hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,—though Carlyle +has since told me that a man when travelling should not read, but +"sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended to make a +profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same time, to do +my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours to more account +than I could do even by reading. I made for myself therefore a little +tablet, and found after a few days' exercise that I could write as +quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at my desk. I worked with a +pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied afterwards. In this way was +composed the greater part of <i>Barchester Towers</i> and of the novel +which succeeded it, and much also of others subsequent to them. My +only objection to the practice came from the appearance of literary +ostentation, to which I felt myself to be subject when going to work +before four or five fellow-passengers. But I got used to it, as I had +done to the amazement of the west country farmers' wives when asking +them after their letters.</p> + +<p>In the writing of <i>Barchester Towers</i> I took great delight. The +bishop and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the +troubles of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was +done, Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his +reader; and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and +voluminous criticism,—coming from whom I never knew. This was +accompanied by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, +with a payment of £100 in advance out of my half-profits,—on +condition that I would comply with the suggestions made by his +critic. One of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel +down to two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, +rejecting one and accepting another, almost alternately, but +declaring at last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a +third of my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could be +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book on +the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn from +a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have been +attempted—perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the attempt. +Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's terms; and the +book was published, certainly none the worse, and I do not think much +the better, for the care that had been taken with it.</p> + +<p>The work succeeded just as <i>The Warden</i> had succeeded. It achieved no +great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel readers +were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon myself more +than I have a right to do in saying now that <i>Barchester Towers</i> has +become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, which live +and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if that be so, +its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of some of its +younger brothers. <i>Barchester Towers</i> would hardly be so well known +as it is had there been no <i>Framley Parsonage</i> and no <i>Last Chronicle +of Barset</i>.</p> + +<p>I received my £100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,—nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural self-sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill their +bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives and +children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, as +may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author forget +the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make a money +return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will be much +offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory and my +book come beneath their notice. They require the practice of a +so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in my eyes, +would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like clergymen who +preach sermons against the love of money, but who know that the love +of money is so distinctive a characteristic of humanity that such +sermons are mere platitudes called for by customary but unintelligent +piety. All material progress has come from man's desire to do the +best he can for himself and those about him, and civilisation and +Christianity itself have been made possible by such progress. Though +we do not all of us argue this matter out within our breasts, we do +all feel it; and we know that the more a man earns the more useful he +is to his fellow-men. The most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been +those who have made the greatest incomes,—and it is the same with +the doctors. It would be the same in the Church if they who have the +choosing of bishops always chose the best man. And it has in truth +been so too in art and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard +their pecuniary rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always +for money, giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as +an actor. In our own century what literary names stand higher than +those of Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? And +I think I may say that none of those great men neglected the +pecuniary result of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among +us who in any calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious +teaching, in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm +utterly disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man is +a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few in +doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable to his +friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent to his +children, and to be himself free from the carking fear which poverty +creates? The subject will not stand an argument;—and yet authors are +told that they should disregard payment for their work, and be +content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of the public. +Brains that are unbought will never serve the public much. Take away +from English authors their copyrights, and you would very soon take +away from England her authors.</p> + +<p>I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what to +me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in which +professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen what +prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature with +industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair average +talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man does in +another profession. The result with me has been comfortable but not +splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the combination +of such gifts.</p> + +<p>I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,—to be Anthony Trollope if it be no +more,—is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and I think +beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last infirmity of +noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who lacks it is +either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. But I confess +that my first object in taking to literature as a profession was that +which is common to the barrister when he goes to the Bar, and to the +baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to make an income on which I +and those belonging to me might live in comfort.</p> + +<p>If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures badly, +because he can make his money faster in that fashion than by doing +them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the best he can +do,—if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,—he is dishonest, as +is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the barrister who takes +money that he does not earn, or the clergyman who is content to live +on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the author may have a +difficulty which will not occur to the seller of cloth, in settling +within himself what is good work and what is bad,—when labour enough +has been given, and when the task has been scamped. It is a danger as +to which he is bound to be severe with himself—in which he should +feel that his conscience should be set fairly in the balance against +the natural bias of his interest. If he do not do so, sooner or later +his dishonesty will be discovered, and will be estimated accordingly. +But in this he is to be governed only by the plain rules of honesty +which should govern us all. Having said so much, I shall not scruple +as I go on to attribute to the pecuniary result of my labours all the +importance which I felt them to have at the time.</p> + +<p><i>Barchester Towers</i>, for which I had received £100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments—moderate payments—from the +publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am writing, +that book and <i>The Warden</i> together have given me almost every year +some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, and I find that +I have received £727, 11s. 3d. for the two. It is more than I got for +the three or four works that came afterwards, but the payments have +been spread over twenty years.</p> + +<p>When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, <i>The Three Clerks</i>, in +my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum down +was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to buy it +from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, and I +argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into a +position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must be +borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such a +demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than I +gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. "It +is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your title-page +are not worth more to you than the increased payment." This seemed to +me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the contempt of money +which I have never admired. I did think much of Messrs. Longman's +name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a cheque.</p> + +<p>I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by a +remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply that +they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a fertile +writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that +<span class="nowrap">——</span> (naming +the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) three +novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard to a +man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I did not +know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that I had +better go elsewhere.</p> + +<p>I had then written <i>The Three Clerks</i>, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. Hurst +& Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had made an +appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that gentleman was +unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, and had but +one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. I sat for an +hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return of the peccant +publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about to depart with my +bundle under my arm when the foreman of the house came to me. He +seemed to think it a pity that I should go, and wished me to leave my +work with him. This, however, I would not do, unless he would +undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he lacked authority. +Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. But while we debated +the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope it's not historical, Mr. +Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, don't be historical; your +historical novel is not worth a damn." Thence I took <i>The Three +Clerks</i> to Mr. Bentley; and on the same afternoon succeeded in +selling it to him for £250. His son still possesses it, and the firm +has, I believe, done very well with the purchase. It was certainly +the best novel I had as yet written. The plot is not so good as that +of the <i>Macdermots</i>; nor are there any characters in the book equal +to those of Mrs. Proudie and the Warden; but the work has a more +continued interest, and contains the first well-described love-scene +that I ever wrote. The passage in which Kate Woodward, thinking that +she will die, tries to take leave of the lad she loves, still brings +tears to my eyes when I read it. I had not the heart to kill her. I +never could do that. And I do not doubt but that they are living +happily together to this day.</p> + +<p>The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, and +I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this novel +now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I introduced +a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by which I +intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme of +competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles Trevelyan +was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended for Sir +Charles Trevelyan,—as any one at the time would know who had taken +an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him Sir Gregory," +Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came to know her and her +husband. I never learned to love competitive examination; but I +became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. Sir Stafford +Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, was then leagued +with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears in <i>The Three Clerks</i> +under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick West End.</p> + +<p>But for all that <i>The Three Clerks</i> was a good novel.</p> + +<p>When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, paying +a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in 1857, and +she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in which she had +not written, and she expressed to me her delight that her labours +should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning in the same +field. In truth they had already been continued for a dozen years, +but a man's career will generally be held to date itself from the +commencement of his success. On those foreign tours I always +encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon them now, tempt me +almost to write a little book of my long past Continental travels. On +this occasion, as we made our way slowly through Switzerland and over +the Alps, we encountered again and again a poor forlorn Englishman, +who had no friend and no aptitude for travelling. He was always +losing his way, and finding himself with no seat in the coaches and +no bed at the inns. On one occasion I found him at Coire seated at 5 +A.M. in the <i>coupé</i> of a diligence which was intended to start at +noon for the Engadine, while it was his purpose to go over the Alps +in another which was to leave at 5.30, and which was already crowded +with passengers. "Ah!" he said, "I am in time now, and nobody shall +turn me out of this seat," alluding to former little misfortunes of +which I had been a witness. When I explained to him his position, he +was as one to whom life was too bitter to be borne. But he made his +way into Italy, and encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in +Florence. "Can you tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, +having touched my shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't +like to ask them. Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent +him to the Uffizzi, but I fear he was disappointed.</p> + +<p>We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, and on +driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. Thence we +went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. The misery is +one well known to travellers, but I never heard of another case in +which a man and his wife were told at midnight to get out of the +conveyance into the middle of the street because the horse could not +be made to go any further. Such was our condition. I induced the +driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was nearest to him, +and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the porter to get the +master to come down to me; and, though my French is ordinarily very +defective, I spoke with such eloquence to that German innkeeper that +he, throwing his arms round my neck in a transport of compassion, +swore that he would never leave me nor my wife till he had put us to +bed. And he did so; but, ah! there were so many in those beds! It is +such an experience as this which teaches a travelling foreigner how +different on the Continent is the accommodation provided for him, +from that which is supplied for the inhabitants of the country.</p> + +<p>It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that we +had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that night. +There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and we asked +some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering supper and +beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but we persisted, +and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves charged twenty +zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at Milan, and the +prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We paid our twenty +zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the thought of our +ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached Verona, there +arose a great cry along the platform for Signor Trollope. I put out +my head and declared my identity, when I was waited upon by a +glorious personage dressed like a beau for a ball, with half-a-dozen +others almost as glorious behind him, who informed me, with his hat +in his hand, that he was the landlord of the "Due Torre." It was a +heating moment, but it became more hot when he asked me after my +people,—"mes gens." I could only turn round, and point to my wife +and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." There were three +carriages provided for us, each with a pair of grey horses. When we +reached the house it was all lit up. We were not allowed to move +without an attendant with a lighted candle. It was only gradually +that the mistake came to be understood. On us there was still the +horror of the bill, the extent of which could not be known till the +hour of departure had come. The landlord, however, had acknowledged +to himself that his inductions had been ill-founded, and he treated +us with clemency. He had never before received a telegram.</p> + +<p>I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished <i>The Three Clerks</i> just before I +left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for a new +plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a plot, +and he drew out that of my next novel, called <i>Doctor Thorne</i>. I +mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in which +I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains for the +thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted incidents +from what I have read,—either from history or from works of +imagination,—I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not been +aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's work, and +deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from censuring this +practice in others. Our greatest masters in works of imagination have +obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare dug out of such +quarries wherever he could find them. Ben Jonson, with heavier hand, +built up his structures on his studies of the classics, not thinking +it beneath him to give, without direct acknowledgment, whole pieces +translated both from poets and historians. But in those days no such +acknowledgment was usual. Plagiary existed, and was very common, but +was not known as a sin. It is different now; and I think that an +author, when he uses either the words or the plot of another, should +own as much, demanding to be credited with no more of the work than +he has himself produced. I may say also that I have never printed as +my own a word that has been written by +others. <a id="fnr04"></a><a href="#fn04">[4]</a> It might +probably have been better for my readers had I done so, as I am +informed that <i>Doctor Thorne</i>, the novel of which I am now speaking, +has a larger sale than any other book of mine.</p> + +<p>Early in 1858, while I was writing <i>Doctor Thorne</i>, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin to +London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. The +other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed far +enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. I +went to Mr. Bentley and demanded £400,—for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures after +I had left him, and had found that £300 would be the outside value of +the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,—for I had but an hour at my disposal,—I rushed to Chapman & +Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward Chapman +in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great many +words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. Looking +at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had stopped him +on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might as well do as I +desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it was a sale. I +remember that he held the poker in his hand all the time that I was +with him;—but in truth, even though he had declined to buy the book, +there would have been no danger.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn04"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 4</span>: + I must make one exception to this declaration. The legal opinion as + to heirlooms in <i>The Eustace Diamonds</i> was written for me by Charles + Merewether, the present Member for Northampton. I am told that it has + become the ruling authority on the subject.] + <br /><a href="#fnr04"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h4><i>DOCTOR THORNE</i>—<i>THE BERTRAMS</i>—<i>THE<br /> +WEST INDIES AND THE SPANISH MAIN</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper on +the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my state +room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but still I did +my work. <i>Labor omnia vincit improbus</i>. I do not say that to all men +has been given physical strength sufficient for such exertion as +this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable most men to +work at almost any season. I had previously to this arranged a system +of task-work for myself, which I would strongly recommend to those +who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not made absolutely +obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should never be allowed +to become spasmodic. There was no day on which it was my positive +duty to write for the publishers, as it was my duty to write reports +for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if I pleased. But as I had +made up my mind to undertake this second profession, I found it to be +expedient to bind myself by certain self-imposed laws. When I have +commenced a new book, I have always prepared a diary, divided into +weeks, and carried it on for the period which I have allowed myself +for the completion of the work. In this I have entered, day by day, +the number of pages I have written, so that if at any time I have +slipped into idleness for a day or two, the record of that idleness +has been there, staring me in the face, and demanding of me increased +labour, so that the deficiency might be supplied. According to the +circumstances of the time,—whether my other business might be then +heavy or light, or whether the book which I was writing was or was +not wanted with speed,—I have allotted myself so many pages a week. +The average number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as +20, and has risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page +has been made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, +will have a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as I +went. In the bargains I have made with publishers I have,—not, of +course, with their knowledge, but in my own mind,—undertaken always +to supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out of +hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that the +excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing my +work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided myself +especially in completing it within the proposed time,—and I have +always done so. There has ever been the record before me, and a week +passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a blister to my +eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow to my heart.</p> + +<p>I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a man +of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, but had +I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to these +trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not be +disobeyed. It has the force of the water-drop that hollows the stone. +A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a +spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always catches the hare. +The hare has no chance. He loses more time in glorifying himself for +a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise to make half his +journey.</p> + +<p>I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They have +ever been as boys struggling to learn their lesson as they entered +the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they have +failed to write their best because they have seldom written at ease. +I have done double their work,—though burdened with another +profession,—and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of +being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." The +needed pages far ahead—very far ahead—have almost always been in +the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates and ruled +spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly demand upon +my industry, has done all that for me.</p> + +<p>There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to such a +taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his imagination +should allow himself to wait till—inspiration moves him. When I have +heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been able to repress my +scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the shoemaker were to +wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for the divine moment of +melting. If the man whose business it is to write has eaten too many +good things, or has drunk too much, or smoked too many cigars,—as +men who write sometimes will do,—then his condition may be +unfavourable for work; but so will be the condition of a shoemaker +who has been similarly imprudent. I have sometimes thought that the +inspiration wanted has been the remedy which time will give to the +evil results of such imprudence.—<i>Mens sana in corpore sano</i>. The +author wants that as does every other workman,—that and a habit of +industry. I was once told that the surest aid to the writing of a +book was a piece of cobbler's wax on my chair. I certainly believe in +the cobbler's wax much more than the inspiration.</p> + +<p>It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready to +admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by the +products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own very +high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do the +work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the habit +of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I therefore +venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship as the +business of their lives, even when they propose that that authorship +be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic rushes with +their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day by day as +though they were lawyers' clerks;—and so let them sit until the +allotted task shall be accomplished.</p> + +<p>While I was in Egypt, I finished <i>Doctor Thorne</i>, and on the +following day began <i>The Bertrams</i>. I was moved now by a +determination to excel, if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. +An ignoble ambition for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But +not, I think, altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to +look at his work as does any other workman. This had become my task, +this was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing +the doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to work +at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good as +I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between each +they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I finished +<i>Doctor Thorne</i> on one day, and began <i>The Bertrams</i> on the next.</p> + +<p>I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last succeeded +in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty years have +passed since that time, and other years may yet run on before these +pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official sin by describing +here the nature of the difficulty which met me. I found, on my +arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer of the Pasha, who +was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have been the gentleman +who has lately dealt with our Government as to the Suez Canal shares, +and who is now well known to the political world as Nubar Pasha. I +found him a most courteous gentleman, an Armenian. I never went to +his office, nor do I know that he had an office. Every other day he +would come to me at my hotel, and bring with him servants, and pipes, +and coffee. I enjoyed his coming greatly; but there was one point on +which we could not agree. As to money and other details, it seemed as +though he could hardly accede fast enough to the wishes of the +Postmaster-General; but on one point he was firmly opposed to me. I +was desirous that the mails should be carried through Egypt in +twenty-four hours, and he thought that forty-eight hours should be +allowed. I was obstinate, and he was obstinate; and for a long time +we could come to no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity +seemed to desert him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with +almost more than British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick +transit, a terrible responsibility would rest on my head. I made this +mistake, he said,—that I supposed that a rate of travelling which +would be easy and secure in England could be attained with safety in +Egypt. "The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede to +any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit could +easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,—and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no longer +any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and he assured +me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his care to see +that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually kept, and, I +believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my persistency +was not the result of any courage specially personal to myself. While +the matter was being debated, it had been whispered to me that the +Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had conceived that +forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their traffic better +than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great paymasters on the +railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, who managed the railway, +might probably wish to accommodate them. I often wondered who +originated that frightful picture of blood and desolation. That it +came from an English heart and an English hand I was always sure.</p> + +<p>From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the Post +Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with true tales +of my adventures. The <i>Tales of All Countries</i> have, most of them, +some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called <i>John Bull +on the Guadalquivir</i>, the chief incident in which occurred to me and +a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We both of us +handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to be a +bullfighter, but who turned out to be a duke,—and a duke, too, who +could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet how +thoroughly he covered us with ridicule!</p> + +<p>On my return home I received £400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall for +<i>Doctor Thorne</i>, and agreed to sell them <i>The Bertrams</i> for the same +sum. This latter novel was written under very vagrant +circumstances,—at Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at +sea, and at last finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West +Indies I will say a few words presently, but I may as well speak of +these two novels here. <i>Doctor Thorne</i> has, I believe, been the most +popular book that I have written,—if I may take the sale as a proof +of comparative popularity. <i>The Bertrams</i> has had quite an opposite +fortune. I do not know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even +by my friends, and I cannot remember that there is any character in +it that has dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that +they are of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. They +fall away very much from <i>The Three Clerks</i>, both in pathos and +humour. There is no personage in either of them comparable to +Chaffanbrass the lawyer. The plot of <i>Doctor Thorne</i> is good, and I +am led therefore to suppose that a good plot,—which, to my own +feeling, is the most insignificant part of a tale,—is that which +will most raise it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The +plots of <i>Tom Jones</i> and of <i>Ivanhoe</i> are almost perfect, and they +are probably the most popular novels of the schools of the last and +of this century; but to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged +strength of Burley and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those +great novelists than the gift of construction shown in the two works +I have named. A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened +by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of +attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of +individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created +personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. To +my thinking, the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you +have the vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which +the agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There +must, however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. +That of <i>The Bertrams</i> was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book +was relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of <i>Doctor +Thorne</i>.</p> + +<p>At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which had +now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all made +me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, I could +certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,—confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,—I might add £600 a-year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a-week, on £1400 +a-year. If more should come, it would be well;—but £600 a-year I was +prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but was +very pleasant when it came.</p> + +<p>On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had to do +there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the men +would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, and +wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and then I +would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to <i>The Bertrams</i>, are not good.</p> + +<p>Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated for +residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous for +want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the stables +had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in some of the +islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to the island +Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I was then to go +on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish authorities, and +to Panama for the same purpose with the Government of New Grenada. +All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and I hope to that of +my masters in St. Martin's le Grand.</p> + +<p>But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, as +having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard as the +best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I think I may +venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as I had learned +from the secretary at the General Post Office that this journey would +be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. Chapman & Hall, demanding +£250 for a single volume. The contract was made without any +difficulty, and when I returned home the work was complete in my +desk. I began it on board the ship in which I left Kingston, Jamaica, +for Cuba,—and from week to week I carried it on as I went. From Cuba +I made my way to St. Thomas, and through the island down to Demerara, +then back to St. Thomas,—which is the starting-point for all places +in that part of the globe,—to Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, +over the Isthmus to Panama, up the Pacific to a little harbour on the +coast of Costa Rica, thence across Central America, through Costa +Rica, and down the Nicaragua river to the Mosquito coast, and after +that home by Bermuda and New York. Should any one want further +details of the voyage, are they not written in my book? The fact +memorable to me now is that I never made a single note while writing +or preparing it. Preparation, indeed, there was none. The +descriptions and opinions came hot on to the paper from their causes. +I will not say that this is the best way of writing a book intended +to give accurate information. But it is the best way of producing to +the eye of the reader, and to his ear, that which the eye of the +writer has seen and his ear heard. There are two kinds of confidence +which a reader may have in his author,—which two kinds the reader +who wishes to use his reading well should carefully discriminate. +There is a confidence in facts and a confidence in vision. The one +man tells you accurately what has been. The other suggests to you +what may, or perhaps what must have been, or what ought to have been. +The former requires simple faith. The latter calls upon you to judge +for yourself, and form your own conclusions. The former does not +intend to be prescient, nor the latter accurate. Research is the +weapon used by the former; observation by the latter. Either may be +false,—wilfully false; as also may either be steadfastly true. As to +that, the reader must judge for himself. But the man who writes +<i>currente calamo</i>, who works with a rapidity which will not admit of +accuracy, may be as true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who +bases every word upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I +have travelled about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have +always written the exact truth as I saw it;—and I have, I think, +drawn my pictures correctly.</p> + +<p>The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies of black +men and white men was the view of the <i>Times</i> newspaper at that +period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for it +even by the <i>Times</i> newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light.</p> + +<p>I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position as +an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad for +literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future chapter. +But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to Chapman & +Hall and successfully demanded £600 for my next novel.</p> + + +<p><a id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h4>THE <i>CORNHILL MAGAZINE</i> AND <i>FRAMLEY PARSONAGE</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change my +district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my own +district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and there my +wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return to +England,—with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all with +whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable home, and I +had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great delight to me; +and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a house in the +neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be +abandoned. <a id="fnr05"></a><a href="#fn05">[5]</a> +Nevertheless I thought that a man who could write books +ought not to live in Ireland,—ought to live within the reach of the +publishers, the clubs, and the dinner-parties of the metropolis. So I +made my request at headquarters, and with some little difficulty got +myself appointed to the Eastern District of England,—which comprised +Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and the +greater part of Hertfordshire.</p> + +<p>At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest at +the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had been, some +time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by Mr. Rowland +Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never had any +sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most accurate, +but I never came across any one who so little understood the ways of +men,—unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two brothers the +servants of the Post Office,—men numerous enough to have formed a +large army in old days,—were so many machines who could be counted +on for their exact work without deviation, as wheels may be counted +on, which are kept going always at the same pace and always by the +same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious public servant, anxious +for the good of his country; but he was a hard taskmaster, and one +who would, I think, have put the great department with which he was +concerned altogether out of gear by his hardness, had he not been at +last controlled. He was the Chief Secretary, my brother-in-law—who +afterwards succeeded him—came next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother +was the Junior Secretary. In the natural course of things, I had not, +from my position, anything to do with the management of affairs;—but +from time to time I found myself more or less mixed up in it. I was +known to be a thoroughly efficient public servant; I am sure I may +say so much of myself without fear of contradiction from any one who +has known the Post Office;—I was very fond of the department, and +when matters came to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my +own. I have no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I +know that I sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because +I knew my business and was useful. I had given official offence by +the publication of <i>The Three Clerks</i>. I afterwards gave greater +offence by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of +the large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On +this occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether he +was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was no threat +to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in that fashion. +The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed no order. In the +lecture which I delivered, there was nothing to bring me to +shame,—but it advocated the doctrine that a civil servant is only a +servant as far as his contract goes, and that he is beyond that +entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in his general +pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in open +professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted now, +but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one in the +Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament.</p> + +<p>Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style of +official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands of +reports,—many of them necessarily very long; some of them dealing +with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; some few in +which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos might find an +entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these reports, habituating +myself always to write them in the form in which they should be +sent,—without a copy. It is by writing thus that a man can throw on +to his paper the exact feeling with which his mind is impressed at +the moment. A rough copy, or that which is called a draft, is written +in order that it may be touched and altered and put upon stilts. The +waste of time, moreover, in such an operation, is terrible. If a man +knows his craft with his pen, he will have learned to write without +the necessity of changing his words or the form of his sentences. I +had learned so to write my reports that they who read them should +know what it was that I meant them to understand. But I do not think +that they were regarded with favour. I have heard horror expressed +because the old forms were disregarded and language used which had no +savour of red-tape. During the whole of this work in the Post Office +it was my principle always to obey authority in everything instantly, +but never to allow my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my +opinion. They who had the ordering of me very often did not know the +work as I knew it,—could not tell as I could what would be the +effect of this or that change. When carrying out instructions which I +knew should not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the +fatuity of the improper order in the strongest language that I could +decently employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, +and look back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. +But I am not sure that they were so delightful to others.</p> + +<p>I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,—which could +hardly have been refused to me,—and prepared to change our residence +towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing <i>Castle Richmond</i>, +the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for £600. But +there arose at this time a certain literary project which probably +had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling on postal +service abroad, or riding over the rural districts in England, or +arranging the mails in Ireland,—and such for the last eighteen years +had now been my life,—I had no opportunity of becoming acquainted +with literary life in London. It was probably some feeling of this +which had made me anxious to move my penates back to England. But +even in Ireland, where I was still living in October, 1859, I had +heard of the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, which was to come out on the 1st of +January, 1860, under the editorship of Thackeray.</p> + +<p>I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of <i>Tales of All Countries</i>. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,—one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the <i>Cornhill</i>, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">36 Onslow Square, S.W.,<br /> +October 28th.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mr. +Trollope</span>,—Smith & Elder have sent you their +proposals; and the business part done, let me come to the +pleasure, and say how very glad indeed I shall be to have +you as a co-operator in our new magazine. And looking over +the annexed programme, you will see whether you can't help +us in many other ways besides tale-telling. Whatever a man +knows about life and its doings, that let us hear about. +You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and have +countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. +Please to think if you can furbish up any of these besides +a novel. When events occur, and you have a good lively +tale, bear us in mind. One of our chief objects in this +magazine is the getting out of novel spinning, and back +into the world. Don't understand me to disparage our +craft, especially <span class="u">your</span> wares. +I often say I am like the +pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread and +cheese; but the public love the tarts (luckily for us), +and we must bake and sell them. There was quite an +excitement in my family one evening when Paterfamilias +(who goes to sleep on a novel almost always when he tries +it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room wide +awake and calling for the second volume of <span class="u">The Three +Clerks</span>. I hope the <span class="u">Cornhill Magazine</span> +will have as +pleasant a story. And the Chapmans, if they are the honest +men I take them to be, I've no doubt have told you with +what sincere liking your works have been read by yours +very faithfully,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">W. M. +Thackeray</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me £1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to come +out in the new magazine,—on condition that the first portion of it +should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in all this +that astonished me;—in the first place the price, which was more +than double what I had yet received, and nearly double that which I +was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. Then there was the +suddenness of the call. It was already the end of October, and a +portion of the work was required to be in the printer's hands within +six weeks. <i>Castle Richmond</i> was indeed half written, but that was +sold to Chapman. And it had already been a principle with me in my +art, that no part of a novel should be published till the entire +story was completed. I knew, from what I read from month to month, +that this hurried publication of incompleted work was frequently, I +might perhaps say always, adopted by the leading novelists of the +day. That such has been the case, is proved by the fact that Dickens, +Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell died with unfinished novels, of which +portions had been already published. I had not yet entered upon the +system of publishing novels in parts, and therefore had never been +tempted. But I was aware that an artist should keep in his hand the +power of fitting the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is +his first duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour +to do so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of +remedying any defect in this respect.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td align="right"> +"Servetur ad imum<br /> +Qualis ab incepto processerit,"</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p class="noindent">should be kept +in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, be +"impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he is, +will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should be +always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his pigs +to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path which he +has intended for them. When some young lady at the end of a story +cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid description +of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines of her portrait +should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the rushing mode of +publication to which the system of serial stories had given rise, and +by which small parts as they were written were sent hot to the press, +was injurious to the work done. If I now complied with the +proposition made to me, I must act against my own principle. But such +a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot be superseded on a just +occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the principle should for the +occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as judge, and decreed that the +present reason was "tanti." On this my first attempt at a serial +story, I thought it fit to break my own rule. I can say, however, +that I have never broken it since.</p> + +<p>But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day this +new <i>Cornhill Magazine</i> should be in want of a novel! Perhaps some of +my future readers will be able to remember the great expectations +which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's was a good name +with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. Smith & Elder, were +most liberal in their manner of initiating the work, and were able to +make an expectant world of readers believe that something was to be +given them for a shilling very much in excess of anything they had +ever received for that or double the money. Whether these hopes were +or were not fulfilled it is not for me to say, as, for the first few +years of the magazine's existence, I wrote for it more than any other +one person. But such was certainly the prospect;—and how had it come +to pass that, with such promises made, the editor and the proprietors +were, at the end of October, without anything fixed as to what must +be regarded as the chief dish in the banquet to be provided?</p> + +<p>I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. He +had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed its +commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. There +was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. I think +there was,—for though he had his magazine to look after, I had the +Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his own energy, +that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was but four years +my senior in life, but he was at the top of the tree, while I was +still at the bottom.</p> + +<p>Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d of +November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime I had +made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged my +plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit the +<i>Cornhill</i>, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an end? +Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the <i>Cornhill</i>, was I +to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,—that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then I +hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that <i>Castle Richmond</i> was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;—and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that <i>Castle Richmond</i> would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;—but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must call +the plot of <i>Framley Parsonage</i>.</p> + +<p>On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of what +I meant to write,—a morsel of the biography of an English clergyman +who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation by his own +youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of those around +him. The love of his sister for the young lord was an adjunct +necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And then by placing +Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to fall back upon my +old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out of these slight +elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the real plot consisted +at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the man she loved till the +man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. Nothing could be less +efficient or artistic. But the characters were so well handled, that +the work from the first to the last was popular,—and was received as +it went on with still increasing favour by both editor and proprietor +of the magazine. The story was thoroughly English. There was a little +fox-hunting and a little tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some +Christian cant. There was no heroism and no villainy. There was much +Church, but more love-making. And it was downright honest love,—in +which there was no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too +ethereal to be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the +part of the man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. +Each of them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say +so. Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked <i>Framley Parsonage.</i> I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,—the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in <i>The Three +Clerks</i>, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed I doubt +whether such a character could be made more lifelike than Lucy +Robarts.</p> + +<p>And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak +part,—no long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in +serial form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not +allow himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a fault +that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he embarks +in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have many +pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's eye at +the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first volume of +<i>Waverley</i> coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised this when I +was writing <i>Framley Parsonage</i>; and working on the conviction which +had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos of dulness.</p> + +<p>I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written on +me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than myself, +and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him to a kind +of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel Hawthorne, the +American, whom I did not then know, but whose works I knew. Though it +praises myself highly, I will insert it here, because it certainly is +true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he says, "that my own +individual taste is for quite another class of works than those which +I myself am able to write. If I were to meet with such books as mine +by another writer, I don't believe I should be able to get through +them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony Trollope? They +precisely suit my taste,—solid and substantial, written on the +strength of beef and through the inspiration of ale, and just as real +as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of the earth and put it +under a glass case, with all its inhabitants going about their daily +business, and not suspecting that they were being made a show of. And +these books are just as English as a beef-steak. Have they ever been +tried in America? It needs an English residence to make them +thoroughly comprehensible; but still I should think that human nature +would give them success anywhere."</p> + +<p>This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +<i>Framley Parsonage</i>; but it was as true of that work as of any that I +have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view in +my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,—with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,—so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods or +demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed in +impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty +is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a +girl will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a +man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; +that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done +beautiful and gracious. I do not say that lessons such as these may +not be more grandly taught by higher flights than mine. Such lessons +come to us from our greatest poets. But there are so many who will +read novels and understand them, who either do not read the works of +our great poets, or reading them miss the lesson! And even in prose +fiction the character whom the fervid imagination of the writer has +lifted somewhat into the clouds, will hardly give so plain an example +to the hasty normal reader as the humbler personage whom that reader +unconsciously feels to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a +girl would more probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than +after Flora Macdonald.</p> + +<p>There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,—those, for instance, who regard the +reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be simply +an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as among the +tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a wicked world. +I have regarded my art from so different a point of view that I have +ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one +which I could make both salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do +believe that no girl has risen from the reading of my pages less +modest than she was before, and that some may have learned from them +that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth +has been taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the +road to manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it +is to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the +lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought it might best be +done by representing to my readers characters like themselves,—or to +which they might liken themselves.</p> + +<p><i>Framley Parsonage</i>—or, rather, my connection with the +<i>Cornhill</i>—was the means of introducing me very quickly to that +literary world from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of +my residence in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very +hard at work on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern +District, and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from +London, in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and +Middlesex,—which was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This +I took on lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about +£1000 on improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent +both in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity +came, among men of my own pursuit.</p> + +<p>It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith—to whose enterprise +we owe not only the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i> but the <i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i>—gave a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a +memorable banquet in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that +occasion I first met many men who afterwards became my most intimate +associates. It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be the +first starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that table, +and on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor +(Sir)—than whom in latter life I have loved no man better,—Robert +Bell, G. H. Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men I +afterwards lived on affectionate terms;—but I will here speak +specially of the last, because from that time he was joined with me +in so much of the work that I did.</p> + +<p>Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate <i>Framley Parsonage</i>, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's <i>Unspoken +Dialogue</i>. The first drawing he did for <i>Framley Parsonage</i> did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When I +did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated <i>Orley +Farm</i>, <i>The Small House at Allington</i>, <i>Rachel Ray</i>, and <i>Phineas +Finn</i>. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and I +do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well—and so ought readers of novels to have +learned—that there are two modes of illustrating, either of which +may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To which class +Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good artist, it was +open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to study the work of +the author from whose writing he was bound to take his subject. I +have too often found that the former alternative has been thought to +be the better, as it certainly is the easier method. An artist will +frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas to those of an author, +and will sometimes be too idle to find out what those ideas are. But +this artist was neither proud nor idle. In every figure that he drew +it was his object to promote the views of the writer whose work he +had undertaken to illustrate, and he never spared himself any pains +in studying that work, so as to enable him to do so. I have carried +on some of those characters from book to book, and have had my own +early ideas impressed indelibly on my memory by the excellence of his +delineations. Those illustrations were commenced fifteen years ago, +and from that time up to this day my affection for the man of whom I +am speaking has increased. To see him has always been a pleasure. His +voice has been a sweet sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never +heard him praised without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a +word spoken against him without opposing the censurer. These words, +should he ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will +tell him of my regard,—as one living man never tells another.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that evening, +and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very close, was +born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the necessities of +a profession to enter the lists as an author. But he lived much with +those who did so,—and could have done it himself had want or +ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick Club, to which, +however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best dinners of my time, +and was,—happily I may say is, +<a id="fnr06"></a><a href="#fn06">[6]</a>—the best giver of +dinners. A man rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, odious to +those who dislike him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he is the prince +of friends, honest as the sun, and as open-handed as Charity itself.</p> + +<p>Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back over +the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd to me +that we should have known each other for no more than six years. He +was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; and was so +far successful that I do not think that want ever came near him. But +he never made that mark which his industry and talents would have +seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary men, but not +known to readers. As a journalist he was useful and conscientious, +but his plays and novels never made themselves popular. He wrote a +life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated edition of the +British poets; but he achieved no great success. I have known no man +better read in English literature. Hence his conversation had a +peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy with his pen. He will +long be remembered at the Literary Fund Committees, of which he was a +staunch and most trusted supporter. I think it was he who first +introduced me to that board. It has often been said that literary men +are peculiarly apt to think that they are slighted and unappreciated. +Robert Bell certainly never achieved the position in literature which +he once aspired to fill, and which he was justified in thinking that +he could earn for himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects +with him, but I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to +his own literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, +and he loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no +sound ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry.</p> + +<p>George Lewes,—with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,—has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. He is, +I think, the acutest critic I know,—and the severest. His severity, +however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when honesty +may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has not +required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged himself +to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. I am not +speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in another, but of +that confidence in literary excellence, which is, I think, necessary +for the full enjoyment of literature. In one modern writer he did +believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming than the unstinted +admiration which he has accorded to everything that comes from the +pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has been united. To her +name I shall recur again when speaking of the novelists of the +present day.</p> + +<p>Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say that I +never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and continuance +of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever—also an +Irishman—whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with close +intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the more +astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a little +the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But "Billy" +also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, or at +home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word.</p> + +<p>Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death.</p> + +<p>There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the <i>Times</i>, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would have +risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer in his +day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, a man of +very different calibre, who has not yet culminated, but who, no +doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many others;—but +I cannot now recall their various names as identified with those +banquets.</p> + +<p>Of <i>Framley Parsonage</i> I need only further say, that as I wrote it I +became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which I +had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,—its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of +Parliament, and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all +the great lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the +rectors and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had +placed the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of +the dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name +given to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of +which I know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered +there.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn05"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 5</span>: + It was not abandoned till sixteen more years had passed away.] + <br /><a href="#fnr05"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn06"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 6</span>: + Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went from us.] + <br /><a href="#fnr06"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h4><i>CASTLE RICHMOND</i>—<i>BROWN, JONES, +AND<br />ROBINSON</i>—<i>NORTH +AMERICA</i>—<i>ORLEY FARM</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When I had half-finished <i>Framley Parsonage</i>, I went back to my other +story, <i>Castle Richmond</i>, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion on +which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same time. +This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. Many of +us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends in the +town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail to +remember the little details of the one life or the other. The parson +at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all his +belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family history; +and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we rode so +unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, once a +gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary Cann, whose +marriage with the wheelwright we did something to expedite;—though +we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our brain the club +gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or any incident of +our London intimacies. In our lives we are always weaving novels, and +we manage to keep the different tales distinct. A man does, in truth, +remember that which it interests him to remember; and when we hear +that memory has gone as age has come on, we should understand that +the capacity for interest in the matter concerned has perished. A man +will be generally very old and feeble before he forgets how much +money he has in the funds. There is a good deal to be learned by any +one who wishes to write a novel well; but when the art has been +acquired, I do not see why two or three should not be well written at +the same time. I have never found myself thinking much about the work +that I had to do till I was doing it. I have indeed for many years +almost abandoned the effort to think, trusting myself, with the +narrowest thread of a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is in +my hand. But my mind is constantly employing itself on the work I +have done. Had I left either <i>Framley Parsonage</i> or <i>Castle Richmond</i> +half-finished fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales +now with very little trouble. I have not looked at <i>Castle Richmond</i> +since it was published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the +incidents.</p> + +<p><i>Castle Richmond</i> certainly was not a success,—though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of itself +a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. The heroine +has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other a prig. As +regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. Rivalry of the +same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray in his <i>Esmond</i>; +but there the mother's love seems to be justified by the girl's +indifference. In <i>Castle Richmond</i> the mother strives to rob her +daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no character; and +the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. The dialogue +is often lively, and some of the incidents are well told; but the +story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, however, that it +was roughly handled by the critics when it came out; and I much doubt +whether anything so hard was said of it then as that which I have +said here.</p> + +<p>I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages and +strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with which +institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged to it +about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited to fill +his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that august body +ever since. Having up to that time lived very little among men, +having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as a boy been +banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at first the +gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine there—which I +did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play a rubber in the +little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking now of the old +club in King Street. This playing of whist before dinner has since +that become a habit with me, so that unless there be something else +special to do—unless there be hunting, or I am wanted to ride in the +park by the young tyrant of my household—it is "my custom always in +the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore with myself for this +persistency, feeling that I was making myself a slave to an amusement +which has not after all very much to recommend it. I have often +thought that I would break myself away from it, and "swear off," as +Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing off has been like that of Rip +Van Winkle. And now, as I think of it coolly, I do not know but that +I have been right to cling to it. As a man grows old he wants +amusement, more even than when he is young; and then it becomes so +difficult to find amusement. Reading should, no doubt, be the delight +of men's leisure hours. Had I to choose between books and cards, I +should no doubt take the books. But I find that I can seldom read +with pleasure for above an hour and a half at a time, or more than +three hours a day. As I write this I am aware that hunting must soon +be abandoned. After sixty it is given but to few men to ride straight +across country, and I cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of +riding. I think that without cards I should now be much at a loss. +When I began to play at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked +the society of the men who played.</p> + +<p>I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. I +have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, which +I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be liked by +those around me,—a wish that during the first half of my life was +never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my misery came +from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of popular boys. +They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while the desolation +of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, when I was in London +as a young man, I had but few friends. Among the clerks in the Post +Office I held my own fairly for the first two or three years; but +even then I regarded myself as something of a pariah. My Irish life +had been much better. I had had my wife and children, and had been +sustained by a feeling of general respect. But even in Ireland I had +in truth lived but little in society. Our means had been sufficient +for our wants, but insufficient for entertaining others. It was not +till we had settled ourselves at Waltham that I really began to live +much with others. The Garrick Club was the first assemblage of men at +which I felt myself to be popular.</p> + +<p>I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. Then I +was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club—not from +judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left for the +same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected by the +Committee at the Athenæum. For this I was indebted to the kindness of +Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when I was +informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member of the +Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in Charles +Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, and its +members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! The +gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met Jacob +Omnium, Monckton Milnes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry Reeve, +Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally a strong +political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain spirit to +the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, Lord Enfield, +Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, Bromley Davenport, +Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to whisper the secrets +of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I became a member of the +Turf, which I found to be serviceable—or the reverse—only for the +playing of whist at high points.</p> + +<p>In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called <i>The +Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson</i>. In this I attempted a style +for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never had +again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, and was +intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think that there +is some good fun in it, but I have heard no one else express such an +opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion expressed on it, +except by the publisher, who kindly remarked that he did not think it +was equal to my usual work. Though he had purchased the copyright, he +did not republish the story in a book form till 1870, and then it +passed into the world of letters <i>sub silentio</i>. I do not know that +it was ever criticised or ever read. I received £600 for it. From +that time to this I have been paid at about that rate for my +work—£600 for the quantity contained in an ordinary novel volume, or +£3000 for a long tale published in twenty parts, which is equal in +length to five such volumes. I have occasionally, I think, received +something more than this, never I think less for any tale, except +when I have published my work anonymously. +<a id="fnr07"></a><a href="#fn07">[7]</a> Having said +so much, I need not further specify the prices as I mention the books +as they were written. I will, however, when I am completing this +memoir, give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary +labours. I think that <i>Brown, Jones, and Robinson</i> was the hardest +bargain I ever sold to a publisher.</p> + +<p>In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from the +first I interested myself much in the question. My mother had thirty +years previously written a very popular, but, as I had thought, a +somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. She had seen +what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, but had hardly +recognised their energy. I had entertained for many years an ambition +to follow her footsteps there, and to write another book. I had +already paid a short visit to New York City and State on my way home +from the West Indies, but had not seen enough then to justify me in +the expression of any opinion. The breaking out of the war did not +make me think that the time was peculiarly fit for such inquiry as I +wished to make, but it did represent itself as an occasion on which a +book might be popular. I consequently consulted the two great powers +with whom I was concerned. Messrs. Chapman & Hall, the publishers, +were one power, and I had no difficulty in arranging my affairs with +them. They agreed to publish the book on my terms, and bade me +God-speed on my journey. The other power was the Postmaster-General +and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of the Post Office. I wanted +leave of absence for the unusual period of nine months, and fearing +that I should not get it by the ordinary process of asking the +Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. "Is it on the plea of +ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, which was then that of a +very robust man. His lordship knew the Civil Service as well as any +one living, and must have seen much of falseness and fraudulent +pretence, or he could not have asked that question. I told him that I +was very well, but that I wanted to write a book. "Had I any special +ground to go upon in asking for such indulgence?" I had, I said, done +my duty well by the service. There was a good deal of demurring, but +I got my leave for nine months,—and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. +Hill attached to the minute granting me the leave an intimation that +it was to be considered as a full equivalent for the special services +rendered by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the +grace with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions +of the Postmaster-General. <a id="fnr08"></a><a href="#fn08">[8]</a></p> + +<p>I started for the States in August and returned in the following May. +The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the country +was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. I +visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,—failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions of +the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in the +ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around them. +Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected because +new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, is that we, +all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances around us. +Though three parts of London were in flames I should no doubt expect +to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the quarter which was +free from fire.</p> + +<p>The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it was +not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, I think, +be of future value to those who wish to make themselves acquainted +with the United States. It was published about the middle of the +war,—just at the time in which the hopes of those who loved the +South were most buoyant, and the fears of those who stood by the +North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence—which never quavered in a page or in a line—that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, and +on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, and +that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was right in +my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which they were +made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked the quarrel +because its political supremacy was checked by the election of Mr. +Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man against a +big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,—and a feeling based +on a misconception as to American character that the Southerners are +better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,—did create great +sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too just to be led +into political action by a spirit of romance, and I was warranted in +that belief. There was a moment in which the Northern cause was in +danger, and the danger lay certainly in the prospect of British +interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,—two men insignificant in +themselves,—had been sent to Europe by the Southern party, and had +managed to get on board the British mail steamer called "The Trent," +at the Havannah. A most undue importance was attached to this mission +by Mr. Lincoln's government, and efforts were made to stop them. A +certain Commodore Wilkes, doing duty as policeman on the seas, did +stop the "Trent," and took the men out. They were carried, one to +Boston and one to New York, and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph +of the nation. Commodore Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a +brave man could take glory, was made a hero and received a prize +sword. England of course demanded her passengers back, and the States +for a while refused to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that +time the Secretary of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political +faults, was a wise man. I was at Washington at the time, and it was +known there that the contest among the leading Northerners was very +sharp on the matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under Mr. +Lincoln, the two chiefs of the party. It was understood that Mr. +Sumner was opposed to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward in +favour of it. Mr. Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the +President, and England's declaration of war was prevented. I dined +with Mr. Seward on the day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at his +house, and was told as I left the dining-room what the decision had +been. During the afternoon I and others had received intimation +through the embassy that we might probably have to leave Washington +at an hour's notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the +Northern cause encountered during the war.</p> + +<p>But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,—and +wrong in none other as far as I know,—was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,—as I can do that on the West Indies. It served +its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public and by +the critics.</p> + +<p>Before starting to America I had completed <i>Orley Farm</i>, a novel +which appeared in shilling numbers,—after the manner in which +<i>Pickwick</i>, <i>Nicholas Nickleby</i>, and many others had been published. +Most of those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, +and are competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is +the best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify me +in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of <i>Orley Farm</i> is +probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of declaring +itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. When Lady +Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the will, the plot +of <i>Orley Farm</i> has unravelled itself;—and this she does in the +middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the novel is +good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, Mr. +Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, are all +good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. Moulder +carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his tables and +chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull page in the +book. I am fond of <i>Orley Farm</i>;—and am especially fond of its +illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in any novel +in any language.</p> + +<p>I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the <i>Macdermots</i> in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured to +myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,—which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged £4500 a year. Of +this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps to +have done better,—to have spent one-third, and put by two; but I +have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has come +easily.</p> + +<p>This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,—thoughts and aspirations which used to +cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing myself +to the work which they demanded,—that I have felt some pride in +having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to reach +the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters should +be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is generally +done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as a great +blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much of +shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned too +quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred by +the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps foolishly, +to one's friends;—all this to me has been essential to the comfort +of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost say the last +twenty years, though no man in his youth had less prospect of doing +so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five to have had such +luxuries foretold to him by his friends.</p> + +<p>But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, +and the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty boots +and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling myself +that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but that the mud +and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me mud and solitude +and poverty through my life. Those lads about me would go into +Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires of parishes, or +advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not live with me +now,—but neither should I be able to live with them in after years. +Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the age in which others +go to the universities, I became a clerk in the Post Office, I felt +that my old visions were being realised. I did not think it a high +calling. I did not know then how very much good work may be done by a +member of the Civil Service who will show himself capable of doing +it. The Post Office at last grew upon me and forced itself into my +affections. I became intensely anxious that people should have their +letters delivered to them punctually. But my hope to rise had always +been built on the writing of novels, and at last by the writing of +novels I had risen.</p> + +<p>I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say that +I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education is +to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son of a +peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed men +than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the wife of +him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her whose husband +has been less,—or more fortunate, as he may think it. The discerning +man will recognise the information and the graces when they are +achieved without such assistance, and will honour the owners of them +the more because of the difficulties they have overcome;—but the +fact remains that the society of the well-born and of the wealthy +will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this now, because these are +the rules by which I have lived, and these are the causes which have +instigated me to work.</p> + +<p>I have heard the question argued—On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? If +a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his intimacy, +am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close acquaintance or +his high rank? I have always said that where the difference in +position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy should always +come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be ever fixed, then +that rank should be held of no account. It seems to me that intimate +friendship admits of no standing but that of equality. I cannot be +the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the friend of many very much +beneath the Sovereign, because such equality is impossible.</p> + +<p>When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than in +Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was too +light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the money +came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First one horse +was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home I +have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, and +gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had been an +Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more closely +than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding capacities +of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me by Essex men +generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my delight in the +amusement I have never been able to analyse to my own satisfaction. +In the first place, even now, I know very little about +hunting,—though I know very much of the accessories of the field. I +am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore tell whether +the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the notice I take of +hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so constituted that I +can never see the nature of a fence. I either follow some one, or +ride at it with the full conviction that I may be going into a +horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into both one and the +other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden expensive horses. I am +also now old for such work, being so stiff that I cannot get on to my +horse without the aid of a block or a bank. But I ride still after +the same fashion, with a boy's energy, determined to get ahead if it +may possibly be done, hating the roads, despising young men who ride +them, and with a feeling that life can not, with all her riches, have +given me anything better than when I have gone through a long run to +the finish, keeping a place, not of glory, but of credit, among my +juniors.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn07"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 7</span>: + Since the date at which this was written I have encountered a + diminution in price.] + <br /><a href="#fnr07"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn08"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 8</span>: + During the period of my service in the Post Office I did very much + special work for which I never asked any remuneration,—and never + received any, though payments for special services were common in the + department at that time. But if there was to be a question of such + remuneration, I did not choose that my work should be valued at the + price put upon it by Mr. Hill.] + <br /><a href="#fnr08"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4><i>THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON</i>—<i>CAN YOU FORGIVE<br /> +HER?</i>—<i>RACHEL RAY</i>—AND THE <i>FORTNIGHTLY +REVIEW</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>During the early months of 1862 <i>Orley Farm</i> was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time <i>Brown, Jones, and Robinson</i> was +appearing in the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>. In September, 1862, the <i>Small +House at Allington</i> began its career in the same periodical. The work +on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, the +first number of <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called <i>Rachel Ray</i>. In +addition to these I published during the time two volumes of stories +called <i>The Tales of All Countries</i>. In the early spring of 1865 +<i>Miss Mackenzie</i> was issued in the same form as <i>Rachel Ray</i>; and in +May of the same year <i>The Belton Estate</i> was commenced with the +commencement of the <i>Fortnightly Review</i>, of which periodical I will +say a few words in this chapter.</p> + +<p>I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,—because the reading world could not want such a quantity of +matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of time. I +had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman who +disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,—in the story of whose +productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,—but I had probably done enough to make both publishers and +readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. Of +publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins were, I +think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received from them +individually. What I wrote for the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, I always +wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were published +by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts made by me +with them, and always made with their good-will. Could I have been +two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom one might have +been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests of the firm +in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;—but as I preserved my +identity in both places, I myself became aware that my name was too +frequent on title-pages.</p> + +<p>Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,—namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too great +rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving to the +subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of my own work +as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I believe that the +work which has been done quickest has been done the best. I have +composed better stories—that is, have created better plots—than +those of <i>The Small House at Allington</i> and <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> +and I have portrayed two or three better characters than are to be +found in the pages of either of them; but taking these books all +through, I do not think that I have ever done better work. Nor would +these have been improved by any effort in the art of story telling, +had each of these been the isolated labour of a couple of years. How +short is the time devoted to the manipulation of a plot can be known +only to those who have written plays and novels;—I may say also, how +very little time the brain is able to devote to such wearing work. +There are usually some hours of agonising doubt, almost of +despair,—so at least it has been with me,—or perhaps some days. And +then, with nothing settled in my brain as to the final development of +events, with no capability of settling anything, but with a most +distinct conception of some character or characters, I have rushed at +the work as a rider rushes at a fence which he does not see. +Sometimes I have encountered what, in hunting language, we call a +cropper. I had such a fall in two novels of mine, of which I have +already spoken—<i>The Bertrams</i> and <i>Castle Richmond</i>. I shall have to +speak of other such troubles. But these failures have not arisen from +over-hurried work. When my work has been quicker done,—and it has +sometimes been done very quickly—the rapidity has been achieved by +hot pressure, not in the conception, but in the telling of the story. +Instead of writing eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead +of working five days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my +usual average, and have done so in circumstances which have enabled +me to give up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been +writing. This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,—where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, no +ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done has +had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have been able +to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself thoroughly +with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered alone among +the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at their +absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel.</p> + +<p>The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to the +rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far from +well in reference to the style in which that work has been given to +the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for conveying +his thoughts to the public should not be less important to him than +the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to be popular +unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; but then +comes the question of achieving a popular—in other words, I may say, +a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire a mode of +writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible to the +reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he can be +neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him to obey +those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have been +taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does obey +them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will achieve +such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has learned +that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has learned +with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,—not while he +is writing that which shall please, but long before. His language +must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the great +performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the indignant +orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained compositor; as +the syllables tinkled out by little bells form themselves to the ear +of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of his words as he writes +them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil. I speak +here, of course, of prose; for in poetry we know what care is +necessary, and we form our taste accordingly.</p> + +<p>Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,—chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. A +singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because other +pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into plural +tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in demanding +fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has been already +expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, which must have +been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the long sentences of +Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity of divisions, has +done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer will hardly avoid +these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I am ready to declare +that, with much training, I have been unable to avoid them. But the +writer for the press is rarely called upon—a writer of books should +never be called upon—to send his manuscript hot from his hand to the +printer. It has been my practice to read everything four times at +least—thrice in manuscript and once in print. Very much of my work I +have read twice in print. In spite of this I know that inaccuracies +have crept through,—not single spies, but in battalions. From this I +gather that the supervision has been insufficient, not that the work +itself has been done too fast. I am quite sure that those passages +which have been written with the greatest stress of labour, and +consequently with the greatest haste, have been the most effective +and by no means the most inaccurate.</p> + +<p><i>The Small House at Allington</i> redeemed my reputation with the +spirited proprietor of the <i>Cornhill</i>, which must, I should think, +have been damaged by <i>Brown, Jones, and Robinson</i>. In it appeared +Lily Dale, one of the characters which readers of my novels have +liked the best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have +hardly joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a +French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; and +then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly good +enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her mind +to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over her +troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, <i>The Small House at Allington</i> is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. I +have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have taken +the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, whose +life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, I think, +well described.</p> + +<p>Of <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase my +reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that of +the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, the +circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The play had +been called <i>The Noble Jilt</i>; but I was afraid of the name for a +novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. There +was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. The +character of the girl is carried through with considerable strength, +but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are also taken +from the play,—a buxom widow who with her eyes open chooses the most +scampish of two selfish suitors because he is the better +looking,—are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain Bellfield and +Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun—as far as the fun of novels is. But +that which endears the book to me is the first presentation which I +made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his wife, Lady Glencora.</p> + +<p>By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in making +any reader understand how much these characters with their belongings +have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently I have used them +for the expression of my political or social convictions. They have +been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. Cobden, or the dominion +of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have not been able to speak from +the benches of the House of Commons, or to thunder from platforms, or +to be efficacious as a lecturer, they have served me as safety-valves +by which to deliver my soul. Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared in +<i>The Small House at Allington</i>, but his birth had not been +accompanied by many hopes. In the last pages of that novel he is made +to seek a remedy for a foolish false step in life by marrying the +grand heiress of the day;—but the personage of the great heiress +does not appear till she comes on the scene as a married woman in +<i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> He is the nephew and heir to a duke—the Duke +of Omnium—who was first introduced in <i>Doctor Thorne</i>, and +afterwards in <i>Framley Parsonage</i>, and who is one of the belongings +of whom I have spoken. In these personages and their friends, +political and social, I have endeavoured to depict the faults and +frailties and vices,—as also the virtues, the graces, and the +strength of our highest classes; and if I have not made the strength +and virtues predominant over the faults and vices, I have not painted +the picture as I intended. Plantagenet Palliser I think to be a very +noble gentleman,—such a one as justifies to the nation the seeming +anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of primogeniture. His wife is in +all respects very inferior to him; but she, too, has, or has been +intended to have, beneath the thin stratum of her follies a basis of +good principle, which enabled her to live down the conviction of the +original wrong which was done to her, and taught her to endeavour to +do her duty in the position to which she was called. She had received +a great wrong,—having been made, when little more than a child, to +marry a man for whom she cared nothing;—when, however, though she +was little more than a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She +had very heavy troubles, but they did not overcome her.</p> + +<p>As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in +vindication of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. In the +pages of <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> the girl's first love is +introduced,—beautiful, well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a +girl from wasting herself, and an heiress from wasting her property +on such a scamp, was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But it +must ever be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she +does not love,—and certainly the more so when there is another whom +she does love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected the +young wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to whom +her heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish ground, +leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover might +or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one of +the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my novels +read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book which +caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to vicious +sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, he +did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should it +not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made known +nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, and ought +not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no attraction to +the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full of grace, and +enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation without +abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much too long +for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with him in the +country,—so that we might have it out. That opportunity, however, +has never yet arrived.</p> + +<p>Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility of +her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a rich +reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She loves +her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then of +political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after his +thorough nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is +imperfectly true to him.</p> + +<p>In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,—which, had it been +maintained by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to +nature,—but also of those changes which time always produces. There +are, perhaps, but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will +be found to have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man +will still be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of +showing or of hiding these characteristics will be changed,—as also +our power of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my +study that these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the +changes which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. +The Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime +Minister's wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost +longs to go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will +never do so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and +sore spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place +when they were first offered to him;—but they have undergone the +changes which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. +To do all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I +do not know that the game has been worth the candle. To carry out my +scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide a canvas that I +cannot expect that any lover of such art should trouble himself to +look at it as a whole. Who will read <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i>, <i>Phineas +Finn</i>, <i>Phineas Redux</i>, and <i>The Prime Minister</i> consecutively, in +order that they may understand the characters of the Duke of Omnium, +of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? Who will ever know +that they should be so read? But in the performance of the work I had +much gratification, and was enabled from time to time to have in this +way that fling at the political doings of the day which every man +likes to take, if not in one fashion then in another. I look upon +this string of characters,—carried sometimes into other novels than +those just named,—as the best work of my life. Taking him +altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser stands more firmly on +the ground than any other personage I have created.</p> + +<p>On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +<i>Cornhill Magazine</i>,—a position for which he was hardly fitted +either by his habits or temperament,—but was still employed in +writing for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had +grown into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys and +troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in early +life—unfortunate in regard to money—unfortunate with an afflicted +wife—unfortunate in having his home broken up before his children +were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much upon clubs, +and taught him to dislike general society. But it never affected his +heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel in the pangs +and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel—as he did to the +very last—the duty of showing to his readers the evil consequences +of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault as a writer that he +could never abstain from that dash of satire which he felt to be +demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around him. The satirist who +writes nothing but satire should write but little,—or it will seem +that his satire springs rather from his own caustic nature than from +the sins of the world in which he lives. I myself regard <i>Esmond</i> as +the greatest novel in the English language, basing that judgment upon +the excellence of its language, on the clear individuality of the +characters, on the truth of its delineations in regard to the time +selected, and on its great pathos. There are also in it a few scenes +so told that even Scott has never equalled the telling. Let any one +who doubts this read the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the +Duke of Hamilton to think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be +honoured if Colonel Esmond will give away the bride. When he went +from us he left behind living novelists with great names; but I think +that they who best understood the matter felt that the greatest +master of fiction of this age had gone.</p> + +<p><i>Rachel Ray</i> underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called <i>Good Words</i> +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that his +principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he was +wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel to the +readers of <i>Good Words</i>, a novel from me would hardly be what he +wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with any +specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from that +which was usual to me. As worldly and—if any one thought me +wicked—as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should I +write for <i>Good Words</i>. He persisted in his request, and I came to +terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it to +him, and shortly afterwards received it back—a considerable portion +having been printed—with an intimation that it would not do. A +letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. It was, +he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. He should +have known better. But the story, such as it was, he could not give +to his readers in the pages of <i>Good Words</i>. Would I forgive him? Any +pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject me the owner of +the publication would willingly make good. There was some loss—or +rather would have been—and that money I exacted, feeling that the +fault had in truth been with the editor. There is the tale now to +speak for itself. It is not brilliant, nor in any way very excellent; +but it certainly is not very wicked. There is some dancing in one of +the early chapters, described, no doubt, with that approval of the +amusement which I have always entertained; and it was this to which +my friend demurred. It is more true of novels than perhaps of +anything else, that one man's food is another man's poison.</p> + +<p><i>Miss Mackenzie</i> was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks down +before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my purpose, +I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who was +overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before the +end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. There +is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made with a +violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such attempts +at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg to say +that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. <i>Miss +Mackenzie</i> was published in the early spring of 1865.</p> + +<p>At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our trust +or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, and +have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which we +were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;—but we +would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say it, +speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility of +his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,—and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,—by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity of +Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a +publication as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one or two +who had proposed to join us. But we went on, and our +company—limited—was formed. We subscribed, I think, £1250 each. I +at least subscribed that amount, and—having agreed to bring out our +publication every fortnight, after the manner of the well-known +French publication,—we called it <i>The Fortnightly</i>. We secured the +services of G. H. Lewes as our editor. We agreed to manage our +finances by a Board, which was to meet once a fortnight, and of which +I was the Chairman. And we determined that the payments for our +literature should be made on a liberal and strictly ready-money +system. We carried out our principles till our money was all gone, +and then we sold the copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a +trifle. But before we parted with our property we found that a +fortnightly issue was not popular with the trade through whose hands +the work must reach the public; and, as our periodical had not become +sufficiently popular itself to bear down such opposition, we +succumbed, and brought it out once a month. Still it was <i>The +Fortnightly</i>, and still it is <i>The Fortnightly</i>. Of all the serial +publications of the day, it probably is the most serious, the most +earnest, the least devoted to amusement, the least flippant, the +least jocose,—and yet it has the face to show itself month after +month to the world, with so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know +the laws of modern literature are aware, a very serious thing to +change the name of a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether +new enterprise. Therefore should the name be well chosen;—whereas +this was very ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible.</p> + +<p>That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined to +support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have not +served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry will never object to +appear in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit +to think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result has +been good; and though there is much in the now established principles +of <i>The Fortnightly</i> with which I do not myself agree, I may safely +say that the publication has assured an individuality, and asserted +for itself a position in our periodical literature, which is well +understood and highly respected.</p> + +<p>As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,—I was craving after +some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still desirable, +but which is hardly to be attained by the means which then +recommended themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a +paper advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of my +case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether the +reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of political +writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other subjects. +Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very bad +indeed;—so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty and +incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,—are criticised +by favour,—and are trusted by editors to the criticism of the +incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, editors would +be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that we should get +but little criticism, and that the public would put but little trust +in that little. An ordinary reader would not care to have his books +recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation of the great +unknown comes to him with all the weight of the <i>Times</i>, the +<i>Spectator</i>, or the <i>Saturday</i>.</p> + +<p>Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed to +acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In <i>The +Fortnightly</i> everything has been signed, and in this way good has, I +think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals have +become much more common since <i>The Fortnightly</i> was commenced.</p> + +<p>After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that the +work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss in him +was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in finding a +successor. I must say that the present proprietor has been fortunate +in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done the work with +admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course he has got around +him a set of contributors whose modes of thought are what we may call +much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, would not work with +other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone of its own; but it +holds its own with ability, and though there are many who perhaps +hate it, there are none who despise it. When the company sold it, +having spent about £9000 on it, it was worth little or nothing. Now I +believe it to be a good property.</p> + +<p>My own last personal concern with it was on a matter of +fox-hunting. <a id="fnr09"></a><a href="#fn09">[9]</a> +There came out in it an article from the pen of +Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning the amusement, which I love, on +the grounds of cruelty and general brutality. Was it possible, asked +Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, that any educated man should find +delight in so coarse a pursuit? Always bearing in mind my own +connection with <i>The Fortnightly</i>, I regarded this almost as a rising +of a child against the father. I felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. +Freeman in the same columns, and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission +to do so. I wrote my defence of fox-hunting, and there it is. In +regard to the charge of cruelty, Mr. Freeman seems to assert that +nothing unpleasant should be done to any of God's creatures except +for a useful purpose. The protection of a lady's shoulders from the +cold is a useful purpose; and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals +may be snared in the snow and left to starve to death in the wires, +in order that the lady may have the tippet,—though a tippet of wool +would serve the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the +congregation and healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, +on whose behalf a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a +useful purpose. I think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that +amusement is as needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. +The absurdity of the further charge as to the general brutality of +the pursuit, and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is to +be attributed to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done and +said in the hunting-field,—perhaps to his misunderstanding of +Cicero's words. There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked for +space for further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, if I +much wished it; but he preferred that the subject should be closed. +Of course I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. +Freeman,—and against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would +cease to exist in England. And I felt that <i>The Fortnightly</i> was +hardly the place for the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman +kindly suggested to me that he would be glad to publish my article in +a little book to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting +generally. He was to have the last word and the first word, and that +power of picking to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a +manner, without any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If +he would give me the last word, as he would have the first, then, I +told him, I should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did +not however meet his views.</p> + +<p>It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in +opposition to my own ideas on the subject, that the <i>Fortnightly +Review</i> should always contain a novel. It was of course natural that +I should write the first novel, and I wrote <i>The Belton Estate</i>. It +is similar in its attributes to <i>Rachel Ray</i> and to <i>Miss Mackenzie</i>. +It is readable, and contains scenes which are true to life; but it +has no peculiar merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a +novelist. I have not looked at it since it was published; and now +turning back to it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it +than of any book that I have written.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn09"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 9</span>: + I have written various articles for it since, especially two on + Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] + <br /><a href="#fnr09"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4><i>THE CLAVERINGS</i>—THE <i>PALL MALL GAZETTE</i>—<i>NINA<br /> +BALATKA</i>—AND <i>LINDA TRESSEL</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><i>The Claverings</i>, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the <i>Cornhill</i>; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the same +length as <i>Framley Parsonage</i>, and the price was £2800. Whether much +or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, and was +paid in a single cheque.</p> + +<p>In <i>The Claverings</i> I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar to +myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had appeared +before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider the story +as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the public has ever +corroborated that verdict. The chief character is that of a young +woman who has married manifestly for money and rank,—so manifestly +that she does not herself pretend, even while she is making the +marriage, that she has any other reason. The man is old, +disreputable, and a worn-out debauchee. Then comes the punishment +natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom she had loved, +and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. He vacillates and +is weak,—in which weakness is the fault of the book, as he plays the +part of hero. But she is strong—strong in her purpose, strong in her +desires, and strong in her consciousness that the punishment which +comes upon her has been deserved.</p> + +<p>But the chief merit of <i>The Claverings</i> is in the genuine fun of some +of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined to +think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, and +Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of Sophie, +is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference in a +somewhat masterly manner. In <i>The Claverings</i>, too, there is a wife +whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child—his +heir—and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her sorrow +is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is well told. +But I doubt now whether any one reads <i>The Claverings</i>. When I +remember how many novels I have written, I have no right to expect +that above a few of them shall endure even to the second year beyond +publication. This story closed my connection with the <i>Cornhill +Magazine</i>;—but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate form, +and who about this time established the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>, to which +paper I was for some years a contributor.</p> + +<p>It was in 1865 that the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> was commenced, the name +having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means of +his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him a +society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at once under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the <i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i> owed very much of its early success,—and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,—who, I think, came up from +Edinburgh for employment on its columns,—Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;—so many others, that I have met at a +Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the House of +Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even on important +occasions. There are many who now remember—and no doubt when this is +published there will be left some to remember—the great stroke of +business which was done by the revelations of a visitor to one of the +casual wards in London. A person had to be selected who would undergo +the misery of a night among the usual occupants of a casual ward in a +London poor-house, and who should at the same time be able to record +what he felt and saw. The choice fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, +who certainly possessed the courage and the powers of endurance. The +description, which was very well given, was, I think, chiefly written +by the brother of the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which +was increased by secrecy as to the person who encountered all the +horrors of that night. I was more than once assured that Lord +Houghton was the man. I heard it asserted also that I myself had been +the hero. At last the unknown one could no longer endure that his +honours should be hidden, and revealed the truth,—in opposition, I +fear, to promises to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction +that if known he could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, +however, that record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more +to establish the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of +Stephen, or the polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of +Lewes.</p> + +<p>My work was very various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,—subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed also +some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found favour +with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had a +considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description of +the different classes of people who are to be met in the +hunting-field. There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was +considered to be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my head +the critical wrath of a great dean of that period. The most +ill-natured review that was ever written upon any work of mine +appeared in the <i>Contemporary Review</i> with reference to these +Clerical Sketches. The critic told me that I did not understand +Greek. That charge has been made not unfrequently by those who have +felt themselves strong in that pride-producing language. It is much +to read Greek with ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do +so. To pretend to read it without being able,—that is disgraceful. +The critic, however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that Deans +of the Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the +metropolitan moon.</p> + +<p>I also did some critical work for the <i>Pall Mall</i>,—as I did also for +<i>The Fortnightly</i>. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, and +said what I believed to be true,—always giving to the matter time +altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. In +doing this for the <i>Pall Mall</i>, I fell into great sorrow. A +gentleman, whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister, +was in some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had +been blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a +pamphlet. This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and +express my opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I +thought the request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. He +met me again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very +hard. I promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself +able I would express myself;—but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I then +went very much out of my way to study the subject,—which was one +requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the conduct +of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that charges +made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. This I said, +emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the opinion which I +had formed of his indiscretion,—as will so often be the case when a +man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club or a sledge-hammer,—in +using which, either for defence or attack, a man can hardly measure +the strength of the blows he gives. Of course there was offence,—and +a breaking off of intercourse between loving friends,—and a sense of +wrong received, and I must own, too, of wrong done. It certainly was +not open to me to whitewash with honesty him whom I did not find to +be white; but there was no duty incumbent on me to declare what was +his colour in my eyes,—no duty even to ascertain. But I had been +ruffled by the persistency of the gentleman's request,—which should +not have been made,—and I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing +a wrong myself. I must add, that before he died his wife succeeded in +bringing us together.</p> + +<p>In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,—of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until human +nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during an +entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give a +graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. I +did attend one,—which lasted three hours,—and wrote a paper which I +think was called <i>A Zulu in Search of a Religion</i>. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>, which was very dear to me, could I +go through a second May meeting,—much less endure a season of such +martyrdom.</p> + +<p>I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on a +newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn its +ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any word was altered +in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of course, was +responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my own +subjects,—not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,—and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of a +staff I was no use, and after two or three years I dropped out of the +work.</p> + +<p>From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date from +the beginning of the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me that +a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed had +never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter of +course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom the +critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when they +wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner would +not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope no one +will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy of others. +Though I never reached that height, still I had so far progressed +that that which I wrote was received with too much favour. The +injustice which struck me did not consist in that which was withheld +from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt that aspirants +coming up below me might do work as good as mine, and probably much +better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. In order to test +this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a +course of novels anonymously, in order that I might see whether I +could obtain a second identity,—whether as I had made one mark by +such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so +again. In 1865 I began a short tale called <i>Nina Balatka</i>, which in +1866 was published anonymously in <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>. In 1867 +this was followed by another of the same length, called <i>Linda +Tressel</i>. I will speak of them together, as they are of the same +nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself read the +MS. of <i>Nina Balatka</i>, expressed an opinion that it would not from +its style be discovered to have been written by me;—but it was +discovered by Mr. Hutton of the <i>Spectator</i>, who found the repeated +use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear too +frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other works of +mine. He declared in his paper that <i>Nina Balatka</i> was by me, showing +I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, however, to +complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he has been the +most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. <i>Nina Balatka</i> +never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make its detection a +matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the story mentioned +by readers who did not know me to be the author, and always with +praise; but it had no real success. The same may be said of <i>Linda +Tressel</i>. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, was willing to +publish them, trusting that works by an experienced writer would make +their way, even without the writer's name, and he was willing to pay +me for them, perhaps half what they would have fetched with my name. +But he did not find the speculation answer, and declined a third +attempt, though a third such tale was written for him.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They were +both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of labour; +and both were written immediately after visits to the towns in which +the scenes are laid,—Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of course I had +endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, but my manner +of story-telling also; and in this, <i>pace</i> Mr. Hutton, I think that I +was successful. English life in them there was none. There was more +of romance proper than had been usual with me. And I made an attempt +at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes and places, which has +not been usual with me. In all this I am confident that I was in a +measure successful. In the loves, and fears, and hatreds, both of +Nina and of Linda, there is much that is pathetic. Prague is Prague, +and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know that the stories are good, but +they missed the object with which they had been written. Of course +there is not in this any evidence that I might not have succeeded a +second time as I succeeded before, had I gone on with the same dogged +perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, had I still further reduced my price, +would probably have continued the experiment. Another ten years of +unpaid unflagging labour might have built up a second reputation. But +this at any rate did seem clear to me, that with all the increased +advantages which practice in my art must have given me, I could not +at once induce English readers to read what I gave to them, unless I +gave it with my name.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with +public judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course +that in all things the public should trust to established reputation. +It is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to a +library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a lady +when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry, by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of the +<i>Times</i> would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human and +has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts on the +matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much +consideration is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors.</p> + +<p>We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to aspire, +because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their reach. "My +dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn your +stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, I can +only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be better +suited to your abilities." What old-established successful author has +not said such words as these to humble aspirants for critical advice, +till they have become almost formulas? No doubt there is cruelty in +such answers; but the man who makes them has considered the matter +within himself, and has resolved that such cruelty is the best mercy. +No doubt the chances against literary aspirants are very great. It is +so easy to aspire,—and to begin! A man cannot make a watch or a shoe +without a variety of tools and many materials. He must also have +learned much. But any young lady can write a book who has a +sufficiency of pens and paper. It can be done anywhere; in any +clothes—which is a great thing; at any hours—to which happy +accident in literature I owe my success. And the success, when +achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of course, are very many; +and the experienced councillor, when asked for his candid judgment as +to this or that effort, knows that among every hundred efforts there +will be ninety-nine failures. Then the answer is so ready: "My dear +young lady, do darn your stockings; it will be for the best." Or +perhaps, less tenderly, to the male aspirant: "You must earn some +money, you say. Don't you think that a stool in a counting-house +might be better?" The advice will probably be good advice,—probably, +no doubt, as may be proved by the terrible majority of failures. But +who is to be sure that he is not expelling an angel from the heaven +to which, if less roughly treated, he would soar,—that he is not +dooming some Milton to be mute and inglorious, who, but for such +cruel ill-judgment, would become vocal to all ages?</p> + +<p>The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who consents +to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in this matter +no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the matter +subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an assured +answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your vocation;" +or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But cases as to +which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The critic who wrote +the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which produced the +<i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>, was justified in his criticism +by the merits of the <i>Hours of Idleness</i>. The lines had nevertheless +been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. In a little +satire called <i>The Biliad</i>, which, I think, nobody knows, are the +following well-expressed <span class="nowrap">lines:—</span></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +<span class="nowrap">"When Payne Knight's <i>Taste</i> was +issued to the town,</span><br /> + A few Greek verses in the text set down<br /> + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash,<br /> + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,—<br /> + In short, were butchered rather than dissected,<br /> + And several false quantities detected,—<br /> + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders,<br /> + 'Twas just discovered that—<i>the lines were Pindar's!</i>" +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p class="noindent">There can +be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we are +so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to desist.</p> + +<p>There is perhaps no career of life so charming as that of a +successful man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which +I just now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, +live in the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, +choose the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and the +motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, hardly +even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those which bind +other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? The judge +must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making his £20,000 +a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister must be in his +place on that weary front bench shortly after prayers, and must sit +there, either asleep or awake, even +<span class="nowrap">though</span> +<span class="nowrap">——</span> +or <span class="nowrap">——</span> should be +addressing the House. During all that Sunday which he maintains +should be a day of rest, the active clergyman toils like a +galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, is bound to his +footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there from ten till +four,—unless his office be fashionable, when twelve to six is just +as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five in the morning +when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the morning before he +goes there. And the author wants no capital, and encounters no risks. +When once he is afloat, the publisher finds all that;—and indeed, +unless he be rash, finds it whether he be afloat or not. But it is in +the consideration which he enjoys that the successful author finds +his richest reward. He is, if not of equal rank, yet of equal +standing with the highest; and if he be open to the amenities of +society, may choose his own circles. He without money can enter doors +which are closed against almost all but him and the wealthy. I have +often heard it said that in this country the man of letters is not +recognised. I believe the meaning of this to be that men of letters +are not often invited to be knights and baronets. I do not think that +they wish it;—and if they had it they would, as a body, lose much +more than they would gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put +after my name, or to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom +Hughes and Charles Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not +know how I might feel,—or how my wife might feel, if we were left +unbedecked. As it is, the man of letters who would be selected for +titular honour, if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives +from the general respect of those around him a much more pleasant +recognition of his worth.</p> + +<p>If this be so,—if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant,—it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not he +has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He makes an +attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! So many +have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or twice! Who +will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to find out that +truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple to that +office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much merit in +his MS.</p> + +<p>Oh, my young aspirant,—if ever such a one should read these +pages,—be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also to +foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may be +said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel given, +that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not begin by +trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as recommended +to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours as may belong +to you, let the praise which has come from the lips of that soft man +induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. Should you fail, +then your failure will not be fatal,—and what better could you have +done with the leisure hours had you not so failed? Such double toil, +you will say, is severe. Yes; but if you want this thing, you must +submit to severe toil.</p> + +<p>Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed for +the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and in +that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. I +may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which I +regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should be +glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it now, +because the experience I have acquired in being active in its cause +forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly on a +literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I should have +failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere while I was +making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I commenced with +some aid from the fact that others of my family were in the same +profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, ink, and paper +which I was using; and then when, with all my experience in my art, I +began again as from a new springing point, I should have failed again +unless again I could have given years to the task. Of course there +have been many who have done better than I,—many whose powers have +been infinitely greater. But then, too, I have seen the failure of +many who were greater.</p> + +<p>The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury in +that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, while +they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with my +well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, cannot +earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in a little +room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The very +charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him than to +others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that gives it to +him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding with a sense +of injury.</p> + +<p>The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising.</p> + + +<p><a id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h4>ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write a +history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but the +subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some man of +letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because I +could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of my +life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much the +reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary to read +an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so to read them +as to point out the excellences of those which are most excellent, +and to explain the defects of those which, though defective, had +still reached sufficient reputation to make them worthy of notice. I +did read many after this fashion,—and here and there I have the +criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, they were written on +some blank page within the book. I have not, however, even a list of +the books so criticised. I think that the <i>Arcadia</i> was the first, +and <i>Ivanhoe</i> the last. My plan, as I settled it at last, had been to +begin with <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, which is the earliest really popular +novel which we have in our language, and to continue the review so as +to include the works of all English novelists of reputation, except +those who might still be living when my task should be completed. But +when Dickens and Bulwer died, my spirit flagged, and that which I had +already found to be very difficult had become almost impossible to me +at my then period of life.</p> + +<p>I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +<i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the <i>Arcadia</i>, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present day +have become what they are, to point out the effects which they have +produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on the +whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still think +that the book is one well worthy to be written.</p> + +<p>I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as a +novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature which +has created and nourished the profession which I follow. And I was +stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that there still +exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect to novels which +might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This prejudice is not +against the reading of novels, as is proved by their general +acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference to the +appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it robs them +of much of that high character which they may claim to have earned by +their grace, their honesty, and good teaching.</p> + +<p>No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to good. I +have written many novels, and have known many writers of novels, and +I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with them and with +myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have received from +the public a full measure of credit for such genius, ingenuity, or +perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that there is still +wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence of their +calling, and a general understanding of the high nature of the work +which they perform.</p> + +<p>By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes the +highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and all but +divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before she can +make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed it is +that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in truth +achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above the +earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. He +who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, nor +does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;—but his +teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to the same +end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false notions of +humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, false worship +may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue may be taught. But +by each, equally, may true honour, true love, true worship, and true +humanity be inculcated; and that will be the greatest teacher who +will spread such truth the widest. But at present, much as novels, as +novels, are bought and read, there exists still an idea, a feeling +which is very prevalent, that novels at their best are but innocent. +Young men and women,—and old men and women too,—read more of them +than of poetry, because such reading is easier than the reading of +poetry; but they read them,—as men eat pastry after dinner,—not +without some inward conviction that the taste is vain if not vicious. +I take upon myself to say that it is neither vicious nor vain.</p> + +<p>But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily labour +and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted and +then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them to +be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what had +been the nature of English novels since they first became common in +our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they had +done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young days, +they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms which +they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they were +not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in the +preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, <i>Peregrine Pickle</i> +was hidden beneath the bolster, and <i>Lord Ainsworth</i> put away under +the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission was +given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many they +were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct morality +of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men and women +understand that lessons which were good in poetry could not be bad in +prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was laid upon +novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist a much heavier +tax than that want of full appreciation of which I now complain.</p> + +<p>There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own hands +to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right and left, +above stairs and below, in town houses and in country parsonages, by +young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old lawyers and by +young students. It has not only come to pass that a special provision +of them has to be made for the godly, but that the provision so made +must now include books which a few years since the godly would have +thought to be profane. It was this necessity which, a few years +since, induced the editor of <i>Good Words</i> to apply to me for a +novel,—which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but which now, +probably, owing to further change in the same direction, would have +been accepted.</p> + +<p>If such be the case—if the extension of novel-reading be so wide as +I have described it—then very much good or harm must be done by +novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result of +any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,—greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,—comes from +these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from them +that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they are to +expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms of +love,—though I fancy that few young men will think so little of +their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right in +saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, when +the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently assaulted +by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the easiest road to +greatness; when the temptations to which men are subjected dulls +their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; when it is so hard +for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, which so many are +handling, will defile him if it be touched;—men's conduct will be +actuated much by that which is from day to day depicted to them as +leading to glorious or inglorious results. The woman who is described +as having obtained all that the world holds to be precious, by +lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily and heartlessly, +will induce other women to do the same with theirs,—as will she who +is made interesting by exhibitions of bold passion teach others to be +spuriously passionate. The young man who in a novel becomes a hero, +perhaps a Member of Parliament, and almost a Prime Minister, by +trickery, falsehood, and flash cleverness, will have many followers, +whose attempts to rise in the world ought to lie heavily on the +conscience of the novelists who create fictitious Cagliostros. There +are Jack Sheppards other than those who break into houses and out of +prisons,—Macheaths, who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero.</p> + +<p>Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,—as I certainly +have done through my whole career,—it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, for +which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or drawn +would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and odious. +The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and the nose, +is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there are outskirts +on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers seem to grow, and +grass to be green. It is in these border-lands that the danger lies. +The novelist may not be dull. If he commit that fault he can do +neither harm nor good. He must please, and the flowers and the grass +in these neutral territories sometimes seem to give him so easy an +opportunity of pleasing!</p> + +<p>The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And he must +teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach lessons of +virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to his readers? +That sermons are not in themselves often thought to be agreeable we +all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy supposed to be +pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, if he have a +conscience, must preach his sermons with the same purpose as the +clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. If he can do this +efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and vice ugly, while he +charms his readers instead of wearying them, then I think Mr. Carlyle +need not call him distressed, nor talk of that long ear of fiction, +nor question whether he be or not the most foolish of existing +mortals.</p> + +<p>I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists may +boast as a class that such has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such to +have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George Eliot. +Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, with that +absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I will boast +that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any one by +search through the works of the six great English novelists I have +named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach a girl to +be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their pages have +been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have they not ever +been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, baldly and simply: +"Because you lied here, or were heartless there, because you Lydia +Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, or you Earl Leicester +were false through your ambition, or you Beatrix loved too well the +glitter of the world, therefore you shall be scourged with scourges +either in this world or in the next;" but it is for him to show, as +he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, or his Leicester, or his +Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation of all readers by his +or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, beautiful, attractive,—so +as to make men love her, and women almost envy her,—and let her be +made also heartless, unfeminine, and ambitious of evil grandeur, as +was Beatrix, what a danger is there not in such a character! To the +novelist who shall handle it, what peril of doing harm! But if at +last it have been so handled that every girl who reads of Beatrix +shall say: "Oh! not like that;—let me not be like that!" and that +every youth shall say: "Let me not have such a one as that to press +my bosom, anything rather than that!"—then will not the novelist +have preached his sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it?</p> + +<p>Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel can +hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few might +be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the softness +of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. <i>Pickwick</i> +has been named as an exception to the rule, but even in <i>Pickwick</i> +there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little amatory longings +give a softness to the work. I tried it once with <i>Miss Mackenzie</i>, +but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this frequent allusion +to the passion which most stirs the imagination of the young, there +must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction is probably well aware. +Then the question has to be asked, whether the danger may not be so +averted that good may be the result,—and to be answered.</p> + +<p>In one respect the necessity of dealing with love is +advantageous,—advantageous from the very circumstance which has made +love necessary to all novelists. It is necessary because the passion +is one which interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has +felt it, or expects to feel it,—or else rejects it with an eagerness +which still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, can +so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will be +very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their business +better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; but it is +done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make young men and +women believe that truth in love will make them happy, then, if my +writings be popular, I shall have a very large class of pupils. No +doubt the cause for that fear which did exist as to novels arose from +an idea that the matter of love would be treated in an inflammatory +and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," says Sir Anthony in the +play, "a circulating library in a town is an evergreen tree of +diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the year; and depend on it, +Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves will +long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony was no doubt right. But he +takes it for granted that the longing for the fruit is an evil. The +novelist who writes of love thinks differently, and thinks that the +honest love of an honest man is a treasure which a good girl may +fairly hope to win,—and that if she can be taught to wish only for +that, she will have been taught to entertain only wholesome wishes.</p> + +<p>I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love by +reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in truth a +very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but the girl's +love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became a wife so +womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, so wifely, so +worshipful,—in the sense in which wives are told that they ought to +worship their husbands,—that I cannot believe that any girl can be +injured, or even not benefited, by reading of Laura's love.</p> + +<p>There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still are +some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear nothing +of love till the time come in which she is to be married. That, no +doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. Malaprop. +But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system was more +favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia Languish, though +she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide the book, yet had +<i>Peregrine Pickle</i> in her collection. While human nature talks of +love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn to be silent on the +subject. "Naturam expellas furcâ, tamen usque recurret." There are +countries in which it has been in accordance with the manners of the +upper classes that the girl should be brought to marry the man almost +out of the nursery—or rather perhaps out of the convent—without +having enjoyed that freedom of thought which the reading of novels +and of poetry will certainly produce; but I do not know that the +marriages so made have been thought to be happier than our own.</p> + +<p>Among English novels of the present day, and among English novelists, +a great division is made. There are sensational novels and +anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. I +am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed to be +sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to take +delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by the other +are charmed by the continuation and gradual development of a plot. +All this is, I think, a mistake,—which mistake arises from the +inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time realistic +and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in the highest +degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure in art. Let +those readers who believe that they do not like sensational scenes in +novels think of some of those passages from our great novelists which +have charmed them most:—of Rebecca in the castle with Ivanhoe; of +Burley in the cave with Morton; of the mad lady tearing the veil of +the expectant bride, in <i>Jane Eyre</i>; of Lady Castlewood as, in her +indignation, she explains to the Duke of Hamilton Henry Esmond's +right to be present at the marriage of his Grace with Beatrix;—may I +add, of Lady Mason, as she makes her confession at the feet of Sir +Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that the authors of these passages +have sinned in being over-sensational? No doubt, a string of horrible +incidents, bound together without truth in detail, and told as +affecting personages without character,—wooden blocks, who cannot +make themselves known to the reader as men and women,—does not +instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with awe. Horrors heaped +upon horrors, and which are horrors only in themselves, and not as +touching any recognised and known person, are not tragic, and soon +cease even to horrify. And such would-be tragic elements of a story +may be increased without end, and without difficulty. I may tell you +of a woman murdered,—murdered in the same street with you, in the +next house,—that she was a wife murdered by her husband,—a bride +not yet a week a wife. I may add to it for ever. I may say that the +murderer roasted her alive. There is no end to it. I may declare that +a former wife was treated with equal barbarity; and may assert that, +as the murderer was led away to execution, he declared his only +sorrow, his only regret to be, that he could not live to treat a +third wife after the same fashion. There is nothing so easy as the +creation and the cumulation of fearful incidents after this fashion. +If such creation and cumulation be the beginning and the end of the +novelist's work,—and novels have been written which seem to be +without other attractions,—nothing can be more dull or more useless. +But not on that account are we averse to tragedy in prose fiction. As +in poetry, so in prose, he who can deal adequately with tragic +elements is a greater artist and reaches a higher aim than the writer +whose efforts never carry him above the mild walks of everyday life. +The <i>Bride of Lammermoor</i> is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its +comic elements. The life of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, +is a tragedy. Rochester's wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in <i>Jane +Eyre</i>, is a tragedy. But these stories charm us not simply because +they are tragic, but because we feel that men and women with flesh +and blood, creatures with whom we can sympathise, are struggling +amidst their woes. It all lies in that. No novel is anything, for the +purposes either of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can +sympathise with the characters whose names he finds upon the pages. +Let an author so tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and +draw his tears, and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let +there be,—truth of description, truth of character, human truth as +to men and women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel +can be too sensational.</p> + +<p>I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;—or I +might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on the art +to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage of the +experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, be too long +for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet got the rules +quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say a few words on one +or two points which my own practice has pointed out to me.</p> + +<p>I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down to +commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell a story, +but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first novel will +generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series of events, or +some development of character, will have presented itself to his +imagination,—and this he feels so strongly that he thinks he can +present his picture in strong and agreeable language to others. He +sits down and tells his story because he has a story to tell; as you, +my friend, when you have heard something which has at once tickled +your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry to tell it to the first +person you meet. But when that first novel has been received +graciously by the public and has made for itself a success, then the +writer, naturally feeling that the writing of novels is within his +grasp, looks about for something to tell in another. He cudgels his +brains, not always successfully, and sits down to write, not because +he has something which he burns to tell, but because he feels it to +be incumbent on him to be telling something. As you, my friend, if +you are very successful in the telling of that first story, will +become ambitious of further story-telling, and will look out for +anecdotes,—in the narration of which you will not improbably +sometimes distress your audience.</p> + +<p>So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that it +would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the art of +British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of that portion +of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential to success. +That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of writing to be a +fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing has become a +habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the weary novelist +refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of observation and +reception from which has come his power, without which work his power +cannot be continued,—which work should be going on not only when he +is at his desk, but in all his walks abroad, in all his movements +through the world, in all his intercourse with his fellow-creatures. +He has become a novelist, as another has become a poet, because he +has in those walks abroad, unconsciously for the most part, been +drawing in matter from all that he has seen and heard. But this has +not been done without labour, even when the labour has been +unconscious. Then there comes a time when he shuts his eyes and shuts +his ears. When we talk of memory fading as age comes on, it is such +shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. The things around cease to +interest us, and we cannot exercise our minds upon them. To the +novelist thus wearied there comes the demand for further novels. He +does not know his own defect, and even if he did he does not wish to +abandon his own profession. He still writes; but he writes because he +has to tell a story, not because he has a story to tell. What reader +of novels has not felt the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? The +characters do not live and move, but are cut out of blocks and are +propped against the wall. The incidents are arranged in certain +lines—the arrangement being as palpable to the reader as it has been +to the writer—but do not follow each other as results naturally +demanded by previous action. The reader can never feel—as he ought +to feel—that only for that flame of the eye, only for that angry +word, only for that moment of weakness, all might have been +different. The course of the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in +which there is no room for a doubt.</p> + +<p>These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, but +can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That they +are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that they +apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last because +we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to himself,</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +<span class="nowrap">"Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne</span><br /> + Peccet ad extremum ridendus."</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories when +they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather than from +innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at work when +the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently at work as +the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much about the +construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially on +thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been very +thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected plot has +been at any period within my power. But the novelist has other aims +than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make his readers so +intimately acquainted with his characters that the creatures of his +brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, human creatures. +This he can never do unless he know those fictitious personages +himself, and he can never know them unless he can live with them in +the full reality of established intimacy. They must be with him as he +lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his dreams. He must learn to +hate them and to love them. He must argue with them, quarrel with +them, forgive them, and even submit to them. He must know of them +whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, whether true or false, +and how far true, and how far false. The depth and the breadth, and +the narrowness and the shallowness of each should be clear to him. +And, as here, in our outer world, we know that men and women +change,—become worse or better as temptation or conscience may guide +them,—so should these creations of his change, and every change +should be noted by him. On the last day of each month recorded, every +person in his novel should be a month older than on the first. If the +would-be novelist have aptitudes that way, all this will come to him +without much struggling;—but if it do not come, I think he can only +make novels of wood.</p> + +<p>It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and of +all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, and +the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very clothes +they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have said +these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would then have +smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this intimacy +ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be turned out to +grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, I will by no +means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than Gil Blas' canon; +but I do know that the power indicated is one without which the +teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect.</p> + +<p>The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,—imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,—they will +avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth his work +in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of a +volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; and +though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, the +conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist will +be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject his work +without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity of his +position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, much more is +necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed be pleasant without +being correct,—as I think can be proved by the works of more than +one distinguished novelist. But he must be +intelligible,—intelligible without trouble; and he must be +harmonious.</p> + +<p>Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by the +word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning that +may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language should be +so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without an effort of +the reader;—and not only some proposition of meaning, but the very +sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended to put into +his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by all writers: +"How little the all-important art of making meaning pellucid is +studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself thinks of it." +The language used should be as ready and as efficient a conductor of +the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader as is the electric +spark which passes from one battery to another battery. In all +written matter the spark should carry everything; but in matters +recondite the recipient will search to see that he misses nothing, +and that he takes nothing away too much. The novelist cannot expect +that any such search will be made. A young writer, who will +acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will often feel himself +tempted by the difficulties of language to tell himself that some one +little doubtful passage, some single collocation of words, which is +not quite what it ought to be, will not matter. I know well what a +stumbling-block such a passage may be. But he should leave none such +behind him as he goes on. The habit of writing clearly soon comes to +the writer who is a severe critic to himself.</p> + +<p>As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel +written in a rough style will be popular,—and less often that a +novelist who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony +which is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are +few ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to +them, decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. +And the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza be +or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, well +instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such a +stanza with two words transposed, as, for +<span class="nowrap">instance—</span></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro<br /> +<span class="nowrap">Movit Amphion <i>canendo lapides</i>,</span><br /> +Tuque testudo resonare septem<br /> +<span class="ind6">Callida nervis—</span> +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p class="noindent">and she will find +no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with none of +her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, become +familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover the +fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is harmonious +in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him in his +business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able to weigh the +rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, when it has been +done for a time, even for a short time, will become so habitual to +him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration of every +syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon paper. The +art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how each sound +which he is about to utter will affect the force of his climax. If a +writer will do so he will charm his readers, though his readers will +probably not know how they have been charmed.</p> + +<p>In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden of +many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should cover +a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels are +not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of the +ordinary length of novels,—of the three volumes to which they are +subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks to +novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this burden +of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden to the +end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have by their +practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to preach;—but +they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault and by dint of +their greatness. There should be no episodes in a novel. Every +sentence, every word, through all those pages, should tend to the +telling of the story. Such episodes distract the attention of the +reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not felt this to be +the case even with <i>The Curious Impertinent</i> and with the <i>History of +the Man of the Hill</i>. And if it be so with Cervantes and Fielding, +who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you have to write +must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion of episodes +should be carried down into the smallest details. Every sentence and +every word used should tend to the telling of the story. "But," the +young novelist will say, "with so many pages before me to be filled, +how shall I succeed if I thus confine myself;—how am I to know +beforehand what space this story of mine will require? There must be +the three volumes, or the certain number of magazine pages which I +have contracted to supply. If I may not be discursive should occasion +require, how shall I complete my task? The painter suits the size of +his canvas to his subject, and must I in my art stretch my subject to +my canvas?" This undoubtedly must be done by the novelist; and if he +will learn his business, may be done without injury to his effect. He +may not paint different pictures on the same canvas, which he will do +if he allow himself to wander away to matters outside his own story; +but by studying proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to +tell his story that it shall naturally fall into the required length. +Though his story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. +Though the plot itself may require but few characters, it may be so +enlarged as to find its full development in many. There may be +subsidiary plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main +story, and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,—as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures.</p> + +<p>There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make any +two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer presumes +himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, or sport, +may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and the writer, +while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt to think that +he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no greater mistake. +The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part of a novel; but it +is only so as long as it tends in some way to the telling of the main +story. It need not seem to be confined to that, but it should always +have a tendency in that direction. The unconscious critical acumen of +a reader is both just and severe. When a long dialogue on extraneous +matter reaches his mind, he at once feels that he is being cheated +into taking something which he did not bargain to accept when he took +up that novel. He does not at that moment require politics or +philosophy, but he wants his story. He will not perhaps be able to +say in so many words that at some certain point the dialogue has +deviated from the story; but when it does so he will feel it, and the +feeling will be unpleasant. Let the intending novel-writer, if he +doubt this, read one of Bulwer's novels,—in which there is very much +to charm,—and then ask himself whether he has not been offended by +devious conversations.</p> + +<p>And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into the +mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably use. +He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short sharp expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,—the language of which even among educated people is +often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue must +so steer between absolute accuracy of language—which would give to +his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly inaccuracy of +ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would offend by an +appearance of grimace—as to produce upon the ear of his readers a +sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem to attempt to be +funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to be unreal. And above +all, let the speeches be short. No character should utter much above +a dozen words at a breath,—unless the writer can justify to himself +a longer flood of speech by the speciality of the occasion.</p> + +<p>In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been set +at defiance. I might name <i>Caleb Williams</i> as one and <i>Adam Blair</i> as +another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove the +rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does so +with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate human +nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude.</p> + +<p>The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this or +that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to print +his words, has learned the art of distributing his type—by constant +and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to listen and to +observe,—so to carry away, as it were, the manners of people in his +memory, as to be able to say to himself with assurance that these +words might have been said in a given position, and that those other +words could not have been said,—I do not think that in these days he +can succeed as a novelist.</p> + +<p>And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, in +paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective as +the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the thing +is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it will grow +upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare to +themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be said +with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his readers.</p> + + +<p><a id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h4>ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists of +my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour to +point whence their success has come, and why they have failed when +there has been failure.</p> + +<p>I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of human +nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human beings, +with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been within the +reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know no +character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the reader +becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. How great +a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we admire the man +of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there any one of whom we +feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel Newcombe? It is not +because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman that we think +Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but because he has had +the power to describe him as such, and to force us to love him, a +weak and silly old man, on account of this grace of character.</p> + +<p>It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he lived with the +characters he was creating. He had always a story to tell until quite +late in life; and he shows us that this was so, not by the interest +which he had in his own plots,—for I doubt whether his plots did +occupy much of his mind,—but by convincing us that his characters +were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, with Lady Castlewood and +her daughter, and with Esmond, with Warrington, Pendennis, and the +Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and with Barry Lyndon, he must have +lived in perpetual intercourse. Therefore he has made these +personages real to us.</p> + +<p>Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;—but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, he +deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining his work +minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of every scene, +adds something to the clearness with which the story is told. Among +all his stories there is not one which does not leave on the mind a +feeling of distress that women should ever be immodest or men +dishonest,—and of joy that women should be so devoted and men so +honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of Pendennis, the +worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!—how we love the +honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, and the devoted +affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil and love of good can +hardly have come upon so many readers without doing much good.</p> + +<p>Late in Thackeray's life,—he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,—he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, and +in the language which he used, I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in <i>The Virginians</i> and in <i>Philip</i> the +reader is introduced to no character with which he makes a close and +undying acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because +Thackeray himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary +of that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk.</p> + +<p>At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She is +best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, and +not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will come +from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far removed +indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. Her +imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather than +in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled to pieces so +that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if possible by her +readers as clearly as by herself. This searching analysis is carried +so far that, in studying her latter writings, one feels oneself to be +in company with some philosopher rather than with a novelist. I doubt +whether any young person can read with pleasure either <i>Felix Holt</i>, +<i>Middlemarch</i>, or <i>Daniel Deronda</i>. I know that they are very +difficult to many that are not young.</p> + +<p>Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,—though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and Tom +Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in <i>Romola</i>, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to have +been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever of that +weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces him to +declare that the author has written himself out. It is not from +decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because the +author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser.</p> + +<p>It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly the +signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible not +to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour of +affectation. In <i>Daniel Deronda</i>, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to take +home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I may be +permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my dearest +and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, I will +not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet.</p> + +<p>There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time—probably the most popular English novelist of any time—has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house—the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries—the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words—the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,—all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book has +been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is no +withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, in +criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a novelist +is to please; and this man's novels have been found more pleasant +than those of any other writer. It might of course be objected to +this, that though the books have pleased they have been injurious, +that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching vicious; but +it is almost needless to say that no such charge has ever been made +against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. From all which, +there arises to the critic a question whether, with such evidence +against him as to the excellence of this writer, he should not +subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of the world of +readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong to place Dickens +after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do that so great a +majority put him above those authors.</p> + +<p>My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I do +acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any of +the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been the +peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has invested +his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense with human +nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, very much +below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the intellect of +all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect of many. Nor +is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and melodramatic. But it +is so expressed that it touches every heart a little. There is no +real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, his devotion for +Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and incompatible with +each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. Every reader can find +a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like Boucicault's plays. He +has known how to draw his lines broadly, so that all should see the +colour.</p> + +<p>He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;—and he, +too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, ceased to +charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember Mrs. Gamp +and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, dwell in +the minds of so many.</p> + +<p>Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules—almost as +completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when he +acknowledges to himself—as he is compelled in all honesty to +do—that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both have +done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such a +one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray.</p> + +<p>Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,—but I think that he is still better known by +his earlier name,—was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject on +which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result has +been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from Bulwer's +novels. There is also a brightness about them—the result rather of +thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than of mere +intellect—which has made many of them excellent in their way. It is +perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as he wrote in +varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as <i>Pelham</i> and +<i>Ernest Maltravers</i>, pictures of a fictitious life, and afterwards +pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in <i>My Novel</i> and <i>The +Caxtons</i>. But from all of them there comes the same flavour of an +effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it would have +been better if the flavour had not been there.</p> + +<p>I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, with +the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking always +of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not think he ever +knew his own personages,—and therefore neither do we know them. Even +Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to us, as are Pickwick, +and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser.</p> + +<p>In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and +successful. The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie +Collins, that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there is +no plot. The story comes naturally without calling for too much +attention, and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's +intellect. His language is clear, good, intelligible English, but it +is defaced by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his +fault.</p> + +<p>How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and his +rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did a sense +of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from man's +voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and whether in +sickness or in health, I have never come across him without finding +him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the men I have +encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have known many +witty men, many who could say good things, many who would sometimes +be ready to say them when wanted, though they would sometimes +fail;—but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of the night, and +wit would come from him before he was half awake. And yet he never +monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would take no more than +his own share of the words spoken, and would yet seem to brighten all +that was said during the night. His earlier novels—the later I have +not read—are just like his conversation. The fun never flags, and to +me, when I read them, they were never tedious. As to character he can +hardly be said to have produced it. Corney Delaney, the old +man-servant, may perhaps be named as an exception.</p> + +<p>Lever's novels will not live long,—even if they may be said to be +alive now,—because it is so. What was his manner of working I do not +know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and that he +never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was seated with +a pen in his hand.</p> + +<p>Charlotte Brontë was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be right +to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of one novel, +and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as strong as he +shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, I should be +inclined to put Miss Brontë very high indeed. I know no interest more +thrilling than that which she has been able to throw into the +characters of Rochester and the governess, in the second volume of +<i>Jane Eyre</i>. She lived with those characters, and felt every fibre of +the heart, the longings of the one and the sufferings of the other. +And therefore, though the end of the book is weak, and the beginning +not very good, I venture to predict that <i>Jane Eyre</i> will be read +among English novels when many whose names are now better known shall +have been forgotten. <i>Jane Eyre</i>, and <i>Esmond</i>, and <i>Adam Bede</i> will +be in the hands of our grandchildren, when <i>Pickwick</i>, and <i>Pelham</i>, +and <i>Harry Lorrequer</i> are forgotten; because the men and women +depicted are human in their aspirations, human in their sympathies, +and human in their actions.</p> + +<p>In <i>Villette</i>, too, and in <i>Shirley</i>, there is to be found human life +as natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of +interest as those told in <i>Jane Eyre</i>. The character of Paul in the +former of the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in +love with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined +to prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing.</p> + +<p>There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled me by +his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as Charles +Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but as one who +has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of reasoning. He +can see what is grandly noble and admire it with all his heart. He +can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate it with equal ardour. +But in the common affairs of life he cannot see what is right or +wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be guided by the opinion +of others, he is constantly making mistakes in his literary career, +and subjecting himself to reproach which he hardly deserves. He means +to be honest. He means to be especially honest,—more honest than +other people. He has written a book called <i>The Eighth Commandment</i> +on behalf of honesty in literary transactions,—a wonderful work, +which has I believe been read by a very few. I never saw a copy +except that in my own library, or heard of any one who knew the book. +Nevertheless it is a volume that must have taken very great labour, +and have been written,—as indeed he declares that it was +written,—without the hope of pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal to +the British Parliament and British people on behalf of literary +honesty, declaring that should he fail—"I shall have to go on +blushing for the people I was born among." And yet of all the writers +of my day he has seemed to me to understand literary honesty the +least. On one occasion, as he tells us in this book, he bought for a +certain sum from a French author the right of using a plot taken from +a play,—which he probably might have used without such purchase, and +also without infringing any international copyright act. The French +author not unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling him +that he is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in a +novel; and a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his +discovery to the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called +his critic a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact +of his own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we all +mean when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. The +sin of which the author is accused is not that of taking another +man's property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. In +a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had found +the jewel he had supplied the setting;—an argument in which there +was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, had he +given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself.</p> + +<p>The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,—and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,—the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,—and he always, I +think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness of +purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so strong +a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, that I +have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has accused. +So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist ever before +had combined! In story-telling he has occasionally been almost great. +Among his novels I would especially recommend <i>The Cloister and the +Hearth</i>. I do not know that in this work, or in any, that he has left +a character that will remain; but he has written some of his scenes +so brightly that to read them would always be a pleasure.</p> + +<p>Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in a +certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch which +I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural that his +work should be very much lost upon me individually. When I sit down +to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very much care, +how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct his that he +not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to the minutest +detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots it all back +again, to see that there is no piece of necessary dove-tailing which +does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The construction is most +minute and most wonderful. But I can never lose the taste of the +construction. The author seems always to be warning me to remember +that something happened at exactly half-past two o'clock on Tuesday +morning; or that a woman disappeared from the road just fifteen yards +beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is constrained by mysteries and +hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, however, that the mysteries will +be made clear, and the difficulties overcome at the end of the third +volume. Such work gives me no pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared +to acknowledge that the want of pleasure comes from fault of my +intellect.</p> + +<p>There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare how +much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and Rhoda +Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former almost +as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,—except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that good +produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which she need +be ashamed,—not a sentiment of which she should not be proud. But +she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, and who allows +her own want of energy to show itself in her pages.</p> + +<p>Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,—though she +too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, does take +the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the ground. And +she has the gift of making them speak as men and women do speak. "You +beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man who was to be her +husband,—thinking that she was speaking to her brother. Now Nancy, +whether right or wrong, was just the girl who would, as circumstances +then were, have called her brother a beast. There is nothing wooden +about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and in these days so many +novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured as are those by +Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to nature. In Miss +Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and missish, she has made +her ladies do and say things which ladies would not do and say. They +throw themselves at men's heads, and when they are not accepted only +think how they may throw themselves again. Miss Broughton is still so +young that I hope she may live to overcome her fault in this +direction.</p> + +<p>There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, and +that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing <i>Vivian Grey</i> when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written by +a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his <i>Sketches by +Boz</i>, and as young when he was writing the <i>Pickwick Papers</i>. It was +hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought out +<i>Lothair</i>, and between the two there were eight or ten others. To me +they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. In +whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment and +aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, more +rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the glory +has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been a wealth of +tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and the enterprise +has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious conjurer has +generally been his hero,—some youth who, by wonderful cleverness, +can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to his hand. Through +it all there is a feeling of stage properties, a smell of hair-oil, +an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, and that pricking of the +conscience which must be the general accompaniment of paste diamonds. +I can understand that Mr. Disraeli should by his novels have +instigated many a young man and many a young woman on their way in +life, but I cannot understand that he should have instigated any one +to good. Vivian Grey has had probably as many followers as Jack +Sheppard, and has led his followers in the same direction.</p> + +<p><i>Lothair</i>, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended <i>Vivian Grey</i>. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,—too old +for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. If +his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, that +flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes out +stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than Vivian +Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more inane and +unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the very bathos +of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as often excused to +myself, that lack of public judgment which enables readers to put up +with bad work because it comes from good or from lofty hands. I never +felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little able to excuse it, as +when a portion of the reading public received <i>Lothair</i> with +satisfaction.</p> + + +<p><a id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h4>ON CRITICISM.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,—but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is bad, in +accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. English +criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as this. It +attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether a book be or +be not worth public attention; and, in the second place, so to +describe the purport of the work as to enable those who have not time +or inclination for reading it to feel that by a short cut they can +become acquainted with its contents. Both these objects, if fairly +well carried out, are salutary. Though the critic may not be a +profound judge himself; though not unfrequently he be a young man +making his first literary attempts, with tastes and judgment still +unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the matter, and would +not have been selected for that work had he not shown some aptitude +for it. Though he may be not the best possible guide to the +undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. Real +substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and that +which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is given +to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description of +the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,—which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,—does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without it +would know nothing.</p> + +<p>I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others by +which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably be +unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner in +which the work is done generally, so are others open to very severe +censure,—and that the praise and that the censure are chiefly due on +behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is not critical +ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence that we are +bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we pay is not +attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, and when +displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that critics should +be honest we have a right to demand, and critical dishonesty we are +bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what he thinks, though +his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, we can forgive him; but +when he tells us what he does not think, actuated either by +friendship or by animosity, then there should be no pardon for him. +This is the sin in modern English criticism of which there is most +reason to complain.</p> + +<p>It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It has +become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse so +many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling author +learns that so much has been done for A by the <i>Barsetshire Gazette</i>, +so much for B by the <i>Dillsborough Herald</i>, and, again, so much for C +by that powerful metropolitan organ the <i>Evening Pulpit</i>, and is told +also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal interest, +he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' wives,—or +perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their wives' first or +second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon an editor or a +critic that he may allow himself to be influenced by other +considerations than the duty he owes to the public, all sense of +critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. <i>Facilis +descensus Averni</i>. In a very short time that editorial honesty +becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that he wields +the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what should be +his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him to be +quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last twenty +years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out now +with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty begets +dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice to be +good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than by +good-natured criticism,—or more certainly ensure for himself a +continuation of hospitable favours?</p> + +<p>Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then in +literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,—the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both in the +giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should neither +have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated with +scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of that +one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that his +office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those whom +he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by his +contract with certain employers to review such books as were sent to +him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present for +praising one book, censure another by the same author?</p> + +<p>While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever noticed +at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence of +honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have said +the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. But +none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar with +the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the forms +which their struggles will take:—how little presents will be sent to +men who write little articles; how much flattery may be expended even +on the keeper of a circulating library; with what profuse and distant +genuflexions approaches are made to the outside railing of the temple +which contains within it the great thunderer of some metropolitan +periodical publication! The evil here is not only that done to the +public when interested counsel is given to them, but extends to the +debasement of those who have at any rate considered themselves fit to +provide literature for the public.</p> + +<p>I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the +conscience and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling +could be produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for +praise,—and demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every +walk of life,—the practice would gradually fall into the hands only +of the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very +disagreeable. He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,—or +she. It may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an +author successful.</p> + +<p>I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that there +should be no intercourse at all between an author and his critic. The +critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the author, as +author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, so should +praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel that +criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,—which, as +coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author try to +obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if possible, by +care and industry. But when they come, let him take them as coming +from some source which he cannot influence, and with which he should +not meddle.</p> + +<p>I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken of +the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing can be +gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book which he has +disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by the praise of +others; if bad, his judgment will be confirmed by others. Or if, +unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil a condition +generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, the author may +be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own book will not set +matters right. If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To do so is +consonant with the dignity of the position which he ought to assume. +To shriek, and scream, and sputter, to threaten actions, and to swear +about the town that he has been belied and defamed in that he has +been accused of bad grammar or a false metaphor, of a dull chapter, +or even of a borrowed heroine, will leave on the minds of the public +nothing but a sense of irritated impotence.</p> + +<p>If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or he +will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than he +went into it.</p> + +<p>I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or two +periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look for +guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a right +to expect. There have been critics,—and there probably will be +again, though the circumstances of English literature do not tend to +produce them,—with power sufficient to entitle them to speak with +authority. These great men have declared, <i>tanquam ex cathedra</i>, that +such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or that it has been +altogether good or altogether bad;—and the world has believed them. +When making such assertions they have given their reasons, explained +their causes, and have carried conviction. Very great reputations +have been achieved by such critics, but not without infinite study +and the labour of many years.</p> + +<p>Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. In +the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected for +the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young writer, who +for so many shillings a column shall review whatever book is sent to +him and express an opinion,—reading the book through for the +purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the amount of +labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure his work by +his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this must for the +most part be, the general reader has no right to expect philosophical +analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence may be placed. But +he probably may believe that the books praised will be better than +the books censured, and that those which are praised by periodicals +which never censure are better worth his attention than those which +are not noticed. And readers will also find that by devoting an hour +or two on Saturday to the criticisms of the week, they will enable +themselves to have an opinion about the books of the day. The +knowledge so acquired will not be great, nor will that little be +lasting; but it adds something to the pleasure of life to be able to +talk on subjects of which others are speaking; and the man who has +sedulously gone through the literary notices in the <i>Spectator</i> and +the <i>Saturday</i> may perhaps be justified in thinking himself as well +able to talk about the new book as his friend who has brought that +new book on the <i>tapis</i>, and who, not improbably, obtained his +information from the same source.</p> + +<p>As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which have +been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know where I +may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only greasy +adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the delight of +those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find an equal +mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much judgment, as +to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its staff. Among it +all there is much chaff, which I have learned how to throw to the +winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or blames;—but I have +also found some corn, on which I have fed and nourished myself, and +for which I have been thankful.</p> + + +<p><a id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h4><i>THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET</i>—LEAVING<br /> +THE POST OFFICE—<i>ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which I +had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weather-tight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for the +making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve miles +from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse with the +metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country for +hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it had to +be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to the Essex +meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much or more than I +had a right to expect. It was within my own postal district, and had, +upon the whole, been well chosen.</p> + +<p>The work I did during the twelve years that I remained there, from +1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that in +amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department no +slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least twice a +week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I lived much +in society in London, and was made happy by the presence of many +friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always spent six +weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived a fuller +life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether to the +virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table every +morning at 5.30 A.M.; and it was also my practice to allow myself no +mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, and to whom I +paid £5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no mercy. During +all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once late with the +coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not know that I ought +not to feel that I owe more to him than to any one else for the +success I have had. By beginning at that hour I could complete my +literary work before I dressed for breakfast.</p> + +<p>All those I think who have lived as literary men,—working daily as +literary labourers,—will agree with me that three hours a day will +produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should so have +trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously during +those three hours,—so have tutored his mind that it shall not be +necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the wall +before him, till he shall have found the words with which he wants to +express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,—and it +still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient to +myself,—to write with my watch before me, and to require from myself +250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 words +have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my three +hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began my task by +reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take me +half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear the +sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly recommend this +practice to all tyros in writing. That their work should be read +after it has been written is a matter of course,—that it should be +read twice at least before it goes to the printers, I take to be a +matter of course. But by reading what he has last written, just +before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and +spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming +to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed me to produce +over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up +through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of +three volumes each in the year;—the precise amount which so greatly +acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which must at any +rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers of the world +can want from the hands of one man.</p> + +<p>I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,—for some time back now,—one or two +or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I to die +now there are three such besides <i>The Prime Minister</i>, half of which +has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years finished, +and has never seen the light since it was first tied up in the +wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, and +to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of a +period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed from +me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first.</p> + +<p>In 1866 and 1867 <i>The Last Chronicle of Barset</i> was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without other +accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might be had for +a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was always +included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel alone. +Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference to +novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined to +make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me £3000 for the +use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If I remember +right, the enterprise was not altogether successful.</p> + +<p>Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have written. +I was never quite satisfied with the development of the plot, which +consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made against a +clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty on the part of +the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the cheque had found +its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself believe that even +such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten how he got it; nor +would the generous friend who was anxious to supply his wants have +supplied them by tendering the cheque of a third person. Such fault I +acknowledge,—acknowledging at the same time that I have never been +capable of constructing with complete success the intricacies of a +plot that required to be unravelled. But while confessing so much, I +claim to have portrayed the mind of the unfortunate man with great +accuracy and great delicacy. The pride, the humility, the manliness, +the weakness, the conscientious rectitude and bitter prejudices of +Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true to nature and well described. The +surroundings too are good. Mrs. Proudie at the palace is a real +woman; and the poor old warden dying at the deanery is also real. The +archdeacon in his victory is very real. There is a true savour of +English country life all through the book. It was with many +misgivings that I killed my old friend Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I +think, have done it, but for a resolution taken and declared under +circumstances of great momentary pressure.</p> + +<p>It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenæum +Club,—as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on the +other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were reading, +and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The gravamen of +their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced the same +characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon whom we +have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," said the +other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till everybody is +tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I would not write +novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. Proudie. It was +impossible for me not to hear their words, and almost impossible to +hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing between them, I +acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. Proudie," I said, +"I will go home and kill her before the week is over." And so I did. +The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, and one of them begged me +to forget his frivolous observations.</p> + +<p>I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all the +little shades of her character. It was not only that she was a +tyrant, a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one +who would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means a +hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as her +tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,—till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,—Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; but +I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still live much +in company with her ghost.</p> + +<p>I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote <i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,—which play had +been called <i>The Noble Jilt</i>. Some year or two after the completion +of <i>The Last Chronicle</i>, I was asked by the manager of a theatre to +prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of this +novel. I called the comedy <i>Did He Steal It?</i> But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was less +attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley nearly +crushed me by his criticism,—so that I forget the reason given. I +have little doubt but that the manager was right. That he intended to +express a true opinion, and would have been glad to have taken the +piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure.</p> + +<p>I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be <i>The Warden</i>, <i>Barchester +Towers</i>, <i>Doctor Thorne</i>, <i>Framley Parsonage</i>, and <i>The Last +Chronicle of Barset</i>. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are +in the hands of four different persons, including myself, and with +one of the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert +with the others. <a id="fnr10"></a><a href="#fn10">[10]</a></p> + +<p>In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was the +resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described how it +was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties with my +other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but even this +did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,—as to which no scruple +of religion made me unhappy,—and not unfrequently I was driven to +work at night. In the winter when hunting was going on, I had to keep +myself very much on the alert. And during the London season, when I +was generally two or three days of the week in town, I found the +official work to be a burden. I had determined some years previously, +after due consideration with my wife, to abandon the Post Office when +I had put by an income equal to the pension to which I should be +entitled if I remained in the department till I was sixty. That I had +now done, and I sighed for liberty.</p> + +<p>The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I was +then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,—of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and my +brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I applied +for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained this I +should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my literary +work,—at any rate would have edited no magazine,—and would have +returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the General Post +Office. There was very much against such a change in life. The +increase of salary would not have amounted to above £400 a year, and +I should have lost much more than that in literary remuneration. I +should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance at an office, +from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty years. I +should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. But I was +attached to the department, had imbued myself with a thorough love of +letters,—I mean the letters which are carried by the post,—and was +anxious for their welfare as though they were all my own. In short, I +wished to continue the connection. I did not wish, moreover, that any +younger officer should again pass over my head. I believed that I had +been a valuable public servant, and I will own to a feeling existing +at that time that I had not altogether been well treated. I was +probably wrong in this. I had been allowed to hunt,—and to do as I +pleased, and to say what I liked, and had in that way received my +reward. I applied for the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to +it. He no doubt was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He +understood the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was +a great accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in +regard to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed +by the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took the +step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy.</p> + +<p>The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A man +shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a +pension,—unless his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to +one-sixtieth of his salary for every year he has served up to forty +years. If his health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work +before the age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to +one-sixtieth for every year he has served. I could not say that my +health had failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I +have since felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left +the Post Office under pressure,—because I attended to hunting and to +my literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still a +little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined after +my death that I had slighted the public service to which I belonged, +I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to the letter +containing my resignation.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">General Post Office,<br /> +October 9th, 1867.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Sir</span>,—I +have received your letter of the 3d inst., in +which you tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post +Office service, and state as your reason for this step +that you have adopted another profession, the exigencies +of which are so great as to make you feel you cannot give +to the duties of the Post Office that amount of attention +which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right to +expect.</p> + +<p>You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous +members of the Post Office, which, on several occasions +when you have been employed on large and difficult +matters, has reaped much benefit from the great abilities +which you have been able to place at its disposal; and in +mentioning this, I have been especially glad to record +that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you +have never permitted your other avocations to interfere +with your Post Office work, which has been faithfully and +indeed energetically performed.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">There was a touch of irony in +this word "energetically," but still it +did not displease me.</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>In accepting your resignation, which he does with much +regret, the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you +his own sense of the value of your services, and to state +how alive he is to the loss which will be sustained by the +department in which you have long been an ornament, and +where your place will with difficulty be replaced.</p> + +<p class="ind10">(Signed)<span class="ind2"><span class="smallcaps"> J. +Tilley</span>.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and so in +fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament to the +Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow my +literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man who +takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that I can +find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, and some +who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy me more than +to think that I should even be supposed to have been among the +number.</p> + +<p>And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which I had +applied the thirty-three best years of my life;—I must not say +devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have their +letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar letter-boxes +should be put up for them (of which accommodation in the streets and +ways of England I was the originator, having, however, got the +authority for the erection of the first at St. Heliers in Jersey); +that the letter-carriers and sorters should not be overworked; that +they should be adequately paid, and have some hours to themselves, +especially on Sundays; above all, that they should be made to earn +their wages; and latterly that they should not be crushed by what I +thought to be the damnable system of so-called merit;—these were the +matters by which I was stirred to what the secretary was pleased to +call energetic performance of my duties. How I loved, when I was +contradicted,—as I was very often and no doubt very properly,—to do +instantly as I was bid, and then to prove that what I was doing was +fatuous, dishonest, expensive, and impracticable! And then there were +feuds,—such delicious feuds! I was always an anti-Hillite, +acknowledging, indeed, the great thing which Sir Rowland Hill had +done for the country, but believing him to be entirely unfit to +manage men or to arrange labour. It was a pleasure to me to differ +from him on all occasions;—and looking back now, I think that in all +such differences I was right.</p> + +<p>Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything to +improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to do so +gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own reports +unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant to be +read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing myself to +re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but sending them +up with their original blots and erasures,—if blots and erasures +there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a man should search +after a fine neatness at the expense of so much waste labour; or that +he should not be able to exact from himself the necessity of writing +words in the form in which they should be read. If a copy be +required, let it be taken afterwards,—by hand or by machine, as may +be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his words to prevail with +the reader, should send them out as written by himself, by his own +hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, correct or incorrect, +with the evidence upon them that they have come out from his own +mind.</p> + +<p>And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the world +where I would.</p> + +<p>A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for him, +and had offered me a salary of £1000 a year for the work, over and +above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had known +something of magazines, and did not believe that they were generally +very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some publishers as +bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business was chiefly +that of a printer, in which he was very successful, this +consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I very +strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to him that +a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine in +accordance with my views,—that I could not be concerned in it on any +other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate return to +him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, listened +to my arguments with great patience, and then told me that if I would +not do the work he would find some other editor.</p> + +<p>Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should from month to month give in to +him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that he should +pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and thirdly, that the +arrangement should remain in force at any rate for two years. To all +this he made no objection; and during the time that he and I were +thus bound together, he not only complied with these stipulations, +but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine that I made to +him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide liberality and +absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, and perpetual good +humour, would have produced success, our magazine certainly would +have succeeded.</p> + +<p>In all such enterprises the name is the first great difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none,—of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it never +belies itself. <i>The Liberal</i> may cease to be liberal, or <i>The +Fortnightly</i>, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But <i>The Cornhill</i> +and <i>The Argosy</i> are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or possibly the editorial name, which is only amiss because the +publication may change hands. <i>Blackwood's</i> has indeed always +remained <i>Blackwood's</i>, and <i>Fraser's</i>, though it has been bought and +sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called <i>Anthony Trollope's</i>. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town—still are about the town—two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would have +driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we settled +on <i>St. Paul's</i> as the name for our bantling,—not as being in any +way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks with many +others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, it was not +by our name that we were desirous of doing so.</p> + +<p>I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,—and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, I +may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I may +declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to success. +I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship I +was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, Percy +Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. Lynn +Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles Lever, E. +Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. H. Lewes, C. +Mackay, Hardman (of the <i>Times</i>), George Macdonald, W. R. Greg, Mrs. +Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton Cook,—and +others, whose names would make the list too long. It might have been +thought that with such aid the <i>St. Paul's</i> would have succeeded. I +do not think that the failure—for it did fail—arose from bad +editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the fault. I was +too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of what might be +lucrative.</p> + +<p>It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000—perhaps on one or two +occasions may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set +on foot on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything +short of a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set a +magazine afloat, though when afloat it will sustain it. Time is +wanted,—or the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by +ubiquitous sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may +be effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience.</p> + +<p>I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time and +intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done better +than <i>Blackwood's</i>. The <i>Cornhill</i>, too, after Thackeray had left it +and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in quite +efficient hands,—those hands being the hands of proprietor and +publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and what +he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into that +worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for the +sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so sin +very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My dear +friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus,—but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn in +his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know that I +did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work did not +represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did so, I +broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that such +editors as Thackeray and myself—if I may for the moment be allowed +to couple men so unequal—will always be liable to commit such +faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors will be +less soft.</p> + +<p>Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to be +open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, or why +the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that may be +sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce a periodical +that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably best do by +securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn10"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 10</span>: + Since this was written I have made arrangements for doing as I have + wished, and the first volume of the series will now very shortly be + published.] + <br /><a href="#fnr10"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h4>BEVERLEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning to +fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who was +himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should like +best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether I +wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far as he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to look +for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one by +leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could get a +seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that bourne +from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there feel that +he had done me wrong.</p> + +<p>Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to every +educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that every +educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in Parliament as +a probable or even a possible career; but that the man in Parliament +has reached a higher position than the man out,—that to serve one's +country without pay is the grandest work that a man can do,—that of +all studies the study of politics is the one in which a man may make +himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,—and that of all lives, +public political lives are capable of the highest efforts. So +thinking,—though I was aware that fifty-three was too late an age at +which to commence a new career,—I resolved with much hesitation that +I would make the attempt.</p> + +<p>Writing now at an age beyond sixty, I can say that my political +feelings and convictions have never undergone any change. They are +now what they became when I first began to have political feelings +and convictions. Nor do I find in myself any tendency to modify them +as I have found generally in men as they grow old. I consider myself +to be an advanced, but still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard +not only as a possible but as a rational and consistent phase of +political existence. I can, I believe, in a very few words, make +known my political theory; and as I am anxious that any who know +aught of me should know that, I will endeavour to do so.</p> + +<p>It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It +should, I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel +superiority, unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do +not understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are therefore +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that we +see,—why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from a +full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but still +we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of our +brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,—for in +this matter I consider myself to be standing on a platform with dukes +and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and liberty +have been given,—cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tost-bound life of those who cannot even feed +themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling of +injustice, some feeling of pain.</p> + +<p>This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they are +in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck by +apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. Make all +men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they shall be all +unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the conscientious +philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being surely convinced +that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells himself that it is +his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the preservation of the +welfare of the world depends on the maintenance of those distances +between the prince and the peasant by which he finds himself to be +surrounded;—and perhaps, I may add, that the duty is not unpleasant, +as he feels himself to be one of the princes.</p> + +<p>But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but not +the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it is +apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his duty +to retard. He cannot prevent it; and therefore the society to which +he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, at times, +assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, under the +gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and holdfasts +which he may add, the movement would be slower than it would become +if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. Such, I think, +are Conservatives;—and I speak of men who, with the fear of God +before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm in their +hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their ability.</p> + +<p>Using the term which is now common, and which will be best +understood, I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious +Liberal is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that +these distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness;—but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of steps +towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even willing +to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he knows, as +they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. What is +really in his mind is,—I will not say equality, for the word is +offensive, and presents to the imaginations of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,—but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be hemmed +in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; and +therefore he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the repressive +action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, I think I am +guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any political +doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition of his +fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, and a +conjurer,—as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world.</p> + +<p>I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be +stilted, overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. +Many will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,—perhaps even of those who take an active part in +politics,—are stirred by no such feelings as these, and acknowledge +no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals or +Conservatives, partly by education,—following their fathers,—partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings as +to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is so;—and +in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further and +further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed by +one simply because it is advocated by another, and members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle is +at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is still +apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are the +intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply such a +game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater results. To +the minds that create and lead and sway political opinion, some such +theory is, I think, ever present.</p> + +<p>The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. But +I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about myself +in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, must be +able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied with +doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must patiently get +up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, and then be +satisfied with himself when at last he has induced a Chancellor of +the Exchequer to say that he will consider the impost at the first +opportunity. He must be content to be beaten six times in order that, +on a seventh, his work may be found to be of assistance to some one +else. He must remember that he is one out of 650, and be content with +1-650th part of the attention of the nation. If he have grand ideas, +he must keep them to himself, unless by chance he can work his way up +to the top of the tree. In short, he must be a practical man. Now I +knew that in politics I could never become a practical man. I should +never be satisfied with a soft word from the Chancellor of the +Exchequer, but would always be flinging my over-taxed ketchup in his +face.</p> + +<p>Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a good +speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied the art +early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I had found +that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences by heart, +and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, again, if +there were something special to be said, I could say it in a +commonplace fashion,—but always as though I were in a hurry, and +with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I had no +power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, that which +I had studied with that which occurred to me at the moment. It must +be all lesson,—which I found to be best; or else all +impromptu,—which was very bad indeed, unless I had something special +on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by going into +Parliament,—that the time for it, if there could have been a time, +had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire to sit there, +and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn had not been +deserved.</p> + +<p>In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a +dissolution, I should stand for one division of the county of Essex; +and I had promised that I would do so, though the promise at that +time was as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this +by the late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was +very anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the Liberal +member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament was +postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex was +portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, one of +which—that adjacent to London—would, it was thought, be altogether +Liberal. After the promise which I had given, the performance of +which would have cost me a large sum of money absolutely in vain, it +was felt by some that I should be selected as one of the candidates +for the new division,—and as such I was proposed by Mr. Charles +Buxton. But another gentleman, who would have been bound by previous +pledges to support me, was put forward by what I believe to have been +the defeating interest, and I had to give way. At the election this +gentleman, with another Liberal, who had often stood for the county, +were returned without a contest. Alas! alas! They were both unseated +at the next election, when the great Conservative reaction took +place.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to look +out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape the +peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to which +the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went.</p> + +<p>I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself,—and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,—or at least the East +Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,—certainly better +than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of canvassing, +and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the prospect of +the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they who knew +Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," said he, +"you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely that I was +thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he said. Again I +was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but nevertheless I was +disposed to hope for the best. "Oh no!" continued he, with +good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I don't suppose you really +expect it. But there is a fine career open to you. You will spend +£1000, and lose the election. Then you will petition, and spend +another £1000. You will throw out the elected members. There will be +a commission, and the borough will be disfranchised. For a beginner +such as you are, that will be a great success." And yet, in the teeth +of this, from a man who knew all about it, I persisted in going to +Beverley!</p> + +<p>The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented by +Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying that he +had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of the seat. +There had been many contests, many petitions, many void elections, +many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept his seat, if +not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next door to +permanence. I fancy that with a little management between the parties +the borough might at this time have returned a member of each colour +quietly;—but there were spirits there who did not love political +quietude, and it was at last decided that there should be two Liberal +and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry was joined by a young man +of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was grouped with Mr. Maxwell, +the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch Roman Catholic peer who +lives in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure me +a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands for at any rate +the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. Maxwell and +I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves but the one +holiday during this period of intense labour; but I was assured, as +was he also, by a publican who was working for us, that if we +committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert us. From +morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes and by-ways +of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, exposed to the +rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable to assume that air +of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful candidate should be +invested. At night, every night I had to speak somewhere,—which was +bad; and to listen to the speaking of others,—which was much worse. +When, on one Sunday, I proposed to go to the Minster Church, I was +told that was quite useless, as the Church party were all certain to +support Sir Henry! "Indeed," said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes +there in a kind of official profession, and you had better not allow +yourself to be seen in the same place." So I stayed away and omitted +my prayers. No Church of England church in Beverley would on such an +occasion have welcomed a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a +kind of pariah in the borough, to whom was opposed all that was +pretty, and all that was nice, and all that was—ostensibly—good.</p> + +<p>But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the +conviction that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to +the men whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my +doctrines, and could not be made to understand that I should have +any. I had been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry +Edwards,—which, however, no one probably thought to be feasible,—or +to cause him the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, +and expense. There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my +wished-for supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two +points I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious +for the Ballot,—which had not then become law,—and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence on +voters is a great evil from which this country had already done much +to emancipate itself by extended electoral divisions and by an +increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parliamentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man.</p> + +<p>I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. Of +course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as my +agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself that +it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so utterly +unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into Yorkshire +merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not have said more +than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of course I was not +elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became members for +Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid £400 for my +expenses, and then returned to London.</p> + +<p>My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the cost. +He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque for £400, +and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. How it came +to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never knew, but +such was the case. Then there came a petition,—not from me, but from +the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen were unseated, the +borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards was put on his trial for +some kind of Parliamentary offence and was acquitted. In this way +Beverley's privilege as a borough and my Parliamentary ambition were +brought to an end at the same time.</p> + +<p>When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be that +Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and Sir Henry +Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure of my +hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should do, I +did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed to me +that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing more +absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, than +the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had come +to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. There +was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal there +turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should be no +bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. It was a +matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were appreciated +because they might subserve electoral purposes, and how little it was +understood that electoral purposes, which are in themselves a +nuisance, should be endured in order that they may subserve politics. +And then the time, the money, the mental energy, which had been +expended in making the borough a secure seat for a gentleman who had +realised the idea that it would become him to be a member of +Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be realised and +approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants had taught +themselves to think that it was for such purposes that boroughs were +intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, even in one +town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction.</p> + + +<p><a id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h4>THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY—THE QUESTION OF<br /> +COPYRIGHT WITH AMERICA—FOUR MORE NOVELS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In the spring of 1868,—before the affair of Beverley, which, as +being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has been +brought in a little out of its turn,—I was requested to go over to +the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. This, as I +had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and of course I +went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made two since. As +far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was very far from being +agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, a place I do not +love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by incompetence, and +opposed by what I felt to be personal and not national views. I had +to deal with two men,—with one who was a working officer of the +American Post Office, than whom I have never met a more zealous, or, +as far as I could judge, a more honest public servant. He had his +views and I had mine, each of us having at heart the welfare of the +service in regard to his own country,—each of us also having certain +orders which we were bound to obey. But the other gentleman, who was +in rank the superior,—whose executive position was dependent on his +official status, as is the case with our own Ministers,—did not +recommend himself to me equally. He would make appointments with me +and then not keep them, which at last offended me so grievously, that +I declared at the Washington Post Office that if this treatment were +continued, I would write home to say that any further action on my +part was impossible. I think I should have done so had it not +occurred to me that I might in this way serve his purpose rather than +my own, or the purposes of those who had sent me. The treaty, +however, was at last made,—the purport of which was, that everything +possible should be done, at a heavy expenditure on the part of +England, to expedite the mails from England to America, and that +nothing should be done by America to expedite the mails from thence +to us. The expedition I believe to be now equal both ways; but it +could not be maintained as it is without the payment of a heavy +subsidy from Great Britain, whereas no subsidy is paid by the +States. <a id="fnr11"></a><a href="#fn11">[11]</a></p> + +<p>I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,—the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands in +the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have never +had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my work; +but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found many years +ago—in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, being then in +the States, the details of which are sufficiently +amusing <a id="fnr12"></a><a href="#fn12">[12]</a>—that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though I +do not know that I have raised my price against them on that score, I +may in this way have had some indirect advantage from the American +market. But I do know that what the publishers have received here is +very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & Hall, my present +publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States as much as 5 per +cent on the price they pay me for my manuscript. But the American +readers are more numerous than the English, and taking them all +through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get £1000 for a book +here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be able to get as much +there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes in place of 300, +there is no question as to such result. Why not, then, if I can +supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000?</p> + +<p>I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard in +reference to the subject on this further visit,—and having a certain +authority from the British Secretary of State with me I could hear +and do something,—altogether confirmed me in this view. I have no +doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,—or even American representatives, if the polling could be +unbiassed,—or American booksellers, +<a id="fnr13"></a><a href="#fn13">[13]</a> that an assent +to an international copyright would be the result. The state of +things as it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers +will not pay them on a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply +their customers with modern English literature without paying for it. +The English amount of production so much exceeds the American, that +the rate at which the former can be published rules the market. It is +equally injurious to American booksellers,—except to two or three of +the greatest houses. No small man can now acquire the exclusive right +of printing and selling an English book. If such a one attempt it, +the work is printed instantly by one of the leviathans,—who alone +are the gainers. The argument of course is, that the American readers +are the gainers,—that as they can get for nothing the use of certain +property, they would be cutting their own throats were they to pass a +law debarring themselves from the power of such appropriation. In +this argument all idea of honesty is thrown to the winds. It is not +that they do not approve of a system of copyright,—as many great men +have disapproved,—for their own law of copyright is as stringent as +is ours. A bold assertion is made that they like to appropriate the +goods of other people; and that, as in this case, they can do so with +impunity, they will continue to do so. But the argument, as far as I +have been able to judge, comes not from the people, but from the +bookselling leviathans, and from those politicians whom the +leviathans are able to attach to their interests. The ordinary +American purchaser is not much affected by slight variations in +price. He is at any rate too high-hearted to be affected by the +prospect of such variation. It is the man who wants to make money, +not he who fears that he may be called upon to spend it, who controls +such matters as this in the United States. It is the large speculator +who becomes powerful in the lobbies of the House, and understands how +wise it may be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation of +a great business, or in protecting that which he has created from +competition. Nothing was done in 1868,—and nothing has been done +since (up to 1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is now +about to sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a +member; and the question must then be handled, though nothing done by +a Royal Commission here can affect American legislators. But I do +believe that if the measure be consistently and judiciously urged, +the enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. Some +years since we had some <i>quasi</i> private meetings, under the +presidency of Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the +subject of international copyright. At one of these I discussed this +matter of American international copyright with Charles Dickens, who +strongly declared his conviction that nothing would induce an +American to give up the power he possesses of pirating British +literature. But he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, +would not realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this +matter the American decision had been, according to his thinking, +dishonest, therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be +expected from Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now +protest. American dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among +a few. It is the great misfortune of the community that those few +have been able to dominate so large a portion of the population among +which all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting.</p> + +<p>Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright +has sat and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and +could serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which are +discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect in +the expression of an opinion that fair justice,—or justice +approaching to fairness,—is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that £20 was paid to my publisher in England for the use +of the early sheets of a novel for which I received £1600 in England. +When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that the firm +with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to another firm?" +I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because no other firm +would care to run counter to that great firm which had assumed to +itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after received a copy +of my own novel in the American form, and found that it was published +for 7½d. That a great sale was expected can be argued from the fact +that without a great sale the paper and printing necessary for the +republication of a three-volume novel could not be supplied. Many +thousand copies must have been sold. But from these the author +received not one shilling. I need hardly point out that the sum of +£20 would not do more than compensate the publisher for his trouble +in making the bargain. The publisher here no doubt might have refused +to supply the early sheets, but he had no means of exacting a higher +price than that offered. I mention the circumstance here because it +has been boasted, on behalf of the American publishers, that though +there is no international copyright, they deal so liberally with +English authors as to make it unnecessary that the English author +should be so protected. With the fact of the £20 just brought to my +knowledge, and with the copy of my book published at 7½d. now in my +hands, I feel that an international copyright is very necessary for +my protection.</p> + +<p>They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language in +denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love of +education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions in the +minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk upright, +fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for his own +actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by private +munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where can the +English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than the normal +American, when once the American shall have found the Englishman to +be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is so much an object +of heart-felt admiration of the American man and the American woman +as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman or Englishman? +These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost in the minds of the +unprejudiced English traveller as he makes acquaintance with these +near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant of their official doings, +of their politics, of their municipal scandals, of their great +ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and briberies, and the infinite +baseness of their public life. There at the top of everything he +finds the very men who are the least fit to occupy high places. +American public dishonesty is so glaring that the very friends he has +made in the country are not slow to acknowledge it,—speaking of +public life as a thing-apart from their own existence, as a state of +dirt in which it would be an insult to suppose that they are +concerned! In the midst of it all the stranger, who sees so much that +he hates and so much that he loves, hardly knows how to express +himself.</p> + +<p>"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with what +energy and courage he can command,—"not enough though the clean +outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight outnumber +the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead you. It is not +by the private lives of the millions that the outside world will +judge you, but by the public career of those units whose venality is +allowed to debase the name of your country. There never was plainer +proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of every honest +citizen to look after the honour of his State."</p> + +<p>Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,—men, but more +frequently women,—who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond of +pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which makes +no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too prone +to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,—whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen high +in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two old +gentlemen,—the owners of names which stand deservedly high in public +estimation,—whose deportment at a public funeral turned the occasion +into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious at first, and +fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of manners which +with us has become a habit from our childhood. But they are never +fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured.</p> + +<p>There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be a +memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of the +chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last fifteen +years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. She is a +ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark by +thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do any +good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages would +amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of myself +without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. I trust +she may live to read the words I have now written, and to wipe away a +tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them.</p> + +<p>I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and on my +return I went back with energy to my work at the <i>St. Paul's +Magazine</i>. The first novel in it from my own pen was called <i>Phineas +Finn</i>, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, I +took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my seat +on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon by the +Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a seat in the +gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with the ways and +doings of the House in which some of my scenes were to be placed. The +Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running order for, I think, +a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, to enable me often to +be very tired,—and, as I have been assured by members, to talk of +the proceedings almost as well as though Fortune had enabled me to +fall asleep within the House itself.</p> + +<p>In writing <i>Phineas Finn</i>, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, or +perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my own +sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with perhaps +a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this way I think I +made my political hero interesting. It was certainly a blunder to +take him from Ireland—into which I was led by the circumstance that +I created the scheme of the book during a visit to Ireland. There was +nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and there was an added +difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection for a politician +belonging to a nationality whose politics are not respected in +England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It was not a +brilliant success,—because men and women not conversant with +political matters could not care much for a hero who spent so much of +his time either in the House of Commons or in a public office. But +the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the book, and the +women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish read it also. As +this was what I had intended, I was contented. It is all fairly good +except the ending,—as to which till I got to it I made no provision. +As I fully intended to bring my hero again into the world, I was +wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish girl, who could only be +felt as an encumbrance on such return. When he did return I had no +alternative but to kill the simple pretty Irish girl, which was an +unpleasant and awkward necessity.</p> + +<p>In writing <i>Phineas Finn</i> I had constantly before me the necessity of +progression in character,—of marking the changes in men and women +which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In most +novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied is +not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +<i>Ivanhoe</i>, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance in +taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as they +become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this in <i>Tom +Jones</i>, which is one of the greatest novels in the English language, +for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature may fall away +under temptation and be again strengthened and made to stand upright. +But I do not think that novelists have often set before themselves +the state of progressive change,—nor should I have done it, had I +not found myself so frequently allured back to my old friends. So +much of my inner life was passed in their company, that I was +continually asking myself how this woman would act when this or that +event had passed over her head, or how that man would carry himself +when his youth had become manhood, or his manhood declined to old +age. It was in regard to the old Duke of Omnium, of his nephew and +heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady Glencora, that I was anxious to +carry out this idea; but others added themselves to my mind as I went +on, and I got round me a circle of persons as to whom I knew not only +their present characters, but how those characters were to be +affected by years and circumstances. The happy motherly life of +Violet Effingham, which was due to the girl's honest but +long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady Laura, which was +equally due to the sale she made of herself in her wretched marriage; +and the long suffering but final success of the hero, of which he had +deserved the first by his vanity, and the last by his constant +honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from the first. As to the +incidents of the story, the circumstances by which these personages +were to be affected, I knew nothing. They were created for the most +part as they were described. I never could arrange a set of events +before me. But the evil and the good of my puppets, and how the evil +would always lead to evil, and the good produce good,—that was clear +to me as the stars on a summer night.</p> + +<p>Lady Laura Standish is the best character in <i>Phineas Finn</i> and its +sequel <i>Phineas Redux</i>,—of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel, though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the <i>St. Paul's Magazine</i> in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the <i>Graphic</i> in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel-readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, or +that any little interest which might have been taken in the career of +my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that such +interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the same +popularity as the former part, and among the same class of readers. +Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern—as Violet had become—and +the old duke,—whom I killed gracefully, and the new duke, and the +young duchess, either kept their old friends or made new friends for +themselves. <i>Phineas Finn</i>, I certainly think, was successful from +first to last. I am aware, however, that there was nothing in it to +touch the heart like the abasement of Lady Mason when confessing her +guilt to her old lover, or any approach in delicacy of delineation to +the character of Mr. Crawley.</p> + +<p><i>Phineas Finn</i>, the first part of the story, was completed in May, +1867. In June and July I wrote <i>Linda Tressel</i> for <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i>, of which I have already spoken. In September and October I +wrote a short novel, called <i>The Golden Lion of Granpère</i>, which was +intended also for <i>Blackwood</i>,—with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in <i>Good Words</i>. It was +written on the model of <i>Nina Balatka</i> and <i>Linda Tressel</i>, but is +very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, 1867, +I began a very long novel, which I called <i>He Knew He Was Right</i>, and +which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of the <i>St. +Paul's Magazine</i>, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not know that +in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short of my own +intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create sympathy +for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do his duty to all +around him, should be led constantly astray by his unwillingness to +submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. The man is made to +be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he does is apparent. So far +I did not fail, but the sympathy has not been created yet. I look +upon the story as being nearly altogether bad. It is in part redeemed +by certain scenes in the house and vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. +But a novel which in its main parts is bad cannot, in truth, be +redeemed by the vitality of subordinate characters.</p> + +<p>This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced <i>The Vicar of +Bullhampton</i>, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began <i>Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite</i>, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left the +Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by it +during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the <i>St. +Paul's Magazine</i>, in reference to which I had read an enormous amount +of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I had +written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and had +made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had hunted +three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy I was +with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered as a part +of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained my +experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched American +Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able to escape +from that capital till July; but all that had added to the activity +of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; but I had +read them, considering it—perhaps foolishly—to be a part of my duty +as editor. And though in the quick production of my novels I had +always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation and scorn +produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I was nevertheless +proud of having done so much. I always had a pen in my hand. Whether +crossing the seas, or fighting with American officials, or tramping +about the streets of Beverley, I could do a little, and generally +more than a little. I had long since convinced myself that in such +work as mine the great secret consisted in acknowledging myself to be +bound to rules of labour similar to those which an artisan or a +mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker when he has finished one pair +of shoes does not sit down and contemplate his work in idle +satisfaction. "There is my pair of shoes finished at last! What a +pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker who so indulged himself would be +without wages half his time. It is the same with a professional +writer of books. An author may of course want time to study a new +subject. He will at any rate assure himself that there is some such +good reason why he should pause. He does pause, and will be idle for +a month or two while he tells himself how beautiful is that last pair +of shoes which he has finished! Having thought much of all this, and +having made up my mind that I could be really happy only when I was +at work, I had now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as +soon as the first was out of my hands.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn11"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 11</span>: + This was a state of things which may probably have appeared to + American politicians to be exactly that which they should try to + obtain. The whole arrangement has again been altered since the time + of which I have spoken.] + <br /><a href="#fnr11"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn12"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 12</span>: + In answer to a question from myself, a certain American + publisher—he who usually reprinted my works—promised me that if any + other American publisher republished my work on America before he had + done so, he would not bring out a competing edition, though there + would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an agreement with + another American publisher, stipulating to supply him with early + sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain royalty on his + sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly. I sent the sheets + with energetic punctuality, and the work was brought out with equal + energy and precision—by my old American publishers. The gentleman + who made the promise had not broken his word. No other American + edition had come out before his. I never got any account, and, of + course, never received a dollar.] + <br /><a href="#fnr12"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn13"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 13</span>: + I might also say American publishers, if I might count them by the + number of heads, and not by the amount of work done by the firms.] + <br /><a href="#fnr13"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h4><i>THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON</i>—<i>SIR HARRY<br /> +HOTSPUR</i>—<i>AN EDITOR'S TALES</i>—<i>CÆSAR</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then the +sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. Chapman +& Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the firm. He +remained there three years and a half; but he did not like it, nor do +I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he left the +business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might have been +expected from the short period of his labours, and has since taken +himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will work at it so +hard as his father, and write as many books, may be doubted.</p> + +<p>My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone out to +Australia, having resolved on a colonial career when he found that +boys who did not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This +departure was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted +on the understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, +and then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, and +in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I have since +that date made two journeys to see him,—of one of which at any rate +I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the Australasian +Colonies,—I will have an opportunity of saying a word or two further +on of him and his doings.</p> + +<p><i>The Vicar of Bullhampton</i> was written in 1868 for publication in +<i>Once a Week</i>, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & +Evans. It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont, had +made my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my +terms and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before +it was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was the +first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes for +these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, and +can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if he +will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I have +written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have I ever +caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I had +stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled to +suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to console +myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of virtue. The +industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple will always be +the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, who keep none +waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for the unpunctual. +But these earthly sufferers know that they are making their way +heavenwards,—and their oppressors their way elsewards. If the former +reflection does not suffice for consolation, the deficiency is made +up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on the matter of the +publication of my new Vicar, and had to think very much of the +ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. About the end of +March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the editor. All the <i>Once a +Week</i> people were in a terrible trouble. They had bought the right of +translating one of Victor Hugo's modern novels, <i>L'Homme Qui Rit</i>; +they had fixed a date, relying on positive pledges from the French +publishers; and now the great French author had postponed his work +from week to week and from month to month, and it had so come to pass +that the Frenchman's grinning hero would have to appear exactly at +the same time as my clergyman. Was it not quite apparent to me, the +editor asked, that <i>Once a Week</i> could not hold the two? Would I +allow my clergyman to make his appearance in the <i>Gentleman's +Magazine</i> instead?</p> + +<p>My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that I +should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had broken +his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by the +stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he had put +off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches on his +part,—on the part of this sententious French Radical,—I was to be +thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console herself +even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +<i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, my novel was published in separate numbers.</p> + +<p>The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no doubt +are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. +<span class="nowrap">——</span> is irregular. +He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till three months +after the time named." In these emergencies I have given perhaps half +what was wanted, and have refused to give the other half. I have +endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and at the same time not +to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But the circumstances have +impressed on my mind the great need there is that men engaged in +literature should feel themselves to be bound to their industry as +men know that they are bound in other callings. There does exist, I +fear, a feeling that authors, because they are authors, are relieved +from the necessity of paying attention to everyday rules. A writer, +if he be making £800 a year, does not think himself bound to live +modestly on £600, and put by the remainder for his wife and children. +He does not understand that he should sit down at his desk at a +certain hour. He imagines that publishers and booksellers should keep +all their engagements with him to the letter;—but that he, as a +brain-worker, and conscious of the subtle nature of the brain, should +be able to exempt himself from bonds when it suits him. He has his +own theory about inspiration which will not always come,—especially +will not come if wine-cups overnight have been too deep. All this has +ever been odious to me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in +health, and therefore unable to do as he has contracted in whatever +grade of life. He who has been blessed with physical strength to work +day by day, year by year—as has been my case—should pardon +deficiencies caused by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect +have been a little hard on others,—and, if so, I here record my +repentance. But I think that no allowance should be given to claims +for exemption from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score +still with the conviction of intellectual superiority.</p> + +<p>The <i>Vicar of Bullhampton</i> was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for a fallen woman, and of +raising a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other +women. I could not venture to make this female the heroine of my +story. To have made her a heroine at all would have been directly +opposed to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should be +a second-rate personage in the tale;—but it was with reference to +her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the heroine with +their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I affixed a +preface,—in doing which I was acting in defiance of my +old-established principle. I do not know that any one read it; but as +I wish to have it read, I will insert it here +<span class="nowrap">again:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have introduced in the <i>Vicar of Bullhampton</i> the character of a +girl whom I will call,—for want of a truer word that shall not in +its truth be offensive,—a castaway. I have endeavoured to endow her +with qualities that may create sympathy, and I have brought her back +at last from degradation, at least to decency. I have not married her +to a wealthy lover, and I have endeavoured to explain that though +there was possible to her a way out of perdition, still things could +not be with her as they would have been had she not fallen.</p> + +<p>There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who +professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, +should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as that +of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,—it is well within the memory +of the author,—that the very existence of such a condition of life +as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our sisters and daughters, +and was, in truth, unknown to many of them. Whether that ignorance +was good may be questioned; but that it exists no longer is beyond +question. Then arises the further question,—how far the conditions +of such unfortunates should be made a matter of concern to the sweet +young hearts of those whose delicacy and cleanliness of thought is a +matter of pride to so many of us. Cannot women, who are good, pity +the sufferings of the vicious, and do something perhaps to mitigate +and shorten them without contamination from the vice? It will be +admitted probably by most men who have thought upon the subject that +no fault among us is punished so heavily as that fault, often so +light in itself but so terrible in its consequences to the less +faulty of the two offenders, by which a woman falls. All her own sex +is against her, and all those of the other sex in whose veins runs +the blood which she is thought to have contaminated, and who, of +nature, would befriend her, were her trouble any other than it is.</p> + +<p>She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, +unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has placed her +beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It may be said, no +doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts as a protection to +female virtue,—deterring, as all known punishments do deter, from +vice. But this punishment, which is horrible beyond the conception of +those who have not regarded it closely, is not known beforehand. +Instead of the punishment, there is seen a false glitter of gaudy +life,—a glitter which is damnably false,—and which, alas! has been +more often portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of young +girls, than have those horrors which ought to deter, with the dark +shadowings which belong to them.</p> + +<p>To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, as +one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life is +happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice and +misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter be handled +with truth to life, some girl, who would have been thoughtless, may +be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may be softened.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that feeling +I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her family. I have +not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I presented her to +the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of those fallacious +luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more seductive to evil +than love itself. She is introduced as a poor abased creature, who +hardly knows how false were her dreams, with very little of the +Magdalene about her—because though there may be Magdalenes they are +not often found—but with an intense horror of the sufferings of her +position. Such being her condition, will they who naturally are her +friends protect her? The vicar who has taken her by the hand +endeavours to excite them to charity; but father, and brother, and +sister are alike hard-hearted. It had been my purpose at first that +the hand of every Brattle should be against her; but my own heart was +too soft to enable me to make the mother cruel,—or the unmarried +sister who had been the early companion of the forlorn one.</p> + +<p>As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. The +characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping with +human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. It is +not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have myself +forgotten what the heroine does and says—except that she tumbles +into a ditch—I cannot expect that any one else should remember her. +But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said by any of the +Brattles.</p> + +<p>The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As to +the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out of +ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is of +such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is the +woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? Then +comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone that +we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument used in +favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse given for their +severity by women who will relax nothing of their harshness. But in +truth the severity of the punishment is not known beforehand; it is +not in the least understood by women in general, except by those who +suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, the contumely of +familiarity, the absence of all good words and all good things, the +banishment from honest labour, the being compassed round with lies, +the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the weary pavement, the +horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,—and then the quick +depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted paint, +garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still can +hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the life to +which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their error we +close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find pardon +easily enough.</p> + +<p>Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been thought +expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily be +one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope to +recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at all, must +be induced to obey the summons before they have reached the last +stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. To me the +mistake which we too often make seems to be this,—that the girl who +has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if possible, at any +rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, and that this +ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, but in part also from +a dread of the taint which the sin brings with it. Very low as is the +degradation to which a girl is brought when she falls through love or +vanity, or perhaps from a longing for luxurious ease, still much +lower is that to which she must descend perforce when, through the +hardness of the world around her, she converts that sin into a trade. +Mothers and sisters, when the misfortune comes upon them of a fallen +female from among their number, should remember this, and not fear +contamination so strongly as did Carry Brattle's married sister and +sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>In 1870 I brought out three books,—or rather of the latter of the +three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had nothing +to do with it except to write it. These were <i>Sir Harry Hotspur of +Humblethwaite</i>, <i>An Editors Tales</i>, and a little volume on Julius +Cæsar. <i>Sir Harry Hotspur</i> was written on the same plan as <i>Nina +Balatka</i> and <i>Linda Tressel</i>, and had for its object the telling of +some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. <i>Nina</i> and <i>Linda Tressel</i> and <i>The Golden +Lion</i> had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English +story. In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I +think, by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love of +the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father.</p> + +<p>It was published first in <i>Macmillan's Magazine</i>, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it should +have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of a good +many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, the +subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. Macmillan, +and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them as a novel +in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel in one volume, +and hence there arose a correspondence.</p> + +<p>I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would have +to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which ought +to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that the +public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is the object +of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they can, and that +the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, however, did not +overcome me, and I stood to my guns. <i>Sir Harry</i> was published in one +volume, containing something over the normal 300 pages, with an +average of 220 words to a page,—which I had settled with my +conscience to be the proper length of a novel volume. I may here +mention that on one occasion, and on one occasion only, a publisher +got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He had a two-volume +novel of mine running through a certain magazine, and had it printed +complete in three volumes before I knew where I was,—before I had +seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for a while, but I had not +the heart to make him break up the type.</p> + +<p>The <i>Editor's Tales</i> was a volume republished from the <i>St. Paul's +Magazine</i>, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned the +memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it the +outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance of +some fact:—how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation with me, +I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed his little +article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with a becoming +pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how I was appealed +to by the dearest of little women whom here I have called Mary +Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle over an +abortive periodical which was intended to be the best thing ever +done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, who with +infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort to reclaim +himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly how a poor +weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened litigation +from a rejected contributor. Of these stories <i>The Spotted Dog</i>, with +the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I know now, +however, that when the things were good they came out too quick one +upon another to gain much attention;—and so also, luckily, when they +were bad.</p> + +<p>The <i>Cæsar</i> was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had set +on foot a series of small volumes called <i>Ancient Classics for +English Readers</i>, and had placed the editing of them, and the +compiling of many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, a +clergyman who, from my connection with the series, became a most +intimate friend. The <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> had already come out +when I was at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing my +very strong admiration for those two little volumes,—which I here +recommend to all young ladies as the most charming tales they can +read,—he asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. +<i>Herodotus</i> was in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine +should be next. Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the +readers of English on <i>The Commentaries of Julius Cæsar</i>.</p> + +<p>I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation or +English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has since +become,—for from that date I have almost daily spent an hour with +some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After the reading +what my author had left behind him, I fell into the reading of what +others had written about him, in Latin, in English, and even in +French,—for I went through much of that most futile book by the late +Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a short period I ever +worked harder. The amount I had to write was nothing. Three weeks +would have done it easily. But I was most anxious, in this soaring +out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace myself. I do not think +that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was anxious for something more. +If so, I was disappointed.</p> + +<p>The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by all, old +and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an account of +Cæsar's Commentaries,—which of course was the primary +intention,—and the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. A +well-educated girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps +know as much about Cæsar and his writings as she need know. Beyond +the consolation of thinking as I do about it, I got very little +gratification from the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very +learned friend to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Cæsar," but +said no more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into +me. Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There was, +however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that of others, +a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing English novels +could not be fit to write about Cæsar. It was as when an amateur gets +a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. What business had I +there? <i>Ne sutor ultra crepidam</i>. In the press it was most faintly +damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having read the book again +within the last month or two, I make bold to say that it is a good +book. The series, I believe, has done very well. I am sure that it +ought to do well in years to come, for, putting aside Cæsar, the work +has been done with infinite scholarship, and very generally with a +light hand. With the leave of my sententious and sonorous friend, who +had not endured that subjects which had been grave to him should be +treated irreverently, I will say that such a work, unless it be +light, cannot answer the purpose for which it is intended. It was not +exactly a school-book that was wanted, but something that would carry +the purposes of the school-room even into the leisure hours of adult +pupils. Nothing was ever better suited for such a purpose than the +<i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i>, as done by Mr. Collins. The <i>Virgil</i>, also +done by him, is very good; and so is the <i>Aristophanes</i> by the same +hand.</p> + + +<p><a id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h4><i>RALPH THE HEIR</i>—<i>THE EUSTACE<br /> +DIAMONDS</i>—<i>LADY ANNA</i>—<i>AUSTRALIA</i>.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In the spring of 1871 we,—I and my wife,—had decided that we would +go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before doing so +I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the Colonies. For +such a work as this I had always been aware that I could not fairly +demand more than half the price that would be given for the same +amount of fiction; and as such books have an indomitable tendency to +stretch themselves, so that more is given than what is sold, and as +the cost of travelling is heavy, the writing of them is not +remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes not, I think, generally +from the ambition of the writer, but from his inability to comprise +the different parts in their allotted spaces. If you have to deal +with a country, a colony, a city, a trade, or a political opinion, it +is so much easier to deal with it in twenty than in twelve pages! I +also made an engagement with the editor of a London daily paper to +supply him with a series of articles,—which were duly written, duly +published, and duly paid for. But with all this, travelling with the +object of writing is not a good trade. If the travelling author can +pay his bills, he must be a good manager on the road.</p> + +<p>Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,—in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London be +cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, and +was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, away, and +the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of my friends +told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up the fabrication +of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon go, and I would +not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. And then, why +should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that I had fixed on that +place in reference to the Post Office? It was therefore determined +that we would flit, and as we were to be away for eighteen months, we +determined also to sell our furniture. So there was a packing up, +with many tears, and consultations as to what should be saved out of +the things we loved.</p> + +<p>As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let, +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. I +lost by the transaction about £800. As I continually hear that other +men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am not well +adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made money by +selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of horseflesh I am +so inefficient that I have generally given away horses that I have +not wanted.</p> + +<p>When we started from Liverpool, in May 1871, <i>Ralph the Heir</i> was +running through the <i>St. Paul's</i>. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should not +write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and that part +which appertains to politics, and which recounts the electioneering +experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well enough. +Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same place. +Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good in their +way,—and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only lover, but +also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But the main thread +of the story,—that which tells of the doings of the young gentlemen +and young ladies,—the heroes and the heroines,—is not good. Ralph +the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph who is not the +heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has none. The same may be +said of the young ladies,—of whom one, she who was meant to be the +chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, without leaving a trace of +remembrance behind.</p> + +<p>I also left in the hands of the editor of <i>The Fortnightly</i>, ready +for production on the 1st of July following, a story called <i>The +Eustace Diamonds</i>. In that I think that my friend's dictum was +disproved. There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. +The character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine +and as well told as that of Lucy Robarts or Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>But <i>The Eustace Diamonds</i> achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a series +of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant to the +reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented itself to +me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but in planning +the character I had not thought of this, and I believe that Lizzie +would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had never been +described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, well +arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. I had no +idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got my heroine to +bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment of the thieves, +till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with the news that her +door had been broken open. All these things, and many more, Wilkie +Collins would have arranged before with infinite labour, preparing +things present so that they should fit in with things to come. I have +gone on the very much easier plan of making everything as it comes +fit in with what has gone before. At any rate, the book was a +success, and did much to repair the injury which I felt had come to +my reputation in the novel-market by the works of the last few years. +I doubt whether I had written anything so successful as <i>The Eustace +Diamonds</i> since <i>The Small House at Allington</i>. I had written what +was much better,—as, for instance, <i>Phineas Finn</i> and <i>Nina +Balatka</i>; but that is by no means the same thing.</p> + +<p>I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of <i>Phineas +Redux</i>, a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I +subsequently sold to the proprietors of the <i>Graphic</i> newspaper. The +editor of that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that the +public would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,—and was +dissatisfied with me when I replied that I had no objection to them +doing so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any +other language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, I +could find no other suitable name.</p> + +<p>I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +<i>An Eye for an Eye</i>, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years.</p> + +<p>If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, had +gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new novels +ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. When +making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting a desk put +up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the Great Britain, +so that I could go to work the day after we left Liverpool. This I +did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished a story called +<i>Lady Anna</i>. Every word of this was written at sea, during the two +months required for our voyage, and was done day by day—with the +intermission of one day's illness—for eight weeks, at the rate of 66 +pages of manuscript in each week, every page of manuscript containing +250 words. Every word was counted. I have seen work come back to an +author from the press with terrible deficiencies as to the amount +supplied. Thirty-two pages have perhaps been wanted for a number, and +the printers with all their art could not stretch the matter to more +than twenty-eight or -nine! The work of filling up must be very +dreadful. I have sometimes been ridiculed for the methodical details +of my business. But by these contrivances I have been preserved from +many troubles; and I have saved others with whom I have +worked—editors, publishers, and printers—from much trouble also.</p> + +<p>A month or two after my return home, <i>Lady Anna</i> appeared in <i>The +Fortnightly</i>, following <i>The Eustace Diamonds</i>. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries a +tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she was +poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for her, and +all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown in her +way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. And the +charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that she is bound +by her troth to the man who had always been true to her overcomes +everything,—and she marries the tailor. It was my wish of course to +justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers along with me in my +sympathy with her. But everybody found fault with me for marrying her +to the tailor. What would they have said if I had allowed her to jilt +the tailor and marry the good-looking young lord? How much louder, +then, would have been the censure! The book was read, and I was +satisfied. If I had not told my story well, there would have been no +feeling in favour of the young lord. The horror which was expressed +to me at the evil thing I had done, in giving the girl to the tailor, +was the strongest testimony I could receive of the merits of the +story.</p> + +<p>I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say that +this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew a man +work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has done.</p> + +<p>I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might be +enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them all. +Making my head-quarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New South +Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of Western +Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was absent in all +eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in learning much of the +political, social, and material condition of these countries. I wrote +my book as I was travelling, and brought it back with me to England +all but completed in December, 1872.</p> + +<p>It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much more +to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much more is +said,—and very much more may be learned from the latter than from +the former book. I am sure that any one who will take the trouble to +read the book on Australia, will learn much from it. But the West +Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that either of the other +works are, in the proper sense of that word. When I go back to them I +find that the pages drag with me;—and if so with me, how must it be +with others who have none of that love which a father feels even for +his ill-favoured offspring. Of all the needs a book has the chief +need is that it be readable.</p> + +<p>Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself no +trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on the +state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,—those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,—I +think I did give much valuable information.</p> + +<p>I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon him, +sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like to +pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had heard +so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to enter, and +inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him that I was not a +miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. "I +guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured him that I was not. +"Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him that I did so by +writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then he turned +upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the door. I was +properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive that he would +have heard my name.</p> + +<p>I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made to +the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No real +resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four horses +I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the two +summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival I bought +another, and settled myself down to hunting from London three days a +week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, but finding that +to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton Buzzard, and became +one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode with the "Baron" and +Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer was alive, and the +riding with his hounds was very good. I did not care so much for Mr. +Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and 1875, I had my horses +back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, always trying to resolve +that I would give it up. But still I bought fresh horses, and, as I +did not give it up, I hunted more than ever. Three times a week the +cab has been at my door in London very punctually, and not +unfrequently before seven in the morning. In order to secure this +attendance, the man has always been invited to have his breakfast in +the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern Railway,—ah! so often +with the fear that frost would make all my exertions useless, and so +often too with that result! And then, from one station or another +station, have travelled on wheels at least a dozen miles. After the +day's sport, the same toil has been necessary to bring me home to +dinner at eight. This has been work for a young man and a rich man, +but I have done it as an old man and comparatively a poor man. Now at +last, in April, 1876, I do think that my resolution has been taken. I +am giving away my old horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles +and horse-furniture.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +"Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes;<br /> + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum;<br /> + Tendunt extorquere poëmata."<br /> +<br /> +<span class="nowrap">"Our years keep taking toll as they move on;</span><br /> + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone,<br /> + And now, it seems, my verses must go too."</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>This is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +"Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short;<br /> + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport.<br /> +<span class="nowrap"> And then they stretch their power, and crush at last</span><br /> + Even the power of singing of the past."</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> +"Vixi puellis nuper idoneus,<br /> + Et militavi non sine gloria;<br /> +<span class="ind2">Nunc arma defunctumque bello</span><br /> +<span class="ind4">Barbiton hic paries habebit."</span><br /> +<br /> +"I've lived about the covert side,<br /> + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast;<br /> +<span class="nowrap"> Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride</span><br /> + Are but mementoes of the past."</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p><a id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4><i>THE WAY WE LIVE NOW</i> AND<br /> +<i>THE PRIME MINISTER</i>—CONCLUSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I had +arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and early +in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,—in which I hope to live +and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to place upon +new shelves the books which I had collected round myself at Waltham. +And this work, which was in itself great, entailed also the labour of +a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, a catalogue is +nothing unless it show the spot on which every book is to be +found,—information which every volume also ought to give as to +itself. Only those who have done it know how great is the labour of +moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the present moment I +own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to me even than the +horses which are going, or than the wine in the cellar, which is very +apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself.</p> + +<p>When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, and +my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I began a +novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I conceived +to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the world does or +does not become more wicked as years go on, is a question which +probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since the world began to +think. That men have become less cruel, less violent, less selfish, +less brutal, there can be no doubt;—but have they become less +honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from day to day in honesty, +be considered to be in a state of progress? We know the opinion on +this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. If he be right, we are +all going straight away to darkness and the dogs. But then we do not +put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,—nor in Mr. Ruskin and his other +followers. The loudness and extravagance of their lamentations, the +wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes from them, over a world +which is supposed to have gone altogether shoddy-wards, are so +contrary to the convictions of men who cannot but see how comfort has +been increased, how health has been improved, and education +extended,—that the general effect of their teaching is the opposite +of what they have intended. It is regarded simply as Carlylism to say +that the English-speaking world is growing worse from day to day. And +it is Carlylism to opine that the general grand result of increased +intelligence is a tendency to deterioration.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in +its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at the +same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason +for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its +walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all +its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, +and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man +dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I +say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to +write <i>The Way We Live Now</i>. And as I had ventured to take the whip +of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the iniquities of the +great speculator who robs everybody, and made an onslaught also on +other vices,—on the intrigues of girls who want to get married, on +the luxury of young men who prefer to remain single, and on the +puffing propensities of authors who desire to cheat the public into +buying their volumes.</p> + +<p>The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can so +moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects <i>The Way We Live Now</i> was, as +a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is well +maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,—and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,—but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers is +weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to have +two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them both with +interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be no more than +padding to the other. And so it was in <i>The Way We Live Now</i>. The +interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish people,—with +Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, with the +American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the girl of his +heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta Carbury are +uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon the book as +one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by the public or +the press.</p> + +<p>While I was writing <i>The Way We Live Now</i>, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the <i>Graphic</i> for a Christmas story. I feel, with +regard to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and +undertaker feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has +to supply it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and +he will starve if he neglect it. So have I felt that, when anything +in the shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. +Nothing can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish +of Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be the +ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire for +Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,—or, better +still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens when he +wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the things +written annually—all of which have been fixed to Christmas like +children's toys to a Christmas tree—have had no real savour of +Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! at this +very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to supply +within three weeks of this time,—the picture-makers always require a +long interval,—as to which I have in vain been cudgelling my brain +for the last month. I can't send away the order to another shop, but +I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made.</p> + +<p>For the <i>Graphic</i>, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not loth +to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, by +the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station in +the bush. So I wrote <i>Harry Heathcote of Gangoil</i>, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no worse +success in that which now hangs over my head.</p> + +<p>When <i>Harry Heathcote</i> was over, I returned with a full heart to Lady +Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed picture +of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The personages +with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps even the +minds of some of my readers—the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys—had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in a +wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would be +destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst of +human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as a +rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and to be +formed into tools, which are used either for building up or pulling +down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box into the +other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves into +one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to set aside +his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal contact of men +who must often be personally disagreeable, having been thoroughly +taught that in no other way can they serve either their country or +their own ambition. These are the men who are publicly useful, and +whom the necessities of the age supply,—as to whom I have never +ceased to wonder that stones of such strong calibre should be so +quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness of rounded pebbles.</p> + +<p>Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But I had also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature—of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men—of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To rid +one's self of fine scruples—to fall into the traditions of a +party—to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but also +even in thinking—to be able to be a bit, and at first only a very +little bit,—these are the necessities of the growing statesman. The +time may come, the glorious time when some great self action shall be +possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave up the Corn +Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, should not allow +himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, smooth, hard, +useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he must harden his +skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and again we see the +attempt made by men who cannot get their skins to be hard—who after +a little while generally fall out of the ranks. The statesman of whom +I was thinking—of whom I had long thought—was one who did not fall +out of the ranks, even though his skin would not become hard. He +should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary habits, by which +to bind him to the service of his country; and he should also have +unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love of country. That +virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. They who are without +it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should have it as the ruling +principle of his life; and it should so rule him that all other +things should be made to give way to it. But he should be scrupulous, +and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to the highest place in the +council of his Sovereign, he should feel with true modesty his own +insufficiency; but not the less should the greed of power grow upon +him when he had once allowed himself to taste and enjoy it. Such was +the character I endeavoured to depict in describing the triumph, the +troubles, and the failure of my Prime Minister. And I think that I +have succeeded. What the public may think, or what the press may say, +I do not yet know, the work having as yet run but half its +course. <a id="fnr14"></a><a href="#fn14">[14]</a></p> + +<p>That the man's character should be understood as I understand it—or +that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been a matter +of much happy care to me—I have no right to expect, seeing that the +operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, which +might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who commenced +it. It has been carried on through three or four, each of which will +be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost as soon as read. +In <i>The Prime Minister</i>, my Prime Minister will not allow his wife to +take office among, or even over, those ladies who are attached by +office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," he says to her, +"that my wife should have any duties unconnected with our joint +family and home." Who will remember in reading those words that, in a +former story, published some years before, he tells his wife, when +she has twitted him with his willingness to clean the Premier's +shoes, that he would even allow her to clean them if it were for the +good of the country? And yet it is by such details as these that I +have, for many years past, been manufacturing within my own mind the +characters of the man and his wife.</p> + +<p>I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over a +woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think it +probable that my name will remain among those who in the next century +will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;—but if it +does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the character +of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. Crawley.</p> + +<p>I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself, with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which I +may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I have an +idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my political +hero as the mainstay of another story. When <i>The Prime Minister</i> was +finished, I at once began another novel, which is now completed in +three volumes, and which is called <i>Is He Popenjoy?</i> There are two +Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title held by the other; +but as they are both babies, and do not in the course of the story +progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, should the tale ever be +published, will not be much interested in them. Nevertheless the +story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. Since that I have written +still another three-volume novel, to which, very much in opposition +to my publisher, I have given the name of <i>The American +Senator</i>. <a id="fnr15"></a><a href="#fn15">[15]</a> +It is to appear in <i>Temple Bar</i>, and is to commence its appearance on +the first of next month. Such being its circumstances, I do not know +that I can say anything else about it here.</p> + +<p>And so I end the record of my literary performances,—which I think +are more in amount than the works of any other living English author. +If any English authors not living have written more—as may probably +have been the case—I do not know who they are. I find that, taking +the books which have appeared under our names, I have published much +more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also published +considerably more than Voltaire, even including his letters. We are +told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written 480 volumes, and +that he went on writing for eight years longer. I wish I knew what +was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort myself by reflecting +that the amount of manuscript described as a book in Varro's time was +not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; whereas I am still +living, and may add to the pile.</p> + +<p>The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates given +are the years in which the works were published as a whole, most of +them having appeared before in some serial form.<br /> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"><tr><td> + <table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"> + <tr> + <td class="center" valign="bottom">Names of Works.<br /> </td> + <td class="center">Date of<br />Publication.<br /> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Macdermots of Ballycloran,</td> + <td class="center">1847</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Kellys and the O'Kellys,</td> + <td class="center">1848</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>La Vendée,</td> + <td class="center">1850</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Warden,</td> + <td class="center">1855</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barchester Towers,</td> + <td class="center">1857</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Three Clerks,</td> + <td class="center">1858 + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Doctor Thorne,</td> + <td class="center">1858</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The West Indies and the Spanish Main,</td> + <td class="center">1859</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Bertrams,</td> + <td class="center">1859</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Castle Richmond,</td> + <td class="center">1860</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Framley Parsonage,</td> + <td class="center">1861</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Tales of All Countries—1st Series,</td> + <td class="center">1861</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="ind16">2d</span><span class="ind2">"</span></td> + <td class="center">1863</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="ind16">3d</span><span class="ind2">"</span></td> + <td class="center">1870</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Orley Farm,</td> + <td class="center">1862</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>North America,</td> + <td class="center">1862</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rachel Ray,</td> + <td class="center">1863</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Small House at Allington,</td> + <td class="center">1864</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Can You Forgive Her?</td> + <td class="center">1864</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Miss Mackenzie,</td> + <td class="center">1865</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Belton Estate,</td> + <td class="center">1866</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Claverings,</td> + <td class="center">1867</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Last Chronicle of Barset,</td> + <td class="center">1867</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Nina Balatka,</td> + <td class="center">1867</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Linda Tressel,</td> + <td class="center">1868</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Phineas Finn,</td> + <td class="center">1869</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>He Knew He Was Right,</td> + <td class="center">1869</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brown, Jones, and Robinson,</td> + <td class="center">1870</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Vicar of Bullhampton,</td> + <td class="center">1870</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>An Editor's Tales,</td> + <td class="center">l870</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cæsar (Ancient Classics), <a id="fnr16"></a><a href="#fn16">[16]</a></td> + <td class="center">1870</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite,</td> + <td class="center">1871</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Ralph the Heir,</td> + <td class="center">1871</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Golden Lion of Granpère,</td> + <td class="center">1872</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Eustace Diamonds,</td> + <td class="center">1873</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Australia and New Zealand,</td> + <td class="center">1873</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Phineas Redux,</td> + <td class="center">1874</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Harry Heathcote of Gangoil,</td> + <td class="center">1874</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lady Anna,</td> + <td class="center">1874</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Way We Live Now,</td> + <td class="center">1875</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Prime Minister,</td> + <td class="center">1876</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The American Senator,</td> + <td class="center">1877</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Is He Popenjoy?</td> + <td class="center">1878</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>South Africa,</td> + <td class="center">1878</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>John Caldigate,</td> + <td class="center">1879</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sundries,</td> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + </table> +</td> +<td valign="top"> + <table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"> + <tr> + <td class="center"> <br /> <br /> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"><span class="double">}{</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"><span class="triple">}{</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"> </td> + </tr> + </table> +</td> +<td valign="top"> + <table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0"> + <tr> + <td class="center" colspan="3">Total Sums<br />Received.<br /> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"> £48</td> + <td align="right">6</td> + <td align="right"> 9</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">123</td> + <td align="right"> 19</td> + <td align="right">5</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">20</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">727</td> + <td align="right">11</td> + <td align="right">3</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">250</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">400</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">250</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">400</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">600</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1000</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1830</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + <td align="right"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3135</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1250</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1645</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3000</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3525</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1300</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1757</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2800</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3000</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">450</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">450</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3200</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3200</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">600</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2500</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">378</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">750</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2500</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">550</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2500</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1300</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2500</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">450</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1200</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">3000</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">2500</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1800</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1600</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">850</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">1800</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + <td align="right">0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"><span class="u"> 7800</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="u"> 0</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="u">0</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right">£68,939</td> + <td align="right">17</td> + <td align="right">5</td> + </tr> + </table> +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p><br /><span class="ind1">It will not, I am sure, +be thought that, in making my boast as to +quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary excellence. +That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is a vice and +a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave a doubt on +such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit should be +accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. And I make +the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for the benefit of +those who may read these pages, and when young may intend to follow +the same career. <i>Nulla dies sine lineâ.</i> Let that be their motto. +And let their work be to them as is his common work to the common +labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. He need tie no +wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours at his desk +without moving,—as men have sat, or said that they have sat. More +than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done in the last twenty +years, and during twelve of those years I followed another +profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving due time, +if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. But I have +been constant,—and constancy in labour will conquer all +difficulties. <i>Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed sæpe cadendo.</i></span></p> + +<p>It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years I +have made by literature something near £70,000. As I have said before +in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but not +splendid.</p> + +<p>It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. No +man ever did so truly,—and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed in much +the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his life? If +the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my blood; if a cup +of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought tobacco at midnight +in pleasant company to be one of the elements of an earthly paradise; +if now and again I have somewhat recklessly fluttered a £5 note over +a card-table;—of what matter is that to any reader? I have betrayed +no woman. Wine has brought me to no sorrow. It has been the +companionship of smoking that I have loved, rather than the habit. I +have never desired to win money, and I have lost none. To enjoy the +excitement of pleasure, but to be free from its vices and ill +effects,—to have the sweet, and leave the bitter untasted,—that has +been my study. The preachers tell us that this is impossible. It +seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded fairly well. I will not +say that I have never scorched a finger,—but I carry no ugly wounds.</p> + +<p>For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still chiefly +to my work—hoping that when the power of work be over with me, God +may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according to my +view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who love +me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while I am +reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men do, what +I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated man. But +that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,—something dim and inaccurate,—but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is so +with most readers.</p> + +<p>Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found my +greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,—not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want of +truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,—but from +curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. If +I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies of +these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are.</p> + +<p>Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu to +all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written.</p> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn14"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 14</span>: + Writing this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly three years, I + am obliged to say that, as regards the public, <i>The Prime Minister</i> + was a failure. It was worse spoken of by the press than any novel I + had written. I was specially hurt by a criticism on it in the + <i>Spectator</i>. The critic who wrote the article I know to be a good + critic, inclined to be more than fair to me; but in this case I could + not agree with him, so much do I love the man whose character I had + endeavoured to portray.] + <br /><a href="#fnr14"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn15"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 15</span>: + <i>The American Senator</i> and <i>Popenjoy</i> have appeared, each with fair + success. Neither of them has encountered that reproach which, in + regard to <i>The Prime Minister</i>, seemed to tell me that my work as a + novelist should be brought to a close. And yet I feel assured that + they are very inferior to <i>The Prime Minister</i>.] + <br /><a href="#fnr15"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><a id="fn16"></a><span class="smallcaps">[Footnote + 16</span>: + This was given by me as a present to my friend John Blackwood.] + <br /><a href="#fnr16"><span class="smallcaps">Return</span></a></p> +</blockquote> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 5978-h.txt or 5978-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/9/7/5978">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/7/5978</a></p> +<p> +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p> +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Autobiography + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: October 4, 2002 [eBook #5978] +This revision posted on April 28, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY*** + + +E-text prepared by Jesse Chandler +and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + + + + +CONTENTS + + PREFACE. + I. MY EDUCATION, 1815-1834. + II. MY MOTHER. + III. THE GENERAL POST OFFICE, 1834-1841. + IV. IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS, 1841-1848. + V. MY FIRST SUCCESS, 1849-1855. + VI. _BARCHESTER TOWERS_ AND _THE THREE CLERKS_, 1855-1858. + VII. _DOCTOR THORNE_--_THE BERTRAMS_--_THE WEST INDIES + AND THE SPANISH MAIN_. + VIII. THE _CORNHILL MAGAZINE_ AND _FRAMLEY PARSONAGE_. + IX. _CASTLE RICHMOND_--_BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON_--_NORTH + AMERICA_--_ORLEY FARM_. + X. _THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON_--_CAN YOU FORGIVE + HER?_--_RACHEL RAY_--AND THE _FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_. + XI. _THE CLAVERINGS_--THE _PALL MALL GAZETTE_--_NINA + BALATKA_--AND _LINDA TRESSEL_. + XII. ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM. + XIII. ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY. + XIV. ON CRITICISM. + XV. _THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET_--LEAVING THE POST + OFFICE--_ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE_. + XVI. BEVERLEY. + XVII. THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT + WITH AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS. + XVIII. _THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON_--_SIR HARRY HOTSPUR_--_AN + EDITOR'S TALES_--_CAESAR_. + XIX. _RALPH THE HEIR_--_THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS_--_LADY + ANNA_--_AUSTRALIA_. + XX. _THE WAY WE LIVE NOW_ AND _THE PRIME MINISTER_--CONCLUSION. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said that +he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his death, +containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much of +it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from me, +given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir of my +life. My intention is that they shall be published after my death, +and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your discretion +whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also to your +discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. But I +would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. If you +wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in the shape of +a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there is a postscript: +"The publication, if made at all, should be effected as soon as +possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of December, +1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass the +book through the press conformably to the above instructions. I have +placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, and I +do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions of any +other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my father's +own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. I have +suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount to two +printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any of his +own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +I see from my father's manuscript, and from his papers, that the +first two chapters of this memoir were written in the latter part of +1875, that he began the third chapter early in January, 1876, and +that he finished the record before the middle of April in that year. +I state this, though there are indications in the book by which it +might be seen at what time the memoir was being written. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give in +a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he completed +his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighbourhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his life: +he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed him not +to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke willingly on +hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up his favourite +amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there should be an end +of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South Africa, and returned +early in the following year with a book on the colony already +written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of a party of ladies and +gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland in the "Mastiff," one of +Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey lasted altogether sixteen +days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. Burns were the hospitable +entertainers. When my father returned, he wrote a short account of +_How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland_. The book was printed, but was +intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. He +would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself less +than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was always +done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were published +after the last included in the list which he himself has given at the +end of the second volume:-- + + + An Eye for an Eye, 1879 + Cousin Henry, 1879 + Thackeray, 1879 + The Duke's Children, 1880 + Life of Cicero, 1880 + Ayala's Angel, 1881 + Doctor Wortle's School, 1881 + Frau Frohmann and other Stories, 1882 + Lord Palmerston, 1882 + The Fixed Period, 1882 + Kept in the Dark, 1882 + Marion Fay, 1882 + Mr. Scarborough's Family, 1883 + + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called _The Landleaguers_, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called _An Old Man's Love_, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighbourhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved his +asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen months. +In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but from this +journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested in, and was +very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the country. Few +men knew Ireland better than he did. He had lived there for sixteen +years, and his Post Office work had taken him into every part of +the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his last novel, _The +Landleaguers_, which, as stated above, was unfinished when he died. +This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not rid his mind +of the fact that he had a story already in the course of publication, +but which he had not yet completed. In no other case, except _Framley +Parsonage_, did my father publish even the first number of any novel +before he had fully completed the whole tale. + +On the evening of the 3d of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His mind +also had failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return to +him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became rarer, +but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind was sound +or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of December +following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire to +supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the main +incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In what I +have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +HENRY M. TROLLOPE. +September, 1883. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MY EDUCATION. +1815-1834. + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, or +any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there that +has done none? But this I protest;--that nothing that I say shall be +untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give to myself, +or others, honour which I do not believe to have been fairly won. + +My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young gentleman +could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of poverty and +gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an utter want on +my own part of that juvenile manhood which enables some boys to hold +up their heads even among the distresses which such a position is +sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and of +those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny and of +ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New College, and +Winchester was the destination of my brothers and myself; but as he +had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as the school offered +an education almost gratuitous to children living in the parish, he, +with a certain aptitude to do things differently from others, which +accompanied him throughout his life, determined to use that august +seminary as a "t'other school" for Winchester, and sent three of +us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. My father at +this time was a Chancery barrister practising in London, occupying +dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old Square, Lincoln's +Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion did become absolutely +suicidal.[1] He was, as I have been informed by those quite competent +to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, but plagued +with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from him. In his +early days he was a man of some small fortune and of higher hopes. +These stood so high at the time of my birth, that he was felt to be +entitled to a country house, as well as to that in Keppel Street; and +in order that he might build such a residence, he took the farm. This +place he called Julians, and the land runs up to the foot of the hill +on which the school and church stand,--on the side towards London. +Things there went much against him; the farm was ruinous, and I +remember that we all regarded the Lord Northwick of those days as a +cormorant who was eating us up. My father's clients deserted him. He +purchased various dark gloomy chambers in and about Chancery Lane, +and his purchases always went wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, +an old uncle, whose heir he was to have been, married and had a +family! The house in London was let; and also the house he built at +Harrow, from which he descended to a farmhouse on the land, which +I have endeavoured to make known to some readers under the name of +Orley Farm. This place, just as it was when we lived there, is to +be seen in the frontispiece to the first edition of that novel, +having had the good fortune to be delineated by no less a pencil than +that of John Millais. + + [Footnote 1: A pupil of his destroyed himself in the rooms.] + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow School +from the bigger house, and may probably have been received among the +aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a day-boarder at +Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at any rate as other +day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well treated, but I +doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy which I endured. I +was only seven, and I think that boys at seven are now spared among +their more considerate seniors. I was never spared; and was not even +allowed to run to and fro between our house and the school without a +daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance was against me. I remember +well, when I was still the junior boy in the school, Dr. Butler, +the head-master, stopping me in the street, and asking me, with all +the clouds of Jove upon his brow and all the thunder in his voice, +whether it was possible that Harrow School was disgraced by so +disreputably dirty a little boy as I! Oh, what I felt at that +moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not doubt that I was +dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must have known me had he +seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was in the habit of flogging +me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur Drury. +This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the advice +of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my father's +friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that my +juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the way +of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other boys +than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. Even +here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one occasion, +four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators of some +nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even guess; but +I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged to have +been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out a sermon, +and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the whole of one +term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were not allowed to +visit the playground till the sermon was finished. Mine was only +done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, when she saw us, +shook her head with pitying horror. There were ever so many other +punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke my heart, knowing +myself to be innocent, and suffering also under the almost equally +painful feeling that the other three--no doubt wicked boys--were the +curled darlings of the school, who would never have selected me to +share their wickedness with them. I contrived to learn, from words +that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned me because I, having +come from a public school, might be supposed to be the leader of +wickedness! On the first day of the next term he whispered to me +half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. With all a stupid boy's +slowness, I said nothing; and he had not the courage to carry +reparation further. All that was fifty years ago, and it burns me now +as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered curs those boys must +have been not to have told the truth!--at any rate as far as I was +concerned. I remember their names well, and almost wish to write them +here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and the +younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost his +chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions of my +father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man was +never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the prize +which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our reach. My +eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went to Oxford, +taking three exhibitions from the school, though he lost the great +glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well known to the +public as a writer in connection with all Italian subjects. He is +still living as I now write. But my other brother died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in this +case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming should be +a business in which he might make money without any special education +or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is the one in which an +accurate knowledge of what things should be done, and the best manner +of doing them, is most necessary. And it is one also for success in +which a sufficient capital is indispensable. He had no knowledge, +and, when he took this second farm, no capital. This was the last +step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester, my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that he had +an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little goods, +such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out to the +still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an opening +might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar or +extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money came +I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought, and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval of +some year and a half during which he and I were at Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more of +brotherhood. But in those school-days he was, of all my foes, the +worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which submits, +or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger boys from the +elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher and ruler, he +had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well how he used to +exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. Hang a little boy +for stealing apples, he used to say, and other little boys will not +steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded elsewhere, but he +stuck to it with conservative energy. The result was that, as a part +of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big stick. That such +thrashings should have been possible at a school as a continual part +of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a very ill condition of +school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be done +with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering about +among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare out of +a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It was not that +I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course knew +that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of boys to +be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other they do +usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I suffered +horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend to whom I +could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and ugly, and, I +have no doubt, skulked about in a most unattractive manner. Of course +I was ill-dressed and dirty. But, ah! how well I remember all the +agonies of my young heart; how I considered whether I should always +be alone; whether I could not find my way up to the top of that +college tower, and from thence put an end to everything? And a worse +thing came than the stoppage of the supplies from the shopkeepers. +Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, which we called +battels, and which was advanced to us out of the pocket of the +second master. On one awful day the second master announced to me +that my battels would be stopped. He told me the reason,--the battels +for the last half-year had not been repaid; and he urged his own +unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a shilling a week +would not have been much,--even though pocket-money from other +sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all knew it! Every +now and again, perhaps three or four times in a half-year, these +weekly shillings were given to certain servants of the college, in +payment, it may be presumed, for some extra services. And now, when +it came to the turn of any servant, he received sixty-nine shillings +instead of seventy, and the cause of the defalcation was explained +to him. I never saw one of those servants without feeling that I had +picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed to +have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, have +gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional number +of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there would +have been no funds for my maintenance at the University till I should +have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's endowment, and my +career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm he had +hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three miles from +Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from this house I was +again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let those who know what +is the usual appearance and what the usual appurtenances of a boy at +such a school, consider what must have been my condition among them, +with a daily walk of twelve miles through the lanes, added to the +other little troubles and labours of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, walking +to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst period of +my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age at which I +could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion from all social +intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was despised by all my +companions. The farmhouse was not only no more than a farmhouse, but +was one of those farmhouses which seem always to be in danger of +falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it crept downwards from +house to stables, from stables to barns, from barns to cowsheds, and +from cowsheds to dung-heaps, one could hardly tell where one began +and the other ended! There was a parlour in which my father lived, +shut up among big books; but I passed my most jocund hours in the +kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's daughter. The farm +kitchen might be very well through the evening, when the horrors of +the school were over; but it all added to the cruelty of the days. +A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk at Oxford, has not +pleasant days, or used not to have them half a century ago; but his +position was recognised, and the misery was measured. I was a sizar +at a fashionable school, a condition never premeditated. What right +had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from a dunghill, to sit next +to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, next to the sons of big +tradesmen who had made their ten thousand a-year? The indignities I +endured are not to be described. As I look back it seems to me that +all hands were turned against me,--those of masters as well as boys. +I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor did I learn anything,--for I +was taught nothing. The only expense, except that of books, to which +a house-boarder was then subject, was the fee to a tutor, amounting, +I think, to ten guineas. My tutor took me without the fee; but when +I heard him declare the fact in the pupil-room before the boys, +I hardly felt grateful for the charity. I was never a coward, and +cared for a thrashing as little as any boy, but one cannot make a +stand against the acerbities of three hundred tyrants without a +moral courage of which at that time I possessed none. I know that I +skulked, and was odious to the eyes of those I admired and envied. At +last I was driven to rebellion, and there came a great fight,--at the +end of which my opponent had to be taken home for a while. If these +words be ever printed, I trust that some schoolfellow of those days +may still be left alive who will be able to say that, in claiming +this solitary glory of my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to get +me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hay-field on +holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much profit. +My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years of his +life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering agony +from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when suffering. He +had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopaedia Ecclesiastica, as +he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment of his death. It +was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical terms, including the +denominations of every fraternity of monks and every convent of nuns, +with all their orders and subdivisions. Under crushing disadvantages, +with few or no books of reference, with immediate access to no +library, he worked at his most ungrateful task with unflagging +industry. When he died, three numbers out of eight had been published +by subscription; and are now, I fear, unknown, and buried in the +midst of that huge pile of futile literature, the building up of +which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in the +hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. From +my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to take +my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the morning, +and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat the Greek +alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold my head +inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, he might +be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or dropping his +shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for the education of +his children, though I think none ever knew less how to go about the +work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, he never recognised the +need. He allowed himself no distraction, and did not seem to think it +was necessary to a child. I cannot bethink me of aught that he ever +did for my gratification; but for my welfare,--for the welfare of +us all,--he was willing to make any sacrifice. At this time, in the +farmhouse at Harrow Weald, he could not give his time to teach me, +for every hour that he was not in the fields was devoted to his monks +and nuns; but he would require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and +Gradus before me. As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed +determination to make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon +me, or of the hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great +energy in after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly +altered, or whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never +punished me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but +in passion he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with +the great folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were +the two first volumes of Cooper's novel, called _The Prairie_, a +relic--probably a dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's +library. Other books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many +dozen times I read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a walk +along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather fine, +and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same lanes +four times a-day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with all the +accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I might have +been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance by my +boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I was so +known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler when I +was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have said the +same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his life was +able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became Dean of +Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called Orley +Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at Harrow Weald. +Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved circumstances. The +three miles became half a mile, and probably some salutary changes +were made in my wardrobe. My mother and my sisters, too, were +there. And a great element of happiness was added to us all in the +affectionate and life-enduring friendship of the family of our close +neighbour, Colonel Grant. But I was never able to overcome--or even +to attempt to overcome--the absolute isolation of my school position. +Of the cricket-ground or racket-court I was allowed to know nothing. +And yet I longed for these things with an exceeding longing. I +coveted popularity with a covetousness that was almost mean. It +seemed to me that there would be an Elysium in the intimacy of those +very boys whom I was bound to hate because they hated me. Something +of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life. +Not that I have ever shunned to speak of them as openly as I am +writing now, but that when I have been claimed as schoolfellow by +some of those many hundreds who were with me either at Harrow or at +Winchester, I have felt that I had no right to talk of things from +most of which I was kept in estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry to +Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship that +would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. There +were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried for a +sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile attempt +for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then the +idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate it +was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance only +as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt and +ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt had +been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very little +attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember any lessons +either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I certainly was +not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, but I do assert +that I have no recollection of other tuition except that in the dead +languages. At the school at Sunbury there was certainly a writing +master and a French master. The latter was an extra, and I never had +extras. I suppose I must have been in the writing master's class, but +though I can call to mind the man, I cannot call to mind his ferule. +It was by their ferules that I always knew them, and they me. I feel +convinced in my mind that I have been flogged oftener than any human +being alive. It was just possible to obtain five scourgings in one +day at Winchester, and I have often boasted that I obtained them all. +Looking back over half a century, I am not quite sure whether the +boast is true; but if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such waste +of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I read and +enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself understood +in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have acquired +since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork of the +language which will in the process of years make its way slowly, even +through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition in which I do +not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left Harrow I was +nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, I think, the +seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation upwards. I bear +in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used to be showered +about; but I never got a prize. From the first to the last there was +nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except the way in which I +licked the boy who had to be taken home to be cured. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MY MOTHER. + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of all +the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly because +filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent who made +for herself a considerable name in the literature of her day, and +partly because there were circumstances in her career well worthy +of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William Milton, vicar +of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been a fellow of New +College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she married my father. +Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters from her to him fell +into my hand in a very singular way, having been found in the house +of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, sent them to me. They were +then about sixty years old, and had been written some before and some +after her marriage, over the space of perhaps a year. In no novel +of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have I seen a correspondence at +the same time so sweet, so graceful, and so well expressed. But the +marvel of these letters was in the strange difference they bore to +the love-letters of the present day. They are, all of them, on square +paper, folded and sealed, and addressed to my father on circuit; but +the language in each, though it almost borders on the romantic, is +beautifully chosen, and fit, without change of a syllable, for the +most critical eye. What girl now studies the words with which she +shall address her lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? +She dearly likes a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire +familiarity with a new and strange being. There is something in that, +too, pleasant to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life +does not conduce to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my +mother was a writer of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic +feeling clung to her to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family.[2] My married +sister added to the number by one little anonymous high church story, +called _Chollerton_. + + [Footnote 2: The family of Estienne, the great French printers + of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were + at least nine or ten, did more perhaps for the production of + literature than any other family. But they, though they edited, + and not unfrequently translated the works which they published, + were not authors in the ordinary sense.] + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went to +America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the world. +She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal _role_, and +professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from the +wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. An +Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from the +clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, or a +French _proletaire_ with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in every +way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so thorough, +and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she generally +got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it must be +acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her books, +and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best were Dante +and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such ladies +were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept over the +persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized with +avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown Scott, +and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. With the +literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets of the +past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. Her +life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was easy, +luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own aspirations +sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary people, of +whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; but till long +after middle life she never herself wrote a line for publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish my +brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional object +of breaking up her English home without pleading broken fortunes +to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, she built a +bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have been embarked +in that speculation. It could not have been much, and I think that +others also must have suffered. But she looked about her, at her +American cousins, and resolved to write a book about them. This book +she brought back with her in 1831, and published it early in 1832. +When she did this she was already fifty. When doing this she was +aware that unless she could so succeed in making money, there was +no money for any of the family. She had never before earned a +shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable sum from the +publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two sums of L400 +each within a few months; and from that moment till nearly the time +of her death, at any rate for more than twenty years, she was in the +receipt of a considerable income from her writings. It was a late age +at which to begin such a career. + +_The Domestic Manners of the Americans_ was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. What +though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they put +their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? The +Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she told them +so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so pretty in +a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes were very +bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the family from +ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book on +Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which I have +called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate comforts. Of +the mixture of joviality and industry which formed her character, it +is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. The industry was a +thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary that any one who +lived with her should see it. She was at her table at four in the +morning, and had finished her work before the world had begun to be +aroused. But the joviality was all for others. She could dance with +other people's legs, eat and drink with other people's palates, be +proud with the lustre of other people's finery. Every mother can do +that for her own daughters; but she could do it for any girl whose +look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even when she was at work, +the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure to her. She had much, +very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came hard to her, so much being +required,--for she was extravagant, and liked to have money to spend; +but of all people I have known she was the most joyous, or, at any +rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, during +which I was still at the school, and at the end of which I was nearly +nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My father, who, when +he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and nuns, still kept a +horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as it had been decided +that I should leave the school then, instead of remaining, as had +been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned very early in the +morning, to drive him up to London. He had been ill, and must still +have been very ill indeed when he submitted to be driven by any one. +It was not till we had started that he told me that I was to put him +on board the Ostend boat. This I did, driving him through the city +down to the docks. It was not within his nature to be communicative, +and to the last he never told me why he was going to Ostend. +Something of a general flitting abroad I had heard before, but why he +should have flown the first, and flown so suddenly, I did not in the +least know till I returned. When I got back with the gig, the house +and furniture were all in the charge of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +harness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The little +piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand and carried +through successfully was of no special service to any of us. I +drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage to the +ironmonger for L17, the exact sum which he claimed as being due to +himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed to think +that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy that the +ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, for +in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it is +now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, and +a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and things +like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through a gap +between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend Colonel +Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the Grant +girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To such +forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and between us +we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, amidst the +anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal violence, of +the men in charge of the property. I still own a few books that were +thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all +women, his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and +established ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of +Bruges. At this time, and till my father's death, everything was +done with money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the +house,--this being the third that she had put in order since she +came back from America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother Henry +had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. And though +as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began to feel +that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My father was +broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could sit at his table +he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My elder sister and I +were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate hanger-on, that most +hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy of nineteen, without any idea +of a career, or a profession, or a trade. As well as I can remember +I was fairly happy, for there were pretty girls at Bruges with whom +I could fancy that I was in love; and I had been removed from the +real misery of school. But as to my future life I had not even an +aspiration. Now and again there would arise a feeling that it was +hard upon my mother that she should have to do so much for us, that +we should be idle while she was forced to work so constantly; but we +should probably have thought more of that had she not taken to work +as though it were the recognised condition of life for an old lady of +fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity for +peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said so, and +we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's most +visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick men in +the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The novels went +on, of course. We had already learned to know that they would be +forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were forthcoming. +The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal places in my +mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many circumstances; +but I doubt much whether I could write one when my whole heart was by +the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing herself into two +parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear from the troubles of +the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, I never saw equalled. I +do not think that the writing of a novel is the most difficult task +which a man may be called upon to do; but it is a task that may be +supposed to demand a spirit fairly at ease. The work of doing it with +a troubled spirit killed Sir Walter Scott. My mother went through it +unscathed in strength, though she performed all the work of day-nurse +and night-nurse to a sick household;--for there were soon three of +them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and French, +of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year was allowed +me, and in order that it might be accomplished without expense, I +undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school then kept by +William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of the masters at +Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is now, after an +interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating as clergyman at +that place.[3] To Brussels I went, and my heart still sinks within +me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to me the tuition +of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went there to learn +French, and that their parents were not particular as to their +classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions I was sent +to take the school out for a walk; but that after the second attempt +Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not stand any +further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind any learning +by me of other languages; but as I only remained in that position for +six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not been as yet commenced. +At the end of the six weeks a letter reached me, offering me a +clerkship in the General Post Office, and I accepted it. Among my +mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. Freeling, the wife of +Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis Freeling, then ruled the +Post Office. She had heard of my desolate position, and had begged +from her father-in-law the offer of a berth in his own office. + + [Footnote 3: He died two years after these words were written.] + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on the +balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the heart +should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was now +ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, though I +had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any one. And my +father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not know it. And my +mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to England, thinking +that the vicinity of so much sickness might be injurious to her. All +this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in the spring of which +year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother was left alone in +a big house outside the town, with two Belgian women-servants, to +nurse these dying patients--the patients being her husband and +children--and to write novels for the sustenance of the family! +It was about this period of her career that her best novels were +written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average of +men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to fair +fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to have had +everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with him. The touch +of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked in one hopeless +enterprise after another, spending on each all the money he could at +the time command. But the worse curse to him of all was a temper so +irritable that even those whom he loved the best could not endure it. +We were all estranged from him, and yet I believe that he would have +given his heart's blood for any of us. His life as I knew it was one +long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished a +small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the London +Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place with +little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while she herself +was at work every morning long before others had left their beds. But +she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She went up to London, +where she again took and furnished a house, from which my remaining +sister was married and carried away into Cumberland. My mother soon +followed her, and on this occasion did more than take a house. She +bought a bit of land,--a field of three acres near the town,--and +built a residence for herself. This, I think, was in 1841, and she +had thus established and re-established herself six times in ten +years. But in Cumberland she found the climate too severe, and in +1844 she moved herself to Florence, where she remained till her death +in 1863. She continued writing up to 1856, when she was seventy-six +years old,--and had at that time produced 114 volumes, of which the +first was not written till she was fifty. Her career offers great +encouragement to those who have not begun early in life, but are +still ambitious to do something before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, and +a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted nor +accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and even +facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE. +1834-1841. + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's school +at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London Post +Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my father +and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household never was +held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who would sit +up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing novels the +while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them to die under. +Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know where the roof +would have been found. It is now more than forty years ago, and +looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell the story, +though it be the story of my own father and mother, of my own brother +and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done some scene of +intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed full of pathos. +I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition of my father's +life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the strain which my +mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go and leave them. +There was something that comforted me in the idea that I need no +longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon proved. My salary +was to be L90 a year, and on that I was to live in London, keep up my +character as a gentleman, and be happy. That I should have thought +this possible at the age of nineteen, and should have been delighted +at being able to make the attempt, does not surprise me now; but that +others should have thought it possible, friends who knew something +of the world, does astonish me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, +or might do so even in these days, who was properly looked after and +kept under control,--on whose behalf some law of life had been laid +down. Let him pay so much a week for his board and lodging, so much +for his clothes, so much for his washing, and then let him understand +that he has--shall we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and +omnibuses. Any one making the calculation will find the sixpence +far too much. No such calculation was made for me or by me. It was +supposed that a sufficient income had been secured to me, and that +I should live upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the L90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at the +Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future labours +in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the secretary, +but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at first by a +new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest son Henry +Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him I was examined +as to my fitness. The story of that examination is given accurately +in one of the opening chapters of a novel written by me, called _The +Three Clerks_. If any reader of this memoir would refer to that +chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have been admitted +into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader will learn how +Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the Secretary's office +of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked to copy some lines +from the _Times_ newspaper with an old quill pen, and at once made a +series of blots and false spellings. "That won't do, you know," said +Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. Clayton, who was my friend, +urged that I was nervous, and asked that I might be allowed to do a +bit of writing at home and bring it as a sample on the next day. I +was then asked whether I was a proficient in arithmetic. What could +I say? I had never learned the multiplication table, and had no more +idea of the rule of three than of conic sections. "I know a little +of it," I said humbly, whereupon I was sternly assured that on the +morrow, should I succeed in showing that my handwriting was all that +it ought to be, I should be examined as to that little of arithmetic. +If that little should not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge +of all the ordinary rules, together with practised and quick skill, +my career in life could not be made at the Post Office. Going down +the main stairs of the building,--stairs which have I believe been +now pulled down to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton +Freeling told me not to be too downhearted. I was myself inclined +to think that I had better go back to the school in Brussels. But +nevertheless I went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder +brother made a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. +With a faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. +With my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should +come to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in St. +Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the comers. +I object to this, that at present there exists no known mode of +learning who is best, and that the method employed has no tendency +to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide who among a +certain number of lads will best answer a string of questions, for +the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, who have sprung +up for the purpose since this fashion of election has been adopted. +When it is decided in a family that a boy shall "try the Civil +Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of cramming. +But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever with +education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was before +for the future work of his life. But his very success fills him with +false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far unfits him. +And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that no one is in +truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, or even for +the character of the youth. The responsibility was perhaps slight +before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say that, +had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost a valuable +public servant. This is a statement that will not, I think, be denied +by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything of my work. +Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of the small +acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be schools in +which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, or French +should be learned. But all that could be ascertained without the +perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those who +have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. There +had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it had +become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence for +the purchase of political support. A member of the House of Commons, +holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships to give away +in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them among those +who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing pleasant to the +distributer of patronage. Do away with the system altogether, and +he would have as much chance of support as another. He bartered +his patronage only because another did so also. The beggings, +the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were simply +troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed to rid +themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their hands are +the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do doubt whether +the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There are +places in life which can hardly be well filled except by "Gentlemen." +The word is one the use of which almost subjects one to ignominy. If +I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a bishop, I am met with +a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." Were I to make such an +assertion with reference to the House of Commons, nothing that I ever +said again would receive the slightest attention. A man in public +life could not do himself a greater injury than by saying in public +that the commissions in the army or navy, or berths in the Civil +Service, should be given exclusively to gentlemen. He would be defied +to define the term,--and would fail should he attempt to do so. But +he would know what he meant, and so very probably would they who +defied him. It may be that the son of the butcher of the village +shall become as well fitted for employments requiring gentle culture +as the son of the parson. Such is often the case. When such is the +case, no one has been more prone to give the butcher's son all the +welcome he has merited than I myself; but the chances are greatly +in favour of the parson's son. The gates of the one class should be +open to the other; but neither to the one class nor to the other can +good be done by declaring that there are no gates, no barrier, no +difference. The system of competitive examination is, I think, based +on a supposition that there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling I +had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. I could +speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as elsewhere +that I never acquired the power of really talking French. I have been +able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but never got much +beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences I was completely +ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My spelling was +imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination would have +been possible on which I could have gone through an examination +otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew more than the +average of young men of the same rank who began life at nineteen. +I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets of +all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably of +historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate idea +of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the names +of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, and +all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, but +one that had not been acquired without other matter which was more +useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could talk +about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to me. I had +already made up my mind that _Pride and Prejudice_ was the best novel +in the English language,--a palm which I only partially withdrew +after a second reading of _Ivanhoe_, and did not completely bestow +elsewhere till _Esmond_ was written. And though I would occasionally +break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If I had a thing +to say, I could so say it in written words that the readers should +know what I meant,--a power which is by no means at the command of +all those who come out from these competitive examinations with +triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, I had commenced the +dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this I maintained for +ten years. The volumes remained in my possession unregarded--never +looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, with many blushes, +destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, ignorance, indiscretion, +idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But they had habituated me to +the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught me how to express myself +with facility. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from still +earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay when I +thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, must have +tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a child, I +was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking of my +school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not play with +me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays within myself. +Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it has always been. +Study was not my bent, and I could not please myself by being all +idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always going about with some +castle in the air firmly built within my mind. Nor were these efforts +in architecture spasmodic, or subject to constant change from day +to day. For weeks, for months, if I remember rightly, from year to +year, I would carry on the same tale, binding myself down to certain +laws, to certain proportions, and proprieties, and unities. Nothing +impossible was ever introduced,--nor even anything which, from +outward circumstances, would seem to be violently improbable. +I myself was of course my own hero. Such is a necessity of +castle-building. But I never became a king, or a duke,--much less +when my height and personal appearance were fixed could I be an +Antinous, or six feet high. I never was a learned man, nor even a +philosopher. But I was a very clever person, and beautiful young +women used to be fond of me. And I strove to be kind of heart, and +open of hand, and noble in thought, despising mean things; and +altogether I was a very much better fellow than I have ever succeeded +in being since. This had been the occupation of my life for six or +seven years before I went to the Post Office, and was by no means +abandoned when I commenced my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be +a more dangerous mental practice; but I have often doubted whether, +had it not been my practice, I should ever have written a novel. I +learned in this way to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to +dwell on a work created by my own imagination, and to live in a world +altogether outside the world of my own material life. In after years +I have done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded +the hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own +identity aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch which +was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved a +character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black sheep +by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very good public +servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if I did not +take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour in my early +days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton Freeling,--who, +as I write this, is still living, and who, with tears in her eyes, +besought me to think of my mother. That was during the life of Sir +Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a little more than +twelve months after I joined the office. And yet the old man showed +me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing to me with his own +hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of me +as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost feel, +without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my anguish +when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful work. I did +struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing which was not +easy without any struggling--but to show that I was willing to do it. +My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, and was not to be got rid +of by any efforts within my power. I do admit that I was irregular. +It was not considered to be much in my favour that I could write +letters--which was mainly the work of our office--rapidly, correctly, +and to the purpose. The man who came at ten, and who was always still +at his desk at half-past four, was preferred before me, though when +at his desk he might be less efficient. Such preference was no doubt +proper; but, with a little encouragement, I also would have been +punctual. I got credit for nothing, and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one of +our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all night. +Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and play _ecarte_ +for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways are possible +now in our public offices. And here we used to have suppers and +card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much smoking of +tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a whole bevy of +clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was to make up and +receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that they worked later +or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but there was supposed to +be something special in foreign letters, which required that the men +who handled them should have minds undistracted by the outer world. +Their salaries, too, were higher than those of their more homely +brethren; and they paid nothing for their lodgings. Consequently +there was a somewhat fast set in those apartments, given to cards and +to tobacco, who drank spirits and water in preference to tea. I was +not one of them, but was a good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance of +my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on the +secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was not +marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had not been +moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was gone. In the +meantime I had returned to the room, again in the performance of some +duty. When the letter was missed I was sent for, and there I found +the Colonel much moved about his letter, and a certain chief clerk, +who, with a long face, was making suggestions as to the probable fate +of the money. "The letter has been taken," said the Colonel, turning +to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has been nobody in the room but +you and I." As he spoke, he thundered his fist down upon the table. +"Then," said I, "by G----! you have taken it." And I also thundered +my fist down;--but, accidentally, not upon the table. There was there +a standing movable desk, at which, I presume, it was the Colonel's +habit to write, and on this movable desk was a large bottle full of +ink. My fist unfortunately came on the desk, and the ink at once flew +up, covering the Colonel's face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight +to see that senior clerk, as he seized a quire of blotting-paper, and +rushed to the aid of his superior officer, striving to mop up the +ink; and a sight also to see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right +out through the blotting-paper at that senior clerk's unoffending +stomach. At that moment there came in the Colonel's private +secretary, with the letter and the money, and I was desired to go +back to my own room. This was an incident not much in my favour, +though I do not know that it did me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had taken +it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very foolish +young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. I need +not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise than by +protesting that no young man in such a position was ever much less to +blame than I had been in this. The invitation had come from her, and +I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided negative; but I had left +the house within half an hour, going away without my dinner, and had +never returned to it. Then there was a correspondence,--if that can +be called a correspondence in which all the letters came from one +side. At last the mother appeared at the Post Office. My hair almost +stands on my head now as I remember the figure of the woman walking +into the big room in which I sat with six or seven other clerks, +having a large basket on her arm and an immense bonnet on her head. +The messenger had vainly endeavoured to persuade her to remain in the +ante-room. She followed the man in, and walking up the centre of the +room, addressed me in a loud voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you +going to marry my daughter?" We have all had our worst moments, and +that was one of my worst. I lived through it, however, and did not +marry the young lady. These little incidents were all against me in +the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely at +this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state of +things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I think, +L12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. With that +man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, I formed +a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. In cash I once +received from him L4. For that and for the original amount of the +tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated renewals, I paid +ultimately something over L200. That is so common a story as to be +hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of this man was that he +became so attached to me as to visit me every day at my office. For a +long period he found it to be worth his while to walk up those stone +steps daily, and come and stand behind my chair, whispering to me +always the same words: "Now I wish you would be punctual. If you only +would be punctual, I should like you to have anything you want." He +was a little, clean, old man, who always wore a high starched white +cravat, inside which he had a habit of twisting his chin as he +uttered his caution. When I remember the constant persistency of his +visits, I cannot but feel that he was paid very badly for his time +and trouble. Those visits were very terrible, and can have hardly +been of service to me in the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of the +Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion when +I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty years +old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven in the +evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think Saxony, +but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night mails sent +out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, this was +a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see it. But +preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit of the +office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion we were +taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore gave the +orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, walking +backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great peril as +I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite satisfied +with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most important +duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, no doubt, +were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They had come +and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure in two +glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two barons +consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result of that +conversation one of them handed me half-a-crown! That also was a bad +moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon L90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was L140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I asked +her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But who in +such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of it? The +debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now how I could +have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such a burden of +duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny documents, of +which I never understood anything, were common attendants on me. And +yet I do not remember that I was ever locked up, though I think I was +twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some one paid for me. And now, +looking back at it, I have to ask myself whether my youth was very +wicked. I did no good in it; but was there fair ground for expecting +good from me? When I reached London no mode of life was prepared +for me,--no advice even given to me. I went into lodgings, and then +had to dispose of my time. I belonged to no club, and knew very few +friends who would receive me into their houses. In such a condition +of life a young man should no doubt go home after his work, and spend +the long hours of the evening in reading good books and drinking tea. +A lad brought up by strict parents, and without having had even a +view of gayer things, might perhaps do so. I had passed all my life +at public schools, where I had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed +them. Towards the good books and tea no training had been given me. +There was no house in which I could habitually see a lady's face and +hear a lady's voice. No allurement to decent respectability came in +my way. It seems to me that in such circumstances the temptations of +loose life will almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course +if the mind be strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together +of sufficiently stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But +such minds and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation +at any rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being +turned loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, +of all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is +sent to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept +from danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood +to anticipate pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding +circumstances. I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had +been among those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And +I had filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. And now, except +during official hours, I was entirely without control,--without the +influences of any decent household around me. I have said something +of the comedy of such life, but it certainly had its tragic aspect. +Turning it all over in my own mind, as I have constantly done in +after years, the tragedy has always been uppermost. And so it was as +the time was passing. Could there be any escape from such dirt? I +would ask myself; and I always answered that there was no escape. +The mode of life was itself wretched. I hated the office. I hated +my work. More than all I hated my idleness. I had often told myself +since I left school that the only career in life within my reach was +that of an author, and the only mode of authorship open to me that of +a writer of novels. In the journal which I read and destroyed a few +years since, I found the matter argued out before I had been in the +Post Office two years. Parliament was out of the question. I had not +means to go to the Bar. In official life, such as that to which I +had been introduced, there did not seem to be any opening for real +success. Pens and paper I could command. Poetry I did not believe to +be within my grasp. The drama, too, which I would fain have chosen, +I believed to be above me. For history, biography, or essay writing I +had not sufficient erudition. But I thought it possible that I might +write a novel. I had resolved very early that in that shape must the +attempt be made. But the months and years ran on, and no attempt was +made. And yet no day was passed without thoughts of attempting, and a +mental acknowledgment of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader +will not understand the agony of remorse produced by such a condition +of mind? The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in +the morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when +the evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_, because he +spoke sneeringly of _Lycidas_. That was Northumberland Street by the +Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment my +room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must have +almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my constant +inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast to +pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I had +no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham Road I +had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post Office, and +almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings of money, +sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew of +my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this week. +I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those days I +lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he had a home +in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury which I endured. +For more than fifty years he and I have been close friends. And then +there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in life will not permit +me to give his full name, but whom I dearly loved. He had been +at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places had fallen into +trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps I had better say +usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was unfortunate in all +things, and died some years ago in poverty. He was most perverse; +bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable to restrain himself in +anything, but yet with a conscience that was always stinging him; a +loving friend, though very quarrelsome; and, perhaps, of all men I +have known, the most humorous. And he was entirely unconscious of his +own humour. He did not know that he could so handle all matters as to +create infinite amusement out of them. + +Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point at which +life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience +to which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to +London. Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but +Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were +the happiest hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least +innocent, although we were frequently in peril from the village +authorities whom we outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to +spend above five shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected +ruler of the hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our +statutes. I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- +enacted an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got +ourselves a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached +the lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by a +pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled through +the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! But the +fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun as told by +me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for many +years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married my +sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was stationed +as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more than forty +years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House of Lords, +who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who assisted +us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized by the +Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and dearest +friends of my life; and I can thank God that three of them are still +alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of the +Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always fearing +that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of escape. There +had latterly been created in the service a new body of officers +called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time seven surveyors +in England, two in Scotland, and three in Ireland. To each of these +officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose duty it was to +travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. There had been +much doubt among the young men in the office whether they should +or should not apply for these places. The emoluments were good and +the work alluring; but there was at first supposed to be something +derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that the first +surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his beer; and +that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen to the wash. +There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be worse than +the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks were all +appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for anything, +nor would anything have been given me. But after a while there came +a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent there was +absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that none but a man +absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the west of Ireland. +When the report reached the London office I was the first to read +it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having debts on my head and +quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a full conviction that my +life was taking me downwards to the lowest pits. So I went to the +Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland if he would send me. He +was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. This happened in August, +1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My salary in Ireland was to +be but L100 a year; but I was to receive fifteen shillings a day for +every day that I was away from home, and sixpence for every mile that +I travelled. The same allowances were made in England; but at that +time travelling in Ireland was done at half the English prices. My +income in Ireland, after paying my expenses, became at once L400. +This was the first good fortune of my life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS. +1841-1848. + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but in truth I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature of +whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel certain +now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few friends who +had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were half afraid +of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to be loved,--of +a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No child, no boy, no +lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I had been so poor; and +so little able to bear poverty. But from the day on which I set my +foot in Ireland all these evils went away from me. Since that time +who has had a happier life than mine? Looking round upon all those +I know, I cannot put my hand upon one. But all is not over yet. And, +mindful of that, remembering how great is the agony of adversity, how +crushing the despondency of degradation, how susceptible I am myself +to the misery coming from contempt,--remembering also how quickly +good things may go and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to +hope, almost to pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going +well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy to +happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think it +must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life in +London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were at this +time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know my intention +in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted no one, except +a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I borrowed L200 to +help me out of England. He lent me the money, and looked upon me with +pitying eyes,--shaking his head. "After all you were right to go," he +said to me when I paid him the money a few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk +to an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of L100 a +year, at twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even +myself,--except that anything was right which would take me away from +the General Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were also +my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, seated +at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into books those +which others had written. I had never been called upon to do anything +I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that in Ireland I +was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, and that among +other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' accounts! But +as no other person asked a question as to my fitness for this work, +it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. I +went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered some +whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the punch +was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a country in +which there was not a single individual whom I had ever spoken to +or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into Connaught +and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never learned the +multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must in all probability +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I had +acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of which +I told in the _Tales of All Countries_, under the names of _The +O'Conors of Castle Conor_, and _Father Giles of Ballymoy_. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of each +is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were this the +place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had been sent +kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. I do not +think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never rode to +hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of the great +joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the sport, having +learned to love it with an affection which I cannot myself fathom +or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I have done, or +hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and natural +disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in reference +to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have often had to +travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that I might hunt the +next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good horseman. And I have +passed the greater part of my hunting life under the discipline of +the Civil Service. But it has been for more than thirty years a +duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have performed that duty with a +persistent energy. Nothing has ever been allowed to stand in the way +of hunting,--neither the writing of books, nor the work of the Post +Office, nor other pleasures. As regarded the Post Office, it soon +seemed to be understood that I was to hunt; and when my services +were re-transferred to England, no word of difficulty ever reached +me about it. I have written on very many subjects, and on most of +them with pleasure; but on no subject with such delight as that +on hunting. I have dragged it into many novels,--into too many no +doubt,--but I have always felt myself deprived of a legitimate joy +when the nature of the tale has not allowed me a hunting chapter. +Perhaps that which gave me the greatest delight was the description +of a run on a horse accidentally taken from another sportsman,--a +circumstance which occurred to my dear friend Charles Buxton, who +will be remembered as one of the members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I was +always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my past +life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even break +my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the working +classes very much more intelligent than those of England--economical, +and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift nature; but +extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He will count the +shillings in a pound much more accurately than an Englishman, and +will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth from each. But +they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound by the love of +truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally leaving the +country until 1859, and I had the means of studying their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon his +capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. They +adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor has +nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt with +were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. I +went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach me +the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course he was dismissed;--but he had been +a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty in the +matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and is +to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant and +to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole as confidence is engendered, and a feeling is +produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own and +does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and to me +always easy, as it required at its close no more than the writing +of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no keeping of +books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. I must tell +of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result I think it +was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in that +scorn which is so easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and +I drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle +of a snow-storm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open +jaunting-car, and was on my way from one little town to another, +the cause of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance +between the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water,--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then he +assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as that, +and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy and +water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. I +shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought up +the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I such +a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my wine, +and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept in his +arm-chair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was too +sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It was +absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning after +breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed then. He +shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable disgust,--almost +in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" I asked. "Anything +you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you want an excuse for +yourself. Here I sit all the day,--with nothing to do; and I like +writing letters." I did report that Mr. ---- was now quite satisfied +with the postal arrangement of his district; and I felt a soft regret +that I should have robbed my friend of his occupation. Perhaps he was +able to take up the Poor Law Board, or to attack the Excise. At the +Post Office nothing more was heard from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering-place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been paid +off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When I had +been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the 11th of +June, 1844;--and perhaps I ought to name that happy day as the +commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which I first +landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from my +mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of novels. +When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor had I +done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being then +twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first work. +This constant putting off of the day of work was a great sorrow to +me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had learned my +work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe in my hands; +and I held a position altogether the reverse of that in which I +was always trembling while I remained in London. But that did not +suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that there might be a +career before me, if I could only bring myself to begin the work. I +do not think I much doubted my own intellectual sufficiency for the +writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt was my own industry, +and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time is +not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found the +vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I had not as +yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a young man; +but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power to alter +the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties of +publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who could +fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before the +public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, how +little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! I had +already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort was +made after the following fashion. I was located at a little town +called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, where the +postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and my friend +John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As we were taking +a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned up through a +deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, till we came +to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of the most +melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it here, because +I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. We wandered +about the place, suggesting to each other causes for the misery we +saw there, and while I was still among the ruined walls and decayed +beams I fabricated the plot of _The Macdermots of Ballycloran_. As to +the plot itself, I do not know that I ever made one so good,--or, at +any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. I am aware that I broke down +in the telling, not having yet studied the art. Nevertheless, _The +Macdermots_ is a good novel, and worth reading by any one who wishes +to understand what Irish life was before the potato disease, the +famine, and the Encumbered Estates Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter or +two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was only +now and then that I found either time or energy for a few pages. I +commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written a volume +when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no special +interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place at Rotherham +in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a bank. We were not +very rich, having about L400 a year on which to live. Many people +would say that we were two fools to encounter such poverty together. +I can only reply that since that day I have never been without money +in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means of paying what I +owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to pass over our heads +before I received any payment for any literary work which afforded an +appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an Irish +circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he should +marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is expected +of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. I had given +offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, that +I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people have +spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages are now +nearly double what they were then. The Post Office at any rate is +paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week when it used +to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. Banks have sprung +up in almost every village. Rents are paid with more than English +punctuality. And the religious enmity between the classes, though it +is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I reached Banagher in 1841, +I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. I was informed next day +by a Protestant gentleman who had been very hospitable to me that I +must choose my party. I could not sit both at Protestant and Catholic +tables. Such a caution would now be impossible in any part of +Ireland. Home-rule no doubt is a nuisance,--and especially a nuisance +because the professors of the doctrine do not at all believe it +themselves. There are probably no other twenty men in England or +Ireland who would be so utterly dumfounded and prostrated were +Home-rule to have its way as the twenty Irish members who profess +to support it in the House of Commons. But it is not to be expected +that nuisances such as these should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule +is at any rate better and more easily managed than the rebellion at +the close of the last century; it is better than the treachery of +the Union; less troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less +dangerous than Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at +Ballingary; and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent +from O'Connell to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a +political disease, which we had no right to hope would be cured by +any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In July, +1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of my +writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I +am sure I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I +ever read a word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one +exception,--which shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never +consulted a friend as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I +have been doing. My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing +with her that it would be as well that she should not look at it +before she gave it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me +credit for the sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could +see in the faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who +were around me at the house in Cumberland--my mother, my sister, my +brother-in-law, and, I think, my brother--that they had not expected +me to come out as one of the family authors. There were three or +four in the field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd +that another should wish to add himself to the number. My father +had written much--those long ecclesiastical descriptions--quite +unsuccessfully. My mother had become one of the popular authors of +the day. My brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for +his work. My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was +at the time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her +name, and was called _Chollerton_. I could perceive that this attempt +of mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother however did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby of Mortimer Street was to publish the book. It was to +be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the profits. +Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such an +undertaking. I can with truth declare that I expected nothing. And +I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. I was +sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. I +never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was any +notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. I +never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on the +subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, in +duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I did +not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong me in +that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell fifty +copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I am +quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I may +say that after the publication I never said a word about the book, +even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published it, and +that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere with my +life or with my determination to make the best I could of the Post +Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had written a +novel. But I went on writing. _The Macdermots_ was published in 1847, +and _The Kellys and the O'Kellys_ followed in 1848. I changed my +publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second Irish story was +sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had long been my mother's +publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough Street, and I believe +created the business which is now carried on by Messrs. Hurst & +Blackett. He had previously been in partnership with Mr. Bentley in +New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement as before as to half +profits, and with precisely the same results. The book was not only +not read, but was never heard of,--at any rate in Ireland. And yet it +is a good Irish story, much inferior to _The Macdermots_ as to plot, +but superior in the mode of telling. Again I held my tongue, and not +only said nothing but felt nothing. Any success would, I think, have +carried me off my legs, but I was altogether prepared for failure. +Though I thoroughly enjoyed the writing of these books, I did not +imagine, when the time came for publishing them, that any one would +condescend to read them. + +But in reference to _The O'Kellys_ there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend of +mine to whom the book had been sent--as have all my books--wrote me +word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man high +in authority among the gods of the _Times_ newspaper, and that this +special god had almost promised that _The O'Kellys_ should be noticed +in that most influential of "organs." The information moved me very +much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it ever +appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate more honest, +if it had been produced by other means;--if for instance the writer +of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits of the +book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made up my mind +then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, I would have +no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would neither ask for +nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a critic for praise, +or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for censure. To this +rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and this rule I would +recommend to all young authors. What can be got by touting among the +critics is never worth the ignominy. The same may of course be said +of all things acquired by ignominious means. But in this matter it +is so easy to fall into the dirt. _Facilis descensus Averni._ There +seems to be but little fault in suggesting to a friend that a few +words in this or that journal would be of service. But any praise so +obtained must be an injustice to the public, for whose instruction, +and not for the sustentation of the author, such notices are +intended. And from such mild suggestion the descent to crawling at +the critic's feet, to the sending of presents, and at last to a +mutual understanding between critics and criticised, is only too +easy. Other evils follow, for the denouncing of which this is hardly +the place;--though I trust I may find such place before my work is +finished. I took no notice of my friend's letter, but I was not the +less careful in watching _The Times_. At last the review came,--a +real review in _The Times_. I learned it by heart, and can now +give, if not the words, the exact purport. "Of _The Kellys and the +O'Kellys_ we may say what the master said to his footman, when the +man complained of the constant supply of legs of mutton on the +kitchen table. 'Well, John, legs of mutton are good substantial +food;' and we may say also what John replied: 'Substantial, +sir;--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" That was the +review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, I +presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and that +he had incurred a loss of L63, 10s. 1-1/2d. The truth of the account +I never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom of the +advice given to me in the following letter, though I never thought +of obeying it-- + + + Great Marlborough Street, + November 11, 1848. + + MY DEAR SIR.--I am sorry to say that absence from town + and other circumstances have prevented me from earlier + inquiring into the results of the sale of _The Kellys and + the O'Kellys_, with which the greatest efforts have been + used, but in vain. The sale has been, I regret to say, + so small that the loss upon the publication is very + considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although + in consequence of the great number of novels that are + published, the sale of each, with some few exceptions, + must be small, yet it is evident that readers do not + like novels on Irish subjects as well as on others. Thus + you will perceive it is impossible for me to give any + encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + + As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the + novel _La Vendee_, perhaps you will favour me with a sight + of it when convenient.--I remain, &c. &c. + + H. COLBURN. + + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling a +plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the greatest +efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which might be made +for the popularity of a book ought to have come from the author;--but +I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that he could not +encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would have bet twenty +to one against my own success. But by continuing I could lose only +pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty did turn up in my +favour, then how much might I win! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MY FIRST SUCCESS. +1849-1855. + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly completed +it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the former. I find +however that the agreement for its publication was not made till +1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must have forgotten +the disastrous result of _The O'Kellys_, as he thereby agrees to give +me L20 down for my "new historical novel, to be called _La Vendee_." +He agreed also to pay me L30 more when he had sold 350 copies, and +L50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I got my L20, and then +heard no more of _La Vendee_, not even receiving any account. Perhaps +the historical title had appeared more alluring to him than an Irish +subject; though it was not long afterwards that I received a warning +from the very same house of business against historical novels,--as I +will tell at length when the proper time comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. The +story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendee country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits of +my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read the +book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception as to +the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters are +distinct; and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, this +morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on the +book. + +I had, however, received L20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness to +authors in the same men;--but by nothing so much as by the ease with +which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small sums of +money. If you will only make the payment future instead of present, +you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your client's +favour. "You might as well promise her L20. This day six months will +do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the money will +never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to rid himself of +your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing _La Vendee_ I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland the +desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of the +pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that time +to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which the +misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their worst. +The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts--I may say the successful efforts--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal +the Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian corn. +The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by many. The +people themselves wished of course to be fed without working; and +the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, were disposed +to think that the management of affairs was taken too much out of +their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with the matter, and, +thinking that the Government was right, I was inclined to defend +them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. (Lord Sydney Godolphin +Osborne) was at that time denouncing the Irish scheme of the +Administration in the _Times_, using very strong language,--as +those who remember his style will know. I fancied then--as I still +think--that I understood the country much better than he did; and I +was anxious to show that the steps taken for mitigating the terrible +evil of the times were the best which the Minister of the day could +have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, and, full of my purpose, I +presented myself to Mr. John Forster--who has since been an intimate +and valued friend--but who was at that time the editor of the +_Examiner_. I think that that portion of the literary world which +understands the fabrication of newspapers will admit that neither +before his time, nor since, has there been a more capable editor of +a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he was not without his faults. +That which the cabman is reported to have said of him before the +magistrate is quite true. He was always "an arbitrary cove." As a +critic, he belonged to the school of Bentley and Gifford,--who would +always bray in a literary mortar all critics who disagreed from +them, as though such disagreement were a personal offence requiring +personal castigation. But that very eagerness made him a good editor. +Into whatever he did he put his very heart and soul. During his time +the _Examiner_ was almost all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. +So to John Forster I went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's +Inn Fields in which, some three or four years earlier, Dickens had +given that reading of which there is an illustration with portraits +in the second volume of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man could +get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself as in +part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some degree +by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that any one +would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any claim. I +stated my name and official position, and the fact that opportunities +had been given me of seeing the poor-houses in Ireland, and of +making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the time. Would +a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the _Examiner_? +The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased to say +that if the letters should recommend themselves by their style +and matter, if they were not too long, and if--every reader will +know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself--if this +and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland did +not declare that the Government had at last been adequately defended, +nor did the treasurer of the _Examiner_ send me a cheque in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. A +man who writes a single letter to a newspaper of course is not paid +for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal to +himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and have +been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On this +occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not much +disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could not +refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I said. +But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its +predecessors, the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, +after all, that was my proper line. I had never thought of +questioning the justice of the verdict expressed against me. The +idea that I was the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never +troubled me. I did not look at the books after they were published, +feeling sure that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. +But still I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. +Then and therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a +play. I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called _The Noble Jilt_. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called _Can You Forgive Her?_ I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, and +re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then sent +it to my very old friend, George Bartley the actor, who had when I +was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, and +who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give me +the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter which +I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. "When I +commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. I did not +think it opened dramatically, but that might have been remedied." I +knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend warmed to the +subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, till my ears +tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the character of your +heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, but you have done it +for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." Madame Brudo was the +heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never play the jilt again; 'tis +a most unbecoming character. Play it with what skill you will, it +meets but little sympathy.' And this, be assured, would be its +effect upon an audience. So that I must reluctantly add that, had +I been still a manager, _The Noble Jilt_ is not a play I could have +recommended for production." This was a blow that I did feel. The +neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact which grows upon an author +by degrees. There is no special moment of agony,--no stunning +violence of condemnation. But a piece of criticism such as this, from +a friend, and from a man undoubtedly capable of forming an opinion, +was a blow in the face! But I accepted the judgment loyally, and said +not a word on the subject to any one. I merely showed the letter to +my wife, declaring my conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. +And as critical gospel it has since been accepted. In later days I +have more than once read the play, and I know that he was right. The +dialogue, however, I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of +the scenes be not the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, and +for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced to +Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for Ireland. +I explained to him that I knew the country better than most other +people, perhaps better than any other person, and could do it well. +He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send him a certain +number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer within a fortnight +after he should have received my work. I came back to Ireland, and +for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" the city of Dublin, and +the county of Kerry, in which lies the lake scenery of Killarney; and +I "did" the route from Dublin to Killarney, altogether completing +nearly a quarter of the proposed volume. The roll of MS. was sent to +Albemarle Street,--but was never opened. At the expiration of nine +months from the date on which it reached that time-honoured spot it +was returned without a word, in answer to a very angry letter from +myself. I insisted on having back my property,--and got it. I need +hardly say that my property has never been of the slightest use to +me. In all honesty I think that had he been less dilatory, John +Murray would have got a very good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery of +letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had been +done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier would be +sent in one direction in which there were but few letters to be +delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at the request +of some influential person, while in another direction there was no +letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted himself. +It was intended to set this right throughout England, Ireland, and +Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish district to which +I was attached. I was then invited to do the same in a portion of +England, and I spent two of the happiest years of my life at the +task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think I may say, every +nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, the greater part +of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, +Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, Monmouthshire, and +the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I had an opportunity of +seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, with a minuteness +which few have enjoyed. And I did my business after a fashion in +which no other official man has worked, at least for many years. I +went almost everywhere on horseback. I had two hunters of my own, +and here and there, where I could, I hired a third horse. I had an +Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has now been in my service for +thirty-five years; and in this manner I saw almost every house--I +think I may say every house of importance--in this large district. +The object was to create a postal network which should catch all +recipients of letters. In France it was, and I suppose still is, the +practice to deliver every letter. Wherever the man may live to whom +a letter is addressed, it is the duty of some letter-carrier to take +that letter to his house, sooner or later. But this, of course, must +be done slowly. With us a delivery much delayed was thought to be +worse than none at all. In some places we did establish posts three +times a week, and perhaps occasionally twice a week; but such halting +arrangements were considered to be objectionable, and we were bound +down by a salutary law as to expense, which came from our masters at +the Treasury. We were not allowed to establish any messenger's walk +on which a sufficient number of letters would not be delivered to +pay the man's wages, counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the +counting was in our own hands, and an enterprising official might be +sanguine in his figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare +false accounts; but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who +absolutely had the country to do became aware that I was anxious for +good results. It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a +man. During those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover +the country with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any +case a rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; +but I fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, +or because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short cuts; +and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would have +to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a day. +I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it was +necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for my +equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have often +surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen or heard +of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the morning, with +a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating him as to the +disposal of every letter which came into his office. And in the same +guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, or other lone +residences about the country, and ask the people how they got their +letters, at what hour, and especially whether they were delivered +free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept into use, which +came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin for which there was +no pardon, in accordance with which these rural letter-carriers used +to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the house was out of their +beat, and that they must be paid for their extra work. I think that +I did stamp out that evil. In all these visits I was, in truth, +a beneficent angel to the public, bringing everywhere with me an +earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery of letters. But +not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission was imperfectly +understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to get on, and did +not allow as much time as was necessary to explain to the wondering +mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, why it was that +a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions which might be +considered impertinent, as applying to his or her private affairs. +"Good morning, sir. I have just called to ask a few questions. I am +a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get your letters? As I am +a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain at once." Then I would +take out my pencil and notebook, and wait for information. And in +fact there was no other way in which the truth could be ascertained. +Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's storm upon them, the very +people who were robbed by our messengers would not confess the +robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It was necessary to startle +them into the revelations which I required them to make for their own +good. And I did startle them. I became thoroughly used to it, and +soon lost my native bashfulness;--but sometimes my visits astonished +the retiring inhabitants of country houses. I did, however, do my +work, and can look back upon what I did with thorough satisfaction. +I was altogether in earnest; and I believe that many a farmer now has +his letters brought daily to his house free of charge, who but for me +would still have had to send to the post-town for them twice a week, +or to have paid a man for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting to +make another effort, and often turning over in my head some fragment +of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not come in which +I could sit down with pen and paper and begin another novel. For, +after all, what could it be but a novel? The play had failed more +absolutely than the novels, for the novels had attained the honour of +print. The cause of this pressure of official work lay, not in the +demands of the General Post Office, which more than once expressed +itself as astonished by my celerity, but in the necessity which was +incumbent on me to travel miles enough to pay for my horses, and upon +the amount of correspondence, returns, figures, and reports which +such an amount of daily travelling brought with it. I may boast that +the work was done very quickly and very thoroughly,--with no fault +but an over-eagerness to extend postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one midsummer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of _The Warden_,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one at +their commencement could have had less reason than myself to presume +himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been often asked +in what period of my early life I had lived so long in a cathedral +city as to have become intimate with the ways of a Close. I never +lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never knew anything of +any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar intimacy with +any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be life-like, and +for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond affection, was, I +think, the simple result of an effort of my moral consciousness. It +was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon should be,--or, +at any rate, would be with such advantages as an archdeacon might +have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who has been declared +by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon down to the very +ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had not then even +spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment to be very great. +The archdeacon came whole from my brain after this fashion;--but +in writing about clergymen generally, I had to pick up as I went +whatever I might know or pretend to know about them. But my first +idea had no reference to clergymen in general. I had been struck by +two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to be evils,--and with an +absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I thought that I might +be able to expose them, or rather to describe them, both in one and +the same tale. The first evil was the possession by the Church of +certain funds and endowments which had been intended for charitable +purposes, but which had been allowed to become incomes for idle +Church dignitaries. There had been more than one such case brought +to public notice at the time, in which there seemed to have been an +egregious malversation of charitable purposes. The second evil was +its very opposite. Though I had been much struck by the injustice +above described, I had also often been angered by the undeserved +severity of the newspapers towards the recipients of such incomes, +who could hardly be considered to be the chief sinners in the matter. +When a man is appointed to a place, it is natural that he should +accept the income allotted to that place without much inquiry. It is +seldom that he will be the first to find out that his services are +overpaid. Though he be called upon only to look beautiful and to be +dignified upon State occasions, he will think L2000 a year little +enough for such beauty and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt +that there had been some tearing to pieces which might have been +spared. But I was altogether wrong in supposing that the two things +could be combined. Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after +the fashion of an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. +He should take up one side and cling to that, and then he may be +powerful. There should be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples +make a man impotent for such work. It was open to me to have +described a bloated parson, with a red nose and all other iniquities, +openly neglecting every duty required from him, and living riotously +on funds purloined from the poor,--defying as he did do so the +moderate remonstrances of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a +man as good, as sweet, and as mild as my warden, who should also have +been a hard-working, ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have +subjected him to the rancorous venom of some daily _Jupiter_, who, +without a leg to stand on, without any true case, might have been +induced, by personal spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with +poisonous, anonymous, and ferocious leading articles. But neither of +these programmes recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though +it may exaggerate the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating +it in order that it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become +a slander, and satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither +of the red-nosed clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous +assassin of the journals. I did believe that through want of care and +the natural tendency of every class to take care of itself, money +had slipped into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have +gone elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which was +cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects should not +have been combined--and I now know myself well enough to be aware +that I was not the man to have carried out either of them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began _The Warden_, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion I +did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +L450 to about L800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work to +which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other parts +of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly finished +the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have liked to ride +over the whole country, and to have sent a rural post letter-carrier +to every parish, every village, every hamlet, and every grange in +England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town in +the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the centre +of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But our house +there had been given up when it was known that I should be detained +in England; and then we had wandered about in the western counties, +moving our headquarters from one town to another. During this time we +had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, at Cheltenham, and +at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled ourselves for eighteen +months at Belfast. After that we took a house at Donnybrook, the +well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters and +their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my book at +once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, and it +was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was only one +small volume, and in later days would have been completed in six +weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had pressed. +On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published till 1855. +I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, with +William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an assurance +that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked at," and +Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half profits. I had +no reason to love "half profits," but I was very anxious to have my +book published, and I acceded. It was now more than ten years since +I had commenced writing _The Macdermots_, and I thought that if any +success was to be achieved, the time surely had come. I had not been +impatient; but, if there was to be a time, surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about _The Warden_; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, and +after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. At +the end of 1855 I received a cheque for L9, 8s. 8d., which was the +first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that L20 which poor +Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been earned +at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of L10, 15s. 1d. +The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded remuneration +for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. A thousand +copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or six years, +about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold as +belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form _The Warden_ never +reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in the +purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its own,--a +merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see wherein lay +whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the bishop, of the +archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially of the warden, +are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to myself a series of +portraits, and had been able so to put them on the canvas that my +readers should see that which I meant them to see. There is no gift +which an author can have more useful to him than this. And the style +of the English was good, though from most unpardonable carelessness +the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. With such results I had no +doubt but that I would at once begin another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the _Times_ newspaper as to _The Warden_. +In an article--if I remember rightly, on _The Warden_ and _Barchester +Towers_ combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the _Times_ are actuated by +higher motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel +are spoken of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. +But there was added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid +condition of the author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in +personalities,--the personalities in question having reference to +some editor or manager of the _Times_ newspaper. For I had introduced +one Tom Towers as being potent among the contributors to the +_Jupiter_, under which name I certainly did allude to the _Times_. +But at that time, living away in Ireland, I had not even heard the +name of any gentleman connected with the _Times_ newspaper, and could +not have intended to represent any individual by Tom Towers. As I had +created an archdeacon, so had I created a journalist, and the one +creation was no more personal or indicative of morbid tendencies than +the other. If Tom Towers was at all like any gentleman then connected +with the _Times_, my moral consciousness must again have been very +powerful. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_BARCHESTER TOWERS_ AND _THE THREE CLERKS_. +1855-1858. + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the rural +posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. I had +read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of Charles +Merivale's _History of the Romans under the Empire_, and had got into +some correspondence with the author's brother as to the author's +views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to investigate +the character of probably the greatest man who ever lived, which +tendency in after years produced a little book of which I shall have +to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste generally for Latin +literature, which has been one of the chief delights of my later +life. And I may say that I became at this time as anxious about +Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as to his character, as +we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these latter days. I lived +in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly whether he crossed the +Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In order that I might review +Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that I was dealing unwarrantably +with a subject beyond me, I studied the Commentaries thoroughly, and +went through a mass of other reading which the object of a magazine +article hardly justified,--but which has thoroughly justified itself +in the subsequent pursuits of my life. I did write two articles, +the first mainly on Julius Caesar, and the second on Augustus, which +appeared in the _Dublin University Magazine_. They were the result +of very much labour, but there came from them no pecuniary product. +I had been very modest when I sent them to the editor, as I had been +when I called on John Forster, not venturing to suggest the subject +of money. After a while I did call upon the proprietor of the +magazine in Dublin, and was told by him that such articles were +generally written to oblige friends, and that articles written to +oblige friends were not usually paid for. The Dean of Ely, as the +author of the work in question now is, was my friend; but I think +I was wronged, as I certainly had no intention of obliging him +by my criticism. Afterwards, when I returned to Ireland, I wrote +other articles for the same magazine, one of which, intended to be +very savage in its denunciation, was on an official blue-book just +then brought out, preparatory to the introduction of competitive +examinations for the Civil Service. For that and some other article, +I now forget what, I was paid. Up to the end of 1857 I had received +L55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on _Barchester Towers_ that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not any +longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very many +hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though Carlyle +has since told me that a man when travelling should not read, but +"sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended to make a +profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same time, to do +my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours to more account +than I could do even by reading. I made for myself therefore a little +tablet, and found after a few days' exercise that I could write as +quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at my desk. I worked with a +pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied afterwards. In this way was +composed the greater part of _Barchester Towers_ and of the novel +which succeeded it, and much also of others subsequent to them. My +only objection to the practice came from the appearance of literary +ostentation, to which I felt myself to be subject when going to work +before four or five fellow-passengers. But I got used to it, as I had +done to the amazement of the west country farmers' wives when asking +them after their letters. + +In the writing of _Barchester Towers_ I took great delight. The +bishop and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the +troubles of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was +done, Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his +reader; and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and +voluminous criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was +accompanied by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, +with a payment of L100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on +condition that I would comply with the suggestions made by his +critic. One of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel +down to two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, +rejecting one and accepting another, almost alternately, but +declaring at last that no consideration should induce me to cut out +a third of my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could be +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book on +the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn from +a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have been +attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the attempt. +Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's terms; and the +book was published, certainly none the worse, and I do not think much +the better, for the care that had been taken with it. + +The work succeeded just as _The Warden_ had succeeded. It achieved no +great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel readers +were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon myself more +than I have a right to do in saying now that _Barchester Towers_ has +become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, which live +and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if that be so, +its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of some of its +younger brothers. _Barchester Towers_ would hardly be so well known +as it is had there been no _Framley Parsonage_ and no _Last Chronicle +of Barset_. + +I received my L100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural self-sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, as +may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author forget +the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make a money +return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will be much +offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory and +my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice of a +so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in my eyes, +would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like clergymen who +preach sermons against the love of money, but who know that the love +of money is so distinctive a characteristic of humanity that such +sermons are mere platitudes called for by customary but unintelligent +piety. All material progress has come from man's desire to do the +best he can for himself and those about him, and civilisation and +Christianity itself have been made possible by such progress. Though +we do not all of us argue this matter out within our breasts, we do +all feel it; and we know that the more a man earns the more useful he +is to his fellow-men. The most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been +those who have made the greatest incomes,--and it is the same with +the doctors. It would be the same in the Church if they who have the +choosing of bishops always chose the best man. And it has in truth +been so too in art and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard +their pecuniary rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always +for money, giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as +an actor. In our own century what literary names stand higher than +those of Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? +And I think I may say that none of those great men neglected the +pecuniary result of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among +us who in any calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious +teaching, in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm +utterly disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man is +a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few in +doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable to +his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent to his +children, and to be himself free from the carking fear which poverty +creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet authors +are told that they should disregard payment for their work, and be +content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of the public. +Brains that are unbought will never serve the public much. Take away +from English authors their copyrights, and you would very soon take +away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what to +me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in which +professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen what +prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature with +industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair average +talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man does in +another profession. The result with me has been comfortable but not +splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the combination +of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be no +more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and I think +beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last infirmity of +noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who lacks it is +either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. But I confess +that my first object in taking to literature as a profession was that +which is common to the barrister when he goes to the Bar, and to the +baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to make an income on which +I and those belonging to me might live in comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures badly, +because he can make his money faster in that fashion than by doing +them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the best he can +do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he is dishonest, as +is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the barrister who takes +money that he does not earn, or the clergyman who is content to +live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the author may have a +difficulty which will not occur to the seller of cloth, in settling +within himself what is good work and what is bad,--when labour enough +has been given, and when the task has been scamped. It is a danger as +to which he is bound to be severe with himself--in which he should +feel that his conscience should be set fairly in the balance against +the natural bias of his interest. If he do not do so, sooner or later +his dishonesty will be discovered, and will be estimated accordingly. +But in this he is to be governed only by the plain rules of honesty +which should govern us all. Having said so much, I shall not scruple +as I go on to attribute to the pecuniary result of my labours all the +importance which I felt them to have at the time. + +_Barchester Towers_, for which I had received L100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from the +publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am writing, +that book and _The Warden_ together have given me almost every year +some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, and I find that +I have received L727, 11s. 3d. for the two. It is more than I got for +the three or four works that came afterwards, but the payments have +been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, _The Three Clerks_, in +my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum down +was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to buy it +from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, and I +argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into a +position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than I +gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. "It +is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your title-page +are not worth more to you than the increased payment." This seemed +to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the contempt of money +which I have never admired. I did think much of Messrs. Longman's +name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by a +remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply that +they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a fertile +writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- (naming +the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) three +novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard to a +man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I did not +know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that I had +better go elsewhere. + +I had then written _The Three Clerks_, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. Hurst +& Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had made an +appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that gentleman was +unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, and had but +one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. I sat for an +hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return of the peccant +publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about to depart with +my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the house came to me. He +seemed to think it a pity that I should go, and wished me to leave +my work with him. This, however, I would not do, unless he would +undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he lacked authority. +Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. But while we debated +the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope it's not historical, +Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, don't be historical; your +historical novel is not worth a damn." Thence I took _The Three +Clerks_ to Mr. Bentley; and on the same afternoon succeeded in +selling it to him for L250. His son still possesses it, and the firm +has, I believe, done very well with the purchase. It was certainly +the best novel I had as yet written. The plot is not so good as that +of the _Macdermots_; nor are there any characters in the book equal +to those of Mrs. Proudie and the Warden; but the work has a more +continued interest, and contains the first well-described love-scene +that I ever wrote. The passage in which Kate Woodward, thinking that +she will die, tries to take leave of the lad she loves, still brings +tears to my eyes when I read it. I had not the heart to kill her. +I never could do that. And I do not doubt but that they are living +happily together to this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, and +I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this novel +now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I introduced +a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by which +I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme of +competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles Trevelyan +was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended for Sir +Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who had taken +an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him Sir Gregory," +Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came to know her and +her husband. I never learned to love competitive examination; but +I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. Sir Stafford +Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, was then leagued +with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears in _The Three Clerks_ +under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick West End. + +But for all that _The Three Clerks_ was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, paying +a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in 1857, and +she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in which she had +not written, and she expressed to me her delight that her labours +should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning in the same +field. In truth they had already been continued for a dozen years, +but a man's career will generally be held to date itself from +the commencement of his success. On those foreign tours I always +encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon them now, tempt me +almost to write a little book of my long past Continental travels. On +this occasion, as we made our way slowly through Switzerland and over +the Alps, we encountered again and again a poor forlorn Englishman, +who had no friend and no aptitude for travelling. He was always +losing his way, and finding himself with no seat in the coaches and +no bed at the inns. On one occasion I found him at Coire seated at +5 A.M. in the _coupe_ of a diligence which was intended to start at +noon for the Engadine, while it was his purpose to go over the Alps +in another which was to leave at 5.30, and which was already crowded +with passengers. "Ah!" he said, "I am in time now, and nobody shall +turn me out of this seat," alluding to former little misfortunes of +which I had been a witness. When I explained to him his position, +he was as one to whom life was too bitter to be borne. But he made +his way into Italy, and encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in +Florence. "Can you tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, +having touched my shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't +like to ask them. Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent +him to the Uffizzi, but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, and +on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. Thence +we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. The misery +is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of another case +in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to get out of the +conveyance into the middle of the street because the horse could not +be made to go any further. Such was our condition. I induced the +driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was nearest to him, +and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the porter to get the +master to come down to me; and, though my French is ordinarily very +defective, I spoke with such eloquence to that German innkeeper that +he, throwing his arms round my neck in a transport of compassion, +swore that he would never leave me nor my wife till he had put us to +bed. And he did so; but, ah! there were so many in those beds! It +is such an experience as this which teaches a travelling foreigner +how different on the Continent is the accommodation provided for him, +from that which is supplied for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that we +had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that night. +There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and we asked +some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering supper and +beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but we persisted, +and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves charged twenty +zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at Milan, and the +prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We paid our twenty +zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the thought of our +ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached Verona, there +arose a great cry along the platform for Signor Trollope. I put +out my head and declared my identity, when I was waited upon by a +glorious personage dressed like a beau for a ball, with half-a-dozen +others almost as glorious behind him, who informed me, with his hat +in his hand, that he was the landlord of the "Due Torre." It was +a heating moment, but it became more hot when he asked me after +my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, and point to my +wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." There were three +carriages provided for us, each with a pair of grey horses. When we +reached the house it was all lit up. We were not allowed to move +without an attendant with a lighted candle. It was only gradually +that the mistake came to be understood. On us there was still the +horror of the bill, the extent of which could not be known till the +hour of departure had come. The landlord, however, had acknowledged +to himself that his inductions had been ill-founded, and he treated +us with clemency. He had never before received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished _The Three Clerks_ just before I +left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for a new +plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a plot, +and he drew out that of my next novel, called _Doctor Thorne_. I +mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in which +I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains for the +thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted incidents +from what I have read,--either from history or from works of +imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not been +aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's work, and +deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from censuring this +practice in others. Our greatest masters in works of imagination +have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare dug out of such +quarries wherever he could find them. Ben Jonson, with heavier hand, +built up his structures on his studies of the classics, not thinking +it beneath him to give, without direct acknowledgment, whole pieces +translated both from poets and historians. But in those days no such +acknowledgment was usual. Plagiary existed, and was very common, but +was not known as a sin. It is different now; and I think that an +author, when he uses either the words or the plot of another, should +own as much, demanding to be credited with no more of the work than +he has himself produced. I may say also that I have never printed as +my own a word that has been written by others.[4] It might probably +have been better for my readers had I done so, as I am informed that +_Doctor Thorne_, the novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger +sale than any other book of mine. + + [Footnote 4: I must make one exception to this declaration. The + legal opinion as to heirlooms in _The Eustace Diamonds_ was + written for me by Charles Merewether, the present Member for + Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling authority + on the subject.] + +Early in 1858, while I was writing _Doctor Thorne_, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded L400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures after +I had left him, and had found that L300 would be the outside value +of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman & +Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward Chapman +in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great many +words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. Looking +at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had stopped him +on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might as well do as +I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it was a sale. I +remember that he held the poker in his hand all the time that I was +with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined to buy the book, +there would have been no danger. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_DOCTOR THORNE_--_THE BERTRAMS_--_THE +WEST INDIES AND THE SPANISH MAIN_. + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper on +the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my state +room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but still I did +my work. _Labor omnia vincit improbus_. I do not say that to all men +has been given physical strength sufficient for such exertion as +this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable most men to +work at almost any season. I had previously to this arranged a system +of task-work for myself, which I would strongly recommend to those +who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not made absolutely +obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should never be allowed +to become spasmodic. There was no day on which it was my positive +duty to write for the publishers, as it was my duty to write reports +for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if I pleased. But as I had +made up my mind to undertake this second profession, I found it to be +expedient to bind myself by certain self-imposed laws. When I have +commenced a new book, I have always prepared a diary, divided into +weeks, and carried it on for the period which I have allowed myself +for the completion of the work. In this I have entered, day by day, +the number of pages I have written, so that if at any time I have +slipped into idleness for a day or two, the record of that idleness +has been there, staring me in the face, and demanding of me increased +labour, so that the deficiency might be supplied. According to the +circumstances of the time,--whether my other business might be then +heavy or light, or whether the book which I was writing was or was +not wanted with speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. +The average number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as +20, and has risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page +has been made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, +will have a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as +I went. In the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of +course, with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always +to supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that the +excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing my +work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided myself +especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and I have +always done so. There has ever been the record before me, and a week +passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a blister to my +eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not be +disobeyed. It has the force of the water-drop that hollows the stone. +A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a +spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always catches the hare. +The hare has no chance. He loses more time in glorifying himself +for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise to make half his +journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They have +ever been as boys struggling to learn their lesson as they entered +the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they have +failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work,--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of +being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." The +needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always been in +the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates and ruled +spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly demand upon +my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to such a +taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his imagination +should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves him. When I have +heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been able to repress my +scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the shoemaker were to +wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for the divine moment of +melting. If the man whose business it is to write has eaten too many +good things, or has drunk too much, or smoked too many cigars,--as +men who write sometimes will do,--then his condition may be +unfavourable for work; but so will be the condition of a shoemaker +who has been similarly imprudent. I have sometimes thought that the +inspiration wanted has been the remedy which time will give to the +evil results of such imprudence.--_Mens sana in corpore sano_. The +author wants that as does every other workman,--that and a habit of +industry. I was once told that the surest aid to the writing of a +book was a piece of cobbler's wax on my chair. I certainly believe in +the cobbler's wax much more than the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready to +admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by the +products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own very +high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do the +work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the habit +of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I therefore +venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship as the +business of their lives, even when they propose that that authorship +be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic rushes with +their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day by day as +though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit until the +allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished _Doctor Thorne_, and on the +following day began _The Bertrams_. I was moved now by a +determination to excel, if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. +An ignoble ambition for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But +not, I think, altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to +look at his work as does any other workman. This had become my task, +this was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing +the doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to +work at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good as +I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between each +they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I finished +_Doctor Thorne_ on one day, and began _The Bertrams_ on the next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last succeeded +in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty years have +passed since that time, and other years may yet run on before these +pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official sin by describing +here the nature of the difficulty which met me. I found, on my +arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer of the Pasha, who +was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have been the gentleman +who has lately dealt with our Government as to the Suez Canal shares, +and who is now well known to the political world as Nubar Pasha. I +found him a most courteous gentleman, an Armenian. I never went to +his office, nor do I know that he had an office. Every other day he +would come to me at my hotel, and bring with him servants, and pipes, +and coffee. I enjoyed his coming greatly; but there was one point on +which we could not agree. As to money and other details, it seemed +as though he could hardly accede fast enough to the wishes of the +Postmaster-General; but on one point he was firmly opposed to me. +I was desirous that the mails should be carried through Egypt in +twenty-four hours, and he thought that forty-eight hours should be +allowed. I was obstinate, and he was obstinate; and for a long time +we could come to no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity +seemed to desert him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with +almost more than British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick +transit, a terrible responsibility would rest on my head. I made this +mistake, he said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which +would be easy and secure in England could be attained with safety +in Egypt. "The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede +to any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no longer +any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and he assured +me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his care to see +that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually kept, and, I +believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my persistency +was not the result of any courage specially personal to myself. +While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered to me that +the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had conceived that +forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their traffic better +than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great paymasters on the +railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, who managed the railway, +might probably wish to accommodate them. I often wondered who +originated that frightful picture of blood and desolation. That it +came from an English heart and an English hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the Post +Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with true tales +of my adventures. The _Tales of All Countries_ have, most of them, +some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called _John Bull +on the Guadalquivir_, the chief incident in which occurred to me and +a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We both of +us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to be a +bullfighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, too, +who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet how +thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received L400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for _Doctor Thorne_, and agreed to sell them _The Bertrams_ for +the same sum. This latter novel was written under very vagrant +circumstances,--at Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at +sea, and at last finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West +Indies I will say a few words presently, but I may as well speak of +these two novels here. _Doctor Thorne_ has, I believe, been the most +popular book that I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof +of comparative popularity. _The Bertrams_ has had quite an opposite +fortune. I do not know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even +by my friends, and I cannot remember that there is any character in +it that has dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that +they are of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. +They fall away very much from _The Three Clerks_, both in pathos +and humour. There is no personage in either of them comparable to +Chaffanbrass the lawyer. The plot of _Doctor Thorne_ is good, and +I am led therefore to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own +feeling, is the most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which +will most raise it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The +plots of _Tom Jones_ and of _Ivanhoe_ are almost perfect, and they +are probably the most popular novels of the schools of the last and +of this century; but to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged +strength of Burley and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those +great novelists than the gift of construction shown in the two works +I have named. A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened +by humour and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of +attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not +of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created +personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. To +my thinking, the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you +have the vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which +the agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There +must, however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. +That of _The Bertrams_ was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book +was relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of _Doctor +Thorne_. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add L600 a-year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a-week, on L1400 +a-year. If more should come, it would be well;--but L600 a-year I was +prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but was +very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and then +I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to _The Bertrams_, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated for +residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous for +want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the stables +had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in some of the +islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to the island +Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I was then to go +on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish authorities, and +to Panama for the same purpose with the Government of New Grenada. +All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and I hope to that of +my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, as +having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard as the +best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I think I may +venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as I had learned +from the secretary at the General Post Office that this journey +would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. Chapman & Hall, +demanding L250 for a single volume. The contract was made without +any difficulty, and when I returned home the work was complete in my +desk. I began it on board the ship in which I left Kingston, Jamaica, +for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried it on as I went. From Cuba +I made my way to St. Thomas, and through the island down to Demerara, +then back to St. Thomas,--which is the starting-point for all places +in that part of the globe,--to Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, +over the Isthmus to Panama, up the Pacific to a little harbour on the +coast of Costa Rica, thence across Central America, through Costa +Rica, and down the Nicaragua river to the Mosquito coast, and after +that home by Bermuda and New York. Should any one want further +details of the voyage, are they not written in my book? The fact +memorable to me now is that I never made a single note while +writing or preparing it. Preparation, indeed, there was none. The +descriptions and opinions came hot on to the paper from their causes. +I will not say that this is the best way of writing a book intended +to give accurate information. But it is the best way of producing +to the eye of the reader, and to his ear, that which the eye of the +writer has seen and his ear heard. There are two kinds of confidence +which a reader may have in his author,--which two kinds the reader +who wishes to use his reading well should carefully discriminate. +There is a confidence in facts and a confidence in vision. The one +man tells you accurately what has been. The other suggests to you +what may, or perhaps what must have been, or what ought to have been. +The former requires simple faith. The latter calls upon you to judge +for yourself, and form your own conclusions. The former does not +intend to be prescient, nor the latter accurate. Research is the +weapon used by the former; observation by the latter. Either may be +false,--wilfully false; as also may either be steadfastly true. As +to that, the reader must judge for himself. But the man who writes +_currente calamo_, who works with a rapidity which will not admit of +accuracy, may be as true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who +bases every word upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I +have travelled about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have +always written the exact truth as I saw it;--and I have, I think, +drawn my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies of black +men and white men was the view of the _Times_ newspaper at that +period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for it +even by the _Times_ newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position as +an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad for +literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future chapter. +But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to Chapman & +Hall and successfully demanded L600 for my next novel. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE _CORNHILL MAGAZINE_ AND _FRAMLEY PARSONAGE_. + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my own +district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and there +my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return to +England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all with +whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable home, and +I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great delight to +me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a house in the +neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be abandoned.[5] +Nevertheless I thought that a man who could write books ought not to +live in Ireland,--ought to live within the reach of the publishers, +the clubs, and the dinner-parties of the metropolis. So I made my +request at headquarters, and with some little difficulty got myself +appointed to the Eastern District of England,--which comprised Essex, +Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, and the greater +part of Hertfordshire. + + [Footnote 5: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years had + passed away.] + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest at +the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had been, some +time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by Mr. Rowland +Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never had any +sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most accurate, +but I never came across any one who so little understood the ways of +men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two brothers the +servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to have formed a +large army in old days,--were so many machines who could be counted +on for their exact work without deviation, as wheels may be counted +on, which are kept going always at the same pace and always by the +same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious public servant, anxious +for the good of his country; but he was a hard taskmaster, and one +who would, I think, have put the great department with which he was +concerned altogether out of gear by his hardness, had he not been at +last controlled. He was the Chief Secretary, my brother-in-law--who +afterwards succeeded him--came next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother +was the Junior Secretary. In the natural course of things, I had not, +from my position, anything to do with the management of affairs;--but +from time to time I found myself more or less mixed up in it. I was +known to be a thoroughly efficient public servant; I am sure I may +say so much of myself without fear of contradiction from any one who +has known the Post Office;--I was very fond of the department, and +when matters came to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my +own. I have no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I +know that I sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because +I knew my business and was useful. I had given official offence by +the publication of _The Three Clerks_. I afterwards gave greater +offence by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of +the large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On +this occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether he +was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was no threat +to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in that fashion. +The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed no order. In +the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing to bring me to +shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil servant is +only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he is beyond +that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in his +general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in open +professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted now, +but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one in the +Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style of +official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands of +reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them dealing +with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; some few in +which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos might find an +entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these reports, habituating +myself always to write them in the form in which they should be +sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus that a man can throw on +to his paper the exact feeling with which his mind is impressed at +the moment. A rough copy, or that which is called a draft, is written +in order that it may be touched and altered and put upon stilts. The +waste of time, moreover, in such an operation, is terrible. If a man +knows his craft with his pen, he will have learned to write without +the necessity of changing his words or the form of his sentences. +I had learned so to write my reports that they who read them should +know what it was that I meant them to understand. But I do not think +that they were regarded with favour. I have heard horror expressed +because the old forms were disregarded and language used which had no +savour of red-tape. During the whole of this work in the Post Office +it was my principle always to obey authority in everything instantly, +but never to allow my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my +opinion. They who had the ordering of me very often did not know +the work as I knew it,--could not tell as I could what would be the +effect of this or that change. When carrying out instructions which +I knew should not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the +fatuity of the improper order in the strongest language that I could +decently employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, +and look back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. +But I am not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which could +hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our residence +towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing _Castle Richmond_, +the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for L600. But +there arose at this time a certain literary project which probably +had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling on postal +service abroad, or riding over the rural districts in England, or +arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the last eighteen years +had now been my life,--I had no opportunity of becoming acquainted +with literary life in London. It was probably some feeling of this +which had made me anxious to move my penates back to England. But +even in Ireland, where I was still living in October, 1859, I had +heard of the _Cornhill Magazine_, which was to come out on the 1st of +January, 1860, under the editorship of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of _Tales of All Countries_. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the _Cornhill_, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + + 36 Onslow Square, S.W., + October 28th. + + MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their + proposals; and the business part done, let me come to the + pleasure, and say how very glad indeed I shall be to have + you as a co-operator in our new magazine. And looking over + the annexed programme, you will see whether you can't help + us in many other ways besides tale-telling. Whatever a man + knows about life and its doings, that let us hear about. + You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and + have countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. + Please to think if you can furbish up any of these besides + a novel. When events occur, and you have a good lively + tale, bear us in mind. One of our chief objects in this + magazine is the getting out of novel spinning, and back + into the world. Don't understand me to disparage our + craft, especially _your_ wares. I often say I am like the + pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread + and cheese; but the public love the tarts (luckily for + us), and we must bake and sell them. There was quite an + excitement in my family one evening when Paterfamilias + (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always when he tries + it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room wide + awake and calling for the second volume of _The Three + Clerks_. I hope the _Cornhill Magazine_ will have as + pleasant a story. And the Chapmans, if they are the honest + men I take them to be, I've no doubt have told you with + what sincere liking your works have been read by yours + very faithfully, + + W. M. THACKERAY. + + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me L1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to come +out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion of it +should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in all this +that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which was more +than double what I had yet received, and nearly double that which +I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. Then there was +the suddenness of the call. It was already the end of October, and a +portion of the work was required to be in the printer's hands within +six weeks. _Castle Richmond_ was indeed half written, but that was +sold to Chapman. And it had already been a principle with me in my +art, that no part of a novel should be published till the entire +story was completed. I knew, from what I read from month to month, +that this hurried publication of incompleted work was frequently, +I might perhaps say always, adopted by the leading novelists of the +day. That such has been the case, is proved by the fact that Dickens, +Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell died with unfinished novels, of which +portions had been already published. I had not yet entered upon the +system of publishing novels in parts, and therefore had never been +tempted. But I was aware that an artist should keep in his hand the +power of fitting the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is +his first duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour +to do so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of +remedying any defect in this respect. + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, be +"impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he is, +will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should be +always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his pigs +to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path which he +has intended for them. When some young lady at the end of a story +cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid description +of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines of her portrait +should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the rushing mode of +publication to which the system of serial stories had given rise, +and by which small parts as they were written were sent hot to the +press, was injurious to the work done. If I now complied with the +proposition made to me, I must act against my own principle. But such +a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot be superseded on a just +occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the principle should for the +occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as judge, and decreed that the +present reason was "tanti." On this my first attempt at a serial +story, I thought it fit to break my own rule. I can say, however, +that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day this +new _Cornhill Magazine_ should be in want of a novel! Perhaps some +of my future readers will be able to remember the great expectations +which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's was a good name +with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. Smith & Elder, were +most liberal in their manner of initiating the work, and were able to +make an expectant world of readers believe that something was to be +given them for a shilling very much in excess of anything they had +ever received for that or double the money. Whether these hopes were +or were not fulfilled it is not for me to say, as, for the first few +years of the magazine's existence, I wrote for it more than any other +one person. But such was certainly the prospect;--and how had it come +to pass that, with such promises made, the editor and the proprietors +were, at the end of October, without anything fixed as to what must +be regarded as the chief dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. He +had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed its +commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. There +was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. I think +there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, I had the +Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his own energy, +that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was but four years +my senior in life, but he was at the top of the tree, while I was +still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d of +November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime I +had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit the +_Cornhill_, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the _Cornhill_, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that _Castle Richmond_ was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that _Castle Richmond_ would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must call +the plot of _Framley Parsonage_. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of what +I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English clergyman +who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation by his own +youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of those around +him. The love of his sister for the young lord was an adjunct +necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And then by placing +Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to fall back upon my +old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out of these slight +elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the real plot consisted +at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the man she loved till the +man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. Nothing could be less +efficient or artistic. But the characters were so well handled, that +the work from the first to the last was popular,--and was received as +it went on with still increasing favour by both editor and proprietor +of the magazine. The story was thoroughly English. There was a little +fox-hunting and a little tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some +Christian cant. There was no heroism and no villainy. There was much +Church, but more love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in +which there was no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too +ethereal to be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the +part of the man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. +Each of them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say +so. Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked _Framley Parsonage._ I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in _The Three +Clerks_, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed I +doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than Lucy +Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak +part,--no long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in +serial form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not +allow himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a fault +that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he embarks +in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have many +pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's eye at +the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first volume of +_Waverley_ coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised this when I +was writing _Framley Parsonage_; and working on the conviction which +had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written on +me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than myself, +and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him to a kind +of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel Hawthorne, the +American, whom I did not then know, but whose works I knew. Though it +praises myself highly, I will insert it here, because it certainly +is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he says, "that my own +individual taste is for quite another class of works than those which +I myself am able to write. If I were to meet with such books as +mine by another writer, I don't believe I should be able to get +through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony Trollope? +They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, written on the +strength of beef and through the inspiration of ale, and just as real +as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of the earth and put it +under a glass case, with all its inhabitants going about their daily +business, and not suspecting that they were being made a show of. +And these books are just as English as a beef-steak. Have they ever +been tried in America? It needs an English residence to make them +thoroughly comprehensible; but still I should think that human nature +would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +_Framley Parsonage_; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed in +impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty +is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a +girl will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a +man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; +that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done +beautiful and gracious. I do not say that lessons such as these may +not be more grandly taught by higher flights than mine. Such lessons +come to us from our greatest poets. But there are so many who will +read novels and understand them, who either do not read the works of +our great poets, or reading them miss the lesson! And even in prose +fiction the character whom the fervid imagination of the writer has +lifted somewhat into the clouds, will hardly give so plain an example +to the hasty normal reader as the humbler personage whom that reader +unconsciously feels to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a +girl would more probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than +after Flora Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard the +reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be simply +an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as among the +tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a wicked world. +I have regarded my art from so different a point of view that I have +ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as +one which I could make both salutary and agreeable to my audience. +I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading of my pages less +modest than she was before, and that some may have learned from them +that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth +has been taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the +road to manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it +is to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the +lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought it might best be +done by representing to my readers characters like themselves,--or to +which they might liken themselves. + +_Framley Parsonage_--or, rather, my connection with the +_Cornhill_--was the means of introducing me very quickly to that +literary world from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of +my residence in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very +hard at work on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern +District, and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from +London, in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and +Middlesex,--which was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This +I took on lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about +L1000 on improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent +both in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity +came, among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the _Cornhill Magazine_ but the _Pall Mall +Gazette_--gave a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a +memorable banquet in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that +occasion I first met many men who afterwards became my most intimate +associates. It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be +the first starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that +table, and on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor +(Sir)--than whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert +Bell, G. H. Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men +I afterwards lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak +specially of the last, because from that time he was joined with me +in so much of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate _Framley Parsonage_, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's _Unspoken +Dialogue_. The first drawing he did for _Framley Parsonage_ did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When I +did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated _Orley +Farm_, _The Small House at Allington_, _Rachel Ray_, and _Phineas +Finn_. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to have +learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of which +may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To which class +Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good artist, it was +open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to study the work of +the author from whose writing he was bound to take his subject. I +have too often found that the former alternative has been thought to +be the better, as it certainly is the easier method. An artist will +frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas to those of an author, +and will sometimes be too idle to find out what those ideas are. But +this artist was neither proud nor idle. In every figure that he drew +it was his object to promote the views of the writer whose work he +had undertaken to illustrate, and he never spared himself any pains +in studying that work, so as to enable him to do so. I have carried +on some of those characters from book to book, and have had my own +early ideas impressed indelibly on my memory by the excellence of his +delineations. Those illustrations were commenced fifteen years ago, +and from that time up to this day my affection for the man of whom I +am speaking has increased. To see him has always been a pleasure. His +voice has been a sweet sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never +heard him praised without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a +word spoken against him without opposing the censurer. These words, +should he ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will +tell him of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that evening, +and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very close, was +born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the necessities +of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But he lived much +with those who did so,--and could have done it himself had want or +ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick Club, to which, +however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best dinners of my time, +and was,--happily I may say is,[6]--the best giver of dinners. A man +rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, odious to those who dislike +him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he is the prince of friends, +honest as the sun, and as open-handed as Charity itself. + + [Footnote 6: Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went + from us.] + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back over +the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd to me +that we should have known each other for no more than six years. He +was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; and was so +far successful that I do not think that want ever came near him. But +he never made that mark which his industry and talents would have +seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary men, but not +known to readers. As a journalist he was useful and conscientious, +but his plays and novels never made themselves popular. He wrote +a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated edition of the +British poets; but he achieved no great success. I have known no +man better read in English literature. Hence his conversation had a +peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy with his pen. He will +long be remembered at the Literary Fund Committees, of which he was +a staunch and most trusted supporter. I think it was he who first +introduced me to that board. It has often been said that literary men +are peculiarly apt to think that they are slighted and unappreciated. +Robert Bell certainly never achieved the position in literature which +he once aspired to fill, and which he was justified in thinking that +he could earn for himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects +with him, but I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to +his own literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, +and he loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no +sound ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. He is, +I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His severity, +however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when honesty +may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has not +required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged himself +to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. I am not +speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in another, but of +that confidence in literary excellence, which is, I think, necessary +for the full enjoyment of literature. In one modern writer he did +believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming than the unstinted +admiration which he has accorded to everything that comes from the +pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has been united. To her +name I shall recur again when speaking of the novelists of the +present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say that +I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the more +astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a little +the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But "Billy" +also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, or +at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the _Times_, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would have +risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer in his +day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, a man +of very different calibre, who has not yet culminated, but who, no +doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many others;--but +I cannot now recall their various names as identified with those +banquets. + +Of _Framley Parsonage_ I need only further say, that as I wrote it +I became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of +Parliament, and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all +the great lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the +rectors and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had +placed the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of +the dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name +given to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of +which I know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered +there. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_CASTLE RICHMOND_--_BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON_--_NORTH +AMERICA_--_ORLEY FARM_. + + +When I had half-finished _Framley Parsonage_, I went back to my other +story, _Castle Richmond_, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion on +which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same time. +This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. Many +of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all his +belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family history; +and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we rode so +unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, once a +gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary Cann, whose +marriage with the wheelwright we did something to expedite;--though +we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our brain the club +gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or any incident of +our London intimacies. In our lives we are always weaving novels, and +we manage to keep the different tales distinct. A man does, in truth, +remember that which it interests him to remember; and when we hear +that memory has gone as age has come on, we should understand that +the capacity for interest in the matter concerned has perished. A +man will be generally very old and feeble before he forgets how much +money he has in the funds. There is a good deal to be learned by +any one who wishes to write a novel well; but when the art has been +acquired, I do not see why two or three should not be well written +at the same time. I have never found myself thinking much about the +work that I had to do till I was doing it. I have indeed for many +years almost abandoned the effort to think, trusting myself, with the +narrowest thread of a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is +in my hand. But my mind is constantly employing itself on the work I +have done. Had I left either _Framley Parsonage_ or _Castle Richmond_ +half-finished fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales +now with very little trouble. I have not looked at _Castle Richmond_ +since it was published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the +incidents. + +_Castle Richmond_ certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of itself +a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. The heroine +has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other a prig. As +regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. Rivalry of the +same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray in his _Esmond_; +but there the mother's love seems to be justified by the girl's +indifference. In _Castle Richmond_ the mother strives to rob her +daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no character; and +the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. The dialogue +is often lively, and some of the incidents are well told; but the +story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, however, that it +was roughly handled by the critics when it came out; and I much doubt +whether anything so hard was said of it then as that which I have +said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages and +strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with which +institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged to +it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited to +fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that august +body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little among men, +having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as a boy been +banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at first the +gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine there--which +I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play a rubber in the +little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking now of the old +club in King Street. This playing of whist before dinner has since +that become a habit with me, so that unless there be something else +special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am wanted to ride in the +park by the young tyrant of my household--it is "my custom always +in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore with myself for this +persistency, feeling that I was making myself a slave to an amusement +which has not after all very much to recommend it. I have often +thought that I would break myself away from it, and "swear off," +as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing off has been like that of +Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of it coolly, I do not know but +that I have been right to cling to it. As a man grows old he wants +amusement, more even than when he is young; and then it becomes so +difficult to find amusement. Reading should, no doubt, be the delight +of men's leisure hours. Had I to choose between books and cards, I +should no doubt take the books. But I find that I can seldom read +with pleasure for above an hour and a half at a time, or more than +three hours a day. As I write this I am aware that hunting must soon +be abandoned. After sixty it is given but to few men to ride straight +across country, and I cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of +riding. I think that without cards I should now be much at a loss. +When I began to play at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked +the society of the men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. I +have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, which +I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be liked by +those around me,--a wish that during the first half of my life was +never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my misery came +from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of popular boys. +They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while the desolation +of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, when I was in London +as a young man, I had but few friends. Among the clerks in the Post +Office I held my own fairly for the first two or three years; but +even then I regarded myself as something of a pariah. My Irish life +had been much better. I had had my wife and children, and had been +sustained by a feeling of general respect. But even in Ireland I had +in truth lived but little in society. Our means had been sufficient +for our wants, but insufficient for entertaining others. It was not +till we had settled ourselves at Waltham that I really began to live +much with others. The Garrick Club was the first assemblage of men at +which I felt myself to be popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. Then +I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not from +judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left for the +same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected by the +Committee at the Athenaeum. For this I was indebted to the kindness +of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when I was +informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member of the +Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in Charles +Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, and its +members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! The +gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met Jacob +Omnium, Monckton Milnes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry Reeve, +Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally a strong +political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain spirit to +the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, Lord Enfield, +Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, Bromley Davenport, +Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to whisper the secrets +of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I became a member of the +Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or the reverse--only for the +playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the _Cornhill Magazine_. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called _The +Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson_. In this I attempted a style +for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never had +again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, and was +intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think that there +is some good fun in it, but I have heard no one else express such an +opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion expressed on it, +except by the publisher, who kindly remarked that he did not think +it was equal to my usual work. Though he had purchased the copyright, +he did not republish the story in a book form till 1870, and then +it passed into the world of letters _sub silentio_. I do not know +that it was ever criticised or ever read. I received L600 for it. +From that time to this I have been paid at about that rate for my +work--L600 for the quantity contained in an ordinary novel volume, or +L3000 for a long tale published in twenty parts, which is equal in +length to five such volumes. I have occasionally, I think, received +something more than this, never I think less for any tale, except +when I have published my work anonymously.[7] Having said so much, +I need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_ was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + + [Footnote 7: Since the date at which this was written I have + encountered a diminution in price.] + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from the +first I interested myself much in the question. My mother had thirty +years previously written a very popular, but, as I had thought, a +somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. She had seen +what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, but had hardly +recognised their energy. I had entertained for many years an ambition +to follow her footsteps there, and to write another book. I had +already paid a short visit to New York City and State on my way home +from the West Indies, but had not seen enough then to justify me in +the expression of any opinion. The breaking out of the war did not +make me think that the time was peculiarly fit for such inquiry as I +wished to make, but it did represent itself as an occasion on which a +book might be popular. I consequently consulted the two great powers +with whom I was concerned. Messrs. Chapman & Hall, the publishers, +were one power, and I had no difficulty in arranging my affairs +with them. They agreed to publish the book on my terms, and bade me +God-speed on my journey. The other power was the Postmaster-General +and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of the Post Office. I wanted +leave of absence for the unusual period of nine months, and fearing +that I should not get it by the ordinary process of asking the +Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. "Is it on the plea of +ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, which was then that of +a very robust man. His lordship knew the Civil Service as well as +any one living, and must have seen much of falseness and fraudulent +pretence, or he could not have asked that question. I told him that I +was very well, but that I wanted to write a book. "Had I any special +ground to go upon in asking for such indulgence?" I had, I said, done +my duty well by the service. There was a good deal of demurring, but +I got my leave for nine months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. +Hill attached to the minute granting me the leave an intimation that +it was to be considered as a full equivalent for the special services +rendered by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the +grace with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions +of the Postmaster-General.[8] + + [Footnpte 8: During the period of my service in the Post + Office I did very much special work for which I never asked + any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments for + special services were common in the department at that time. + But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did + not choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon + it by Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected because +new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, is that +we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances around us. +Though three parts of London were in flames I should no doubt expect +to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the quarter which was +free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it was +not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, I think, +be of future value to those who wish to make themselves acquainted +with the United States. It was published about the middle of the +war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those who loved +the South were most buoyant, and the fears of those who stood +by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, and +on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, and +that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was right in +my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which they were +made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked the quarrel +because its political supremacy was checked by the election of Mr. +Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man against a +big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a feeling based +on a misconception as to American character that the Southerners are +better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did create great +sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too just to be led +into political action by a spirit of romance, and I was warranted +in that belief. There was a moment in which the Northern cause was +in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the prospect of British +interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two men insignificant in +themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the Southern party, and had +managed to get on board the British mail steamer called "The Trent," +at the Havannah. A most undue importance was attached to this mission +by Mr. Lincoln's government, and efforts were made to stop them. A +certain Commodore Wilkes, doing duty as policeman on the seas, did +stop the "Trent," and took the men out. They were carried, one to +Boston and one to New York, and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph +of the nation. Commodore Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a +brave man could take glory, was made a hero and received a prize +sword. England of course demanded her passengers back, and the States +for a while refused to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that +time the Secretary of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political +faults, was a wise man. I was at Washington at the time, and it +was known there that the contest among the leading Northerners was +very sharp on the matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under +Mr. Lincoln, the two chiefs of the party. It was understood that +Mr. Sumner was opposed to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward +in favour of it. Mr. Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the +President, and England's declaration of war was prevented. I dined +with Mr. Seward on the day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at +his house, and was told as I left the dining-room what the decision +had been. During the afternoon I and others had received intimation +through the embassy that we might probably have to leave Washington +at an hour's notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the +Northern cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It served +its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public and by +the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed _Orley Farm_, a novel +which appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which +_Pickwick_, _Nicholas Nickleby_, and many others had been published. +Most of those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, +and are competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is +the best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify me +in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of _Orley Farm_ is +probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of declaring +itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. When Lady +Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the will, the +plot of _Orley Farm_ has unravelled itself;--and this she does in +the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the novel +is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, Mr. +Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, are all +good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. Moulder +carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his tables and +chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull page in the +book. I am fond of _Orley Farm_;--and am especially fond of its +illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in any novel +in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the _Macdermots_ in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured to +myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged L4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps to +have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but I +have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has come +easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used to +cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing myself +to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride in +having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to reach +the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters should +be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is generally +done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as a great +blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much of +shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned too +quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred by +the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps foolishly, +to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to the comfort +of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost say the last +twenty years, though no man in his youth had less prospect of doing +so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five to have had such +luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, +and the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty boots +and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling myself +that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but that the mud +and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me mud and solitude +and poverty through my life. Those lads about me would go into +Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires of parishes, +or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not live with me +now,--but neither should I be able to live with them in after years. +Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the age in which others +go to the universities, I became a clerk in the Post Office, I felt +that my old visions were being realised. I did not think it a high +calling. I did not know then how very much good work may be done by +a member of the Civil Service who will show himself capable of doing +it. The Post Office at last grew upon me and forced itself into my +affections. I became intensely anxious that people should have their +letters delivered to them punctually. But my hope to rise had always +been built on the writing of novels, and at last by the writing of +novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education is +to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son of a +peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed men +than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the wife of +him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her whose husband +has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think it. The discerning +man will recognise the information and the graces when they are +achieved without such assistance, and will honour the owners of them +the more because of the difficulties they have overcome;--but the +fact remains that the society of the well-born and of the wealthy +will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this now, because these are +the rules by which I have lived, and these are the causes which have +instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? If +a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his intimacy, +am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close acquaintance +or his high rank? I have always said that where the difference in +position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy should always +come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be ever fixed, then +that rank should be held of no account. It seems to me that intimate +friendship admits of no standing but that of equality. I cannot be +the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the friend of many very much +beneath the Sovereign, because such equality is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than in +Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was too +light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the money +came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First one +horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home I +have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, and +gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had been an +Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more closely +than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding capacities +of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me by Essex +men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my delight +in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my own +satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little about +hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the field. I +am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore tell whether +the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the notice I take of +hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so constituted that +I can never see the nature of a fence. I either follow some one, +or ride at it with the full conviction that I may be going into a +horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into both one and the +other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden expensive horses. I am +also now old for such work, being so stiff that I cannot get on to my +horse without the aid of a block or a bank. But I ride still after +the same fashion, with a boy's energy, determined to get ahead if it +may possibly be done, hating the roads, despising young men who ride +them, and with a feeling that life can not, with all her riches, have +given me anything better than when I have gone through a long run to +the finish, keeping a place, not of glory, but of credit, among my +juniors. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON_--_CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?_--_RACHEL +RAY_--AND THE _FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_. + + +During the early months of 1862 _Orley Farm_ was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_ was +appearing in the _Cornhill Magazine_. In September, 1862, the _Small +House at Allington_ began its career in the same periodical. The work +on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, the +first number of _Can You Forgive Her?_ was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called _Rachel Ray_. In +addition to these I published during the time two volumes of stories +called _The Tales of All Countries_. In the early spring of 1865 +_Miss Mackenzie_ was issued in the same form as _Rachel Ray_; and +in May of the same year _The Belton Estate_ was commenced with the +commencement of the _Fortnightly Review_, of which periodical I will +say a few words in this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers and +readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. Of +publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins were, I +think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received from them +individually. What I wrote for the _Cornhill Magazine_, I always +wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were published +by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts made by me +with them, and always made with their good-will. Could I have been +two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom one might have +been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests of the firm +in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as I preserved my +identity in both places, I myself became aware that my name was too +frequent on title-pages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too great +rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving to the +subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of my own work +as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I believe that the +work which has been done quickest has been done the best. I have +composed better stories--that is, have created better plots--than +those of _The Small House at Allington_ and _Can You Forgive Her?_ +and I have portrayed two or three better characters than are to be +found in the pages of either of them; but taking these books all +through, I do not think that I have ever done better work. Nor would +these have been improved by any effort in the art of story telling, +had each of these been the isolated labour of a couple of years. How +short is the time devoted to the manipulation of a plot can be known +only to those who have written plays and novels;--I may say also, +how very little time the brain is able to devote to such wearing +work. There are usually some hours of agonising doubt, almost of +despair,--so at least it has been with me,--or perhaps some days. And +then, with nothing settled in my brain as to the final development +of events, with no capability of settling anything, but with a most +distinct conception of some character or characters, I have rushed +at the work as a rider rushes at a fence which he does not see. +Sometimes I have encountered what, in hunting language, we call a +cropper. I had such a fall in two novels of mine, of which I have +already spoken--_The Bertrams_ and _Castle Richmond_. I shall have to +speak of other such troubles. But these failures have not arisen from +over-hurried work. When my work has been quicker done,--and it has +sometimes been done very quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by +hot pressure, not in the conception, but in the telling of the story. +Instead of writing eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead +of working five days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my +usual average, and have done so in circumstances which have enabled +me to give up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been +writing. This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, no +ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done has +had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have been able +to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself thoroughly +with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered alone +among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to the +rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far from +well in reference to the style in which that work has been given to +the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for conveying +his thoughts to the public should not be less important to him than +the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to be popular +unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; but then +comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, I may +say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire a mode +of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible to the +reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he can be +neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him to obey +those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have been +taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does obey +them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will achieve +such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has learned +that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has learned +with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not while he +is writing that which shall please, but long before. His language +must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the great +performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the indignant +orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained compositor; +as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form themselves to the +ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of his words as he +writes them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil. +I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry we know what care +is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. A +singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because other +pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into plural +tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in demanding +fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has been already +expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, which must have +been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the long sentences of +Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity of divisions, has +done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer will hardly avoid +these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I am ready to declare +that, with much training, I have been unable to avoid them. But the +writer for the press is rarely called upon--a writer of books should +never be called upon--to send his manuscript hot from his hand to the +printer. It has been my practice to read everything four times at +least--thrice in manuscript and once in print. Very much of my work +I have read twice in print. In spite of this I know that inaccuracies +have crept through,--not single spies, but in battalions. From +this I gather that the supervision has been insufficient, not +that the work itself has been done too fast. I am quite sure that +those passages which have been written with the greatest stress of +labour, and consequently with the greatest haste, have been the most +effective and by no means the most inaccurate. + +_The Small House at Allington_ redeemed my reputation with the +spirited proprietor of the _Cornhill_, which must, I should think, +have been damaged by _Brown, Jones, and Robinson_. In it appeared +Lily Dale, one of the characters which readers of my novels have +liked the best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have +hardly joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of +a French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, _The Small House at Allington_ is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. I +have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have taken +the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, whose +life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, I think, +well described. + +Of _Can You Forgive Her?_ I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase my +reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that of +the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, the +circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The play had +been called _The Noble Jilt_; but I was afraid of the name for a +novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. There +was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. The +character of the girl is carried through with considerable strength, +but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are also +taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open chooses +the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is the better +looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain Bellfield and +Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun of novels is. But +that which endears the book to me is the first presentation which I +made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in making +any reader understand how much these characters with their belongings +have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently I have used them +for the expression of my political or social convictions. They have +been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. Cobden, or the dominion +of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have not been able to speak from +the benches of the House of Commons, or to thunder from platforms, or +to be efficacious as a lecturer, they have served me as safety-valves +by which to deliver my soul. Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared +in _The Small House at Allington_, but his birth had not been +accompanied by many hopes. In the last pages of that novel he is made +to seek a remedy for a foolish false step in life by marrying the +grand heiress of the day;--but the personage of the great heiress +does not appear till she comes on the scene as a married woman in +_Can You Forgive Her?_ He is the nephew and heir to a duke--the +Duke of Omnium--who was first introduced in _Doctor Thorne_, and +afterwards in _Framley Parsonage_, and who is one of the belongings +of whom I have spoken. In these personages and their friends, +political and social, I have endeavoured to depict the faults and +frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, the graces, and the +strength of our highest classes; and if I have not made the strength +and virtues predominant over the faults and vices, I have not painted +the picture as I intended. Plantagenet Palliser I think to be a very +noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies to the nation the seeming +anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of primogeniture. His wife is +in all respects very inferior to him; but she, too, has, or has been +intended to have, beneath the thin stratum of her follies a basis of +good principle, which enabled her to live down the conviction of the +original wrong which was done to her, and taught her to endeavour to +do her duty in the position to which she was called. She had received +a great wrong,--having been made, when little more than a child, to +marry a man for whom she cared nothing;--when, however, though she +was little more than a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She +had very heavy troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in +vindication of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. +In the pages of _Can You Forgive Her?_ the girl's first love is +introduced,--beautiful, well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a +girl from wasting herself, and an heiress from wasting her property +on such a scamp, was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But +it must ever be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she +does not love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom +she does love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected +the young wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to +whom her heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish +ground, leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one of +the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my novels +read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book which +caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to vicious +sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, he +did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should it +not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made known +nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, and ought +not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no attraction +to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full of grace, +and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation without +abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much too long +for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with him in the +country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, however, +has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then +of political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after +his thorough nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is +imperfectly true to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been +maintained by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to +nature,--but also of those changes which time always produces. There +are, perhaps, but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will +be found to have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man +will still be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of +showing or of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also +our power of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my +study that these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the +changes which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. +The Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime +Minister's wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost +longs to go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will +never do so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and +sore spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place +when they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the +changes which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. +To do all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I +do not know that the game has been worth the candle. To carry out my +scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide a canvas that I +cannot expect that any lover of such art should trouble himself to +look at it as a whole. Who will read _Can You Forgive Her?_, _Phineas +Finn_, _Phineas Redux_, and _The Prime Minister_ consecutively, in +order that they may understand the characters of the Duke of Omnium, +of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? Who will ever know +that they should be so read? But in the performance of the work I had +much gratification, and was enabled from time to time to have in this +way that fling at the political doings of the day which every man +likes to take, if not in one fashion then in another. I look upon +this string of characters,--carried sometimes into other novels +than those just named,--as the best work of my life. Taking him +altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser stands more firmly on +the ground than any other personage I have created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +_Cornhill Magazine_,--a position for which he was hardly fitted +either by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in +writing for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had +grown into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys and +troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in early +life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an afflicted +wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before his children +were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much upon clubs, +and taught him to dislike general society. But it never affected his +heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel in the pangs +and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as he did to the +very last--the duty of showing to his readers the evil consequences +of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault as a writer that he +could never abstain from that dash of satire which he felt to be +demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around him. The satirist who +writes nothing but satire should write but little,--or it will seem +that his satire springs rather from his own caustic nature than from +the sins of the world in which he lives. I myself regard _Esmond_ as +the greatest novel in the English language, basing that judgment upon +the excellence of its language, on the clear individuality of the +characters, on the truth of its delineations in regard to the time +selected, and on its great pathos. There are also in it a few scenes +so told that even Scott has never equalled the telling. Let any one +who doubts this read the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the +Duke of Hamilton to think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be +honoured if Colonel Esmond will give away the bride. When he went +from us he left behind living novelists with great names; but I think +that they who best understood the matter felt that the greatest +master of fiction of this age had gone. + +_Rachel Ray_ underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called _Good Words_ +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he was +wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel to +the readers of _Good Words_, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with any +specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for _Good Words_. He persisted in his request, and I came to +terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it to +him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable portion +having been printed--with an intimation that it would not do. A +letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. It was, +he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. He should +have known better. But the story, such as it was, he could not give +to his readers in the pages of _Good Words_. Would I forgive him? Any +pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject me the owner of +the publication would willingly make good. There was some loss--or +rather would have been--and that money I exacted, feeling that the +fault had in truth been with the editor. There is the tale now to +speak for itself. It is not brilliant, nor in any way very excellent; +but it certainly is not very wicked. There is some dancing in one +of the early chapters, described, no doubt, with that approval of +the amusement which I have always entertained; and it was this to +which my friend demurred. It is more true of novels than perhaps of +anything else, that one man's food is another man's poison. + +_Miss Mackenzie_ was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who was +overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before the +end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. There +is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made with a +violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such attempts +at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg to say +that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. _Miss +Mackenzie_ was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our trust +or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, and +have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but we +would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say it, +speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility of +his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity +of Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a +publication as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one +or two who had proposed to join us. But we went on, and our +company--limited--was formed. We subscribed, I think, L1250 each. +I at least subscribed that amount, and--having agreed to bring out +our publication every fortnight, after the manner of the well-known +French publication,--we called it _The Fortnightly_. We secured +the services of G. H. Lewes as our editor. We agreed to manage our +finances by a Board, which was to meet once a fortnight, and of which +I was the Chairman. And we determined that the payments for our +literature should be made on a liberal and strictly ready-money +system. We carried out our principles till our money was all gone, +and then we sold the copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a +trifle. But before we parted with our property we found that a +fortnightly issue was not popular with the trade through whose hands +the work must reach the public; and, as our periodical had not +become sufficiently popular itself to bear down such opposition, +we succumbed, and brought it out once a month. Still it was _The +Fortnightly_, and still it is _The Fortnightly_. Of all the serial +publications of the day, it probably is the most serious, the most +earnest, the least devoted to amusement, the least flippant, the +least jocose,--and yet it has the face to show itself month after +month to the world, with so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know +the laws of modern literature are aware, a very serious thing to +change the name of a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether +new enterprise. Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas +this was very ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined to +support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry will never object to +appear in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit +to think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result has +been good; and though there is much in the now established principles +of _The Fortnightly_ with which I do not myself agree, I may safely +say that the publication has assured an individuality, and asserted +for itself a position in our periodical literature, which is well +understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving +after some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still +desirable, but which is hardly to be attained by the means which then +recommended themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a +paper advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of my +case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether the +reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of political +writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other subjects. +Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very bad +indeed;--so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty and +incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are criticised +by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism of the +incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, editors +would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that we should +get but little criticism, and that the public would put but little +trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care to have his +books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation of the +great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the _Times_, the +_Spectator_, or the _Saturday_. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In _The +Fortnightly_ everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals have +become much more common since _The Fortnightly_ was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that the +work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss in him +was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in finding a +successor. I must say that the present proprietor has been fortunate +in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done the work with +admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course he has got around +him a set of contributors whose modes of thought are what we may call +much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, would not work with +other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone of its own; but it +holds its own with ability, and though there are many who perhaps +hate it, there are none who despise it. When the company sold it, +having spent about L9000 on it, it was worth little or nothing. Now I +believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter of +fox-hunting.[9] There came out in it an article from the pen of +Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning the amusement, which I love, +on the grounds of cruelty and general brutality. Was it possible, +asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, that any educated man should +find delight in so coarse a pursuit? Always bearing in mind my own +connection with _The Fortnightly_, I regarded this almost as a rising +of a child against the father. I felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. +Freeman in the same columns, and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission +to do so. I wrote my defence of fox-hunting, and there it is. In +regard to the charge of cruelty, Mr. Freeman seems to assert that +nothing unpleasant should be done to any of God's creatures except +for a useful purpose. The protection of a lady's shoulders from the +cold is a useful purpose; and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals +may be snared in the snow and left to starve to death in the wires, +in order that the lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of +wool would serve the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the +congregation and healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, +on whose behalf a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a +useful purpose. I think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that +amusement is as needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. +The absurdity of the further charge as to the general brutality of +the pursuit, and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is +to be attributed to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done +and said in the hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of +Cicero's words. There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked +for space for further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, +if I much wished it; but he preferred that the subject should be +closed. Of course I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. +Freeman,--and against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would +cease to exist in England. And I felt that _The Fortnightly_ was +hardly the place for the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman +kindly suggested to me that he would be glad to publish my article +in a little book to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting +generally. He was to have the last word and the first word, and that +power of picking to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a +manner, without any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If +he would give me the last word, as he would have the first, then, I +told him, I should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did +not however meet his views. + + [Footnote 9: I have written various articles for it since, + especially two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in +opposition to my own ideas on the subject, that the _Fortnightly +Review_ should always contain a novel. It was of course natural that +I should write the first novel, and I wrote _The Belton Estate_. It +is similar in its attributes to _Rachel Ray_ and to _Miss Mackenzie_. +It is readable, and contains scenes which are true to life; but it +has no peculiar merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a +novelist. I have not looked at it since it was published; and now +turning back to it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it +than of any book that I have written. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_THE CLAVERINGS_--THE _PALL MALL GAZETTE_--_NINA +BALATKA_--AND _LINDA TRESSEL_. + + +_The Claverings_, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the _Cornhill_; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the same +length as _Framley Parsonage_, and the price was L2800. Whether much +or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, and was +paid in a single cheque. + +In _The Claverings_ I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar to +myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had appeared +before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider the story +as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the public has ever +corroborated that verdict. The chief character is that of a young +woman who has married manifestly for money and rank,--so manifestly +that she does not herself pretend, even while she is making +the marriage, that she has any other reason. The man is old, +disreputable, and a worn-out debauchee. Then comes the punishment +natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom she had loved, +and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. He vacillates and +is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the book, as he plays the +part of hero. But she is strong--strong in her purpose, strong in her +desires, and strong in her consciousness that the punishment which +comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of _The Claverings_ is in the genuine fun of some +of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined to +think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, and +Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of Sophie, +is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference in a +somewhat masterly manner. In _The Claverings_, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her sorrow +is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is well told. +But I doubt now whether any one reads _The Claverings_. When I +remember how many novels I have written, I have no right to expect +that above a few of them shall endure even to the second year +beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +_Cornhill Magazine_;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate form, +and who about this time established the _Pall Mall Gazette_, to which +paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the _Pall Mall Gazette_ was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means of +his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him a +society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at once under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the _Pall Mall +Gazette_ owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met at a +Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the House of +Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even on important +occasions. There are many who now remember--and no doubt when this is +published there will be left some to remember--the great stroke of +business which was done by the revelations of a visitor to one of the +casual wards in London. A person had to be selected who would undergo +the misery of a night among the usual occupants of a casual ward in a +London poor-house, and who should at the same time be able to record +what he felt and saw. The choice fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, +who certainly possessed the courage and the powers of endurance. The +description, which was very well given, was, I think, chiefly written +by the brother of the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which +was increased by secrecy as to the person who encountered all the +horrors of that night. I was more than once assured that Lord +Houghton was the man. I heard it asserted also that I myself had been +the hero. At last the unknown one could no longer endure that his +honours should be hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, +I fear, to promises to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction +that if known he could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, +however, that record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more +to establish the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of +Stephen, or the polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of +Lewes. + +My work was very various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed also +some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had a +considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description +of the different classes of people who are to be met in the +hunting-field. There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was +considered to be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my +head the critical wrath of a great dean of that period. The most +ill-natured review that was ever written upon any work of mine +appeared in the _Contemporary Review_ with reference to these +Clerical Sketches. The critic told me that I did not understand +Greek. That charge has been made not unfrequently by those who have +felt themselves strong in that pride-producing language. It is much +to read Greek with ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do +so. To pretend to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. +The critic, however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that +Deans of the Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the +metropolitan moon. + +I also did some critical work for the _Pall Mall_,--as I did also for +_The Fortnightly_. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, +and said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter +time altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. +In doing this for the _Pall Mall_, I fell into great sorrow. A +gentleman, whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister, +was in some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had +been blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a +pamphlet. This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and +express my opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I +thought the request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. +He met me again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very +hard. I promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself +able I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I then +went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was one +requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the conduct +of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that charges +made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. This I said, +emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the opinion which I +had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often be the case when a +man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club or a sledge-hammer,--in +using which, either for defence or attack, a man can hardly measure +the strength of the blows he gives. Of course there was offence,--and +a breaking off of intercourse between loving friends,--and a sense of +wrong received, and I must own, too, of wrong done. It certainly was +not open to me to whitewash with honesty him whom I did not find to +be white; but there was no duty incumbent on me to declare what was +his colour in my eyes,--no duty even to ascertain. But I had been +ruffled by the persistency of the gentleman's request,--which should +not have been made,--and I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing +a wrong myself. I must add, that before he died his wife succeeded in +bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until human +nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during an +entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give a +graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. I +did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called _A Zulu in Search of a Religion_. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of such +martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on a +newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn its +ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any word was altered +in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of course, +was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my own +subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of a +staff I was no use, and after two or three years I dropped out of the +work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date from +the beginning of the _Cornhill Magazine_, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me that +a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed had +never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter of +course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom the +critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when they +wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner would +not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope no one +will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy of others. +Though I never reached that height, still I had so far progressed +that that which I wrote was received with too much favour. The +injustice which struck me did not consist in that which was withheld +from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt that aspirants +coming up below me might do work as good as mine, and probably much +better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. In order to test +this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a +course of novels anonymously, in order that I might see whether I +could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made one mark by +such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so +again. In 1865 I began a short tale called _Nina Balatka_, which +in 1866 was published anonymously in _Blackwood's Magazine_. In +1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called _Linda +Tressel_. I will speak of them together, as they are of the same +nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself read the +MS. of _Nina Balatka_, expressed an opinion that it would not from +its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but it was +discovered by Mr. Hutton of the _Spectator_, who found the repeated +use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear too +frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other works of +mine. He declared in his paper that _Nina Balatka_ was by me, showing +I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, however, to +complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he has been the +most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. _Nina Balatka_ +never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make its detection a +matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the story mentioned +by readers who did not know me to be the author, and always with +praise; but it had no real success. The same may be said of _Linda +Tressel_. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, was willing to +publish them, trusting that works by an experienced writer would make +their way, even without the writer's name, and he was willing to pay +me for them, perhaps half what they would have fetched with my name. +But he did not find the speculation answer, and declined a third +attempt, though a third such tale was written for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They were +both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of labour; +and both were written immediately after visits to the towns in which +the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of course I had +endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, but my manner +of story-telling also; and in this, _pace_ Mr. Hutton, I think that +I was successful. English life in them there was none. There was more +of romance proper than had been usual with me. And I made an attempt +at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes and places, which has +not been usual with me. In all this I am confident that I was in a +measure successful. In the loves, and fears, and hatreds, both of +Nina and of Linda, there is much that is pathetic. Prague is Prague, +and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know that the stories are good, but +they missed the object with which they had been written. Of course +there is not in this any evidence that I might not have succeeded a +second time as I succeeded before, had I gone on with the same dogged +perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, had I still further reduced my price, +would probably have continued the experiment. Another ten years of +unpaid unflagging labour might have built up a second reputation. But +this at any rate did seem clear to me, that with all the increased +advantages which practice in my art must have given me, I could not +at once induce English readers to read what I gave to them, unless I +gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with +public judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course +that in all things the public should trust to established reputation. +It is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to +a library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a +lady when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry, by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the _Times_ would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human +and has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts +on the matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much +consideration is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to aspire, +because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their reach. +"My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn your +stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, I can +only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be better +suited to your abilities." What old-established successful author has +not said such words as these to humble aspirants for critical advice, +till they have become almost formulas? No doubt there is cruelty in +such answers; but the man who makes them has considered the matter +within himself, and has resolved that such cruelty is the best mercy. +No doubt the chances against literary aspirants are very great. +It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! A man cannot make a watch +or a shoe without a variety of tools and many materials. He must +also have learned much. But any young lady can write a book who +has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can be done anywhere; in +any clothes--which is a great thing; at any hours--to which happy +accident in literature I owe my success. And the success, when +achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of course, are very many; +and the experienced councillor, when asked for his candid judgment as +to this or that effort, knows that among every hundred efforts there +will be ninety-nine failures. Then the answer is so ready: "My dear +young lady, do darn your stockings; it will be for the best." Or +perhaps, less tenderly, to the male aspirant: "You must earn some +money, you say. Don't you think that a stool in a counting-house +might be better?" The advice will probably be good advice,--probably, +no doubt, as may be proved by the terrible majority of failures. But +who is to be sure that he is not expelling an angel from the heaven +to which, if less roughly treated, he would soar,--that he is not +dooming some Milton to be mute and inglorious, who, but for such +cruel ill-judgment, would become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who consents +to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in this matter +no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the matter +subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an assured +answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your vocation;" +or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But cases as to +which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The critic who wrote +the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which produced the +_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, was justified in his criticism +by the merits of the _Hours of Idleness_. The lines had nevertheless +been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. In a little +satire called _The Biliad_, which, I think, nobody knows, are the +following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's _Taste_ was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--_the lines were Pindar's!_" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we are +so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to desist. + +There is perhaps no career of life so charming as that of a +successful man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which +I just now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, +live in the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, +choose the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, hardly +even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those which bind +other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? The judge +must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making his L20,000 +a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister must be in his +place on that weary front bench shortly after prayers, and must sit +there, either asleep or awake, even though ---- or ---- should be +addressing the House. During all that Sunday which he maintains +should be a day of rest, the active clergyman toils like a +galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, is bound to his +footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there from ten till +four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve to six is just +as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five in the morning +when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the morning before he +goes there. And the author wants no capital, and encounters no risks. +When once he is afloat, the publisher finds all that;--and indeed, +unless he be rash, finds it whether he be afloat or not. But it is +in the consideration which he enjoys that the successful author +finds his richest reward. He is, if not of equal rank, yet of equal +standing with the highest; and if he be open to the amenities of +society, may choose his own circles. He without money can enter doors +which are closed against almost all but him and the wealthy. I have +often heard it said that in this country the man of letters is not +recognised. I believe the meaning of this to be that men of letters +are not often invited to be knights and baronets. I do not think that +they wish it;--and if they had it they would, as a body, lose much +more than they would gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put +after my name, or to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom +Hughes and Charles Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not +know how I might feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left +unbedecked. As it is, the man of letters who would be selected for +titular honour, if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives +from the general respect of those around him a much more pleasant +recognition of his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant,--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not he +has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He makes +an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! So many +have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or twice! Who +will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to find out +that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple to that +office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much merit in +his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also to +foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may be +said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel given, +that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not begin by +trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as recommended +to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours as may belong +to you, let the praise which has come from the lips of that soft man +induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. Should you fail, +then your failure will not be fatal,--and what better could you have +done with the leisure hours had you not so failed? Such double toil, +you will say, is severe. Yes; but if you want this thing, you must +submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed for +the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and in +that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. I +may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which I +regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should be +glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it now, +because the experience I have acquired in being active in its cause +forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly on a +literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I should have +failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere while I was +making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I commenced with +some aid from the fact that others of my family were in the same +profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, ink, and paper +which I was using; and then when, with all my experience in my art, I +began again as from a new springing point, I should have failed again +unless again I could have given years to the task. Of course there +have been many who have done better than I,--many whose powers have +been infinitely greater. But then, too, I have seen the failure of +many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with my +well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, cannot +earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in a little +room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The very +charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him than to +others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that gives it to +him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding with a sense +of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM. + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write a +history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary to read +an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so to read them +as to point out the excellences of those which are most excellent, +and to explain the defects of those which, though defective, had +still reached sufficient reputation to make them worthy of notice. +I did read many after this fashion,--and here and there I have the +criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, they were written on +some blank page within the book. I have not, however, even a list of +the books so criticised. I think that the _Arcadia_ was the first, +and _Ivanhoe_ the last. My plan, as I settled it at last, had been to +begin with _Robinson Crusoe_, which is the earliest really popular +novel which we have in our language, and to continue the review so as +to include the works of all English novelists of reputation, except +those who might still be living when my task should be completed. But +when Dickens and Bulwer died, my spirit flagged, and that which I had +already found to be very difficult had become almost impossible to me +at my then period of life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +_Robinson Crusoe_, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the _Arcadia_, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present day +have become what they are, to point out the effects which they have +produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on the +whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still think +that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as a +novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature which +has created and nourished the profession which I follow. And I was +stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that there still +exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect to novels which +might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This prejudice is +not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their general +acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference to the +appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it robs them +of much of that high character which they may claim to have earned by +their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to good. I +have written many novels, and have known many writers of novels, and +I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with them and with +myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have received from +the public a full measure of credit for such genius, ingenuity, +or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that there is +still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence of their +calling, and a general understanding of the high nature of the work +which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes the +highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and all +but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before she +can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed it +is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in truth +achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above the +earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. He +who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, nor +does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but his +teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to the same +end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false notions of +humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, false worship +may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue may be taught. But +by each, equally, may true honour, true love, true worship, and true +humanity be inculcated; and that will be the greatest teacher who +will spread such truth the widest. But at present, much as novels, as +novels, are bought and read, there exists still an idea, a feeling +which is very prevalent, that novels at their best are but innocent. +Young men and women,--and old men and women too,--read more of them +than of poetry, because such reading is easier than the reading of +poetry; but they read them,--as men eat pastry after dinner,--not +without some inward conviction that the taste is vain if not vicious. +I take upon myself to say that it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily labour +and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted and +then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them to +be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what had +been the nature of English novels since they first became common in +our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they had +done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young days, +they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms which +they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they were +not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in the +preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, _Peregrine Pickle_ +was hidden beneath the bolster, and _Lord Ainsworth_ put away under +the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission was +given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many they +were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct morality +of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men and women +understand that lessons which were good in poetry could not be bad +in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was laid upon +novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist a much heavier +tax than that want of full appreciation of which I now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own hands +to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right and left, +above stairs and below, in town houses and in country parsonages, by +young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old lawyers and by +young students. It has not only come to pass that a special provision +of them has to be made for the godly, but that the provision so made +must now include books which a few years since the godly would have +thought to be profane. It was this necessity which, a few years +since, induced the editor of _Good Words_ to apply to me for a +novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but which now, +probably, owing to further change in the same direction, would have +been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little of +their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right in +saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, when +the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently assaulted +by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the easiest road +to greatness; when the temptations to which men are subjected dulls +their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; when it is so hard +for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, which so many are +handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's conduct will be +actuated much by that which is from day to day depicted to them as +leading to glorious or inglorious results. The woman who is described +as having obtained all that the world holds to be precious, by +lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily and heartlessly, +will induce other women to do the same with theirs,--as will she who +is made interesting by exhibitions of bold passion teach others to +be spuriously passionate. The young man who in a novel becomes a +hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, and almost a Prime Minister, by +trickery, falsehood, and flash cleverness, will have many followers, +whose attempts to rise in the world ought to lie heavily on the +conscience of the novelists who create fictitious Cagliostros. There +are Jack Sheppards other than those who break into houses and out of +prisons,--Macheaths, who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, for +which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or drawn +would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and odious. +The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and the nose, +is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there are outskirts +on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers seem to grow, and +grass to be green. It is in these border-lands that the danger lies. +The novelist may not be dull. If he commit that fault he can do +neither harm nor good. He must please, and the flowers and the grass +in these neutral territories sometimes seem to give him so easy an +opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And he must +teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach lessons of +virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to his readers? +That sermons are not in themselves often thought to be agreeable we +all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy supposed to be +pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, if he have +a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same purpose as the +clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. If he can do this +efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and vice ugly, while he +charms his readers instead of wearying them, then I think Mr. Carlyle +need not call him distressed, nor talk of that long ear of fiction, +nor question whether he be or not the most foolish of existing +mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists may +boast as a class that such has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such to +have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George Eliot. +Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, with that +absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I will boast +that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any one by +search through the works of the six great English novelists I have +named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach a girl to +be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their pages have +been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have they not ever +been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, baldly and simply: +"Because you lied here, or were heartless there, because you Lydia +Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, or you Earl Leicester +were false through your ambition, or you Beatrix loved too well the +glitter of the world, therefore you shall be scourged with scourges +either in this world or in the next;" but it is for him to show, as +he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, or his Leicester, or his +Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation of all readers by his +or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, beautiful, attractive,--so +as to make men love her, and women almost envy her,--and let her be +made also heartless, unfeminine, and ambitious of evil grandeur, as +was Beatrix, what a danger is there not in such a character! To the +novelist who shall handle it, what peril of doing harm! But if at +last it have been so handled that every girl who reads of Beatrix +shall say: "Oh! not like that;--let me not be like that!" and that +every youth shall say: "Let me not have such a one as that to press +my bosom, anything rather than that!"--then will not the novelist +have preached his sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel can +hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few might +be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the softness +of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. _Pickwick_ +has been named as an exception to the rule, but even in _Pickwick_ +there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little amatory longings +give a softness to the work. I tried it once with _Miss Mackenzie_, +but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this frequent allusion +to the passion which most stirs the imagination of the young, there +must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction is probably well aware. +Then the question has to be asked, whether the danger may not be so +averted that good may be the result,--and to be answered. + +In one respect the necessity of dealing with love is +advantageous,--advantageous from the very circumstance which has made +love necessary to all novelists. It is necessary because the passion +is one which interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has +felt it, or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness +which still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, +can so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will be +very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their business +better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; but it is +done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make young men and +women believe that truth in love will make them happy, then, if my +writings be popular, I shall have a very large class of pupils. No +doubt the cause for that fear which did exist as to novels arose from +an idea that the matter of love would be treated in an inflammatory +and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," says Sir Anthony in the +play, "a circulating library in a town is an evergreen tree of +diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the year; and depend on it, +Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves will +long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony was no doubt right. But he +takes it for granted that the longing for the fruit is an evil. The +novelist who writes of love thinks differently, and thinks that the +honest love of an honest man is a treasure which a good girl may +fairly hope to win,--and that if she can be taught to wish only for +that, she will have been taught to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love by +reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in truth a +very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but the girl's +love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became a wife so +womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, so wifely, so +worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told that they ought to +worship their husbands,--that I cannot believe that any girl can be +injured, or even not benefited, by reading of Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still are +some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear nothing +of love till the time come in which she is to be married. That, no +doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. Malaprop. +But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system was more +favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia Languish, though +she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide the book, yet had +_Peregrine Pickle_ in her collection. While human nature talks of +love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn to be silent on the +subject. "Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret." There are +countries in which it has been in accordance with the manners of the +upper classes that the girl should be brought to marry the man almost +out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out of the convent--without +having enjoyed that freedom of thought which the reading of novels +and of poetry will certainly produce; but I do not know that the +marriages so made have been thought to be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English novelists, +a great division is made. There are sensational novels and +anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed to +be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to take +delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by the other +are charmed by the continuation and gradual development of a plot. +All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises from the +inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time realistic +and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in the highest +degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure in art. Let +those readers who believe that they do not like sensational scenes in +novels think of some of those passages from our great novelists which +have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in the castle with Ivanhoe; of +Burley in the cave with Morton; of the mad lady tearing the veil of +the expectant bride, in _Jane Eyre_; of Lady Castlewood as, in her +indignation, she explains to the Duke of Hamilton Henry Esmond's +right to be present at the marriage of his Grace with Beatrix;--may +I add, of Lady Mason, as she makes her confession at the feet of Sir +Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that the authors of these passages +have sinned in being over-sensational? No doubt, a string of horrible +incidents, bound together without truth in detail, and told as +affecting personages without character,--wooden blocks, who cannot +make themselves known to the reader as men and women,--does not +instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with awe. Horrors heaped +upon horrors, and which are horrors only in themselves, and not as +touching any recognised and known person, are not tragic, and soon +cease even to horrify. And such would-be tragic elements of a story +may be increased without end, and without difficulty. I may tell you +of a woman murdered,--murdered in the same street with you, in the +next house,--that she was a wife murdered by her husband,--a bride +not yet a week a wife. I may add to it for ever. I may say that the +murderer roasted her alive. There is no end to it. I may declare that +a former wife was treated with equal barbarity; and may assert that, +as the murderer was led away to execution, he declared his only +sorrow, his only regret to be, that he could not live to treat a +third wife after the same fashion. There is nothing so easy as the +creation and the cumulation of fearful incidents after this fashion. +If such creation and cumulation be the beginning and the end of the +novelist's work,--and novels have been written which seem to be +without other attractions,--nothing can be more dull or more useless. +But not on that account are we averse to tragedy in prose fiction. +As in poetry, so in prose, he who can deal adequately with tragic +elements is a greater artist and reaches a higher aim than the writer +whose efforts never carry him above the mild walks of everyday life. +The _Bride of Lammermoor_ is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its +comic elements. The life of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, +is a tragedy. Rochester's wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in _Jane +Eyre_, is a tragedy. But these stories charm us not simply because +they are tragic, but because we feel that men and women with flesh +and blood, creatures with whom we can sympathise, are struggling +amidst their woes. It all lies in that. No novel is anything, for +the purposes either of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can +sympathise with the characters whose names he finds upon the pages. +Let an author so tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and +draw his tears, and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let +there be,--truth of description, truth of character, human truth as +to men and women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel +can be too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on the +art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage of the +experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, be too long +for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet got the rules +quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say a few words on one +or two points which my own practice has pointed out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down to +commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell a story, +but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first novel will +generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series of events, +or some development of character, will have presented itself to his +imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he thinks he can +present his picture in strong and agreeable language to others. He +sits down and tells his story because he has a story to tell; as you, +my friend, when you have heard something which has at once tickled +your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry to tell it to the +first person you meet. But when that first novel has been received +graciously by the public and has made for itself a success, then the +writer, naturally feeling that the writing of novels is within his +grasp, looks about for something to tell in another. He cudgels his +brains, not always successfully, and sits down to write, not because +he has something which he burns to tell, but because he feels it +to be incumbent on him to be telling something. As you, my friend, +if you are very successful in the telling of that first story, +will become ambitious of further story-telling, and will look out +for anecdotes,--in the narration of which you will not improbably +sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that it +would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the art of +British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of that portion +of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential to success. +That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of writing to be +a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing has become a +habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the weary novelist +refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of observation and +reception from which has come his power, without which work his power +cannot be continued,--which work should be going on not only when he +is at his desk, but in all his walks abroad, in all his movements +through the world, in all his intercourse with his fellow-creatures. +He has become a novelist, as another has become a poet, because he +has in those walks abroad, unconsciously for the most part, been +drawing in matter from all that he has seen and heard. But this +has not been done without labour, even when the labour has been +unconscious. Then there comes a time when he shuts his eyes and shuts +his ears. When we talk of memory fading as age comes on, it is such +shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. The things around cease to +interest us, and we cannot exercise our minds upon them. To the +novelist thus wearied there comes the demand for further novels. He +does not know his own defect, and even if he did he does not wish to +abandon his own profession. He still writes; but he writes because he +has to tell a story, not because he has a story to tell. What reader +of novels has not felt the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? +The characters do not live and move, but are cut out of blocks and +are propped against the wall. The incidents are arranged in certain +lines--the arrangement being as palpable to the reader as it has been +to the writer--but do not follow each other as results naturally +demanded by previous action. The reader can never feel--as he +ought to feel--that only for that flame of the eye, only for that +angry word, only for that moment of weakness, all might have been +different. The course of the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in +which there is no room for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, but +can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That they +are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that they +apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last because +we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to himself, + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories when +they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather than from +innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at work when +the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently at work +as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much about +the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially on +thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been very +thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected plot has +been at any period within my power. But the novelist has other aims +than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make his readers so +intimately acquainted with his characters that the creatures of his +brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, human creatures. +This he can never do unless he know those fictitious personages +himself, and he can never know them unless he can live with them in +the full reality of established intimacy. They must be with him as he +lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his dreams. He must learn +to hate them and to love them. He must argue with them, quarrel with +them, forgive them, and even submit to them. He must know of them +whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, whether true or false, +and how far true, and how far false. The depth and the breadth, +and the narrowness and the shallowness of each should be clear to +him. And, as here, in our outer world, we know that men and women +change,--become worse or better as temptation or conscience may guide +them,--so should these creations of his change, and every change +should be noted by him. On the last day of each month recorded, every +person in his novel should be a month older than on the first. If the +would-be novelist have aptitudes that way, all this will come to him +without much struggling;--but if it do not come, I think he can only +make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and of +all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, and +the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very clothes +they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have said +these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would then +have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this intimacy +ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be turned out to +grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, I will by no +means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than Gil Blas' canon; +but I do know that the power indicated is one without which the +teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject +his work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity +of his position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, +much more is necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed +be pleasant without being correct,--as I think can be proved by +the works of more than one distinguished novelist. But he must +be intelligible,--intelligible without trouble; and he must be +harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by the +word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning that +may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language should be +so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without an effort of +the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, but the very +sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended to put into +his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by all writers: +"How little the all-important art of making meaning pellucid is +studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself thinks of it." +The language used should be as ready and as efficient a conductor of +the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader as is the electric +spark which passes from one battery to another battery. In all +written matter the spark should carry everything; but in matters +recondite the recipient will search to see that he misses nothing, +and that he takes nothing away too much. The novelist cannot +expect that any such search will be made. A young writer, who will +acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will often feel himself +tempted by the difficulties of language to tell himself that some one +little doubtful passage, some single collocation of words, which is +not quite what it ought to be, will not matter. I know well what a +stumbling-block such a passage may be. But he should leave none such +behind him as he goes on. The habit of writing clearly soon comes to +the writer who is a severe critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel +written in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a +novelist who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony +which is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are +few ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to +them, decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. +And the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza be +or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, well +instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such a +stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion _canendo lapides_, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with none +of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, become +familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover the +fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is harmonious +in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him in his +business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able to weigh the +rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, when it has been +done for a time, even for a short time, will become so habitual to +him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration of every +syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon paper. The +art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how each sound +which he is about to utter will affect the force of his climax. If a +writer will do so he will charm his readers, though his readers will +probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden of +many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should cover +a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels are +not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of the +ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they are +subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks to +novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this burden +of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden to the +end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have by their +practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to preach;--but +they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault and by dint +of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a novel. Every +sentence, every word, through all those pages, should tend to the +telling of the story. Such episodes distract the attention of the +reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not felt this to be +the case even with _The Curious Impertinent_ and with the _History of +the Man of the Hill_. And if it be so with Cervantes and Fielding, +who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you have to write +must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion of episodes +should be carried down into the smallest details. Every sentence and +every word used should tend to the telling of the story. "But," the +young novelist will say, "with so many pages before me to be filled, +how shall I succeed if I thus confine myself;--how am I to know +beforehand what space this story of mine will require? There must be +the three volumes, or the certain number of magazine pages which I +have contracted to supply. If I may not be discursive should occasion +require, how shall I complete my task? The painter suits the size of +his canvas to his subject, and must I in my art stretch my subject to +my canvas?" This undoubtedly must be done by the novelist; and if he +will learn his business, may be done without injury to his effect. He +may not paint different pictures on the same canvas, which he will do +if he allow himself to wander away to matters outside his own story; +but by studying proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to +tell his story that it shall naturally fall into the required length. +Though his story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. +Though the plot itself may require but few characters, it may be +so enlarged as to find its full development in many. There may be +subsidiary plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main +story, and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make any +two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer presumes +himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, or sport, +may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and the writer, +while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt to think that +he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no greater mistake. +The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part of a novel; but it +is only so as long as it tends in some way to the telling of the main +story. It need not seem to be confined to that, but it should always +have a tendency in that direction. The unconscious critical acumen of +a reader is both just and severe. When a long dialogue on extraneous +matter reaches his mind, he at once feels that he is being cheated +into taking something which he did not bargain to accept when he +took up that novel. He does not at that moment require politics or +philosophy, but he wants his story. He will not perhaps be able to +say in so many words that at some certain point the dialogue has +deviated from the story; but when it does so he will feel it, and the +feeling will be unpleasant. Let the intending novel-writer, if he +doubt this, read one of Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much +to charm,--and then ask himself whether he has not been offended by +devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into the +mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably use. +He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short sharp expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people is +often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue must +so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would give to +his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly inaccuracy +of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would offend by an +appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of his readers a +sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem to attempt to be +funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to be unreal. And above +all, let the speeches be short. No character should utter much above +a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer can justify to himself +a longer flood of speech by the speciality of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been set +at defiance. I might name _Caleb Williams_ as one and _Adam Blair_ +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove the +rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does so +with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate human +nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this or +that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to print +his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by constant +and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to listen and to +observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners of people in his +memory, as to be able to say to himself with assurance that these +words might have been said in a given position, and that those other +words could not have been said,--I do not think that in these days he +can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, in +paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be said +with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his readers. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY. + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists of +my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour to +point whence their success has come, and why they have failed when +there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of human +nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human beings, +with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been within the +reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know no +character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the reader +becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. How great +a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we admire the man +of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there any one of whom +we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel Newcombe? It is +not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman that we think +Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but because he has had +the power to describe him as such, and to force us to love him, a +weak and silly old man, on account of this grace of character. + +It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he lived with the +characters he was creating. He had always a story to tell until quite +late in life; and he shows us that this was so, not by the interest +which he had in his own plots,--for I doubt whether his plots did +occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing us that his characters +were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, with Lady Castlewood and +her daughter, and with Esmond, with Warrington, Pendennis, and +the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and with Barry Lyndon, he must +have lived in perpetual intercourse. Therefore he has made these +personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, he +deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining his work +minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of every scene, +adds something to the clearness with which the story is told. Among +all his stories there is not one which does not leave on the mind +a feeling of distress that women should ever be immodest or men +dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so devoted and men +so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of Pendennis, the +worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how we love the +honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, and the devoted +affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil and love of good can +hardly have come upon so many readers without doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used, I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in _The Virginians_ and in _Philip_ the +reader is introduced to no character with which he makes a close +and undying acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because +Thackeray himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary +of that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She is +best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, and +not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will come +from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far removed +indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. Her +imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather than +in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled to pieces so +that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if possible by her +readers as clearly as by herself. This searching analysis is carried +so far that, in studying her latter writings, one feels oneself to +be in company with some philosopher rather than with a novelist. I +doubt whether any young person can read with pleasure either _Felix +Holt_, _Middlemarch_, or _Daniel Deronda_. I know that they are very +difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and Tom +Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in _Romola_, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to have +been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever of that +weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces him to +declare that the author has written himself out. It is not from +decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because the +author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly the +signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour of +affectation. In _Daniel Deronda_, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to take +home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I may be +permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my dearest +and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, I will +not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, in +criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a novelist +is to please; and this man's novels have been found more pleasant +than those of any other writer. It might of course be objected to +this, that though the books have pleased they have been injurious, +that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching vicious; but +it is almost needless to say that no such charge has ever been made +against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. From all which, +there arises to the critic a question whether, with such evidence +against him as to the excellence of this writer, he should not +subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of the world of +readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong to place Dickens +after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do that so great a +majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any of +the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been the +peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has invested +his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense with human +nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, very much +below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the intellect of +all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect of many. Nor +is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and melodramatic. But +it is so expressed that it touches every heart a little. There is +no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, his devotion for +Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and incompatible with +each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. Every reader can find +a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like Boucicault's plays. He +has known how to draw his lines broadly, so that all should see the +colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and he, +too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, ceased to +charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember Mrs. Gamp +and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, dwell in +the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such a +one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result has +been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from Bulwer's +novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result rather +of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than of mere +intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their way. It is +perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as he wrote in +varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as _Pelham_ and +_Ernest Maltravers_, pictures of a fictitious life, and afterwards +pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in _My Novel_ and _The +Caxtons_. But from all of them there comes the same flavour of an +effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it would have +been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, with +the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking always +of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not think he ever +knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do we know them. Even +Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to us, as are Pickwick, +and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and +successful. The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie +Collins, that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there +is no plot. The story comes naturally without calling for too much +attention, and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's +intellect. His language is clear, good, intelligible English, but +it is defaced by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his +fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and his +rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did a sense +of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from man's +voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and whether in +sickness or in health, I have never come across him without finding +him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the men I have +encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have known many +witty men, many who could say good things, many who would sometimes +be ready to say them when wanted, though they would sometimes +fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of the night, and +wit would come from him before he was half awake. And yet he never +monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would take no more than +his own share of the words spoken, and would yet seem to brighten all +that was said during the night. His earlier novels--the later I have +not read--are just like his conversation. The fun never flags, and +to me, when I read them, they were never tedious. As to character +he can hardly be said to have produced it. Corney Delaney, the old +man-servant, may perhaps be named as an exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to be +alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I do not +know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and that he +never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was seated with +a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Bronte was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be right +to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of one novel, +and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as strong as he +shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, I should be +inclined to put Miss Bronte very high indeed. I know no interest +more thrilling than that which she has been able to throw into the +characters of Rochester and the governess, in the second volume of +_Jane Eyre_. She lived with those characters, and felt every fibre of +the heart, the longings of the one and the sufferings of the other. +And therefore, though the end of the book is weak, and the beginning +not very good, I venture to predict that _Jane Eyre_ will be read +among English novels when many whose names are now better known shall +have been forgotten. _Jane Eyre_, and _Esmond_, and _Adam Bede_ will +be in the hands of our grandchildren, when _Pickwick_, and _Pelham_, +and _Harry Lorrequer_ are forgotten; because the men and women +depicted are human in their aspirations, human in their sympathies, +and human in their actions. + +In _Villette_, too, and in _Shirley_, there is to be found human +life as natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of +interest as those told in _Jane Eyre_. The character of Paul in the +former of the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in +love with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined +to prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled me by +his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as Charles +Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but as one who +has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of reasoning. He +can see what is grandly noble and admire it with all his heart. He +can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate it with equal ardour. +But in the common affairs of life he cannot see what is right or +wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be guided by the opinion +of others, he is constantly making mistakes in his literary career, +and subjecting himself to reproach which he hardly deserves. He means +to be honest. He means to be especially honest,--more honest than +other people. He has written a book called _The Eighth Commandment_ +on behalf of honesty in literary transactions,--a wonderful work, +which has I believe been read by a very few. I never saw a copy +except that in my own library, or heard of any one who knew the +book. Nevertheless it is a volume that must have taken very great +labour, and have been written,--as indeed he declares that it was +written,--without the hope of pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal +to the British Parliament and British people on behalf of literary +honesty, declaring that should he fail--"I shall have to go on +blushing for the people I was born among." And yet of all the writers +of my day he has seemed to me to understand literary honesty the +least. On one occasion, as he tells us in this book, he bought for a +certain sum from a French author the right of using a plot taken from +a play,--which he probably might have used without such purchase, and +also without infringing any international copyright act. The French +author not unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling +him that he is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in +a novel; and a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his +discovery to the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called +his critic a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact +of his own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we +all mean when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. +The sin of which the author is accused is not that of taking another +man's property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had found +the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which there +was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, had he +given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness of +purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so strong +a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, that I +have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has accused. +So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist ever before +had combined! In story-telling he has occasionally been almost great. +Among his novels I would especially recommend _The Cloister and the +Hearth_. I do not know that in this work, or in any, that he has left +a character that will remain; but he has written some of his scenes +so brightly that to read them would always be a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in a +certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch which +I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural that his +work should be very much lost upon me individually. When I sit down +to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very much care, +how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct his that he +not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to the minutest +detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots it all back +again, to see that there is no piece of necessary dove-tailing which +does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The construction is most +minute and most wonderful. But I can never lose the taste of the +construction. The author seems always to be warning me to remember +that something happened at exactly half-past two o'clock on Tuesday +morning; or that a woman disappeared from the road just fifteen yards +beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is constrained by mysteries and +hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, however, that the mysteries will +be made clear, and the difficulties overcome at the end of the third +volume. Such work gives me no pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared +to acknowledge that the want of pleasure comes from fault of my +intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare +how much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and +Rhoda Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former +almost as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that good +produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which she need +be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be proud. But +she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, and who allows +her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though she +too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, does take +the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the ground. And +she has the gift of making them speak as men and women do speak. "You +beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man who was to be her +husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her brother. Now Nancy, +whether right or wrong, was just the girl who would, as circumstances +then were, have called her brother a beast. There is nothing wooden +about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and in these days so many +novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured as are those by +Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to nature. In Miss +Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and missish, she has made +her ladies do and say things which ladies would not do and say. They +throw themselves at men's heads, and when they are not accepted only +think how they may throw themselves again. Miss Broughton is still +so young that I hope she may live to overcome her fault in this +direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing _Vivian Grey_ when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written by +a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his _Sketches by +Boz_, and as young when he was writing the _Pickwick Papers_. It was +hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought out +_Lothair_, and between the two there were eight or ten others. To +me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. In +whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment and +aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, more +rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the glory +has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been a wealth of +tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and the enterprise +has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious conjurer has +generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful cleverness, +can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to his hand. Through +it all there is a feeling of stage properties, a smell of hair-oil, +an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, and that pricking of the +conscience which must be the general accompaniment of paste diamonds. +I can understand that Mr. Disraeli should by his novels have +instigated many a young man and many a young woman on their way in +life, but I cannot understand that he should have instigated any +one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably as many followers as Jack +Sheppard, and has led his followers in the same direction. + +_Lothair_, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended _Vivian Grey_. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, that +flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes out +stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than Vivian +Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more inane and +unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the very bathos +of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as often excused to +myself, that lack of public judgment which enables readers to put up +with bad work because it comes from good or from lofty hands. I never +felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little able to excuse it, +as when a portion of the reading public received _Lothair_ with +satisfaction. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ON CRITICISM. + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is bad, +in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. English +criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as this. It +attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether a book be +or be not worth public attention; and, in the second place, so to +describe the purport of the work as to enable those who have not time +or inclination for reading it to feel that by a short cut they can +become acquainted with its contents. Both these objects, if fairly +well carried out, are salutary. Though the critic may not be a +profound judge himself; though not unfrequently he be a young man +making his first literary attempts, with tastes and judgment still +unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the matter, and +would not have been selected for that work had he not shown some +aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible guide to +the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. Real +substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and that +which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is given +to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without it +would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner in +which the work is done generally, so are others open to very severe +censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are chiefly due +on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is not critical +ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence that we are +bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we pay is not +attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, and when +displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that critics should +be honest we have a right to demand, and critical dishonesty we are +bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what he thinks, though +his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, we can forgive him; +but when he tells us what he does not think, actuated either by +friendship or by animosity, then there should be no pardon for him. +This is the sin in modern English criticism of which there is most +reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It has +become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse so +many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling author +learns that so much has been done for A by the _Barsetshire Gazette_, +so much for B by the _Dillsborough Herald_, and, again, so much for C +by that powerful metropolitan organ the _Evening Pulpit_, and is told +also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal interest, +he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' wives,--or +perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their wives' first +or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon an editor +or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced by other +considerations than the duty he owes to the public, all sense of +critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. _Facilis +descensus Averni_. In a very short time that editorial honesty +becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that he wields +the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what should +be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him to be +quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last twenty +years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out now +with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty begets +dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice to +be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself a +continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both in the +giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should neither +have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated with +scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by his +contract with certain employers to review such books as were sent +to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present for +praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever noticed +at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence of +honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar with +the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the forms +which their struggles will take:--how little presents will be sent to +men who write little articles; how much flattery may be expended even +on the keeper of a circulating library; with what profuse and distant +genuflexions approaches are made to the outside railing of the temple +which contains within it the great thunderer of some metropolitan +periodical publication! The evil here is not only that done to the +public when interested counsel is given to them, but extends to the +debasement of those who have at any rate considered themselves fit to +provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the +conscience and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling +could be produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for +praise,--and demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every +walk of life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only +of the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very +disagreeable. He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or +she. It may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an +author successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, as +coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author try to +obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if possible, by +care and industry. But when they come, let him take them as coming +from some source which he cannot influence, and with which he should +not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken of +the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing can be +gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book which he has +disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by the praise +of others; if bad, his judgment will be confirmed by others. Or if, +unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil a condition +generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, the author may +be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own book will not set +matters right. If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To do so is +consonant with the dignity of the position which he ought to assume. +To shriek, and scream, and sputter, to threaten actions, and to swear +about the town that he has been belied and defamed in that he has +been accused of bad grammar or a false metaphor, of a dull chapter, +or even of a borrowed heroine, will leave on the minds of the public +nothing but a sense of irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or he +will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than he +went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a right +to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will be +again, though the circumstances of English literature do not tend to +produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to speak with +authority. These great men have declared, _tanquam ex cathedra_, that +such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or that it has been +altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world has believed them. +When making such assertions they have given their reasons, explained +their causes, and have carried conviction. Very great reputations +have been achieved by such critics, but not without infinite study +and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. In +the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young writer, +who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever book is sent +to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through for the +purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the amount of +labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure his work by +his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this must for the +most part be, the general reader has no right to expect philosophical +analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence may be placed. But +he probably may believe that the books praised will be better than +the books censured, and that those which are praised by periodicals +which never censure are better worth his attention than those which +are not noticed. And readers will also find that by devoting an +hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms of the week, they will +enable themselves to have an opinion about the books of the day. The +knowledge so acquired will not be great, nor will that little be +lasting; but it adds something to the pleasure of life to be able to +talk on subjects of which others are speaking; and the man who has +sedulously gone through the literary notices in the _Spectator_ +and the _Saturday_ may perhaps be justified in thinking himself as +well able to talk about the new book as his friend who has brought +that new book on the _tapis_, and who, not improbably, obtained his +information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which have +been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know where +I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only greasy +adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the delight +of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find an equal +mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much judgment, as +to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its staff. Among it +all there is much chaff, which I have learned how to throw to the +winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or blames;--but I have +also found some corn, on which I have fed and nourished myself, and +for which I have been thankful. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET_--LEAVING +THE POST OFFICE--_ST. PAUL'S MAGAZINE_. + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weather-tight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve miles +from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse with +the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country for +hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it had to +be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to the Essex +meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much or more than I +had a right to expect. It was within my own postal district, and had, +upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work I did during the twelve years that I remained there, from +1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that in +amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department no +slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least twice a +week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I lived much +in society in London, and was made happy by the presence of many +friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always spent six +weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived a fuller +life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether to the +virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table every +morning at 5.30 A.M.; and it was also my practice to allow myself no +mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, and to whom I +paid L5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no mercy. During +all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once late with the +coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not know that I ought +not to feel that I owe more to him than to any one else for the +success I have had. By beginning at that hour I could complete my +literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily as +literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day will +produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should so have +trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously during +those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall not be +necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the wall +before him, till he shall have found the words with which he wants +to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and it +still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient to +myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from myself +250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 words +have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my three +hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began my task +by reading the work of the day before, an operation which would take +me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing with my ear +the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly recommend this +practice to all tyros in writing. That their work should be read +after it has been written is a matter of course,--that it should be +read twice at least before it goes to the printers, I take to be +a matter of course. But by reading what he has last written, just +before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and +spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming +to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed me to produce +over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, and if kept up +through ten months, would have given as its results three novels of +three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount which so greatly +acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which must at any +rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers of the world +can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or two +or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I to die +now there are three such besides _The Prime Minister_, half of which +has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years finished, +and has never seen the light since it was first tied up in the +wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, and +to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of a +period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed from +me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 _The Last Chronicle of Barset_ was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without other +accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might be had +for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was always +included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel alone. +Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference to +novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined to +make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me L3000 for the +use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If I remember +right, the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have written. +I was never quite satisfied with the development of the plot, which +consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made against a +clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty on the part of +the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the cheque had found +its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself believe that even +such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten how he got it; nor +would the generous friend who was anxious to supply his wants have +supplied them by tendering the cheque of a third person. Such fault I +acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same time that I have never been +capable of constructing with complete success the intricacies of a +plot that required to be unravelled. But while confessing so much, +I claim to have portrayed the mind of the unfortunate man with great +accuracy and great delicacy. The pride, the humility, the manliness, +the weakness, the conscientious rectitude and bitter prejudices of +Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true to nature and well described. The +surroundings too are good. Mrs. Proudie at the palace is a real +woman; and the poor old warden dying at the deanery is also real. +The archdeacon in his victory is very real. There is a true savour +of English country life all through the book. It was with many +misgivings that I killed my old friend Mrs. Proudie. I could not, +I think, have done it, but for a resolution taken and declared under +circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenaeum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on the +other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were reading, +and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The gravamen +of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced the same +characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon whom we +have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," said the +other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till everybody is +tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I would not write +novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. Proudie. It was +impossible for me not to hear their words, and almost impossible +to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing between them, I +acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. Proudie," I said, +"I will go home and kill her before the week is over." And so I did. +The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, and one of them begged me +to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all +the little shades of her character. It was not only that she was a +tyrant, a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one +who would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means a +hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; but +I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still live much +in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote _Can You Forgive Her?_ +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called _The Noble Jilt_. Some year or two after the completion +of _The Last Chronicle_, I was asked by the manager of a theatre +to prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy _Did He Steal It?_ But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was less +attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley nearly +crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason given. I +have little doubt but that the manager was right. That he intended to +express a true opinion, and would have been glad to have taken the +piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be _The Warden_, _Barchester +Towers_, _Doctor Thorne_, _Framley Parsonage_, and _The Last +Chronicle of Barset_. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are +in the hands of four different persons, including myself, and with +one of the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert +with the others.[10] + + [Footnote 10: Since this was written I have made arrangements for + doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will + now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was the +resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described how it +was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties with my +other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but even this +did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which no scruple +of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I was driven to +work at night. In the winter when hunting was going on, I had to keep +myself very much on the alert. And during the London season, when +I was generally two or three days of the week in town, I found the +official work to be a burden. I had determined some years previously, +after due consideration with my wife, to abandon the Post Office when +I had put by an income equal to the pension to which I should be +entitled if I remained in the department till I was sixty. That I had +now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and my +brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I applied +for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained this I +should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my literary +work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and would have +returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the General +Post Office. There was very much against such a change in life. The +increase of salary would not have amounted to above L400 a year, and +I should have lost much more than that in literary remuneration. I +should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance at an office, +from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty years. I +should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. But I was +attached to the department, had imbued myself with a thorough love of +letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by the post,--and was +anxious for their welfare as though they were all my own. In short, I +wished to continue the connection. I did not wish, moreover, that any +younger officer should again pass over my head. I believed that I had +been a valuable public servant, and I will own to a feeling existing +at that time that I had not altogether been well treated. I was +probably wrong in this. I had been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I +pleased, and to say what I liked, and had in that way received my +reward. I applied for the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to +it. He no doubt was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He +understood the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was +a great accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in +regard to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed +by the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A +man shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a +pension,--unless his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to +one-sixtieth of his salary for every year he has served up to forty +years. If his health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work +before the age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to +one-sixtieth for every year he has served. I could not say that my +health had failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I +have since felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left +the Post Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to +my literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still a +little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined after +my death that I had slighted the public service to which I belonged, +I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to the letter +containing my resignation. + + + General Post Office, + October 9th, 1867. + + SIR,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in + which you tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post + Office service, and state as your reason for this step + that you have adopted another profession, the exigencies + of which are so great as to make you feel you cannot give + to the duties of the Post Office that amount of attention + which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right to + expect. + + You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous + members of the Post Office, which, on several occasions + when you have been employed on large and difficult + matters, has reaped much benefit from the great abilities + which you have been able to place at its disposal; and in + mentioning this, I have been especially glad to record + that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you + have never permitted your other avocations to interfere + with your Post Office work, which has been faithfully and + indeed energetically performed. + +There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," but still it +did not displease me. + + In accepting your resignation, which he does with much + regret, the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you + his own sense of the value of your services, and to state + how alive he is to the loss which will be sustained by the + department in which you have long been an ornament, and + where your place will with difficulty be replaced. + + (Signed) J. TILLEY. + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, and +some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy me more +than to think that I should even be supposed to have been among the +number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which I +had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not say +devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have their +letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar letter-boxes +should be put up for them (of which accommodation in the streets +and ways of England I was the originator, having, however, got the +authority for the erection of the first at St. Heliers in Jersey); +that the letter-carriers and sorters should not be overworked; that +they should be adequately paid, and have some hours to themselves, +especially on Sundays; above all, that they should be made to earn +their wages; and latterly that they should not be crushed by what +I thought to be the damnable system of so-called merit;--these were +the matters by which I was stirred to what the secretary was pleased +to call energetic performance of my duties. How I loved, when I was +contradicted,--as I was very often and no doubt very properly,--to +do instantly as I was bid, and then to prove that what I was doing +was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, and impracticable! And then there +were feuds,--such delicious feuds! I was always an anti-Hillite, +acknowledging, indeed, the great thing which Sir Rowland Hill had +done for the country, but believing him to be entirely unfit to +manage men or to arrange labour. It was a pleasure to me to differ +from him on all occasions;--and looking back now, I think that in all +such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything to +improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to do so +gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own reports +unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant to be +read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing myself to +re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but sending them +up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots and erasures +there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a man should search +after a fine neatness at the expense of so much waste labour; or +that he should not be able to exact from himself the necessity of +writing words in the form in which they should be read. If a copy be +required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand or by machine, as may +be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his words to prevail with +the reader, should send them out as written by himself, by his own +hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, correct or incorrect, +with the evidence upon them that they have come out from his own +mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the world +where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for him, +and had offered me a salary of L1000 a year for the work, over and +above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had known +something of magazines, and did not believe that they were generally +very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some publishers +as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business was +chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, this +consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I very +strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to him that +a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine in +accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it on any +other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate return to +him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, listened +to my arguments with great patience, and then told me that if I would +not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should from month to month give in to +him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that he should +pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and thirdly, that the +arrangement should remain in force at any rate for two years. To all +this he made no objection; and during the time that he and I were +thus bound together, he not only complied with these stipulations, +but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine that I made to +him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide liberality and +absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, and perpetual good +humour, would have produced success, our magazine certainly would +have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first great difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none,--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. _The Liberal_ may cease to be liberal, or _The +Fortnightly_, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But _The Cornhill_ +and _The Argosy_ are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or possibly the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. _Blackwood's_ has indeed always +remained _Blackwood's_, and _Fraser's_, though it has been bought +and sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called _Anthony Trollope's_. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town--still are about the town--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would have +driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we settled +on _St. Paul's_ as the name for our bantling,--not as being in any +way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks with many +others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, it was not +by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. Lynn +Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles Lever, +E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. H. Lewes, +C. Mackay, Hardman (of the _Times_), George Macdonald, W. R. Greg, +Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton Cook,--and +others, whose names would make the list too long. It might have been +thought that with such aid the _St. Paul's_ would have succeeded. +I do not think that the failure--for it did fail--arose from bad +editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the fault. I was +too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of what might be +lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two +occasions may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set +on foot on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything +short of a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set +a magazine afloat, though when afloat it will sustain it. Time +is wanted,--or the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by +ubiquitous sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may +be effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time and +intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done better +than _Blackwood's_. The _Cornhill_, too, after Thackeray had left +it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in quite +efficient hands,--those hands being the hands of proprietor and +publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and what +he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into that +worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for the +sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so sin +very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My dear +friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus,--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn in +his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know that +I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work did +not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did so, +I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that such +editors as Thackeray and myself--if I may for the moment be allowed +to couple men so unequal--will always be liable to commit such +faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors will be +less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to be +open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, or why +the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that may be +sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce a periodical +that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably best do by +securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BEVERLEY. + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning to +fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who was +himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should like +best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether I +wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far as he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to look +for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one by +leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could get a +seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that bourne +from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there feel that +he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to every +educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that every +educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in Parliament as +a probable or even a possible career; but that the man in Parliament +has reached a higher position than the man out,--that to serve one's +country without pay is the grandest work that a man can do,--that +of all studies the study of politics is the one in which a man may +make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and that of all +lives, public political lives are capable of the highest efforts. So +thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too late an age at +which to commence a new career,--I resolved with much hesitation that +I would make the attempt. + +Writing now at an age beyond sixty, I can say that my political +feelings and convictions have never undergone any change. They are +now what they became when I first began to have political feelings +and convictions. Nor do I find in myself any tendency to modify them +as I have found generally in men as they grow old. I consider myself +to be an advanced, but still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard +not only as a possible but as a rational and consistent phase of +political existence. I can, I believe, in a very few words, make +known my political theory; and as I am anxious that any who know +aught of me should know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It +should, I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel +superiority, unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do +not understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are therefore +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that we +see,--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from a +full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but still +we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of our +brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for in +this matter I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tost-bound life of those who cannot even feed +themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling of +injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck by +apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. Make +all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they shall be +all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the conscientious +philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being surely convinced +that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells himself that it +is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the preservation of the +welfare of the world depends on the maintenance of those distances +between the prince and the peasant by which he finds himself to be +surrounded;--and perhaps, I may add, that the duty is not unpleasant, +as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it is +apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his duty +to retard. He cannot prevent it; and therefore the society to which +he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, at times, +assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, under the +gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and holdfasts +which he may add, the movement would be slower than it would become +if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. Such, I think, +are Conservatives;--and I speak of men who, with the fear of God +before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm in their +hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best +understood, I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious +Liberal is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that +these distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness;--but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of steps +towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even willing +to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he knows, +as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. What +is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the word +is offensive, and presents to the imaginations of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and therefore he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any political +doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition of his +fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, and a +conjurer,--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be +stilted, overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. +Many will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active part +in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals or +Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings as +to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is so;--and +in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further and +further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are the +intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply such a +game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater results. To +the minds that create and lead and sway political opinion, some such +theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. But +I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about myself +in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, must be +able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied with +doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must patiently +get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, and then be +satisfied with himself when at last he has induced a Chancellor of +the Exchequer to say that he will consider the impost at the first +opportunity. He must be content to be beaten six times in order that, +on a seventh, his work may be found to be of assistance to some one +else. He must remember that he is one out of 650, and be content with +1-650th part of the attention of the nation. If he have grand ideas, +he must keep them to himself, unless by chance he can work his way +up to the top of the tree. In short, he must be a practical man. +Now I knew that in politics I could never become a practical man. I +should never be satisfied with a soft word from the Chancellor of the +Exchequer, but would always be flinging my over-taxed ketchup in his +face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a good +speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied the +art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I had +found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion,--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else all +impromptu,--which was very bad indeed, unless I had something special +on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by going into +Parliament,--that the time for it, if there could have been a time, +had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire to sit there, +and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn had not been +deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a +dissolution, I should stand for one division of the county of Essex; +and I had promised that I would do so, though the promise at that +time was as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this +by the late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was +very anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex was +portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, one of +which--that adjacent to London--would, it was thought, be altogether +Liberal. After the promise which I had given, the performance of +which would have cost me a large sum of money absolutely in vain, it +was felt by some that I should be selected as one of the candidates +for the new division,--and as such I was proposed by Mr. Charles +Buxton. But another gentleman, who would have been bound by previous +pledges to support me, was put forward by what I believe to have been +the defeating interest, and I had to give way. At the election this +gentleman, with another Liberal, who had often stood for the county, +were returned without a contest. Alas! alas! They were both unseated +at the next election, when the great Conservative reaction took +place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself,--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or at least the East +Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly better +than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of canvassing, +and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the prospect +of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they who knew +Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," said he, +"you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely that I was +thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he said. Again +I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but nevertheless +I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh no!" continued he, with +good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I don't suppose you really +expect it. But there is a fine career open to you. You will spend +L1000, and lose the election. Then you will petition, and spend +another L1000. You will throw out the elected members. There will be +a commission, and the borough will be disfranchised. For a beginner +such as you are, that will be a great success." And yet, in the teeth +of this, from a man who knew all about it, I persisted in going to +Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented by +Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying that +he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of the seat. +There had been many contests, many petitions, many void elections, +many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept his seat, +if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next door to +permanence. I fancy that with a little management between the parties +the borough might at this time have returned a member of each colour +quietly;--but there were spirits there who did not love political +quietude, and it was at last decided that there should be two Liberal +and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry was joined by a young man +of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was grouped with Mr. Maxwell, +the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch Roman Catholic peer who +lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure me +a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands for at any rate +the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. Maxwell and +I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves but the one +holiday during this period of intense labour; but I was assured, +as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, that if we +committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert us. From +morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes and by-ways +of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, exposed to the +rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable to assume that air +of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful candidate should be +invested. At night, every night I had to speak somewhere,--which was +bad; and to listen to the speaking of others,--which was much worse. +When, on one Sunday, I proposed to go to the Minster Church, I was +told that was quite useless, as the Church party were all certain to +support Sir Henry! "Indeed," said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes +there in a kind of official profession, and you had better not allow +yourself to be seen in the same place." So I stayed away and omitted +my prayers. No Church of England church in Beverley would on such +an occasion have welcomed a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be +a kind of pariah in the borough, to whom was opposed all that was +pretty, and all that was nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the +conviction that my political ideas were all leather and prunella +to the men whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for +my doctrines, and could not be made to understand that I should +have any. I had been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry +Edwards,--which, however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or +to cause him the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, +and expense. There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my +wished-for supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two +points I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious +for the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extended electoral divisions and by an +increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parliamentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so utterly +unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into Yorkshire +merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not have said more +than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of course I was +not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became members for +Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid L400 for my +expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the cost. +He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque for L400, +and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. How it came +to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never knew, but +such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from me, but from +the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen were unseated, the +borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards was put on his trial for +some kind of Parliamentary offence and was acquitted. In this way +Beverley's privilege as a borough and my Parliamentary ambition were +brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should do, +I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed to me +that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing more +absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, than +the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had come +to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. There +was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal there +turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should be no +bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. It was a +matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were appreciated +because they might subserve electoral purposes, and how little it +was understood that electoral purposes, which are in themselves a +nuisance, should be endured in order that they may subserve politics. +And then the time, the money, the mental energy, which had been +expended in making the borough a secure seat for a gentleman who +had realised the idea that it would become him to be a member of +Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be realised and +approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants had taught +themselves to think that it was for such purposes that boroughs were +intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, even in one +town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS. + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, as +being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has been +brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go over to +the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. This, as +I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and of course I +went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made two since. +As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was very far from +being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, a place I do +not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by incompetence, and +opposed by what I felt to be personal and not national views. I had +to deal with two men,--with one who was a working officer of the +American Post Office, than whom I have never met a more zealous, or, +as far as I could judge, a more honest public servant. He had his +views and I had mine, each of us having at heart the welfare of the +service in regard to his own country,--each of us also having certain +orders which we were bound to obey. But the other gentleman, who was +in rank the superior,--whose executive position was dependent on his +official status, as is the case with our own Ministers,--did not +recommend himself to me equally. He would make appointments with me +and then not keep them, which at last offended me so grievously, +that I declared at the Washington Post Office that if this treatment +were continued, I would write home to say that any further action +on my part was impossible. I think I should have done so had it not +occurred to me that I might in this way serve his purpose rather +than my own, or the purposes of those who had sent me. The treaty, +however, was at last made,--the purport of which was, that everything +possible should be done, at a heavy expenditure on the part of +England, to expedite the mails from England to America, and that +nothing should be done by America to expedite the mails from thence +to us. The expedition I believe to be now equal both ways; but it +could not be maintained as it is without the payment of a heavy +subsidy from Great Britain, whereas no subsidy is paid by the +States.[11] + + [Footnote 11: This was a state of things which may probably have + appeared to American politicians to be exactly that which they + should try to obtain. The whole arrangement has again been + altered since the time of which I have spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands in +the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have never +had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my work; +but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found many years +ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, being then in +the States, the details of which are sufficiently amusing[12]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though I +do not know that I have raised my price against them on that score, +I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from the American +market. But I do know that what the publishers have received here is +very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & Hall, my present +publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States as much as 5 per +cent on the price they pay me for my manuscript. But the American +readers are more numerous than the English, and taking them all +through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get L1000 for a book +here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be able to get as much +there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes in place of 300, +there is no question as to such result. Why not, then, if I can +supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + + [Footnote 12: In answer to a question from myself, a certain + American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised + me that if any other American publisher republished my work + on America before he had done so, he would not bring out a + competing edition, though there would be no law to hinder + him. I then entered into an agreement with another American + publisher, stipulating to supply him with early sheets; and he + stipulating to supply me a certain royalty on his sales, and to + supply me with accounts half-yearly. I sent the sheets with + energetic punctuality, and the work was brought out with equal + energy and precision--by my old American publishers. The + gentleman who made the promise had not broken his word. No + other American edition had come out before his. I never got any + account, and, of course, never received a dollar.] + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having a +certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers,[13] that an assent to an +international copyright would be the result. The state of things as +it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers will not pay +them on a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply their customers +with modern English literature without paying for it. The English +amount of production so much exceeds the American, that the rate at +which the former can be published rules the market. It is equally +injurious to American booksellers,--except to two or three of the +greatest houses. No small man can now acquire the exclusive right of +printing and selling an English book. If such a one attempt it, the +work is printed instantly by one of the leviathans,--who alone are +the gainers. The argument of course is, that the American readers are +the gainers,--that as they can get for nothing the use of certain +property, they would be cutting their own throats were they to pass +a law debarring themselves from the power of such appropriation. In +this argument all idea of honesty is thrown to the winds. It is not +that they do not approve of a system of copyright,--as many great men +have disapproved,--for their own law of copyright is as stringent as +is ours. A bold assertion is made that they like to appropriate the +goods of other people; and that, as in this case, they can do so +with impunity, they will continue to do so. But the argument, as +far as I have been able to judge, comes not from the people, but +from the bookselling leviathans, and from those politicians whom +the leviathans are able to attach to their interests. The ordinary +American purchaser is not much affected by slight variations in +price. He is at any rate too high-hearted to be affected by the +prospect of such variation. It is the man who wants to make money, +not he who fears that he may be called upon to spend it, who controls +such matters as this in the United States. It is the large speculator +who becomes powerful in the lobbies of the House, and understands how +wise it may be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation +of a great business, or in protecting that which he has created from +competition. Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done +since (up to 1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is +now about to sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a +member; and the question must then be handled, though nothing done +by a Royal Commission here can affect American legislators. But +I do believe that if the measure be consistently and judiciously +urged, the enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. +Some years since we had some _quasi_ private meetings, under the +presidency of Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the +subject of international copyright. At one of these I discussed this +matter of American international copyright with Charles Dickens, +who strongly declared his conviction that nothing would induce an +American to give up the power he possesses of pirating British +literature. But he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, +would not realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this +matter the American decision had been, according to his thinking, +dishonest, therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be +expected from Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now +protest. American dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among +a few. It is the great misfortune of the community that those few +have been able to dominate so large a portion of the population among +which all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + + [Footneote 13: I might also say American publishers, if I might + count them by the number of heads, and not by the amount of work + done by the firms.] + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has sat +and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and could +serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which are +discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that L20 was paid to my publisher in England for the use +of the early sheets of a novel for which I received L1600 in England. +When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that the firm +with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to another firm?" +I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because no other firm +would care to run counter to that great firm which had assumed to +itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after received a copy +of my own novel in the American form, and found that it was published +for 7-1/2d. That a great sale was expected can be argued from the +fact that without a great sale the paper and printing necessary for +the republication of a three-volume novel could not be supplied. +Many thousand copies must have been sold. But from these the author +received not one shilling. I need hardly point out that the sum of +L20 would not do more than compensate the publisher for his trouble +in making the bargain. The publisher here no doubt might have refused +to supply the early sheets, but he had no means of exacting a higher +price than that offered. I mention the circumstance here because it +has been boasted, on behalf of the American publishers, that though +there is no international copyright, they deal so liberally with +English authors as to make it unnecessary that the English author +should be so protected. With the fact of the L20 just brought to my +knowledge, and with the copy of my book published at 7-1/2d. now in +my hands, I feel that an international copyright is very necessary +for my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love of +education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions in the +minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk upright, +fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for his own +actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by private +munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where can the +English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than the normal +American, when once the American shall have found the Englishman to +be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is so much an object +of heart-felt admiration of the American man and the American woman +as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman or Englishman? +These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost in the minds of the +unprejudiced English traveller as he makes acquaintance with these +near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant of their official doings, +of their politics, of their municipal scandals, of their great +ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and briberies, and the infinite +baseness of their public life. There at the top of everything he +finds the very men who are the least fit to occupy high places. +American public dishonesty is so glaring that the very friends he +has made in the country are not slow to acknowledge it,--speaking of +public life as a thing-apart from their own existence, as a state +of dirt in which it would be an insult to suppose that they are +concerned! In the midst of it all the stranger, who sees so much +that he hates and so much that he loves, hardly knows how to express +himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with what +energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the clean +outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight outnumber +the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead you. It is +not by the private lives of the millions that the outside world will +judge you, but by the public career of those units whose venality is +allowed to debase the name of your country. There never was plainer +proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of every honest +citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond of +pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which makes +no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen high +in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two old +gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high in public +estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned the occasion +into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious at first, and +fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of manners which +with us has become a habit from our childhood. But they are never +fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be a +memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of the +chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last fifteen +years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. She +is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark by +thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do any +good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages would +amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of myself +without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. I trust +she may live to read the words I have now written, and to wipe away a +tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and on +my return I went back with energy to my work at the _St. Paul's +Magazine_. The first novel in it from my own pen was called _Phineas +Finn_, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, I +took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my seat +on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon by the +Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a seat in the +gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with the ways and +doings of the House in which some of my scenes were to be placed. The +Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running order for, I think, +a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, to enable me often to +be very tired,--and, as I have been assured by members, to talk of +the proceedings almost as well as though Fortune had enabled me to +fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing _Phineas Finn_, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my own +sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with perhaps +a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this way I think +I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly a blunder to +take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the circumstance that +I created the scheme of the book during a visit to Ireland. There +was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and there was an added +difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection for a politician +belonging to a nationality whose politics are not respected in +England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It was not a +brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant with +political matters could not care much for a hero who spent so much of +his time either in the House of Commons or in a public office. But +the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the book, and the +women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish read it also. As +this was what I had intended, I was contented. It is all fairly good +except the ending,--as to which till I got to it I made no provision. +As I fully intended to bring my hero again into the world, I was +wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish girl, who could only be +felt as an encumbrance on such return. When he did return I had no +alternative but to kill the simple pretty Irish girl, which was an +unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing _Phineas Finn_ I had constantly before me the necessity of +progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and women +which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In most +novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +_Ivanhoe_, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as they +become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this in _Tom +Jones_, which is one of the greatest novels in the English language, +for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature may fall away +under temptation and be again strengthened and made to stand upright. +But I do not think that novelists have often set before themselves +the state of progressive change,--nor should I have done it, had +I not found myself so frequently allured back to my old friends. +So much of my inner life was passed in their company, that I was +continually asking myself how this woman would act when this or that +event had passed over her head, or how that man would carry himself +when his youth had become manhood, or his manhood declined to old +age. It was in regard to the old Duke of Omnium, of his nephew and +heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady Glencora, that I was anxious to +carry out this idea; but others added themselves to my mind as I +went on, and I got round me a circle of persons as to whom I knew +not only their present characters, but how those characters were +to be affected by years and circumstances. The happy motherly +life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the girl's honest but +long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady Laura, which was +equally due to the sale she made of herself in her wretched marriage; +and the long suffering but final success of the hero, of which he +had deserved the first by his vanity, and the last by his constant +honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from the first. As to the +incidents of the story, the circumstances by which these personages +were to be affected, I knew nothing. They were created for the most +part as they were described. I never could arrange a set of events +before me. But the evil and the good of my puppets, and how the evil +would always lead to evil, and the good produce good,--that was clear +to me as the stars on a summer night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in _Phineas Finn_ and its +sequel _Phineas Redux_,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel, though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the _St. Paul's Magazine_ in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the _Graphic_ in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel-readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, or +that any little interest which might have been taken in the career +of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that such +interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the same +popularity as the former part, and among the same class of readers. +Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet had become--and +the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the new duke, and the +young duchess, either kept their old friends or made new friends for +themselves. _Phineas Finn_, I certainly think, was successful from +first to last. I am aware, however, that there was nothing in it to +touch the heart like the abasement of Lady Mason when confessing her +guilt to her old lover, or any approach in delicacy of delineation to +the character of Mr. Crawley. + +_Phineas Finn_, the first part of the story, was completed in May, +1867. In June and July I wrote _Linda Tressel_ for _Blackwood's +Magazine_, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called _The Golden Lion of Granpere_, which +was intended also for _Blackwood_,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in _Good Words_. It was +written on the model of _Nina Balatka_ and _Linda Tressel_, but is +very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, 1867, +I began a very long novel, which I called _He Knew He Was Right_, +and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of the _St. +Paul's Magazine_, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not know that +in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short of my own +intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create sympathy +for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do his duty to all +around him, should be led constantly astray by his unwillingness to +submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. The man is made to +be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he does is apparent. So far +I did not fail, but the sympathy has not been created yet. I look +upon the story as being nearly altogether bad. It is in part redeemed +by certain scenes in the house and vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. +But a novel which in its main parts is bad cannot, in truth, be +redeemed by the vitality of subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced _The Vicar of +Bullhampton_, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began _Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite_, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by it +during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the _St. +Paul's Magazine_, in reference to which I had read an enormous amount +of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I had +written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and had +made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had hunted +three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy I was +with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered as a +part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained my +experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched American +Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able to escape +from that capital till July; but all that had added to the activity +of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; but I had +read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a part of my +duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my novels I +had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation and scorn +produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I was nevertheless +proud of having done so much. I always had a pen in my hand. Whether +crossing the seas, or fighting with American officials, or tramping +about the streets of Beverley, I could do a little, and generally +more than a little. I had long since convinced myself that in such +work as mine the great secret consisted in acknowledging myself to +be bound to rules of labour similar to those which an artisan or a +mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker when he has finished one +pair of shoes does not sit down and contemplate his work in idle +satisfaction. "There is my pair of shoes finished at last! What a +pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker who so indulged himself would +be without wages half his time. It is the same with a professional +writer of books. An author may of course want time to study a new +subject. He will at any rate assure himself that there is some such +good reason why he should pause. He does pause, and will be idle for +a month or two while he tells himself how beautiful is that last pair +of shoes which he has finished! Having thought much of all this, and +having made up my mind that I could be really happy only when I was +at work, I had now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as +soon as the first was out of my hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON_--_SIR HARRY HOTSPUR_--_AN EDITOR'S +TALES_--_CAESAR_. + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then the +sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. Chapman +& Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the firm. He +remained there three years and a half; but he did not like it, nor +do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he left the +business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might have been +expected from the short period of his labours, and has since taken +himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will work at it so +hard as his father, and write as many books, may be doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone out to +Australia, having resolved on a colonial career when he found that +boys who did not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This +departure was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted +on the understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, +and then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, and +in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I have since +that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which at any rate +I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the Australasian +Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word or two further +on of him and his doings. + +_The Vicar of Bullhampton_ was written in 1868 for publication in +_Once a Week_, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & +Evans. It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont, had +made my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my +terms and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before +it was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was +the first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have I +ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I had +stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled to +suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to console +myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of virtue. The +industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple will always be +the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, who keep none +waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for the unpunctual. +But these earthly sufferers know that they are making their way +heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. If the former +reflection does not suffice for consolation, the deficiency is made +up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on the matter of the +publication of my new Vicar, and had to think very much of the +ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. About the end of +March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the editor. All the _Once +a Week_ people were in a terrible trouble. They had bought the right +of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern novels, _L'Homme Qui Rit_; +they had fixed a date, relying on positive pledges from the French +publishers; and now the great French author had postponed his work +from week to week and from month to month, and it had so come to +pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would have to appear exactly +at the same time as my clergyman. Was it not quite apparent to me, +the editor asked, that _Once a Week_ could not hold the two? Would +I allow my clergyman to make his appearance in the _Gentleman's +Magazine_ instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by the +stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he had +put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches on +his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +_Gentleman's Magazine_, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, my novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no doubt +are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is irregular. +He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till three months +after the time named." In these emergencies I have given perhaps half +what was wanted, and have refused to give the other half. I have +endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and at the same time not +to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But the circumstances have +impressed on my mind the great need there is that men engaged in +literature should feel themselves to be bound to their industry as +men know that they are bound in other callings. There does exist, I +fear, a feeling that authors, because they are authors, are relieved +from the necessity of paying attention to everyday rules. A writer, +if he be making L800 a year, does not think himself bound to live +modestly on L600, and put by the remainder for his wife and children. +He does not understand that he should sit down at his desk at a +certain hour. He imagines that publishers and booksellers should keep +all their engagements with him to the letter;--but that he, as a +brain-worker, and conscious of the subtle nature of the brain, should +be able to exempt himself from bonds when it suits him. He has his +own theory about inspiration which will not always come,--especially +will not come if wine-cups overnight have been too deep. All this +has ever been odious to me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in +health, and therefore unable to do as he has contracted in whatever +grade of life. He who has been blessed with physical strength to +work day by day, year by year--as has been my case--should pardon +deficiencies caused by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect +have been a little hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my +repentance. But I think that no allowance should be given to claims +for exemption from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score +still with the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The _Vicar of Bullhampton_ was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for a fallen woman, and of +raising a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other +women. I could not venture to make this female the heroine of my +story. To have made her a heroine at all would have been directly +opposed to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should +be a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference +to her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the +heroine with their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I +affixed a preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my +old-established principle. I do not know that any one read it; but +as I wish to have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + + I have introduced in the _Vicar of Bullhampton_ the character + of a girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall + not in its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured + to endow her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I + have brought her back at last from degradation, at least to + decency. I have not married her to a wealthy lover, and I have + endeavoured to explain that though there was possible to her a + way out of perdition, still things could not be with her as they + would have been had she not fallen. + + There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who + professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, + should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as + that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within + the memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a + condition of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our + sisters and daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of + them. Whether that ignorance was good may be questioned; but + that it exists no longer is beyond question. Then arises the + further question,--how far the conditions of such unfortunates + should be made a matter of concern to the sweet young hearts of + those whose delicacy and cleanliness of thought is a matter of + pride to so many of us. Cannot women, who are good, pity the + sufferings of the vicious, and do something perhaps to mitigate + and shorten them without contamination from the vice? It will be + admitted probably by most men who have thought upon the subject + that no fault among us is punished so heavily as that fault, + often so light in itself but so terrible in its consequences to + the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a woman falls. + All her own sex is against her, and all those of the other sex + in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought to have + contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were her + trouble any other than it is. + + She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, + unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has + placed her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It + may be said, no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts + as a protection to female virtue,--deterring, as all known + punishments do deter, from vice. But this punishment, which is + horrible beyond the conception of those who have not regarded + it closely, is not known beforehand. Instead of the punishment, + there is seen a false glitter of gaudy life,--a glitter which + is damnably false,--and which, alas! has been more often + portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of young girls, + than have those horrors which ought to deter, with the dark + shadowings which belong to them. + + To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, + as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life + is happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice + and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter + be handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been + thoughtless, may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may + be softened. + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that feeling +I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her family. I have +not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I presented her to +the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of those fallacious +luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more seductive to evil +than love itself. She is introduced as a poor abased creature, who +hardly knows how false were her dreams, with very little of the +Magdalene about her--because though there may be Magdalenes they are +not often found--but with an intense horror of the sufferings of +her position. Such being her condition, will they who naturally are +her friends protect her? The vicar who has taken her by the hand +endeavours to excite them to charity; but father, and brother, and +sister are alike hard-hearted. It had been my purpose at first that +the hand of every Brattle should be against her; but my own heart was +too soft to enable me to make the mother cruel,--or the unmarried +sister who had been the early companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. The +characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping with +human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. It is +not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have myself +forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she tumbles +into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should remember her. +But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said by any of the +Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out of +ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is of +such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is the +woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? Then +comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone that +we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument used in +favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse given for their +severity by women who will relax nothing of their harshness. But in +truth the severity of the punishment is not known beforehand; it is +not in the least understood by women in general, except by those +who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, the contumely +of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all good things, +the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed round with +lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the weary pavement, +the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then the quick +depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted paint, +garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still can +hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the life to +which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their error we +close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find pardon +easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope to +recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at all, must +be induced to obey the summons before they have reached the last +stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. To me the +mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that the girl who +has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if possible, at any +rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, and that this +ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, but in part also from +a dread of the taint which the sin brings with it. Very low as is the +degradation to which a girl is brought when she falls through love +or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for luxurious ease, still much +lower is that to which she must descend perforce when, through the +hardness of the world around her, she converts that sin into a trade. +Mothers and sisters, when the misfortune comes upon them of a fallen +female from among their number, should remember this, and not fear +contamination so strongly as did Carry Brattle's married sister and +sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of the +three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had nothing +to do with it except to write it. These were _Sir Harry Hotspur of +Humblethwaite_, _An Editors Tales_, and a little volume on Julius +Caesar. _Sir Harry Hotspur_ was written on the same plan as _Nina +Balatka_ and _Linda Tressel_, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. _Nina_ and _Linda Tressel_ and _The Golden +Lion_ had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English +story. In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I +think, by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love +of the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in _Macmillan's Magazine_, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it should +have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of a good +many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, the +subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. Macmillan, +and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them as a novel +in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel in one volume, +and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that the +public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is the object +of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they can, and that +the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, however, did not +overcome me, and I stood to my guns. _Sir Harry_ was published in +one volume, containing something over the normal 300 pages, with +an average of 220 words to a page,--which I had settled with my +conscience to be the proper length of a novel volume. I may here +mention that on one occasion, and on one occasion only, a publisher +got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He had a two-volume +novel of mine running through a certain magazine, and had it printed +complete in three volumes before I knew where I was,--before I had +seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for a while, but I had not +the heart to make him break up the type. + +The _Editor's Tales_ was a volume republished from the _St. Paul's +Magazine_, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned the +memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it the +outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance of +some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation with me, +I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed his little +article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with a becoming +pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how I was appealed +to by the dearest of little women whom here I have called Mary +Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle over an +abortive periodical which was intended to be the best thing ever +done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, who with +infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort to reclaim +himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly how a poor +weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened litigation +from a rejected contributor. Of these stories _The Spotted Dog_, +with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I know now, +however, that when the things were good they came out too quick one +upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, luckily, when they +were bad. + +The _Caesar_ was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had +set on foot a series of small volumes called _Ancient Classics for +English Readers_, and had placed the editing of them, and the +compiling of many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, +a clergyman who, from my connection with the series, became a most +intimate friend. The _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ had already come out +when I was at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing +my very strong admiration for those two little volumes,--which I +here recommend to all young ladies as the most charming tales they +can read,--he asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. +_Herodotus_ was in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine +should be next. Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the +readers of English on _The Commentaries of Julius Caesar_. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation or +English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has since +become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an hour with +some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After the reading +what my author had left behind him, I fell into the reading of what +others had written about him, in Latin, in English, and even in +French,--for I went through much of that most futile book by the late +Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a short period I ever +worked harder. The amount I had to write was nothing. Three weeks +would have done it easily. But I was most anxious, in this soaring +out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace myself. I do not think +that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was anxious for something more. +If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by +all, old and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an +account of Caesar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary +intention,--and the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. +A well-educated girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps +know as much about Caesar and his writings as she need know. Beyond +the consolation of thinking as I do about it, I got very little +gratification from the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very +learned friend to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Caesar," but +said no more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into +me. Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There was, +however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that of others, +a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing English novels +could not be fit to write about Caesar. It was as when an amateur +gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. What business had +I there? _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_. In the press it was most faintly +damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having read the book again +within the last month or two, I make bold to say that it is a good +book. The series, I believe, has done very well. I am sure that it +ought to do well in years to come, for, putting aside Caesar, the work +has been done with infinite scholarship, and very generally with a +light hand. With the leave of my sententious and sonorous friend, +who had not endured that subjects which had been grave to him should +be treated irreverently, I will say that such a work, unless it be +light, cannot answer the purpose for which it is intended. It was not +exactly a school-book that was wanted, but something that would carry +the purposes of the school-room even into the leisure hours of adult +pupils. Nothing was ever better suited for such a purpose than the +_Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, as done by Mr. Collins. The _Virgil_, also +done by him, is very good; and so is the _Aristophanes_ by the same +hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_RALPH THE HEIR_--_THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS_--_LADY ANNA_--_AUSTRALIA_. + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we would +go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before doing so +I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the Colonies. For +such a work as this I had always been aware that I could not fairly +demand more than half the price that would be given for the same +amount of fiction; and as such books have an indomitable tendency +to stretch themselves, so that more is given than what is sold, +and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the writing of them is not +remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes not, I think, generally +from the ambition of the writer, but from his inability to comprise +the different parts in their allotted spaces. If you have to deal +with a country, a colony, a city, a trade, or a political opinion, +it is so much easier to deal with it in twenty than in twelve pages! +I also made an engagement with the editor of a London daily paper to +supply him with a series of articles,--which were duly written, duly +published, and duly paid for. But with all this, travelling with the +object of writing is not a good trade. If the travelling author can +pay his bills, he must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London be +cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, and +was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, away, and +the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of my friends +told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up the fabrication +of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon go, and I would +not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. And then, why +should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that I had fixed on that +place in reference to the Post Office? It was therefore determined +that we would flit, and as we were to be away for eighteen months, +we determined also to sell our furniture. So there was a packing up, +with many tears, and consultations as to what should be saved out of +the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let, +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. I +lost by the transaction about L800. As I continually hear that other +men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am not well +adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made money by +selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of horseflesh I am +so inefficient that I have generally given away horses that I have +not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May 1871, _Ralph the Heir_ was +running through the _St. Paul's_. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should not +write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and that part +which appertains to politics, and which recounts the electioneering +experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well enough. +Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same place. +Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good in their +way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only lover, but +also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But the main thread +of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the young gentlemen +and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is not good. Ralph +the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph who is not the +heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has none. The same may be +said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she who was meant to be the +chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, without leaving a trace of +remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of _The Fortnightly_, ready +for production on the 1st of July following, a story called _The +Eustace Diamonds_. In that I think that my friend's dictum was +disproved. There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. +The character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine +and as well told as that of Lucy Robarts or Lily Dale. + +But _The Eustace Diamonds_ achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a series +of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant to the +reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented itself to +me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but in planning +the character I had not thought of this, and I believe that Lizzie +would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had never been +described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, well +arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. I had no +idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got my heroine to +bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment of the thieves, +till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with the news that her +door had been broken open. All these things, and many more, Wilkie +Collins would have arranged before with infinite labour, preparing +things present so that they should fit in with things to come. I +have gone on the very much easier plan of making everything as it +comes fit in with what has gone before. At any rate, the book was +a success, and did much to repair the injury which I felt had come +to my reputation in the novel-market by the works of the last few +years. I doubt whether I had written anything so successful as _The +Eustace Diamonds_ since _The Small House at Allington_. I had written +what was much better,--as, for instance, _Phineas Finn_ and _Nina +Balatka_; but that is by no means the same thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of _Phineas +Redux_, a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I +subsequently sold to the proprietors of the _Graphic_ newspaper. The +editor of that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that +the public would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was +dissatisfied with me when I replied that I had no objection to them +doing so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any +other language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, I +could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +_An Eye for an Eye_, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. When +making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting a desk put +up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the Great Britain, +so that I could go to work the day after we left Liverpool. This I +did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished a story called +_Lady Anna_. Every word of this was written at sea, during the two +months required for our voyage, and was done day by day--with the +intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, at the rate of 66 +pages of manuscript in each week, every page of manuscript containing +250 words. Every word was counted. I have seen work come back to an +author from the press with terrible deficiencies as to the amount +supplied. Thirty-two pages have perhaps been wanted for a number, +and the printers with all their art could not stretch the matter to +more than twenty-eight or -nine! The work of filling up must be very +dreadful. I have sometimes been ridiculed for the methodical details +of my business. But by these contrivances I have been preserved +from many troubles; and I have saved others with whom I have +worked--editors, publishers, and printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, _Lady Anna_ appeared in _The +Fortnightly_, following _The Eustace Diamonds_. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for her, +and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown in her +way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. And the +charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that she is bound +by her troth to the man who had always been true to her overcomes +everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my wish of course to +justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers along with me in my +sympathy with her. But everybody found fault with me for marrying her +to the tailor. What would they have said if I had allowed her to jilt +the tailor and marry the good-looking young lord? How much louder, +then, would have been the censure! The book was read, and I was +satisfied. If I had not told my story well, there would have been no +feeling in favour of the young lord. The horror which was expressed +to me at the evil thing I had done, in giving the girl to the tailor, +was the strongest testimony I could receive of the merits of the +story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say that +this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew a man +work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might be +enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them all. +Making my head-quarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New South +Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of Western +Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was absent in all +eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in learning much of the +political, social, and material condition of these countries. I wrote +my book as I was travelling, and brought it back with me to England +all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much more +to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much more is +said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter than from +the former book. I am sure that any one who will take the trouble to +read the book on Australia, will learn much from it. But the West +Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that either of the other +works are, in the proper sense of that word. When I go back to them +I find that the pages drag with me;--and if so with me, how must it +be with others who have none of that love which a father feels even +for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all the needs a book has the chief +need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like to +pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had heard +so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to enter, and +inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him that I was not +a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. +"I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured him that I was +not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him that I did so by +writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then he turned +upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the door. I was +properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive that he would +have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made to +the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No real +resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four horses +I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the two +summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival I bought +another, and settled myself down to hunting from London three days a +week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, but finding that +to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton Buzzard, and became +one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode with the "Baron" +and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer was alive, and the +riding with his hounds was very good. I did not care so much for Mr. +Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and 1875, I had my horses +back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, always trying to resolve +that I would give it up. But still I bought fresh horses, and, as +I did not give it up, I hunted more than ever. Three times a week +the cab has been at my door in London very punctually, and not +unfrequently before seven in the morning. In order to secure this +attendance, the man has always been invited to have his breakfast in +the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern Railway,--ah! so often +with the fear that frost would make all my exertions useless, and so +often too with that result! And then, from one station or another +station, have travelled on wheels at least a dozen miles. After the +day's sport, the same toil has been necessary to bring me home to +dinner at eight. This has been work for a young man and a rich man, +but I have done it as an old man and comparatively a poor man. Now at +last, in April, 1876, I do think that my resolution has been taken. +I am giving away my old horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles +and horse-furniture. + + "Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum; + Tendunt extorquere poemata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + +This is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport. + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_THE WAY WE LIVE NOW_ AND _THE PRIME MINISTER_--CONCLUSION. + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I had +arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and early +in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope to live +and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to place upon +new shelves the books which I had collected round myself at Waltham. +And this work, which was in itself great, entailed also the labour +of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, a catalogue +is nothing unless it show the spot on which every book is to be +found,--information which every volume also ought to give as to +itself. Only those who have done it know how great is the labour of +moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the present moment +I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to me even than the +horses which are going, or than the wine in the cellar, which is very +apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I began a +novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I conceived +to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the world does +or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a question which +probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since the world began to +think. That men have become less cruel, less violent, less selfish, +less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but have they become less +honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from day to day in honesty, +be considered to be in a state of progress? We know the opinion on +this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. If he be right, we are +all going straight away to darkness and the dogs. But then we do not +put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor in Mr. Ruskin and his other +followers. The loudness and extravagance of their lamentations, +the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes from them, over a +world which is supposed to have gone altogether shoddy-wards, are so +contrary to the convictions of men who cannot but see how comfort +has been increased, how health has been improved, and education +extended,--that the general effect of their teaching is the opposite +of what they have intended. It is regarded simply as Carlylism to say +that the English-speaking world is growing worse from day to day. And +it is Carlylism to opine that the general grand result of increased +intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its +walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all +its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, +and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man +dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I +say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to +write _The Way We Live Now_. And as I had ventured to take the whip +of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the iniquities of the +great speculator who robs everybody, and made an onslaught also on +other vices,--on the intrigues of girls who want to get married, +on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain single, and on the +puffing propensities of authors who desire to cheat the public into +buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can so +moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects _The Way We Live Now_ was, +as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers is +weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to have +two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them both with +interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be no more than +padding to the other. And so it was in _The Way We Live Now_. The +interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish people,--with +Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, with the +American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the girl of his +heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta Carbury are +uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon the book as +one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by the public or +the press. + +While I was writing _The Way We Live Now_, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the _Graphic_ for a Christmas story. I feel, with +regard to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and +undertaker feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has +to supply it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and +he will starve if he neglect it. So have I felt that, when anything +in the shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. +Nothing can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish +of Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be the +ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire for +Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, better +still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens when +he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the things +written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas like +children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour of +Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! at this +very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to supply +within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always require a +long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling my brain +for the last month. I can't send away the order to another shop, but +I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the _Graphic_, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not loth +to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, by +the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote _Harry Heathcote of Gangoil_, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no worse +success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When _Harry Heathcote_ was over, I returned with a full heart to Lady +Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed picture +of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The personages +with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps even +the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in a +wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would be +destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst of +human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as a +rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box into +the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves into +one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to set aside +his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal contact of men +who must often be personally disagreeable, having been thoroughly +taught that in no other way can they serve either their country or +their own ambition. These are the men who are publicly useful, and +whom the necessities of the age supply,--as to whom I have never +ceased to wonder that stones of such strong calibre should be so +quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But I had also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of a +party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but also +even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a very +little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. The +time may come, the glorious time when some great self action shall be +possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave up the Corn +Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, should not allow +himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, smooth, hard, +useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he must harden his +skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and again we see the +attempt made by men who cannot get their skins to be hard--who after +a little while generally fall out of the ranks. The statesman of whom +I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was one who did not fall +out of the ranks, even though his skin would not become hard. He +should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary habits, by which +to bind him to the service of his country; and he should also have +unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love of country. That +virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. They who are without +it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should have it as the ruling +principle of his life; and it should so rule him that all other +things should be made to give way to it. But he should be scrupulous, +and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to the highest place in the +council of his Sovereign, he should feel with true modesty his own +insufficiency; but not the less should the greed of power grow upon +him when he had once allowed himself to taste and enjoy it. Such was +the character I endeavoured to depict in describing the triumph, the +troubles, and the failure of my Prime Minister. And I think that I +have succeeded. What the public may think, or what the press may say, +I do not yet know, the work having as yet run but half its course.[14] + + [Footnote 14: Writing this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly + three years, I am obliged to say that, as regards the public, + _The Prime Minister_ was a failure. It was worse spoken of by + the press than any novel I had written. I was specially hurt by + a criticism on it in the _Spectator_. The critic who wrote the + article I know to be a good critic, inclined to be more than fair + to me; but in this case I could not agree with him, so much do I + love the man whose character I had endeavoured to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand it--or +that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been a matter +of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing that the +operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, which +might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who commenced +it. It has been carried on through three or four, each of which will +be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost as soon as read. +In _The Prime Minister_, my Prime Minister will not allow his wife +to take office among, or even over, those ladies who are attached by +office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," he says to her, +"that my wife should have any duties unconnected with our joint +family and home." Who will remember in reading those words that, +in a former story, published some years before, he tells his wife, +when she has twitted him with his willingness to clean the Premier's +shoes, that he would even allow her to clean them if it were for the +good of the country? And yet it is by such details as these that I +have, for many years past, been manufacturing within my own mind the +characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over a +woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think it +probable that my name will remain among those who in the next century +will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but if it +does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the character +of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself, with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I have +an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my political +hero as the mainstay of another story. When _The Prime Minister_ was +finished, I at once began another novel, which is now completed in +three volumes, and which is called _Is He Popenjoy?_ There are two +Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title held by the other; +but as they are both babies, and do not in the course of the story +progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, should the tale ever +be published, will not be much interested in them. Nevertheless the +story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. Since that I have written +still another three-volume novel, to which, very much in opposition +to my publisher, I have given the name of _The American Senator_.[15] +It is to appear in _Temple Bar_, and is to commence its appearance on +the first of next month. Such being its circumstances, I do not know +that I can say anything else about it here. + + [Footnote 15: _The American Senator_ and _Popenjoy_ have + appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has + encountered that reproach which, in regard to _The Prime + Minister_, seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should + be brought to a close. And yet I feel assured that they are + very inferior to _The Prime Minister_.] + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I think +are more in amount than the works of any other living English author. +If any English authors not living have written more--as may probably +have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find that, taking +the books which have appeared under our names, I have published +much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also published +considerably more than Voltaire, even including his letters. We are +told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written 480 volumes, and +that he went on writing for eight years longer. I wish I knew what +was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort myself by reflecting +that the amount of manuscript described as a book in Varro's time +was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; whereas I am still +living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates given +are the years in which the works were published as a whole, most of +them having appeared before in some serial form. + + + Date of Total Sums + Names of Works. Publication. Received. + --------------- ------------ ----------- + The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 L48 6 9 + The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 + La Vendee, 1850 20 0 0 + The Warden, 1855 \ / + Barchester Towers, 1857 / \ 727 11 3 + The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 + Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 + The West Indies and the Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 + The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 + Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 + Tales of All Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + 2d " 1863 } 1830 0 0 + 3d " 1870 / + Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 + North America, 1862 1250 0 0 + Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 + The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 + Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 + Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 + The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 + The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 + The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 + Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 + Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 + Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 + He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 + Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 + The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 + An Editor's Tales, l870 378 0 0 + Caesar (Ancient Classics),[16] 1870 0 0 0 + Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 + Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 + The Golden Lion of Granpere, 1872 550 0 0 + The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 + Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 + Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 + Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 + The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 + The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 + The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 + Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 + South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 + John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 + Sundries, 7800 0 0 + -------------- + L68,939 17 5 + + [Footnote 16: This was given by me as a present to my friend + John Blackwood.] + + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as to +quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary excellence. +That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is a vice +and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave a doubt +on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit should be +accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. And I make +the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for the benefit of +those who may read these pages, and when young may intend to follow +the same career. _Nulla dies sine linea._ Let that be their motto. +And let their work be to them as is his common work to the common +labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. He need tie +no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours at his desk +without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they have sat. More +than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done in the last +twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed another +profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving due time, +if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. But +I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer all +difficulties. _Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo._ + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near L70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but not +splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed in much +the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his life? If +the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my blood; if a cup +of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought tobacco at midnight +in pleasant company to be one of the elements of an earthly paradise; +if now and again I have somewhat recklessly fluttered a L5 note +over a card-table;--of what matter is that to any reader? I have +betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no sorrow. It has been the +companionship of smoking that I have loved, rather than the habit. +I have never desired to win money, and I have lost none. To enjoy +the excitement of pleasure, but to be free from its vices and ill +effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the bitter untasted,--that +has been my study. The preachers tell us that this is impossible. It +seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded fairly well. I will not +say that I have never scorched a finger,--but I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still chiefly +to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with me, God +may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according to my +view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who love +me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while I am +reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men do, +what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is so +with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found my +greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want of +truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but from +curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. If +I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies of +these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY*** + + +******* This file should be named 5978.txt or 5978.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/7/5978 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffb0604 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5978 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5978) diff --git a/old/5978-8.txt.20120606 b/old/5978-8.txt.20120606 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..686008a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5978-8.txt.20120606 @@ -0,0 +1,9504 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Autobiography of Anthony Trollope, by Anthony Trollope + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Posting Date: June 6, 2012 [EBook #5978] +Release Date: June, 2004 +First Posted: October 4, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + + + + +Produced by Jesse Chandler + + + + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +By Anthony Trollope + + + + + +PREFACE + + + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said +that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his +death, containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much +of it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from +me, given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir +of my life. My intention is that they shall be published after +my death, and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your +discretion whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also +to your discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. +But I would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. +If you wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in +the shape of a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there +is a postscript: "The publication, if made at all, should be effected +as soon as possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of +December, 1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass +the book through the press conformably to the above instructions. +I have placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, +and I do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions +of any other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my +father's own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. +I have suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount +to two printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any +of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give +in a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he +completed his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighborhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his +life: he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed +him not to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke +willingly on hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up +his favourite amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there +should be an end of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South +Africa, and returned early in the following year with a book on +the colony already written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of +a party of ladies and gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland +in the "Mastiff," one of Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey +lasted altogether sixteen days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. +Burns were the hospitable entertainers. When my father returned, +he wrote a short account of How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland. +The book was printed, but was intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. +He would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself +less than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was +always done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were +published after the last included in the list which he himself has +given at the end of the second volume:-- + +An Eye for an Eye, . . . . 1879 +Cousin Henry, . . . . . . 1879 +Thackeray, . . . . . . . 1879 +The Duke's Children, . . . . 1880 +Life of Cicero, . . . . . 1880 +Ayala's Angel, . . . . . 1881 +Doctor Wortle's School, . . . 1881 +Frau Frohmann and other Stories, . 1882 +Lord Palmerston, . . . . . 1882 +The Fixed Period, . . . . . 1882 +Kept in the Dark, . . . . . 1882 +Marion Fay, . . . . . . 1882 +Mr. Scarborough's Family, . . . 1883 + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called The Landleaguers, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called An Old Man's Love, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighborhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved +his asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen +months. In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but +from this journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested +in, and was very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the +country. Few men know Ireland better than he did. He had lived +there for sixteen years, and his Post Office word had taken him +into every part of the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his +last novel, The Landleaguers, which, as stated above, was unfinished +when he died. This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not +rid his mind of the fact that he had a story already in the course +of publication, but which he had not yet completed. In no other +case, except Framley Parsonage, did my father publish even the +first number of any novel before he had fully completed the whole +tale. + +On the evening of the 3rd of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His +mind had also failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return +to him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became +rarer, but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind +was sound or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of +December following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire +to supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the +main incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In +what I have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +Henry M. Trollope. +September, 1883. + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY EDUCATION + +1815-1834 + + + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, +or any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there +that has done none? But this I protest:--that nothing that I say +shall be untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give +to myself, or others, honour which I do not believe to have been +fairly won. My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young +gentleman could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of +poverty and gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an +utter want on my part of the juvenile manhood which enables some +boys to hold up their heads even among the distresses which such +a position is sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and +of those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny +and of ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New +College, and Winchester was the destination of my brothers and +myself; but as he had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as +the school offered an education almost gratuitous to children living +in the parish, he, with a certain aptitude to do things differently +from others, which accompanied him throughout his life, determined +to use that august seminary as "t'other school" for Winchester, and +sent three of us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. +My father at this time was a Chancery barrister practising in +London, occupying dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old +Square, Lincoln's Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion +did become absolutely suicidal. [Footnote: A pupil of his destroyed +himself in the rooms.] He was, as I have been informed by those +quite competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, +but plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from +him. In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of +higher hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that +he was felt to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that +in Keppel Street; and in order that he might build such a residence, +he took the farm. This place he called Julians, and the land runs +up to the foot of the hill on which the school and the church +stand,--on the side towards London. Things there went much against +him; the farm was ruinous, and I remember that we all regarded the +Lord Northwick of those days as a cormorant who was eating us up. +My father's clients deserted him. He purchased various dark gloomy +chambers in and about Chancery Lane, and his purchases always went +wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, and old uncle, whose heir he +was to have been, married and had a family! The house in London was +let; and also the house he built at Harrow, from which he descended +to a farmhouse on the land, which I have endeavoured to make known +to some readers under the name of Orley Farm. This place, just as it +was when we lived there, is to be seen in the frontispiece to the +first edition of that novel, having the good fortune to be delineated +by no less a pencil than that of John Millais. + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow +School from the bigger house, and may probably have been received +among the aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a +day-boarder at Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at +any rate as other day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well +treated, but I doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy +which I endured. I was only seven, and I think that boys at seven +are now spared among their more considerate seniors. I was never +spared; and was not even allowed to run to and fro between our house +and the school without a daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance +was against me. I remember well, when I was still the junior boy +in the school, Dr. Butler, the head-master, stopping me in the +street, and asking me, with all the clouds of Jove upon his brow +and the thunder in his voice, whether it was possible that Harrow +School was disgraced by so disreputably dirty a boy as I! Oh, what +I felt at that moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not +doubt that I was dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must +have known me had he seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was +in the habit of flogging me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise +me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur +Drury. This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the +advice of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my +father's friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that +my juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the +way of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other +boys than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. +Even here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one +occasion, four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators +of some nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even +guess; but I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged +to have been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out +a sermon, and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the +whole of one term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were +not allowed to visit the playground till the sermon was finished. +Mine was only done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, +when she saw us, shook her head with pitying horror. There were +ever so many other punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke +my heart, knowing myself to be innocent, and suffering also under +the almost equally painful feeling that the other three--no doubt +wicked boys--were the curled darlings of the school, who would never +have selected me to share their wickedness with them. I contrived +to learn, from words that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned +me because I, having come from a public school, might be supposed +to be the leader of wickedness! On the first day of the next term +he whispered to me half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. +With all a stupid boy's slowness, I said nothing; and he had not +the courage to carry reparation further. All that was fifty years +ago, and it burns me now as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered +curs those boys must have been not to have told the truth!--at any +rate as far as I was concerned. I remember their names well, and +almost wish to write them here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and +the younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost +his chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions +of my father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man +was never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the +prize which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our +reach. My eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went +to Oxford, taking three exhibitions from the school, though he +lost the great glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well +known to the public as a writer in connection with all Italian +subjects. He is still living as I now write. But my other brother +died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in +this case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming +should be a business in which he might make money without any +special education or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is +the one in which an accurate knowledge of what things should be +done, and the best manner of doing them, is most necessary. And it is +one also for success in which a sufficient capital is indispensable. +He had no knowledge, and, when he took this second farm, no capital. +This was the last step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that +he had an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little +goods, such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out +to the still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an +opening might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar +or extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money +came I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval +of some year and a half during which he and I were in Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more +of brotherhood. But in those schooldays he was, of all my foes, +the worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which +submits, or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger +boys from the elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher +and ruler, he had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well +how he used to exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. +Hang a little boy for stealing apples, he used to say, and other +little boys will not steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded +elsewhere, but he stuck to it with conservative energy. The result +was that, as a part of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big +stick. That such thrashings should have been possible at a school +as a continual part of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a +very ill condition of school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be +done with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering +about among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare +out of a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It +was not that I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing +else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course +knew that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of +boys to be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other +they do usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I +suffered horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend +to whom I could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and +ugly, and, I have no doubt, sulked about in a most unattractive +manner. Of course I was ill-dressed and dirty. But ah! how well +I remember all the agonies of my young heart; how I considered +whether I should always be alone; whether I could not find my way +up to the top of that college tower, and from thence put an end to +everything? And a worse thing came than the stoppage of the supplies +from the shopkeepers. Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, +which we called battels, and which was advanced to us out of the +pocket of the second master. On one awful day the second master +announced to me that my battels would be stopped. He told me the +reason,--the battels for the last half-year had not been repaid; and +he urged his own unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a +shilling a week would not have been much,--even though pocket-money +from other sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all +knew it! Every now and again, perhaps three or four times in a +half-year, these weekly shillings were given to certain servants +of the college, in payment, it may be presumed, for some extra +services. And now, when it came to the turn of any servant, he +received sixty-nine shillings instead of seventy, and the cause +of the defalcation was explained to him. I never saw one of those +servants without feeling I had picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed +to have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, +have gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional +number of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there +would have been no funds for my maintenance at the University +till I should have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's +endowment, and my career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm +he had hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three +miles from Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from +this house I was again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let +those who know what is the usual appearance and what the usual +appurtenances of a boy at such a school, consider what must have +been my condition among them, with a daily walk of twelve miles +through the lanes, added to the other little troubles and labours +of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, +walking to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst +period of my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age +at which I could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion +from all social intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was +despised by all my companions. The farmhouse was not only no more +than a farmhouse, but was one of those farmhouses which seem always +to be in danger of falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it +crept downwards from house to stables, from stables to barns, from +barns to cowsheds, and from cowsheds to dungheaps, one could hardly +tell where one began and the other ended! There was a parlour in +which my father lived, shut up among big books; but I passed my most +jocund hours in the kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's +daughter. The farm kitchen might be very well through the evening, +when the horrors of the school were over; but it all added to the +cruelty of the days. A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk +at Oxford, has not pleasant days, or used not to have them half a +century ago; but his position was recognised, and the misery was +measured. I was a sizar at a fashionable school, a condition never +premeditated. What right had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from +a dunghill, to sit next to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, +next to the sons of big tradesmen who made their ten thousand a +year? The indignities I endured are not to be described. As I look +back it seems to me that all hands were turned against me,--those +of masters as well as boys. I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor +did I learn anything,--for I was taught nothing. The only expense, +except that of books, to which a house-boarder was then subject, +was the fee to a tutor, amounting, I think, to ten guineas. My +tutor took me without the fee; but when I heard him declare the fact +in the pupil-room before the boys, I hardly felt grateful for the +charity. I was never a coward, and cared for a thrashing as little +as any boy, but one cannot make a stand against the acerbities of +three hundred tyrants without a moral courage of which at that time +I possessed none. I know that I skulked, and was odious to the eyes +of those I admired and envied. At last I was driven to rebellion, +and there came a great fight,--at the end of which my opponent +had to be taken home for a while. If these words be ever printed, +I trust that some schoolfellow of those days may still be left alive +who will be able to say that, in claiming this solitary glory of +my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to +get me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hayfields +on holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much +profit. My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years +of his life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering +agony from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when +suffering. He had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopedia +Ecclesiastica, as he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment +of his death. It was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical +terms, including the denominations of every fraternity of monks +and every convent of nuns, with all their orders and subdivisions. +Under crushing disadvantages, with few or no books of reference, +with immediate access to no library, he worked at his most ungrateful +task with unflagging industry. When he died, three numbers out +of eight had been published by subscription; and are now, I fear, +unknown, and buried in the midst of that huge pile of futile +literature, the building up of which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in +the hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. +From my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to +take my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the +morning, and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat +the Greek alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold +my head inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, +he might be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or +dropping his shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for +the education of his children, though I think none ever knew less +how to go about the work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, +he never recognised the need. He allowed himself no distraction, +and did not seem to think it was necessary to a child. I cannot +bethink me of aught that he ever did for my gratification; but for +my welfare,--for the welfare of us all,--he was willing to make +any sacrifice. At this time, in the farmhouse at Harrow Weald, +he could not give his time to teach me, for every hour that he was +not in the fields was devoted to his monks and nuns; but he would +require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and Gradus before me. +As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed determination to +make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon me, or of the +hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great energy in +after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly altered, or +whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never punished +me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but in passion +he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with the great +folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were the two first +volumes of Cooper's novel, called The Prairie, a relic--probably a +dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's library. Other +books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many dozen times I +read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a +walk along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather +fine, and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same +lanes four times a day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with +all the accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I +might have been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance +by my boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I +was so known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler +when I was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have +said the same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his +life was able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became +Dean of Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of +Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called +Orley Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at +Harrow Weald. Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved +circumstances. The three miles became half a mile, and probably +some salutary changes were made in my wardrobe. My mother and +my sisters, too, were there. And a great element of happiness was +added to us all in the affectionate and life-enduring friendship +of the family of our close neighbour Colonel Grant. But I was never +able to overcome--or even to attempt to overcome--the absolute +isolation of my school position. Of the cricket-ground or racket-court +I was allowed to know nothing. And yet I longed for these things +with an exceeding longing. I coveted popularity with a covetousness +that was almost mean. It seemed to me that there would be an +Elysium in the intimacy of those very boys whom I was bound to hate +because they hated me. Something of the disgrace of my school-days +has clung to me all through life. Not that I have ever shunned to +speak of them as openly as I am writing now, but that when I have +been claimed as schoolfellow by some of those many hundreds who +were with me either at Harrow or at Winchester, I have felt that +I had no right to talk of things from most of which I was kept in +estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry +to Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship +that would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. +There were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried +for a sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile +attempt for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then +the idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate +it was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance +only as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt +and ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt +had been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very +little attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember +any lessons either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I +certainly was not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, +but I do assert that I have no recollection of other tuition +except that in the dead languages. At the school at Sunbury there +was certainly a writing master and a French master. The latter was +an extra, and I never had extras. I suppose I must have been in +the writing master's class, but though I can call to mind the man, +I cannot call to mind his ferule. It was by their ferules that I +always knew them, and they me. I feel convinced in my mind that I +have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just +possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and +I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over +half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true; but +if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such +waste of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I +read and enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself +understood in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have +acquired since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork +of the language which will in the process of years make its way +slowly, even through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition +in which I do not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left +Harrow I was nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, +I think, the seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation +upwards. I bear in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used +to be showered about; but I never got a prize. From the first to +the last there was nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except +the way in which I licked the boy who had to be taken home to be +cured. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MY MOTHER + + + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of +all the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly +because filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent +who made for herself a considerable name in the literature of her +day, and partly because there were circumstances in her career +well worthy of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William +Milton, vicar of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been +a fellow of New College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she +married my father. Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters +from her to him fell into my hand in a very singular way, having +been found in the house of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, +sent them to me. They were then about sixty years old, and had been +written some before and some after her marriage, over the space of +perhaps a year. In no novel of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have +I seen a correspondence at the same time so sweet, so graceful, +and so well expressed. But the marvel of these letters was in the +strange difference they bore to the love-letters of the present +day. They are, all of them, on square paper, folded and sealed, +and addressed to my father on circuit; but the language in each, +though it almost borders on the romantic, is beautifully chosen, +and fit, without change of a syllable, for the most critical eye. +What girl now studies the words with which she shall address her +lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? She dearly likes +a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire familiarity with +a new and strange being. There is something in that, too, pleasant +to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life does not conduce +to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my mother was a writer +of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic feeling clung to her +to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family. [Footnote: +The family of Estienne, the great French printers of the fifteenth +and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were at least nine or ten, +did more perhaps for the production of literature than any other +family. But they, though they edited, and not unfrequently translated +the works which they published, were not authors in the ordinary +sense.] My married sister added to the number by one little anonymous +high church story, called Chollerton. + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went +to America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the +world. She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal role +and professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from +the wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. +An Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from +the clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, +or a French proletaire with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in +every way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so +thorough, and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she +generally got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it +must be acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her +books, and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best +were Dante and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such +ladies were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept +over the persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized +with avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown +Scott, and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. +With the literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets +of the past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. +Her life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was +easy, luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own +aspirations sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary +people, of whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; +but till long after middle life she never herself wrote a line for +publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish +my brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional +object of breaking up her English home without pleading broken +fortunes to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, +she built a bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have +been embarked in that speculation. It could not have been much, and +I think that others also must have suffered. But she looked about +her, at her American cousins, and resolved to write a book about +them. This book she brought back with her in 1831, and published +it early in 1832. When she did this she was already fifty. When +doing this she was aware that unless she could so succeed in making +money, there was no money for any of the family. She had never before +earned a shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable +sum from the publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two +sums of £400 each within a few months; and from that moment till +nearly the time of her death, at any rate for more than twenty +years, she was in the receipt of a considerable income from her +writings. It was a late age at which to begin such a career. + +The Domestic Manners of the Americans was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. +What though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they +put their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? +The Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she +told them so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so +pretty in a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes +were very bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the +family from ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book +on Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which +I have called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate +comforts. Of the mixture of joviality and industry which formed +her character, it is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. +The industry was a thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary +that any one who lived with her should see it. She was at her table +at four in the morning, and had finished her work before the world +had begun to be aroused. But the joviality was all for others. +She could dance with other people's legs, eat and drink with other +people's palates, be proud with the lustre of other people's finery. +Every mother can do that for her own daughters; but she could do it +for any girl whose look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even +when she was at work, the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure +to her. She had much, very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came +hard to her, so much being required,--for she was extravagant, and +liked to have money to spend; but of all people I have known she +was the most joyous, or, at any rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, +during which I was still at the school, and at the end of which +I was nearly nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My +father, who, when he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and +nuns, still kept a horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as +it had been decided that I should leave the school then, instead +of remaining, as had been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned +very early in the morning, to drive him up to London. He had been +ill, and must still have been very ill indeed when he submitted to +be driven by any one. It was not till we had started that he told +me that I was to put him on board the Ostend boat. This I did, +driving him through the city down to the docks. It was not within +his nature to be communicative, and to the last he never told me +why he was going to Ostend. Something of a general flitting abroad +I had heard before, but why he should have flown first, and flown +so suddenly, I did not in the least know till I returned. When I got +back with the gig, the house and furniture were all in the charge +of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +barness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The +little piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand +and carried through successfully was of no special service to any +of us. I drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage +to the ironmonger for £17, the exact sum which he claimed as being +due to himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed +to think that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy +that the ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, +for in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it +is now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, +and a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and +things like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through +a gap between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend +Colonel Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the +Grant girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To +such forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and +between us we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, +amidst the anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal +violence, of the men in charge of the property. I still own a few +books that were thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all women, +his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and established +ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of Bruges. At +this time, and till my father's death, everything was done with +money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the house,--this +being the third that she had put in order since she came back from +America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother +Henry had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. +And though as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began +to feel that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My +father was broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could +sit at his table he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My +elder sister and I were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate +hanger-on, that most hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy +of nineteen, without any idea of a career, or a profession, or +a trade. As well as I can remember I was fairly happy, for there +were pretty girls at Bruges with whom I could fancy that I was in +love; and I had been removed from the real misery of school. But +as to my future life I had not even an aspiration. Now and again +there would arise a feeling that it was hard upon my mother that +she should have to do so much for us, that we should be idle while +she was forced to work so constantly; but we should probably have +thought more of that had she not taken to work as though it were +the recognised condition of life for an old lady of fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity +for peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said +so, and we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's +most visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick +men in the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The +novels went on, of course. We had already learned to know that they +would be forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were +forthcoming. The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal +places in my mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many +circumstances; but I doubt much whether I could write one when my +whole heart was by the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing +herself into two parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear +from the troubles of the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, +I never saw equalled. I do not think that the writing of a novel +is the most difficult task which a man may be called upon to do; +but it is a task that may be supposed to demand a spirit fairly +at ease. The work of doing it with a troubled spirit killed Sir +Walter Scott. My mother went through it unscathed in strength, +though she performed all the work of day-nurse and night-nurse to +a sick household;--for there were soon three of them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and +French, of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year +was allowed me, and in order that it might be accomplished without +expense, I undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school +then kept by William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of +the masters at Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is +now, after an interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating +as clergyman at that place. [Footnote: He died two years after +these words were written.] To Brussels I went, and my heart still +sinks within me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to +me the tuition of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went +there to learn French, and that their parents were not particular +as to their classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions +I was sent to take the school out for a walk; but that after the +second attempt Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not +stand any further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind +any learning by me of other languages; but as I only remained in +that position for six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not +been as yet commenced. At the end of the six weeks a letter reached +me, offering me a clerkship in the General Post Office, and I +accepted it. Among my mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. +Freeling, the wife of Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis +Freeling, then ruled the Post Office. She had heard of my desolate +position, and had begged from her father-in-law the offer of a +berth in his own office. + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on +the balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the +heart should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was +now ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, +though I had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any +one. And my father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not +know it. And my mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to +England, thinking that the vicinity of so much sickness might be +injurious to her. All this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in +the spring of which year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother +was left alone in a big house outside the town, with two Belgian +women-servants, to nurse these dying patients--the patients being +her husband and children--and to write novels for the sustenance +of the family! It was about this period of her career that her best +novels were written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average +of men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to +fair fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to +have had everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with +him. The touch of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked +in one hopeless enterprise after another, spending on each all the +money he could at the time command. But the worse curse to him of +all was a temper so irritable that even those whom he loved the +best could not endure it. We were all estranged from him, and yet +I believe that he would have given his heart's blood for any of +us. His life as I knew it was one long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished +a small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the +London Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place +with little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while +she herself was at work every morning long before others had left +their beds. But she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She +went up to London, where she again took and furnished a house, +from which my remaining sister was married and carried away into +Cumberland. My mother soon followed her, and on this occasion did +more than take a house. She bought a bit of land,--a field of three +acres near the town,--and built a residence for herself. This, I +think, was in 1841, and she had thus established and re-established +herself six times in ten years. But in Cumberland she found the +climate too severe, and in 1844 she moved herself to Florence, +where she remained till her death in 1863. She continued writing +up to 1856, when she was seventy-six years old,--and had at that +time produced 114 volumes, of which the first was not written till +she was fifty. Her career offers great encouragement to those who +have not begun early in life, but are still ambitious to do something +before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, +and a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted +nor accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and +even facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE + +1834-1841 + + + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's +school at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London +Post Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my +father and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household +never was held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who +would sit up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing +novels the while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them +to die under. Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know +where the roof would have been found. It is now more that forty +years ago, and looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell +the story, though it be the story of my own father and mother, of +my own brother and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done +some scene of intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed +full of pathos. I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition +of my father's life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the +strain which my mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go +and leave them. There was something that comforted me in the idea +that I need no longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon +proved. My salary was to be £90 a year, and on that I was to live +in London, keep up my character as a gentleman, and be happy. +That I should have thought this possible at the age of nineteen, +and should have been delighted at being able to make the attempt, +does not surprise me now; but that others should have thought it +possible, friends who knew something of the world, does astonish +me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, or might do so even in +these days, who was properly looked after and kept under control,--on +whose behalf some law of life had been laid down. Let him pay so +much a week for his board and lodging, so much for his clothes, so +much for his washing, and then let him understand that he has--shall +we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and omnibuses. Any +one making the calculation will find the sixpence far too much. No +such calculation was made for me or by me. It was supposed that a +sufficient income had been secured to me, and that I should live +upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the £90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at +the Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future +labours in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the +secretary, but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at +first by a new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest +son Henry Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him +I was examined as to my fitness. The story of that examination is +given accurately in one of the opening chapters of a novel written +by me, called The Three Clerks. If any reader of this memoir would +refer to that chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have +been admitted into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader +will learn how Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the +Secretary's office of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked +to copy some lines from the Times newspaper with an old quill pen, +and at once made a series of blots and false spellings. "That +won't do, you know," said Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. +Clayton, who was my friend, urged that I was nervous, and asked +that I might be allowed to do a bit of writing at home and bring +it as a sample on the next day. I was then asked whether I was +a proficient in arithmetic. What could I say? I had never learned +the multiplication table, and had no more idea of the rule of three +than of conic sections. "I know a little of it," I said humbly, +whereupon I was sternly assured that on the morrow, should I succeed +in showing that my handwriting was all that it ought to be, I should +be examined as to that little of arithmetic. If that little should +not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge of all the ordinary +rules, together with practised and quick skill, my career in life +could not be made at the Post Office. Going down the main stairs +of the building,--stairs which have I believe been now pulled down +to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton Freeling told me +not to be too down-hearted. I was myself inclined to think that I +had better go back to the school in Brussels. But nevertheless I +went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder brother made +a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. With a +faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. With +my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should come +to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in +St. Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the +comers. I object to this, that at present there exists no known +mode of learning who is best, and that the method employed has no +tendency to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide +who among a certain number of lads will best answer a string of +questions, for the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, +who have sprung up for the purpose since this fashion of election +has been adopted. When it is decided in a family that a boy shall +"try the Civil Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of +cramming. But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever +with education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was +before for the future work of his life. But his very success fills +him with false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far +unfits him. And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that +no one is in truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, +or even for the character of the youth. The responsibility was +perhaps slight before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say +that, had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost +a valuable public servant. This is a statement that will not, I +think, be denied by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything +of my work. Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of +the small acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be +schools in which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, +or French should be learned. But all that could be ascertained +without the perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those +who have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. +There had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it +had become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence +for the purchase of political support. A member of the House of +Commons, holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships +to give away in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them +among those who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing +pleasant to the distributer of patronage. Do away with the system +altogether, and he would have as much chance of support as another. +He bartered his patronage only because another did so also. The +beggings, the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were +simply troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed +to rid themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their +hands are the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do +doubt whether the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There +are places in life which can hardly be well filled except by +"Gentlemen." The word is one the use of which almost subjects one +to ignominy. If I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a +bishop, I am met with a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." +Were I to make such an assertion with reference to the House of +Commons, nothing that I ever said again would receive the slightest +attention. A man in public life could not do himself a greater +injury than by saying in public that the commissions in the army or +navy, or berths in the Civil Service, should be given exclusively +to gentlemen. He would be defied to define the term,--and would +fail should he attempt to do so. But he would know what he meant, +and so very probably would they who defied him. It may be that the +son of a butcher of the village shall become as well fitted for +employments requiring gentle culture as the son of the parson. +Such is often the case. When such is the case, no one has been more +prone to give the butcher's son all the welcome he has merited than +I myself; but the chances are greatly in favour of the parson's son. +The gates of the one class should be open to the other; but neither +to the one class nor to the other can good be done by declaring +that there are no gates, no barrier, no difference. The system of +competitive examination is, I think, based on a supposition that +there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling +I had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. +I could speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as +elsewhere that I never acquired the power of really talking French. +I have been able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but +never got much beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences +I was completely ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My +spelling was imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination +would have been possible on which I could have gone through an +examination otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew +more than the average young men of the same rank who began life at +nineteen. I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets +of all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably +of historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate +idea of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the +names of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, +and all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, +but one that had not been acquired without other matter which was +more useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could +talk about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to +me. I had already made up my mind that Pride and Prejudice was the +best novel in the English language,--a palm which I only partially +withdrew after a second reading of Ivanhoe, and did not completely +bestow elsewhere till Esmond was written. And though I would +occasionally break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If +I had a thing to say, I could so say it in written words that the +readers should know what I meant,--a power which is by no means +at the command of all those who come out from these competitive +examinations with triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, +I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this +I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession +unregarded--never looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, +with many blushes, destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, +ignorance, indiscretion, idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But +they had habituated me to the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught +me how to express myself with faculty. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from +still earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay +when I thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, +must have tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a +child, I was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking +of my school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not +play with me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays +within myself. Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it +always has been. Study was not my bent, and I could not please +myself by being all idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always +going about with some castle in the air firmly build within my +mind. Nor were these efforts in architecture spasmodic, or subject +to constant change from day to day. For weeks, for months, if +I remember rightly, from year to year, I would carry on the same +tale, binding myself down to certain laws, to certain proportions, +and proprieties, and unities. Nothing impossible was ever +introduced,--nor even anything which, from outward circumstances, +would seem to be violently improbable. I myself was of course my own +hero. Such is a necessity of castle-building. But I never became a +king, or a duke,--much less when my height and personal appearance +were fixed could I be an Antinous, or six feet high. I never was +a learned man, nor even a philosopher. But I was a very clever +person, and beautiful young women used to be fond of me. And I +strove to be kind of heart, and open of hand, and noble in thought, +despising mean things; and altogether I was a very much better +fellow than I have ever succeeded in being since. This had been +the occupation of my life for six or seven years before I went to +the Post Office, and was by no means abandoned when I commenced +my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be a more dangerous mental +practice; but I have often doubted whether, had it not been my +practice, I should ever have written a novel. I learned in this way +to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to dwell on a work +created by my own imagination, and to live in a world altogether +outside the world of my own material life. In after years I have +done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded the +hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own identity +aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch +which was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved +a character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black +sheep by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very +good public servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if +I did not take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour +in my early days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton +Freeling,--who, as I write this, is still living, and who, with +tears in her eyes, besought me to think of my mother. That was during +the life of Sir Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a +little more than twelve months after I joined the office. And yet +the old man showed me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing +to me with his own hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of +me as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost +feel, without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my +anguish when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful +work. I did struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing +which was not easy without any struggling--but to show that I +was willing to do it. My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, +and was not to be got rid of by any efforts within my power. I do +admit that I was irregular. It was not considered to be much in +my favour that I could write letters--which was mainly the work of +our office--rapidly, correctly, and to the purpose. The man who +came at ten, and who was always still at his desk at half-past four, +was preferred before me, though when at his desk he might be less +efficient. Such preference was no doubt proper; but, with a little +encouragement, I also would have been punctual. I got credit for +nothing and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one +of our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all +night. Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and +play ecarte for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways +are possible now in our public offices. And here we used to have +suppers and card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much +smoking of tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a +whole bevy of clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was +to make up and receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that +they worked later or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but +there was supposed to be something special in foreign letters, +which required that the men who handled them should have minds +undistracted by the outer world. Their salaries, too, were higher +than those of their more homely brethren; and they paid nothing +for their lodgings. Consequently there was a somewhat fast set in +those apartments, given to cards and to tobacco, who drank spirits +and water in preference to tea. I was not one of them, but was a +good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance +of my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on +the secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was +not marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had +not been moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was +gone. In the meantime I had returned to the room, again in the +performance of some duty. When the letter was missed I was sent +for, and there I found the Colonel much moved about his letter, and +a certain chief clerk, who, with a long face, was making suggestions +as to the probable fate of the money. "The letter has been taken," +said the Colonel, turning to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has +been nobody in the room but you and I." As he spoke, he thundered +his fist down upon the table. "Then," said I, "by G----! you have +taken it." And I also thundered my fist down;--but, accidentally, +not upon the table. There was there a standing movable desk, at +which, I presume, it was the Colonel's habit to write, and on this +movable desk was a large bottle full of ink. My fist unfortunately +came on the desk, and the ink at once flew up, covering the Colonel's +face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight to see that senior clerk, +as he seized a quite of blotting-paper, and rushed to the aid of his +superior officer, striving to mop up the ink; and a sight also to +see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out through the blotting-paper +at that senior clerk's unoffending stomach. At that moment there +came in the Colonel's private secretary, with the letter and the +money, and I was desired to go back to my own room. This was an +incident not much in my favour, though I do not know that it did +me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had +taken it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very +foolish young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. +I need not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise +than by protesting that no young man in such a position was ever +much less to blame than I had been in this. The invitation had +come from her, and I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided +negative; but I had left the house within half an hour, going away +without my dinner, and had never returned to it. Then there was a +correspondence,--if that can be called a correspondence in which +all the letters came from one side. At last the mother appeared at +the Post Office. My hair almost stands on my head now as I remember +the figure of the woman walking into the big room in which I sat +with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket on her arm and +an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured +to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man +in, and walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud +voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?" +We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I +lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These +little incidents were all against me in the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely +at this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state +of things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I +think, £12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. +With that man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, +I formed a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. +In cash I once received from him £4. For that and for the original +amount of the tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated +renewals, I paid ultimately something over £200. That is so common +a story as to be hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of +this man was that he became so attached to me as to visit me every +day at my office. For a long period he found it to be worth his +while to walk up those stone steps daily, and come and stand behind +my chair, whispering to me always the same words: "Now I wish you +would be punctual. If you only would be punctual, I should like +you to have anything you want." He was a little, clean, old man, +who always wore a high starched white cravat inside of which he +had a habit of twisting his chin as he uttered his caution. When I +remember the constant persistency of his visits, I cannot but feel +that he was paid very badly for his time and trouble. Those visits +were very terrible, and can have hardly been of service to me in +the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of +the Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion +when I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty +years old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven +in the evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think +Saxony, but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night +mails sent out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, +this was a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see +it. But preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit +of the office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion +we were taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore +gave the orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, +walking backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great +peril as I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite +satisfied with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most +important duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, +no doubt, were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They +had come and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure +in two glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two +barons consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result +of that conversation one of them handed me a half-a-crown! That +also was a bad moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon £90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was £140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I +asked her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But +who in such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of +it? The debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now +how I could have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such +a burden of duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny +documents, of which I never understood anything, were common +attendants on me. And yet I do not remember that I was ever locked +up, though I think I was twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some +one paid for me. And now, looking back at it, I have to ask myself +whether my youth was very wicked. I did no good in it; but was there +fair ground for expecting good from me? When I reached London no +mode of life was prepared for me,--no advice even given to me. I +went into lodgings, and then had to dispose of my time. I belonged +to no club, and knew very few friends who would receive me into +their houses. In such a condition of life a young man should no +doubt go home after his work, and spend the long hours of the evening +in reading good books and drinking tea. A lad brought up by strict +parents, and without having had even a view of gayer things, might +perhaps do so. I had passed all my life at public schools, where I +had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed them. Towards the good +books and tea no training had been given me. There was no house in +which I could habitually see a lady's face and hear a lady's voice. +No allurement to decent respectability came in my way. It seems to +me that in such circumstances the temptations of loose life will +almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course if the mind be +strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together of sufficiently +stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But such minds +and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation at any +rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being turned +loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, of +all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is sent +to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept from +danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood to anticipate +pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding circumstances. +I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had been among +those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And I had +filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. + +And now, except during official hours, I was entirely without +control,--without the influences of any decent household around me. +I have said something of the comedy of such life, but it certainly +had its tragic aspect. Turning it all over in my own mind, as I +have constantly done in after years, the tragedy has always been +uppermost. And so it was as the time was passing. Could there be +any escape from such dirt? I would ask myself; and I always answered +that there was no escape. The mode of life was itself wretched. I +hated the office. I hated my work. More than all I hated my idleness. +I had often told myself since I left school that the only career in +life within my reach was that of an author, and the only mode of +authorship open to me that of a writer of novels. In the journal which +I read and destroyed a few years since, I found the matter argued +out before I had been in the Post Office two years. Parliament was +out of the question. I had not means to go to the Bar. In Official +life, such as that to which I had been introduced, there did not +seem to be any opening for real success. Pens and paper I could +command. Poetry I did not believe to be within my grasp. The drama, +too, which I would fain have chosen, I believed to be above me. For +history, biography, or essay writing I had not sufficient erudition. +But I thought it possible that I might write a novel. I had resolved +very early that in that shape must the attempt be made. But the +months and years ran on, and no attempt was made. And yet no day was +passed without thoughts of attempting, and a mental acknowledgment +of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader will not understand +the agony of remorse produced by such a condition of mind? +The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in the +morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when the +evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's Lives of the Poets, because +he spoke sneeringly of Lycidas. That was Northumberland Street by +the Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment +my room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must +have almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my +constant inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast +to pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I +had no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham +Road I had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post +Office, and almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings +of money, sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew +of my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this +week. I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those +days I lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he +had a home in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury +which I endured. For more than fifty years he and I have been close +friends. And then there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in +life will not permit me to give his full name, but whom I dearly +loved. He had been at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places +had fallen into trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps +I had better say usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was +unfortunate in all things, and died some years ago in poverty. He +was most perverse; bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable +to restrain himself in anything, but yet with a conscience that +was always stinging him; a loving friend, though very quarrelsome; +and, perhaps, of all men I have known, the most humorous. And he +was entirely unconscious of his own humour. He did not know that +he could so handle all matters as to create infinite amusement out +of them. Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point +at which life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience to +which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to London. +Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but Buckinghamshire +and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were the happiest +hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least innocent, although +we were frequently in peril from the village authorities whom we +outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to spend above five +shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected ruler of the +hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our statutes. +I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- enacted +an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got ourselves +a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached the +lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by +a pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled +through the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! +But the fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun +as told by me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for +many years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married +my sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was +stationed as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more +than forty years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House +of Lords, who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who +assisted us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized +by the Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and +dearest friends of my life, and I can thank God that three of them +are still alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of +the Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always +fearing that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of +escape. There had latterly been created in the service a new body +of officers called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time +seven surveyors in England, two in Scotland and three in Ireland. +To each of these officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose +duty it was to travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. +There had been much doubt among the young men in the office whether +they should or should not apply for these places. The emoluments +were good and the work alluring; but there was at first supposed +to be something derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that +the first surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his +beer, and that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen +to the wash. There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be +worse than the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks +were all appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for +anything, nor would anything have been given me. But after a while +there came a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent +there was absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that +none but a man absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the +west of Ireland. When the report reached the London office I was +the first to read it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having +debts on my head and quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a +full conviction that my life was taking me downwards to the lowest +pits. So I went to the Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland +if he would send me. He was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. +This happened in August, 1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My +salary in Ireland was to be but £100 a year; but I was to receive +fifteen shillings a day for every day that I was away from home, +and sixpence for every mile that I travelled. The same allowances +were made in England; but at that time travelling in Ireland was +done at half the English prices. My income in Ireland, after paying +my expenses, became at once £400. This was the first good fortune +of my life. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS + +1841-1848 + + + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but, in truth, I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature +of whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel +certain now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few +friends who had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were +half afraid of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to +be loved,--of a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No +child, no boy, no lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I +had been so poor, and so little able to bear poverty. But from the +day on which I set my foot in Ireland all these evils went away +from me. Since that time who has had a happier life than mine? +Looking round upon all those I know, I cannot put my hand upon +one. But all is not over yet. And, mindful of that, remembering +how great is the agony of adversity, how crushing the despondency +of degradation, how susceptible I am myself to the misery coming +from contempt,--remembering also how quickly good things may go +and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to hope, almost to +pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy +to happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think +it must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life +in London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were +at this time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know +my intention in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted +no one, except a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I +borrowed £200 to help me out of England. He lent me the money, and +looked upon me with pitying eyes--shaking his head. "After all, +you were right to go," he said to me when I paid him the money a +few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk to +an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of £100 a year, at +twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even myself,--except +that anything was right which would take me away from the General +Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were +also my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, +seated at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into +books those which others had written. I had never been called upon +to do anything I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that +in Ireland I was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, +and that among other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' +accounts! But as no other person asked a question as to my fitness +for this work, it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. +I went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered +some whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the +punch was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a +country in which there was not a single individual whom I had ever +spoken to or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into +Connaught and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never +learned the multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must, in all probability, +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I +had acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of +which I told in the Tales of All Countries, under the names of The +O'Conors of Castle Conor, and Father Giles of Ballymoy. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of +each is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were +this the place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had +been sent kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. +I do not think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never +rode to hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of +the great joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the +sport, having learned to love it with an affection which I cannot +myself fathom or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I +have done, or hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and +natural disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in +reference to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have +often had to travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that +I might hunt the next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good +horseman. And I have passed the greater part of my hunting life +under the discipline of the Civil Service. But it has been for +more than thirty years a duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have +performed that duty with a persistent energy. Nothing has ever +been allowed to stand in the way of hunting,--neither the writing +of books, nor the work of the Post Office, nor other pleasures. +As regarded the Post Office, it soon seemed to be understood that +I was to hunt; and when my services were re-transferred to England, +no word of difficulty ever reached me about it. I have written on +very many subjects, and on most of them with pleasure, but on no +subject with such delight as that on hunting. I have dragged it +into many novels,--into too many, no doubt,--but I have always felt +myself deprived of a legitimate joy when the nature of the tale has +not allowed me a hunting chapter. Perhaps that which gave me the +greatest delight was the description of a run on a horse accidentally +taken from another sportsman--a circumstance which occurred to my +dear friend Charles Buxton, who will be remembered as one of the +members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I +was always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my +past life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even +break my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the +working classes very much more intelligent than those of +England--economical, and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift +nature; but extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He +will count the shillings in a pound much more accurately than an +Englishman, and will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth +from each. But they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound +by the love of truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally +leaving the country until 1859, and I had the means of studying +their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon +his capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. +They adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor +has nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt +with were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. +I went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach +me the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course, he was dismissed; but he had +been a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty +in the matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and +is to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant +and to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole, as confidence is engendered, and a feeling +is produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own +and does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and +to me always easy, as it required at its close no more than the +writing of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no +keeping of books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. +I must tell of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result +I think it was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in +that scorn which is easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and I +drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle of a +snowstorm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open jaunting +car, and was on my way from one little town to another, the cause +of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance between +the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then +he assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as +that, and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy +and water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. +I shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought +up the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I +such a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my +wine, and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept +in his armchair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was +too sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It +was absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning +after breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed +then. He shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable +disgust,--almost in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" +I asked. "Anything you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you +want an excuse for yourself. Here I sit all the day--with nothing +to do; and I like writing letters." I did report that Mr. ---- was +now quite satisfied with the postal arrangement of his district; +and I felt a soft regret that I should have robbed my friend of his +occupation. Perhaps he was able to take up the Poor Law Board, or +to attack the Excise. At the Post Office nothing more was heard +from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been +paid off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When +I had been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the +11th of June, 1844;--and, perhaps, I ought to name that happy day +as the commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which +I first landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from +my mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of +novels. When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor +had I done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being +then twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first +work. This constant putting off of the day of work was a great +sorrow to me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had +learned my work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe +in my hands; and I held a position altogether the reverse of that +in which I was always trembling while I remained in London. But +that did not suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that +there might be a career before me, if I could only bring myself to +begin the work. I do not think I much doubted my own intellectual +sufficiency for the writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt +was my own industry, and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time +is not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found +the vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I +had not as yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a +young man; but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power +to alter the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties +of publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who +could fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before +the public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, +how little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! +I had already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort +was made after the following fashion. I was located at a little +town called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, +where the postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and +my friend John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As +we were taking a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned +up through a deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, +till we came to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of +the most melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it +here, because I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. +We wandered about the place, suggesting to each other causes for +the misery we saw there, and, while I was still among the ruined +walls and decayed beams, I fabricated the plot of The Macdermots +of Ballycloran. As to the plot itself, I do not know that I ever +made one so good,--or, at any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. +I am aware that I broke down in the telling, not having yet studied +the art. Nevertheless, The Macdermots is a good novel, and worth +reading by any one who wishes to understand what Irish life was +before the potato disease, the famine, and the Encumbered Estates +Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter +or two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was +only now and then that I found either time or energy for a few +pages. I commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written +a volume when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no +special interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place +at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a +bank. We were not very rich, having about £400 a year on which to +live. + +Many people would say that we were two fools to encounter such +poverty together. I can only reply that since that day I have never +been without money in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means +of paying what I owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to +pass over our heads before I received any payment for any literary +work which afforded an appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an +Irish circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he +should marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is +expected of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. +I had given offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, +that I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people +have spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages +are now nearly double what they were then. The Post Office, at any +rate, is paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week +when it used to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. +Banks have sprung up in almost every village. Rents are paid with +more than English punctuality. And the religious enmity between +the classes, though it is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I +reached Banagher in 1841, I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. +I was informed next day by a Protestant gentleman who had been +very hospitable to me that I must choose my party. I could not sit +both at Protestant and Catholic tables. Such a caution would now +be impossible in any part of Ireland. Home-rule, no doubt, is a +nuisance,--and especially a nuisance because the professors of the +doctrine do not at all believe it themselves. There are probably +no other twenty men in England or Ireland who would be so utterly +dumfounded and prostrated were Home-rule to have its way as the +twenty Irish members who profess to support it in the House of +Commons. But it is not to be expected that nuisances such as these +should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule is, at any rate, better +and more easily managed than the rebellion at the close of the +last century; it is better than the treachery of the Union; less +troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less dangerous than +Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at Ballingary, +and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent from O'Connell +to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a political disease, +which we had no right to hope would be cured by any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In +July, 1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of +my writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I am sure +I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I ever read a +word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one exception,--which +shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never consulted a friend +as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I have been doing. +My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing with her that +it would be as well that she should not look at it before she gave +it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me credit for the +sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could see in the +faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who were around +me at the house in Cumberland,--my mother, my sister, my brother-in-law, +and, I think, my brother,--that they had not expected me to come +out as one of the family authors. There were three or four in the +field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd that another +should wish to add himself to the number. My father had written +much,--those long ecclesiastical descriptions,--quite unsuccessfully. +My mother had become one of the popular authors of the day. My +brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for his work. +My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was at the +time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her name, +and was called Chollerton. I could perceive that this attempt of +mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother, however, did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby, of Mortimer Street, was to publish the book. It +was to be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the +profits. Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such +an undertaking. I can, with truth, declare that I expected nothing. +And I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. +I was sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. +I never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was +any notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. +I never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on +the subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, +in duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I +did not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong +me in that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell +fifty copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no +account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I +am quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I +may say that after the publication I never said a word about the +book, even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published +it, and that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere +with my life, or with my determination to make the best I could of +the Post Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had +written a novel. But I went on writing. The Macdermots was published +in 1847, and The Kellys and the O'Kellys followed in 1848. I +changed my publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second +Irish story was sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had +long been my mother's publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough +Street, and I believe created the business which is now carried on +by Messrs. Hurst & Blackett. He had previously been in partnership +with Mr. Bentley in New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement +as before as to half profits, and with precisely the same results. +The book was not only not read, but was never heard of,--at any +rate, in Ireland. And yet it is a good Irish story, much inferior +to The Macdermots as to plot, but superior in the mode of telling. +Again I held my tongue, and not only said nothing but felt nothing. +Any success would, I think, have carried me off my legs, but I was +altogether prepared for failure. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the +writing of these books, I did not imagine, when the time came for +publishing them, that any one would condescend to read them. + +But in reference to The O'Kellys there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend +of mine to whom the book had been sent,--as have all my books,--wrote +me word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man +high in authority among the gods of the Times newspaper, and that +this special god had almost promised that The O'Kellys should be +noticed in that most influential of "organs." The information moved +me very much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it +ever appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate, more +honest, if it had been produced by other means;--if, for instance, +the writer of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits +of the book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made +up my mind then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, +I would have no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would +neither ask for nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a +critic for praise, or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for +censure. To this rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and +this rule I would recommend to all young authors. What can be got +by touting among the critics is never worth the ignominy. The same +may, of course, be said of all things acquired by ignominious means. +But in this matter it is so easy to fall into the dirt. Facilis +descensus Averni. There seems to be but little fault in suggesting +to a friend that a few words in this or that journal would be of +service. But any praise so obtained must be an injustice to the +public, for whose instruction, and not for the sustentation of the +author, such notices are intended. And from such mild suggestion +the descent to crawling at the critic's feet, to the sending of +presents, and at last to a mutual understanding between critics +and criticised, is only too easy. Other evils follow, for the +denouncing of which this is hardly the place;--though I trust I +may find such place before my work is finished. I took no notice +of my friend's letter, but I was not the less careful in watching +The Times. At last the review came,--a real review in The Times. I +learned it by heart, and can now give, if not the words, the exact +purport. "Of The Kellys and the O'Kellys we may say what the master +said to his footman, when the man complained of the constant supply +of legs of mutton on the kitchen table. Well, John, legs of mutton +are good, substantial food;' and we may say also what John replied: +'Substantial, sir,--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" +That was the review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, +I presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and +that he had incurred a loss of £63 19S. 1 1/2d. The truth of the +account I never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom +of the advice given to me in the following letter, though I never +thought of obeying it-- + + "GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, + November 11, 1848. + +"MY DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to say that absence from town and other +circumstances have prevented me from earlier inquiring into the +results of the sale of The Kellys and the O'Kellys, with which the +greatest efforts have been used, but in vain. The sale has been, +I regret to say, so small that the loss upon the publication is +very considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although in +consequence of the great number of novels that are published, the +sale of each, with some few exceptions, must be small, yet it is +evident that readers do not like novels on Irish subjects as well +as on others. Thus, you will perceive, it is impossible for me to +give any encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + +"As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the novel La Vendee, +perhaps you will favour me with a sight of it when convenient.--I +remain, etc., etc., + + "H. COLBURN." + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling +a plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the +greatest efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which +might be made for the popularity of a book ought to have come from +the author;--but I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that +he could not encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would +have bet twenty to one against my own success. But by continuing +I could lose only pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty +did turn up in my favour, then how much might I win! + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY FIRST SUCCESS + +1849-1855 + + + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly +completed it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the +former. I find, however, that the agreement for its publication was +not made till 1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must +have forgotten the disastrous result of The O'Kellys, as he thereby +agrees to give me £20 down for my "new historical novel, to be +called La Vendee." He agreed also to pay me £30 more when he had +sold 350 copies, and £50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I +got my £20, and then heard no more of La Vendee, not even receiving +any account. Perhaps the historical title had appeared more alluring +to him than an Irish subject; though it was not long afterwards that +I received a warning from the very same house of business against +historical novels,--as I will tell at length when the proper time +comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. +The story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendee country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits +of my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read +the book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception +as to the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters +are distinct, and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, +this morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on +the book. + +I had, however, received £20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness +to authors in the same men,--but by nothing so much as by the ease +with which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small +sums of money. If you will only make the payment future instead of +present, you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your +client's favour. "You might as well promise her £20. This day six +months will do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the +money will never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to +rid himself of your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing La Vendee I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland +the desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of +the pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that +time to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which +the misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their +worst. The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts,--I may say, the successful efforts,--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal the +Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian +corn. The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by +many. The people themselves wished, of course, to be fed without +working; and the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, +were disposed to think that the management of affairs was taken +too much out of their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with +the matter, and, thinking that the Government was right, I was +inclined to defend them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. +(Lord Sydney Godolphin Osborne) was at that time denouncing the +Irish scheme of the Administration in the Times, using very strong +language,--as those who remember his style will know. I fancied +then,--as I still think,--that I understood the country much better +than he did; and I was anxious to show that the steps taken for +mitigating the terrible evil of the times were the best which the +Minister of the day could have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, +and, full of my purpose, I presented myself to Mr. John Forster,--who +has since been an intimate and valued friend,--but who was at that +time the editor of the Examiner. I think that that portion of the +literary world which understands the fabrication of newspapers +will admit that neither before his time, nor since, has there been +a more capable editor of a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he +was not without his faults. That which the cabman is reported to +have said of him before the magistrate is quite true. He was always +"an arbitrary cove." As a critic, he belonged to the school of +Bentley and Gifford,--who would always bray in a literary mortar +all critics who disagreed from them, as though such disagreement +were a personal offence requiring personal castigation. But that +very eagerness made him a good editor. Into whatever he did he put +his very heart and soul. During his time the Examiner was almost +all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. So to John Forster I +went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's Inn Fields in which, +some three or four years earlier, Dickens had given that reading of +which there is an illustration with portraits in the second volume +of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man +could get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself +as in part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some +degree by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that +any one would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any +claim. I stated my name and official position, and the fact that +opportunities had been given me of seeing the poorhouses in Ireland, +and of making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the +time. Would a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the +Examiner? The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased +to say that if the letters should recommend themselves by their +style and matter, if they were not too long, and if,--every reader +will know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself,--if +this and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland +did not declare that the Government had at last been adequately +defended, nor did the treasurer of the Examiner send me a cheque +in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. +A man who writes a single letter to a newspaper, of course, is not +paid for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal +to himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and +have been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On +this occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not +much disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could +not refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I +said. But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its predecessors, +the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, after all, +that was my proper line. I had never thought of questioning the +justice of the verdict expressed against me. The idea that I was +the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never troubled me. I +did not look at the books after they were published, feeling sure +that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. But still +I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. Then and +therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a play. +I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called The Noble Jilt. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called Can You Forgive Her? I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, +and re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then +sent it to my very old friend, George Bartley, the actor, who had +when I was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, +and who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give +me the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter +which I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. +"When I commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. +I did not think it opened dramatically, but that might have been +remedied." I knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend +warmed to the subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, +till my ears tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the +character of your heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, +but you have done it for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." +Madame Brudo was the heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never +play the jilt again; 'tis a most unbecoming character. Play it +with what skill you will, it meets but little sympathy.' And this, +be assured, would be its effect upon an audience. So that I must +reluctantly add that, had I been still a manager, The Noble Jilt +is not a play I could have recommended for production." This was a +blow that I did feel. The neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact +which grows upon an author by degrees. There is no special moment +of agony,--no stunning violence of condemnation. But a piece of +criticism such as this, from a friend, and from a man undoubtedly +capable of forming an opinion, was a blow in the face! But I +accepted the judgment loyally, and said not a word on the subject +to any one. I merely showed the letter to my wife, declaring my +conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. And as critical gospel +it has since been accepted. In later days I have more than once +read the play, and I know that he was right. The dialogue, however, +I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of the scenes be not +the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, +and for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced +to Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for +Ireland. I explained to him that I knew the country better than +most other people, perhaps better than any other person, and could +do it well. He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send +him a certain number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer +within a fortnight after he should have received my work. I came +back to Ireland, and for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" +the city of Dublin, and the county of Kerry, in which lies the +lake scenery of Killarney, and I "did" the route from Dublin to +Killarney, altogether completing nearly a quarter of the proposed +volume. The roll of MS. was sent to Albemarle Street,--but was never +opened. At the expiration of nine months from the date on which it +reached that time-honoured spot it was returned without a word, in +answer to a very angry letter from myself. I insisted on having +back my property,--and got it. I need hardly say that my property +has never been of the slightest use to me. In all honesty I think +that had he been less dilatory, John Murray would have got a very +good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery +of letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had +been done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier +would be sent in one direction in which there were but few letters +to be delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at +the request of some influential person, while in another direction +there was no letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted +himself. It was intended to set this right throughout England, +Ireland, and Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish +district to which I was attached. I was then invited to do the same +in a portion of England, and I spent two of the happiest years of +my life at the task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think +I may say, every nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, +the greater part of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of +Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, +Monmouthshire, and the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I +had an opportunity of seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, +with a minuteness which few have enjoyed. And I did my business +after a fashion in which no other official man has worked at +least for many years. I went almost everywhere on horseback. I had +two hunters of my own, and here and there, where I could, I hired +a third horse. I had an Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has +now been in my service for thirty-five years; and in this manner I +saw almost every house--I think I may say every house of importance--in +this large district. The object was to create a postal network +which should catch all recipients of letters. In France it was, and +I suppose still is, the practice to deliver every letter. Wherever +the man may live to whom a letter is addressed, it is the duty of +some letter-carrier to take that letter to his house, sooner or +later. But this, of course, must be done slowly. With us a delivery +much delayed was thought to be worse than none at all. In some places +we did establish posts three times a week, and perhaps occasionally +twice a week; but such halting arrangements were considered to +be objectionable, and we were bound down by a salutary law as to +expense, which came from our masters at the Treasury. We were not +allowed to establish any messenger's walk on which a sufficient +number of letters would not be delivered to pay the man's wages, +counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the counting was in our +own hands, and an enterprising official might be sanguine in his +figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare false accounts; +but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who absolutely had the +country to do became aware that I was anxious for good results. +It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a man. During +those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover the country +with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any case a +rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; but I +fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, or +because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short +cuts; and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would +have to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to +them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a +day. I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it +was necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for +my equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have +often surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen +or heard of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the +morning, with a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating +him as to the disposal of every letter which came into his office. +And in the same guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, +or other lone residences about the country, and ask the people how +they got their letters, at what hour, and especially whether they +were delivered free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept +into use, which came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin +for which there was no pardon, in accordance with which these rural +letter-carriers used to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the +house was out of their beat, and that they must be paid for their +extra work. I think that I did stamp out that evil. In all these +visits I was, in truth, a beneficent angel to the public, bringing +everywhere with me an earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery +of letters. But not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission +was imperfectly understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to +get on, and did not allow as much time as was necessary to explain +to the wondering mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, +why it was that a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions +which might be considered impertinent, as applying to his or her +private affairs. "Good-morning, sir. I have just called to ask a +few questions. I am a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get +your letters? As I am a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain +at once." Then I would take out my pencil and notebook, and wait +for information. And in fact there was no other way in which the +truth could be ascertained. Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's +storm upon them, the very people who were robbed by our messengers +would not confess the robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It +was necessary to startle them into the revelations which I required +them to make for their own good. And I did startle them. I became +thoroughly used to it, and soon lost my native bashfulness;--but +sometimes my visits astonished the retiring inhabitants of country +houses. I did, however, do my work, and can look back upon what I +did with thorough satisfaction. I was altogether in earnest; and +I believe that many a farmer now has his letters brought daily to +his house free of charge, who but for me would still have had to +send to the post-town for them twice a week, or to have paid a man +for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting +to make another effort, and often turning over in my head some +fragment of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not +come in which I could sit down with my pen and paper and begin +another novel. For, after all, what could it be but a novel? The +play had failed more absolutely than the novels, for the novels +had attained the honour of print. The cause of this pressure of +official work lay, not in the demands of the General Post Office, +which more than once expressed itself as astonished by my celerity, +but in the necessity which was incumbent on me to travel miles +enough to pay for my horses, and upon the amount of correspondence, +returns, figures, and reports which such an amount of daily travelling +brought with it. I may boast that the work was done very quickly +and very thoroughly,--with no fault but an over-eagerness to extend +postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one mid-summer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of The Warden,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one +at their commencement could have had less reason than myself to +presume himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been +often asked in what period of my early life I had lived so long +in a cathedral city as to have become intimate with the ways of a +Close. I never lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never +knew anything of any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar +intimacy with any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be +life-like, and for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond +affection, was, I think, the simple result of an effort of my moral +consciousness. It was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon +should be,--or, at any rate, would be with such advantages as +an archdeacon might have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who +has been declared by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon +down to the very ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had +not then even spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment +to be very great. The archdeacon came whole from my brain after +this fashion;--but in writing about clergymen generally, I had to +pick up as I went whatever I might know or pretend to know about +them. But my first idea had no reference to clergymen in general. +I had been struck by two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to +be evils,--and with an absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I +thought that I might be able to expose them, or rather to describe +them, both in one and the same tale. The first evil was the +possession by the Church of certain funds and endowments which had +been intended for charitable purposes, but which had been allowed +to become incomes for idle Church dignitaries. There had been more +than one such case brought to public notice at the time, in which +there seemed to have been an egregious malversation of charitable +purposes. The second evil was its very opposite. Though I had been +much struck by the injustice above described, I had also often +been angered by the undeserved severity of the newspapers towards +the recipients of such incomes, who could hardly be considered +to be the chief sinners in the matter. When a man is appointed to +a place, it is natural that he should accept the income allotted +to that place without much inquiry. It is seldom that he will be +the first to find out that his services are overpaid. Though he be +called upon only to look beautiful and to be dignified upon State +occasions, he will think £2000 a year little enough for such beauty +and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt that there had been +some tearing to pieces which might have been spared. But I was +altogether wrong in supposing that the two things could be combined. +Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after the fashion of +an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. He should take up +one side and cling to that, and then he may be powerful. There should +be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples make a man impotent for +such work. It was open to me to have described a bloated parson, +with a red nose and all other iniquities, openly neglecting every +duty required from him, and living riotously on funds purloined +from the poor,--defying as he did do so the moderate remonstrances +of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a man as good, as sweet, +and as mild as my warden, who should also have been a hard-working, +ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have subjected him to the +rancorous venom of some daily Jupiter, who, without a leg to stand +on, without any true case, might have been induced, by personal +spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with poisonous, anonymous, +and ferocious leading articles. But neither of these programmes +recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though it may exaggerate +the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating it in order that +it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become a slander, and +satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither of the red-nosed +clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous assassin of the +journals. I did believe that through want of care and the natural +tendency of every class to take care of itself, money had slipped +into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have gone +elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which +was cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects +should not have been combined--and I now know myself well enough +to be aware that I was not the man to have carried out either of +them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began The Warden, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion +I did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +£450 to about £800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work +to which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other +parts of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly +finished the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have +liked to ride over the whole country, and to have sent a rural +post letter-carrier to every parish, every village, every hamlet, +and every grange in England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town +in the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the +centre of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But +our house there had been given up when it was known that I should +be detained in England; and then we had wandered about in the western +counties, moving our headquarters from one town to another. During +this time we had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, +at Cheltenham, and at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled +ourselves for eighteen months at Belfast. After that we took a +house at Donnybrook, the well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters +and their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my +book at once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, +and it was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was +only one small volume, and in later days would have been completed +in six weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had +pressed. On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published +till 1855. I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, +with William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an +assurance that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked +at," and Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half +profits. I had no reason to love "half profits," but I was very +anxious to have my book published, and I acceded. It was now more +than ten years since I had commenced writing The Macdermots, and +I thought that if any success was to be achieved, the time surely +had come. I had not been impatient; but, if there was to be a time, +surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about The Warden; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, +and after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. +At the end of 1855 I received a cheque for £9 8s. 8d., which was +the first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that £20 which +poor Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been +earned at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of £10 +15s. 1d. The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded +remuneration for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. +A thousand copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or +six years, about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold +as belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form The Warden +never reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in +the purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its +own,--a merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see +wherein lay whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the +bishop, of the archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially +of the warden, are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to +myself a series of portraits, and had been able so to put them on +the canvas that my readers should see that which I meant them to +see. There is no gift which an author can have more useful to him +than this. And the style of the English was good, though from most +unpardonable carelessness the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. +With such results I had no doubt but that I would at once begin +another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the Times newspaper as to The Warden. +In an article-if I remember rightly--on The Warden and Barchester +Towers combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the Times are actuated by higher +motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel are spoken +of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. But there was +added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid condition of the +author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in personalities,--the +personalities in question having reference to some editor or manager +of the Times newspaper. For I had introduced one Tom Towers as being +potent among the contributors to the Jupiter, under which name I +certainly did allude to the Times. But at that time, living away in +Ireland, I had not even heard the name of any gentleman connected +with the Times newspaper, and could not have intended to represent +any individual by Tom Towers. As I had created an archdeacon, so had +I created a journalist, and the one creation was no more personal +or indicative of morbid tendencies than the other. If Tom Towers +was at all like any gentleman connected with the Times, my moral +consciousness must again have been very powerful. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"BARCHESTER TOWERS" AND THE "THREE CLERKS" + +1855-1858 + + + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the +rural posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. +I had read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of +Charles Menvale's History of the Romans under the Empire, and had +got into some correspondence with the author's brother as to the +author's views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to +investigate the character of probably the greatest man who ever +lived, which tendency in after years produced a little book of +which I shall have to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste +generally for Latin literature, which has been one of the chief +delights of my later life. And I may say that I became at this time +as anxious about Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as +to his character, as we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these +latter days. I lived in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly +whether he crossed the Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In +order that I might review Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that +I was dealing unwarrantably with a subject beyond me, I studied the +Commentaries thoroughly, and went through a mass of other reading +which the object of a magazine article hardly justified,--but which +has thoroughly justified itself in the subsequent pursuits of my +life. I did write two articles, the first mainly on Julius Caesar, +and the second on Augustus, which appeared in the Dublin University +Magazine. They were the result of very much labour, but there came +from them no pecuniary product. I had been very modest when I sent +them to the editor, as I had been when I called on John Forster, +not venturing to suggest the subject of money. After a while I did +call upon the proprietor of the magazine in Dublin, and was told +by him that such articles were generally written to oblige friends, +and that articles written to oblige friends were not usually paid +for. The Dean of Ely, as the author of the work in question now +is, was my friend; but I think I was wronged, as I certainly had +no intention of obliging him by my criticism. Afterwards, when I +returned to Ireland, I wrote other articles for the same magazine, +one of which, intended to be very savage in its denunciation, was +on an official blue-book just then brought out, preparatory to the +introduction of competitive examinations for the Civil Service. For +that and some other article, I now forget what, I was paid. Up to +the end of 1857 I had received £55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on Barchester Towers that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not +any longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very +many hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though +Carlyle has since told me that a man when travelling should not +read, but "sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended +to make a profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same +time, to do my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours +to more account than I could do even by reading. I made for myself +therefore a little tablet, and found after a few days' exercise +that I could write as quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at +my desk. I worked with a pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied +afterwards. In this way was composed the greater part of Barchester +Towers and of the novel which succeeded it, and much also of others +subsequent to them. My only objection to the practice came from +the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself to +be subject when going to work before four or five fellow-passengers. +But I got used to it, as I had done to the amazement of the west +country farmers' wives when asking them after their letters. + +In the writing of Barchester Towers I took great delight. The bishop +and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the troubles +of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was done, +Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his reader; +and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and voluminous +criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was accompanied +by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, with a +payment of £100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on condition +that I would comply with the suggestions made by his critic. One +of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel down to +two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, rejecting +one and accepting another, almost alternately, but declaring at +last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a third of +my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could have been +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book +on the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn +from a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have +been attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the +attempt. Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's +terms; and the book was published, certainly none the worse, and +I do not think much the better, for the care that had been taken +with it. + +The work succeeded just as The Warden had succeeded. It achieved +no great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel +readers were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon +myself more than I have a right to do in saying now that Barchester +Towers has become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, +which live and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if +that be so, its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of +some of its younger brothers. Barchester Towers would hardly be +so well known as it is had there been no Framley Parsonage and no +Last Chronicle of Barset. + +I received my £100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, +as may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author +forget the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make +a money return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will +be much offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory +and my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice +of a so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in +my eyes, would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like +clergymen who preach sermons against the love of money, but who +know that the love of money is so distinctive a characteristic +of humanity that such sermons are mere platitudes called for by +customary but unintelligent piety. All material progress has come +from man's desire to do the best he can for himself and those +about him, and civilisation and Christianity itself have been made +possible by such progress. Though we do not all of us argue this +matter out within our breasts, we do all feel it; and we know that +the more a man earns the more useful he is to his fellow-men. The +most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been those who have made the +greatest incomes,--and it is the same with the doctors. It would +be the same in the Church if they who have the choosing of bishops +always chose the best man. And it has in truth been so too in art +and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard their pecuniary +rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always for money, +giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as an actor. +In our own century what literary names stand higher than those of +Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? And I think +I may say that none of those great men neglected the pecuniary result +of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among us who in any +calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious teaching, +in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm utterly +disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man +is a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few +in doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable +to his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent +to his children, and to be himself free from the casking fear which +poverty creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet +authors are told that they should disregard payment for their work, +and be content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of +the public. Brains that are unbought will never serve the public +much. Take away from English authors their copyrights, and you +would very soon take away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what +to me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in +which professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen +what prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature +with industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair +average talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man +does in another profession. The result with me has been comfortable +but not splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the +combination of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be +no more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and +I think beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last +infirmity of noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who +lacks it is either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. +But I confess that my first object in taking to literature as a +profession was that which is common to the barrister when he goes +to the Bar, and to the baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to +make an income on which I and those belonging to me might live in +comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures +badly, because he can make his money faster in that fashion than +by doing them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the +best he can do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he +is dishonest, as is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the +barrister who takes money that he does not earn, or the clergyman +who is content to live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the +author may have a difficulty which will not occur to the seller of +cloth, in settling within himself what is good work and what is +bad,--when labour enough has been given, and when the task has been +scamped. It is a danger as to which he is bound to be severe with +himself--in which he should feel that his conscience should be set +fairly in the balance against the natural bias of his interest. If +he do not do so, sooner or later his dishonesty will be discovered, +and will be estimated accordingly. But in this he is to be governed +only by the plain rules of honesty which should govern us all. +Having said so much, I shall not scruple as I go on to attribute +to the pecuniary result of my labours all the importance which I +felt them to have at the time. + +Barchester Towers, for which I had received £100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from +the publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am +writing, that book and The Warden together have given me almost +every year some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, +and I find that I have received £727 11S. 3d. for the two. It is +more than I got for the three or four works that came afterwards, +but the payments have been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, The Three Clerks, +in my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum +down was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to +buy it from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, +and I argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into +a position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than +I gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. +"It is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your +title-page are not worth more to you than the increased payment." +This seemed to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the +contempt of money which I have never admired. I did think much +of Messrs. Longman's name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a +cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by +a remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply +that they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a +fertile writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- +(naming the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) +three novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard +to a man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I +did not know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that +I had better go elsewhere. + +I had then written The Three Clerks, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. +Hurst & Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had +made an appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that +gentleman was unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, +and had but one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. +I sat for an hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return +of the peccant publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about +to depart with my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the +house came to me. He seemed to think it a pity that I should go, +and wished me to leave my work with him. This, however, I would not +do, unless he would undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he +lacked authority. Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. +But while we debated the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope +it's not historical, Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, +don't be historical; your historical novel is not worth a damn." +Thence I took The Three Clerks to Mr. Bentley; and on the same +afternoon succeeded in selling it to him for £250. His son still +possesses it, and the firm has, I believe, done very well with the +purchase. It was certainly the best novel I had as yet written. +The plot is not so good as that of the Macdermots; nor are there +any characters in the book equal to those of Mrs. Proudie and the +Warden; but the work has a more continued interest, and contains +the first well-described love-scene that I ever wrote. The passage +in which Kate Woodward, thinking that she will die, tries to take +leave of the lad she loves, still brings tears to my eyes when I +read it. I had not the heart to kill her. I never could do that. +And I do not doubt but that they are living happily together to +this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, +and I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this +novel now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I +introduced a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by +which I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme +of competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles +Trevelyan was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended +for Sir Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who +had taken an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him +Sir Gregory," Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came +to know her and her husband. I never learned to love competitive +examination; but I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. +Sir Stafford Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, +was then leagued with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears +in The Three Clerks under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick +West End. + +But for all that The Three Clerks was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, +paying a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in +1857, and she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in +which she had not written, and she expressed to me her delight that +her labours should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning +in the same field. In truth they had already been continued for +a dozen years, but a man's career will generally be held to date +itself from the commencement of his success. On those foreign +tours I always encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon +them now, tempt me almost to write a little book of my long past +Continental travels. On this occasion, as we made our way slowly +through Switzerland and over the Alps, we encountered again and +again a poor forlorn Englishman, who had no friend and no aptitude +for travelling. He was always losing his way, and finding himself +with no seat in the coaches and no bed at the inns. On one occasion +I found him at Coire seated at 5 A. M. in the coupe of a diligence +which was intended to start at noon for the Engadine, while it was +his purpose to go over the Alps in another which was to leave at +5.30, and which was already crowded with passengers. "Ah!" he said, +"I am in time now, and nobody shall turn me out of this seat," +alluding to former little misfortunes of which I had been a witness. +When I explained to him his position, he was as one to whom life +was too bitter to be borne. But he made his way into Italy, and +encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in Florence. "Can you +tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, having touched my +shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't like to ask them. +Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent him to the Uffizzi, +but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, +and on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. +Thence we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. +The misery is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of +another case in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to +get out of the conveyance into the middle of the street because the +horse could not be made to go any further. Such was our condition. +I induced the driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was +nearest to him, and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the +porter to get the master to come down to me; and, though my French +is ordinarily very defective, I spoke with such eloquence to +that German innkeeper that he, throwing his arms round my neck in +a transport of compassion, swore that he would never leave me nor +my wife till he had put us to bed. And he did so; but, ah! there +were so many in those beds! It is such an experience as this which +teaches a travelling foreigner how different on the Continent is +the accommodation provided for him, from that which is supplied +for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that +we had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that +night. There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and +we asked some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering +supper and beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but +we persisted, and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves +charged twenty zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at +Milan, and the prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We +paid our twenty zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the +thought of our ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached +Verona, there arose a great cry along the platform for Signor +Trollope. I put out my head and declared my identity, when I +was waited upon by a glorious personage dressed like a beau for a +ball, with half-a-dozen others almost as glorious behind him, who +informed me, with his hat in his hand, that he was the landlord of +the "Due Torre." It was a heating moment, but it became more hot +when he asked after my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, +and point to my wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." +There were three carriages provided for us, each with a pair of +grey horses. When we reached the house it was all lit up. We were +not allowed to move without an attendant with a lighted candle. It +was only gradually that the mistake came to be understood. On us +there was still the horror of the bill, the extent of which could +not be known till the hour of departure had come. The landlord, +however, had acknowledged to himself that his inductions had been +ill-founded, and he treated us with clemency. He had never before +received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished The Three Clerks just before +I left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for +a new plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a +plot, and he drew out that of my next novel, called Doctor Thorne. +I mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in +which I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains +for the thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted +incidents from what I have read,--either from history or from works +of imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not +been aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's +work, and deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from +censuring this practice in others. Our greatest masters in works +of imagination have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare +dug out of such quarries whenever he could find them. Ben Jonson, +with heavier hand, built up his structures on his studies of +the classics, not thinking it beneath him to give, without direct +acknowledgment, whole pieces translated both from poets and +historians. But in those days no such acknowledgment was usual. +Plagiary existed, and was very common, but was not known as a sin. +It is different now; and I think that an author, when he uses either +the words or the plot of another, should own as much, demanding to +be credited with no more of the work than he has himself produced. +I may say also that I have never printed as my own a word that has +been written by others. [Footnote: I must make one exception to +this declaration. The legal opinion as to heirlooms in The Eustace +Diamonds was written for me by Charles Merewether, the present +Member for Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling +authority on the subject.] It might probably have been better for +my readers had I done so, as I am informed that Doctor Thorne, the +novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger sale than any other +book of mine. + +Early in 1858, while I was writing Doctor Thorne, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded £400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures +after I had left him, and had found that £300 would be the outside +value of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman +& Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward +Chapman in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great +many words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. +Looking at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had +stopped him on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might +as well do as I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it +was a sale. I remember that he held the poker in his hand all the +time that I was with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined +to buy the book, there would have been no danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"DOCTOR THORNE"--"THE BERTRAMS"--"THE WEST INDIES" AND "THE SPANISH +MAIN" + + + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper +on the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my +state room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but +still I did my work. Labor omnia vincit improbus. I do not say that +to all men has been given physical strength sufficient for such +exertion as this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable +most men to work at almost any season. I had previously to this +arranged a system of task-work for myself, which I would strongly +recommend to those who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not +made absolutely obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should +never be allowed to become spasmodic. There was no day on which +it was my positive duty to write for the publishers, as it was my +duty to write reports for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if +I pleased. But as I had made up my mind to undertake this second +profession, I found it to be expedient to bind myself by certain +self-imposed laws. When I have commenced a new book, I have always +prepared a diary, divided into weeks, and carried it on for the +period which I have allowed myself for the completion of the work. +In this I have entered, day by day, the number of pages I have +written, so that if at any time I have slipped into idleness for +a day or two, the record of that idleness has been there, staring +me in the face, and demanding of me increased labour, so that the +deficiency might be supplied. According to the circumstances of the +time,--whether my other business might be then heavy or light, or +whether the book which I was writing was or was not wanted with +speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. The average +number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as 20, and has +risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page has been +made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, will have +a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as I went. In +the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of course, +with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always to +supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that +the excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing +my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided +myself especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and +I have always done so. There has ever been the record before me, +and a week passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a +blister to my eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow +to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not +be disobeyed. It has the force of the water drop that hollows the +stone. A small daily task, If it be really daily, will beat the +labours of a spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always +catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in +glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise +to make half his journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They +have ever been as boys struggling to learn their lessons as they +entered the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they +have failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger +of being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." +The needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always +been in the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates +and ruled spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly +demand upon my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to +such a taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his +imagination should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves +him. When I have heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been +able to repress my scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the +shoemaker were to wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for +the divine moment of melting. If the man whose business it is to +write has eaten too many good things, or has drunk too much, or +smoked too many cigars,--as men who write sometimes will do,--then +his condition may be unfavourable for work; but so will be the +condition of a shoemaker who has been similarly imprudent. I have +sometimes thought that the inspiration wanted has been the remedy +which time will give to the evil results of such imprudence.--Mens +sana in corpore sano. The author wants that as does every other +workman,--that and a habit of industry. I was once told that the +surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler's wax on +my chair. I certainly believe in the cobbler's wax much more than +the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready +to admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by +the products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own +very high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do +the work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the +habit of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I +therefore venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship +as the business of their lives, even when they propose that that +authorship be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic +rushes with their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day +by day as though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit +until the allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished Doctor Thorne, and on the following +day began The Bertrams. I was moved now by a determination to excel, +if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. An ignoble ambition +for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But not, I think, +altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to look at his +work as does any other workman. This had become my task, this +was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing the +doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to work +at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good +as I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between +each they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I +finished Doctor Thorne on one day, and began The Bertrams on the +next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last +succeeded in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty +years have passed since that time, and other years may yet run on +before these pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official +sin by describing here the nature of the difficulty which met me. +I found, on my arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer +of the Pasha, who was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have +been the gentleman who has lately dealt with our Government as to +the Suez Canal shares, and who is now well known to the political +world as Nubar Pasha. I found him a most courteous gentlemen, an +Armenian. I never went to his office, nor do I know that he had an +office. Every other day he would come to me at my hotel, and bring +with him servants, and pipes, and coffee. I enjoyed his coming +greatly; but there was one point on which we could not agree. As +to money and other details, it seemed as though he could hardly +accede fast enough to the wishes of the Postmaster-General; but +on one point he was firmly opposed to me. I was desirous that the +mails should be carried through Egypt in twenty-four hours, and he +thought that forty-eight hours should be allowed. I was obstinate, +and he was obstinate; and for a long time we could come to +no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity seemed to desert +him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with almost more than +British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick transit, a terrible +responsibility would rest on my head. I made this mistake, he +said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which would be +easy and secure in England could be attained with safety in Egypt. +"The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede to +any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no +longer any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and +he assured me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his +care to see that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually +kept, and, I believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my +persistency was not the result of any courage specially personal to +myself. While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered +to me that the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had +conceived that forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their +traffic better than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great +paymasters on the railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, +who managed the railway, might probably wish to accommodate them. +I often wondered who originated that frightful picture of blood +and desolation. That it came from an English heart and an English +hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the +Post Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with +true tales of my adventures. The Tales of All Countries have, most +of them, some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called +John Bull on the Guadalquivir, the chief incident in which occurred +to me and a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We +both of us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to +be a bull-fighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, +too, who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet +how thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received £400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall for +Doctor Thorne, and agreed to sell them The Bertrams for the same sum. +This latter novel was written under very vagrant circumstances,--at +Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at sea, and at last +finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West Indies I will say +a few words presently, but I may as well speak of these two novels +here. Doctor Thorne has, I believe, been the most popular book that +I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof of comparative +popularity. The Bertrams has had quite an opposite fortune. I do not +know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even by my friends, +and I cannot remember that there is any character in it that has +dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that they are +of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. They fall +away very much from The Three Clerks, both in pathos and humour. +There is no personage in either of them comparable to Chaffanbrass the +lawyer. The plot of Doctor Thorne is good, and I am led therefore +to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own feeling, is the +most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which will most raise +it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The plots of Tom Jones +and of Ivanhoe are almost perfect, and they are probably the most +popular novels of the schools of the last and of this century; but +to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged strength of Burley +and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those great novelists +than the gift of construction shown in the two works I have named. +A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour +and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, +the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals +known to the world or to the author, but of created personages +impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, +the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the +vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the +agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, +however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. That +of The Bertrams was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book was +relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of Doctor +Thorne. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add £600 a year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a week, on £1400 +a year. If more should come, it would be well;--but £600 a year I +was prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but +was very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and +then I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to The Bertrams, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated +for residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous +for want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the +stables had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in +some of the islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to +the island Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I +was then to go on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish +authorities, and to Panama for the same purpose with the Government +of New Grenada. All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and +I hope to that of my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, +as having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard +as the best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I +think I may venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as +I had learned from the secretary at the General Post Office that +this journey would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, demanding £250 for a single volume. The contract +was made without any difficulty, and when I returned home the work +was complete in my desk. I began it on board the ship in which I +left Kingston, Jamaica, for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried +it on as I went. From Cuba I made my way to St. Thomas, and through +the island down to Demerara, then back to St. Thomas,--which is +the starting-point for all places in that part of the globe,--to +Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, over the Isthmus to Panama, up +the Pacific to a little harbour on the coast of Costa Rica, thence +across Central America, through Costa Rica, and down the Nicaragua +river to the Mosquito coast, and after that home by Bermuda and New +York. Should any one want further details of the voyage, are they +not written in my book? The fact memorable to me now is that I +never made a single note while writing or preparing it. Preparation, +indeed, there was none. The descriptions and opinions came hot +on to the paper from their causes. I will not say that this is the +best way of writing a book intended to give accurate information. +But it is the best way of producing to the eye of the reader, and +to his ear, that which the eye of the writer has seen and his ear +heard. There are two kinds of confidence which a reader may have +in his author,--which two kinds the reader who wishes to use his +reading well should carefully discriminate. There is a confidence +in facts and a confidence in vision. The one man tells you accurately +what has been. The other suggests to you what may, or perhaps what +must have been, or what ought to have been. The former require simple +faith. The latter calls upon you to judge for yourself, and form +your own conclusions. The former does not intend to be prescient, +nor the latter accurate. Research is the weapon used by the former; +observation by the latter. Either may be false,--wilfully false; as +also may either be steadfastly true. As to that, the reader must +judge for himself. But the man who writes currente calamo, who +works with a rapidity which will not admit of accuracy, may be as +true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who bases every word +upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I have, travelled +about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have always +written the exact truth as I saw it;--and I have, I think, drawn +my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies +of black men and white men was the view of the Times newspaper at +that period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for +it even by the Times newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position +as an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad +for literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future +chapter. But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to +Chapman & Hall and successfully demanded £600 for my next novel. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "CORNHILL MAGAZINE" AND "FRAMLEY PARSONAGE" + + + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my +own district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and +there my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return +to England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all +with whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable +home, and I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great +delight to me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a +house in the neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be +abandoned. [Footnote: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years +had passed away.] Nevertheless I thought that a man who could +write books ought not to live in Ireland,--ought to live within +the reach of the publishers, the clubs, and the dinner-parties of +the metropolis. So I made my request at headquarters, and with some +little difficulty got myself appointed to the Eastern District of +England,--which comprised Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, +Huntingdonshire, and the greater part of Hertfordshire. + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest +at the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had +been, some time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by +Mr. Rowland Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never +had any sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most +accurate, but I never came across any one who so little understood +the ways of men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two +brothers the servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to +have formed a large army in old days,--were so many machines who +could be counted on for their exact work without deviation, as +wheels may be counted on, which are kept going always at the same +pace and always by the same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious +public servant, anxious for the good of his country; but he was +a hard taskmaster, and one who would, I think, have put the great +department with which he was concerned altogether out of gear by +his hardness, had he not been at last controlled. He was the Chief +Secretary, my brother-in-law--who afterwards succeeded him--came +next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother was the Junior Secretary. In +the natural course of things, I had not, from my position, anything +to do with the management of affairs;--but from time to time I found +myself more or less mixed up in it. I was known to be a thoroughly +efficient public servant; I am sure I may say so much of myself +without fear of contradiction from any one who has known the Post +Office;--I was very fond of the department, and when matters came +to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my own. I have +no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I know that I +sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because I knew +my business and was useful. I had given official offence by the +publication of The Three Clerks. I afterwards gave greater offence +by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of the +large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On this +occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether +he was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was +no threat to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in +that fashion. The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed +no order. In the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing +to bring me to shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil +servant is only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he +is beyond that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in +his general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in +open professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted +now, but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one +in the Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style +of official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands +of reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them +dealing with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; +some few in which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos +might find an entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these +reports, habituating myself always to write them in the form in +which they should be sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus +that a man can throw on to his paper the exact feeling with which +his mind is impressed at the moment. A rough copy, or that which +is called a draft, is written in order that it may be touched and +altered and put upon stilts. The waste of time, moreover, in such +an operation, is terrible. If a man knows his craft with his pen, +he will have learned to write without the necessity of changing +his words or the form of his sentences. I had learned so to write +my reports that they who read them should know what it was that I +meant them to understand. But I do not think that they were regarded +with favour. I have heard horror expressed because the old forms +were disregarded and language used which had no savour of red-tape. +During the whole of this work in the Post Office it was my principle +always to obey authority in everything instantly, but never to allow +my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my opinion. They who +had the ordering of me very often did not know the work as I knew +it,--could not tell as I could what would be the effect of this +or that change. When carrying out instructions which I knew should +not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the fatuity of +the improper order in the strongest language that I could decently +employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, and look +back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. But I am +not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which +could hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our +residence towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing Castle +Richmond, the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for £600. But there arose at this time a certain literary project +which probably had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling +on postal service abroad or riding over the rural districts +in England, or arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the +last eighteen years had now been my life,--I had no opportunity +of becoming acquainted with the literary life in London. It was +probably some feeling of this which had made me anxious to move +my penates back to England. But even in Ireland, where I was still +living in October, 1859, I had heard of the Cornhill Magazine, which +was to come out on the 1st of January, 1860, under the editorship +of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of Tales of All Countries. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the Cornhill, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + "36 ONSLOW SQUARE, S. W. + October 28th. + +"MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their proposals; +and the business part done, let me come to the pleasure, and say +how very glad indeed I shall be to have you as a co-operator in +our new magazine. And looking over the annexed programme, you will +see whether you can't help us in many other ways besides tale-telling. +Whatever a man knows about life and its doings, that let us hear +about. You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and have +countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. Please +to think if you can furbish up any of these besides a novel. When +events occur, and you have a good lively tale, bear us in mind. One +of our chief objects in this magazine is the getting out of novel +spinning, and back into the world. Don't understand me to disparage +our craft, especially YOUR wares. I often say I am like the +pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread and cheese; +but the public love the tarts (luckily for us), and we must bake and +sell them. There was quite an excitement in my family one evening +when Paterfamilias (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always +when he tries it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room +wide awake and calling for the second volume of The Three Clerks. +I hope the Cornhill Magazine will have as pleasant a story. And +the Chapmans, if they are the honest men I take them to be, I've no +doubt have told you with what sincere liking your works have been +read by yours very faithfully, + + "W. M. THACKERAY." + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me £1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to +come out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion +of it should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in +all this that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which +was more than double what I had yet received, and nearly double +that which I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. +Then there was the suddenness of the call. It was already the end +of October, and a portion of the work was required to be in the +printer's hands within six weeks. Castle Richmond was indeed half +written, but that was sold to Chapman. And it had already been +a principle with me in my art, that no part of a novel should +be published till the entire story was completed. I knew, from +what I read from month to month, that this hurried publication of +incompleted work was frequently, I might perhaps say always, adopted +by the leading novelists of the day. That such has been the case, +is proved by the fact that Dickens, Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell +died with unfinished novels, of which portions had been already +published. I had not yet entered upon the system of publishing +novels in parts, and therefore had never been tempted. But I was +aware that an artist should keep in his hand the power of fitting +the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is his first +duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour to do +so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of remedying +any defect in this respect. + + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, +be "impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he +is, will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should +be always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his +pigs to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path +which he has intended for them. When some young lady at the end +of a story cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid +description of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines +of her portrait should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the +rushing mode of publication to which the system of serial stories +had given rise, and by which small parts as they were written were +sent hot to the press, was injurious to the work done. If I now +complied with the proposition made to me, I must act against my +own principle. But such a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot +be superseded on a just occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the +principle should for the occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as +judge, and decreed that the present reason was "tanti." On this my +first attempt at a serial story, I thought it fit to break my own +rule. I can say, however, that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day +this new Cornhill Magazine should be in want of a novel. Perhaps +some of my future readers will be able to remember the great +expectations which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's +was a good name with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. +Smith & Elder, were most liberal in their manner of initiating the +work, and were able to make an expectant world of readers believe +that something was to be given them for a shilling very much in +excess of anything they had ever received for that or double the +money. Whether these hopes were or were not fulfilled it is not for +me to say, as, for the first few years of the magazine's existence, +I wrote for it more than any other one person. But such was certainly +the prospect;--and how had it come to pass that, with such promises +made, the editor and the proprietors were, at the end of October, +without anything fixed as to what must be regarded as the chief +dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. +He had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed +its commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. +There was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. +I think there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, +I had the Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his +own energy, that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was +but four years my senior in life but he was at the top of the tree, +while I was still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d +of November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime +I had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit +the Cornhill, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the Cornhill, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that Castle Richmond was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that Castle Richmond would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must +call the plot of Framley Parsonage. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of +what I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English +clergyman who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation +by his own youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of +those around him. The love of his sister for the young lord was +an adjunct necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And +then by placing Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to +fall back upon my old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out +of these slight elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the +real plot consisted at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the +man she loved till the man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. +Nothing could be less efficient or artistic. But the characters +were so well handled, that the work from the first to the last +was popular,--and was received as it went on with still increasing +favour by both editor and proprietor of the magazine. The story was +thoroughly English. There was a little fox-hunting and a little +tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some Christian cant. There +was no heroism and no villainy. There was much Church, but more +love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in which there was +no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too ethereal to +be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the part of the +man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. Each of +them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say so. +Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked Framley Parsonage. I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in The Three +Clerks, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed +I doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than +Lucy Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak part,--no +long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in serial +form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not allow +himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a +fault that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he +embarks in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have +many pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's +eye at the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first +volume of Waverley coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised +this when I was writing Framley Parsonage; and working on the +conviction which had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos +of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written +on me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than +myself, and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him +to a kind of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel +Hawthorne, the American, whom I did not then know, but whose works +I knew. Though it praises myself highly, I will insert it here, +because it certainly is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he +says, "that my own individual taste is for quite another class of +works than those which I myself am able to write. If I were to meet +with such books as mine by another writer, I don't believe I should +be able to get through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony +Trollope? They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, +written on the strength of beef and through the inspiration of +ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of +the earth and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants +going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they +were being made a show of. And these books are just as English as +a beef-steak. Have they ever been tried in America? It needs an +English residence to make them thoroughly comprehensible; but still +I should think that human nature would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +Framley Parsonage; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed +in impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that +honesty is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood +fails; that a girl will be loved as she is pure; and sweet, and +unselfish; that a man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, +and brave of heart; that things meanly done are ugly and odious, +and things nobly done beautiful and gracious. I do not say that +lessons such as these may not be more grandly taught by higher +flights than mine. Such lessons come to us from our greatest poets. +But there are so many who will read novels and understand them, who +either do not read the works of our great poets, or reading them +miss the lesson! And even in prose fiction the character whom +the fervid imagination of the writer has lifted somewhat into the +clouds, will hardly give so plain an example to the hasty normal +reader as the humbler personage whom that reader unconsciously feels +to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a girl would more +probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than after Flora +Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard +the reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be +simply an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as +among the tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a +wicked world. I have regarded my art from so different a point of +view that I have ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, +and my pulpit as one which I could make both salutary and agreeable +to my audience. I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading +of my pages less modest than she was before, and that some may have +learned from them that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I +think that no youth has been taught that in falseness and flashness +is to be found the road to manliness; but some may perhaps have +learned from me that it is to be found in truth and a high but +gentle spirit. Such are the lessons I have striven to teach; and +I have thought it might best be done by representing to my readers +characters like themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. + +Framley Parsonage--or, rather, my connection with the Cornhill--was +the means of introducing me very quickly to that literary world +from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of my residence +in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very hard at work +on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern District, +and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from London, +in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and Middlesex,--which +was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This I took on +lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about £1000 on +improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent both +in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity came, +among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the Cornhill Magazine but the Pall Mall Gazette--gave +a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a memorable banquet +in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that occasion I first +met many men who afterwards became my most intimate associates. +It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be the first +starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that table, and +on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor (Sir)--than +whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert Bell, G. H. +Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men I afterwards +lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak specially of +the last, because from that time he was joined with me in so much +of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate Framley Parsonage, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's Unspoken +Dialogue. The first drawing he did for Framley Parsonage did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When +I did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated +Orley Farm, The Small House of Allington, Rachel Ray, and Phineas +Finn. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to +have learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of +which may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To +which class Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good +artist, it was open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to +study the work of the author from whose writing he was bound to take +his subject. I have too often found that the former alternative +has been thought to be the better, as it certainly is the easier +method. An artist will frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas +to those of an author, and will sometimes be too idle to find out +what those ideas are. But this artist was neither proud nor idle. +In every figure that he drew it was his object to promote the +views of the writer whose work he had undertaken to illustrate, and +he never spared himself any pains in studying that work, so as to +enable him to do so. I have carried on some of those characters from +book to book, and have had my own early ideas impressed indelibly +on my memory by the excellence of his delineations. Those illustrations +were commenced fifteen years ago, and from that time up to this +day my affection for the man of whom I am speaking has increased. +To see him has always been a pleasure. His voice has been a sweet +sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never heard him praised +without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a word spoken +against him without opposing the censurer. These words, should he +ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will tell him +of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that +evening, and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very +close, was born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the +necessities of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But +he lived much with those who did so,--and could have done it himself +had want or ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick +Club, to which, however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best +dinners of my time, and was,--happily I may say is, [Footnote: +Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went from us.]--the +best giver of dinners. A man rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, +odious to those who dislike him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he +is the prince of friends, honest as the sun, and as openhanded as +Charity itself. + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back +over the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd +to me that we should have known each other for no more than six +years. He was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; +and was so far successful that I do not think that want ever came +near him. But he never made that mark which his industry and talents +would have seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary +men, but not known to readers. As a journalist he was useful +and conscientious, but his plays and novels never made themselves +popular. He wrote a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated +edition of the British poets; but he achieved no great success. +I have known no man better read in English literature. Hence his +conversation had a peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy +with his pen. He will long be remembered at the Literary Fund +Committees, of which he was a staunch and most trusted supporter. +I think it was he who first introduced me to that board. It has +often been said that literary men are peculiarly apt to think that +they are slighted and unappreciated. Robert Bell certainly never +achieved the position in literature which he once aspired to fill, +and which he was justified in thinking that he could earn for +himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects with him, but +I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to his own +literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, and he +loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no sound +ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. +He is, I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His +severity, however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when +honesty may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has +not required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged +himself to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. +I am not speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in +another, but of that confidence in literary excellence, which is, +I think, necessary for the full enjoyment of literature. In one +modern writer he did believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming +than the unstinted admiration which he has accorded to everything +that comes from the pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has +been united. To her name I shall recur again when speaking of the +novelists of the present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say +that I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the +more astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a +little the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But +"Billy" also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, +or at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the Times, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would +have risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer +in his day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, +a man of very different calibre, who had not yet culminated, but +who, no doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many +others;--but I cannot now recall their various names as identified +with those banquets. + +Of Framley Parsonage I need only further say, that as I wrote it I +became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of Parliament, +and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all the great +lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the rectors +and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had placed +the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of the +dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name given +to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of which I +know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered there. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"CASTLE RICHMOND;" "BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON;" "NORTH AMERICA;" +"ORLEY FARM" + + + + +When I had half-finished Framley Parsonage, I went back to my other +story, Castle Richmond, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion +on which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same +time. This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. +Many of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all +his belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family +history; and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we +rode so unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, +once a gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary +Cann, whose marriage with the wheelwright we did something to +expedite;--though we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our +brain the club gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or +any incident of our London intimacies. In our lives we are always +weaving novels, and we manage to keep the different tales distinct. +A man does, in truth, remember that which it interests him to +remember; and when we hear that memory has gone as age has come on, +we should understand that the capacity for interest in the matter +concerned has perished. A man will be generally very old and feeble +before he forgets how much money he has in the funds. There is +a good deal to be learned by any one who wishes to write a novel +well; but when the art has been acquired, I do not see why two or +three should not be well written at the same time. I have never +found myself thinking much about the work that I had to do till +I was doing it. I have indeed for many years almost abandoned the +effort to think, trusting myself, with the narrowest thread of +a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand. But my +mind is constantly employing itself on the work I have done. Had +I left either Framley Parsonage or Castle Richmond half-finished +fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales now with very +little trouble. I have not looked at Castle Richmond since it was +published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the incidents. + +Castle Richmond certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of +itself a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. +The heroine has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other +a prig. As regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. +Rivalry of the same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray +in his Esmond; but there the mother's love seems to be justified +by the girl's indifference. In Castle Richmond the mother strives +to rob her daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no +character; and the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. +The dialogue is often lively, and some of the incidents are well +told; but the story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, +however, that it was roughly handled by the critics when it came +out; and I much doubt whether anything so hard was said of it then +as that which I have said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages +and strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with +which institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged +to it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited +to fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that +august body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little +among men, having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as +a boy been banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at +first the gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine +there--which I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play +a rubber in the little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking +now of the old club in King Street. This playing of whist before +dinner has since that become a habit with me, so that unless there +be something else special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am +wanted to ride in the park by the young tyrant of my household--it +is "my custom always in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore +with myself for this persistency, feeling that I was making myself +a slave to an amusement which has not after all very much to +recommend it. I have often thought that I would break myself away +from it, and "swear off," as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing +off has been like that of Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of +it coolly, I do not know but that I have been right to cling to it. +As a man grows old he wants amusement, more even than when he is +young; and then it becomes so difficult to find amusement. Reading +should, no doubt, be the delight of men's leisure hours. Had I to +choose between books and cards, I should no doubt take the books. +But I find that I can seldom read with pleasure for above an hour +and a half at a time, or more than three hours a day. As I write +this I am aware that hunting must soon be abandoned. After sixty +it is given but to few men to ride straight across country, and I +cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of riding. I think that +without cards I should now be much at a loss. When I began to play +at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked the society of the +men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. +I have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, +which I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be +liked by those around me,--a wish that during the first half of +my life was never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my +misery came from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of +popular boys. They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while +the desolation of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, +when I was in London as a young man, I had but few friends. Among +the clerks in the Post Office I held my own fairly for the first +two or three years; but even then I regarded myself as something of +a pariah. My Irish life had been much better. I had had my wife and +children, and had been sustained by a feeling of general respect. +But even in Ireland I had in truth lived but little in society. +Our means had been sufficient for our wants, but insufficient for +entertaining others. It was not till we had settled ourselves at +Waltham that I really began to live much with others. The Garrick +Club was the first assemblage of men at which I felt myself to be +popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. +Then I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not +from judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left +for the same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected +by the Committee at the Athenaeum. For this I was indebted to the +kindness of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when +I was informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member +of the Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in +Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, +and its members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! +The gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met +Jacob Omnium, Monckton Mimes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry +Reeve, Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally +a strong political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain +spirit to the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, +Lord Enfield, Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, +Bromley Davenport, Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to +whisper the secrets of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I +became a member of the Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or +the reverse--only for the playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the Cornhill Magazine. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called +The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In this I attempted a +style for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never +had again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, +and was intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think +that there is some good fun it it, but I have heard no one else +express such an opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion +expressed on it, except by the publisher, who kindly remarked +that he did not think it was equal to my usual work. Though he had +purchased the copyright, he did not republish the story in a book +form till 1870, and then it passed into the world of letters sub +silentio. I do not know that it was ever criticised or ever read. +I received £600 for it. From that time to this I have been paid at +about that rate for my work--£600 for the quantity contained in +an ordinary novel volume, or £3000 for a long tale published in +twenty parts, which is equal in length to five such volumes. I have +occasionally, I think, received something more than this, never +I think less for any tale, except when I have published my work +anonymously. [Footnote: Since the date at which this was written +I have encountered a diminution in price.] Having said so much, I +need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that Brown, Jones and Robinson was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from +the first I interested myself much in the question. My mother +had thirty years previously written a very popular, but, as I had +thought, a somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. +She had seen what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, +but had hardly recognised their energy. I had entertained for +many years an ambition to follow her footsteps there, and to write +another book. I had already paid a short visit to New York City and +State on my way home from the West Indies, but had not seen enough +then to justify me in the expression of any opinion. The breaking +out of the war did not make me think that the time was peculiarly +fit for such inquiry as I wished to make, but it did represent itself +as an occasion on which a book might be popular. I consequently +consulted the two great powers with whom I was concerned. Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, the publishers, were one power, and I had no difficulty +in arranging my affairs with them. They agreed to publish the book +on my terms, and bade me God-speed on my journey. The other power +was the Postmaster-General and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of +the Post Office. I wanted leave of absence for the unusual period +of nine months, and fearing that I should not get it by the ordinary +process of asking the Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. +"Is it on the plea of ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, +which was then that of a very robust man. His lordship knew the +Civil Service as well as any one living, and must have seen much +of falseness and fraudulent pretence, or he could not have asked +that question. I told him that I was very well, but that I wanted +to write a book. "Had I any special ground to go upon in asking for +such indulgence?" I had, I said, done my duty well by the service. +There was a good deal of demurring, but I got my leave for nine +months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. Hill attached to +the minute granting me the leave an intimation that it was to be +considered as a full equivalent for the special services rendered +by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the grace +with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions of +the Postmaster-General. [Footnote: During the period of my service +in the Post Office I did very much special work for which I never +asked any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments +for special services were common in the department at that time. +But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did not +choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon it by +Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected +because new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, +is that we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances +around us. Though three parts of London were in flames I should +no doubt expect to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the +quarter which was free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it +was not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, +I think, be of future value to those who wish to make themselves +acquainted with the United States. It was published about the +middle of the war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those +who loved the South were I most buoyant, and the fears of those who +stood by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, +and on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, +and that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was +right in my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which +they were made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked +the quarrel because its political supremacy was checked by the election +of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man +against a big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a +feeling based on a misconception as to American character that the +Southerners are better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did +create great sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too +just to be led into political action by a spirit of romance, and +I was warranted in that belief. There was a moment in which the +Northern cause was in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the +prospect of British interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two +men insignificant in themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the +Southern party, and had managed to get on board the British mail +steamer called "The Trent," at the Havannah. A most undue importance +was attached to this mission by Mr. Lincoln's government, and +efforts were made to stop them. A certain Commodore Wilkes, doing +duty as policeman on the seas, did stop the "Trent," and took the +men out. They were carried, one to Boston and one to New York, +and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph of the nation. Commodore +Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a brave man could take glory, +was made a hero and received a prize sword. England of course +demanded her passengers back, and the States for a while refused +to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that time the Secretary +of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political faults, was a wise +man. I was at Washington at the time, and it was known there that +the contest among the leading Northerners was very sharp on the +matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under Mr. Lincoln, the two +chiefs of the party. It was understood that Mr. Sumner was opposed +to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward in favour of it. Mr. +Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the President, and England's +declaration of war was prevented. I dined with Mr. Seward on the +day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at his house, and was told +as I left the dining-room what the decision had been. During the +afternoon I and others had received intimation through the embassy +that we might probably have to leave Washington at an hour's +notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the Northern +cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It +served its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public +and by the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed Orley Farm, a novel which +appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which Pickwick, +Nicholas Nickleby, and many others had been published. Most of +those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, and are +competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is the +best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify +me in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of Orley Farm +is probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of +declaring itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. +When Lady Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the +will, the plot of Orley Farm has unravelled itself;--and this she +does in the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the +novel is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, +Mr. Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, +are all good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. +Moulder carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his +tables and chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull +page in the book. I am fond of Orley Farm;--and am especially fond +of its illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in +any novel in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the Macdermots in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured +to myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged £4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps +to have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but +I have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has +come easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used +to cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing +myself to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride +in having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to +reach the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters +should be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is +generally done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as +a great blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much +of shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned +too quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred +by the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps +foolishly, to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to +the comfort of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost +say the last twenty years, though no man in his youth had less +prospect of doing so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five +to have had such luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, and +the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty +boots and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling +myself that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but +that the mud and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me +mud and solitude and poverty through my life. Those lads about me +would go into Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires +of parishes, or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not +live with me now,--but neither should I be able to live with them +in after years. Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the +age in which others go to the universities, I became a clerk in +the Post Office, I felt that my old visions were being realised. I +did not think it a high calling. I did not know then how very much +good work may be done by a member of the Civil Service who will show +himself capable of doing it. The Post Office at last grew upon me +and forced itself into my affections. I became intensely anxious +that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually. +But my hope to rise had always been built on the writing of novels, +and at last by the writing of novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education +is to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son +of a peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed +men than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the +wife of him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her +whose husband has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think +it. The discerning man will recognise the information and the graces +when they are achieved without such assistance, and will honour +the owners of them the more because of the difficulties they have +overcome;--but the fact remains that the society of the well-born +and of the wealthy will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this +now, because these are the rules by which I have lived, and these +are the causes which have instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? +If a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his +intimacy, am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close +acquaintance or his high rank? I have always said that where the +difference in position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy +should always come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be +ever fixed, then that rank should be held of no account. It seems +to me that intimate friendship admits of no standing but that +of equality. I cannot be the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the +friend of many very much beneath the Sovereign, because such equality +is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than +in Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was +too light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the +money came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First +one horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home +I have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, +and gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had +been an Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more +closely than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding +capacities of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me +by Essex men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my +delight in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my +own satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little +about hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the +field. I am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore +tell whether the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the +notice I take of hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so +constituted that I can never see the nature of a fence. I either +follow some one, or ride at it with the full conviction that I +may be going into a horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into +both one and the other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden +expensive horses. I am also now old for such work, being so stiff +that I cannot get on to my horse without the aid of a block or a +bank. But I ride still after the same fashion, with a boy's energy, +determined to get ahead if it may possibly be done, hating the +roads, despising young men who ride them, and with a feeling that +life can not, with all her riches, have given me anything better +than when I have gone through a long run to the finish, keeping a +place, not of glory, but of credit, among my juniors. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON," "CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?" "RACHEL +RAY," AND THE "FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW" + + + + +During the early months of 1862 Orley Farm was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time Brown, Jones and Robinson was +appearing in the Cornhill Magazine. In September, 1862, the Small +House at Allington began its career in the same periodical. The +work on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, +the first number of Can You Forgive Her? was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called Rachel Ray. In addition +to these I published during the time two volumes of stories called +The Tales of all Countries. In the early spring of 1865 Miss Mackenzie +was issued in the same form as Rachel Ray; and in May of the same +year The Belton Estate was commenced with the commencement of the +Fortnightly Review, of which periodical I will say a few words in +this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers +and readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. +Of publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins +were, I think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received +from them individually. What I wrote for the Cornhill Magazine, I +always wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were +published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts +made by me with them, and always made with their good-will. Could +I have been two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom +one might have been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests +of the firm in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as +I preserved my identity in both places, I myself became aware that +my name was too frequent on titlepages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too +great rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving +to the subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of +my own work as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I +believe that the work which has been done quickest has been done +the best. I have composed better stories--that is, have created +better plots--than those of The Small House at Allington and Can +You Forgive Her? and I have portrayed two or three better characters +than are to be found in the pages of either of them; but taking +these books all through, I do not think that I have ever done better +work. Nor would these have been improved by any effort in the art +of story telling, had each of these been the isolated labour of a +couple of years. How short is the time devoted to the manipulation +of a plot can be known only to those who have written plays and +novels; I may say also, how very little time the brain is able +to devote to such wearing work. There are usually some hours of +agonising doubt, almost of despair,--so at least it has been with +me,--or perhaps some days. And then, with nothing settled in my +brain as to the final development of events, with no capability +of settling anything, but with a most distinct conception of some +character or characters, I have rushed at the work as a rider rushes +at a fence which he does not see. Sometimes I have encountered +what, in hunting language, we call a cropper. I had such a fall in +two novels of mine, of which I have already spoken--The Bertrams +and Castle Richmond. I shall have to speak of other such troubles. +But these failures have not arisen from over-hurried work. When my +work has been quicker done,--and it has sometimes been done very +quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by hot pressure, not in +the conception, but in the telling of the story. Instead of writing +eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead of working five +days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my usual average, +and have done so in circumstances which have enabled me to give +up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been writing. +This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, +no ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done +has had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have +been able to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself +thoroughly with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered +alone among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to +the rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far +from well in reference to the style in which that work has been +given to the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for +conveying his thoughts to the public should not be less important +to him than the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to +be popular unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; +but then comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, +I may say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire +a mode of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible +to the reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he +can be neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him +to obey those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have +been taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does +obey them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will +achieve such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has +learned that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has +learned with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not +while he is writing that which shall please, but long before. His +language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of +the great performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the +indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained +compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form +themselves to the ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of +his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work +that smells of oil. I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry +we know what care is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. +A singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because +other pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into +plural tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in +demanding fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has +been already expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, +which must have been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the +long sentences of Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity +of divisions, has done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer +will hardly avoid these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I +am ready to declare that, with much training, I have been unable to +avoid them. But the writer for the press is rarely called upon--a +writer of books should never be called upon--to send his manuscript +hot from his hand to the printer. It has been my practice to read +everything four times at least--thrice in manuscript and once in +print. Very much of my work I have read twice in print. In spite +of this I know that inaccuracies have crept through,--not single +spies, but in battalions. From this I gather that the supervision +has been insufficient, not that the work itself has been done too +fast. I am quite sure that those passages which have been written +with the greatest stress of labour, and consequently with the +greatest haste, have been the most effective and by no means the +most inaccurate. + +The Small House at Allington redeemed my reputation with the spirited +proprietor of the Cornhill, which must, I should think, have been +damaged by Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In it appeared Lily Dale, +one of the characters which readers of my novels have liked the +best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have hardly +joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a +French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, The Small House at Allington is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. +I have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have +taken the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, +whose life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, +I think, well described. + +Of Can you Forgive Her? I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase +my reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that +of the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, +the circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The +play had been called The Noble Jilt; but I was afraid of the name +for a novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. +There was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. +The character of the girl is carried through with considerable +strength, but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are +also taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open +chooses the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is +the better looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain +Bellfield and Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun +of novels is. But that which endears the book to me is the first +presentation which I made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his +wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in +making any reader understand how much these characters with their +belongings have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently +I have used them for the expression of my political or social +convictions. They have been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. +Cobden, or the dominion of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have +not been able to speak from the benches of the House of Commons, +or to thunder from platforms, or to be efficacious as a lecturer, +they have served me as safety-valves by which to deliver my soul. +Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared in The Small House at Allington, +but his birth had not been accompanied by many hopes. In the last +pages of that novel he is made to seek a remedy for a foolish +false step in life by marrying the grand heiress of the day;--but +the personage of the great heiress does not appear till she comes +on the scene as a married woman in Can You Forgive Her? He is +the nephew and heir to a duke--the Duke of Omnium--who was first +introduced in Doctor Thorne, and afterwards in Framley Parsonage, +and who is one of the belongings of whom I have spoken. In these +personages and their friends, political and social, I have endeavoured +to depict the faults and frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, +the graces, and the strength of our highest classes; and if I have +not made the strength and virtues predominant over the faults and +vices, I have not painted the picture as I intended. Plantagenet +Palliser I think to be a very noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies +to the nation the seeming anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of +primogeniture. His wife is in all respects very inferior to him; +but she, too, has, or has been intended to have, beneath the thin +stratum of her follies a basis of good principle, which enabled her +to live down the conviction of the original wrong which was done +to her, and taught her to endeavour to do her duty in the position +to which she was called. She had received a great wrong,--having +been made, when little more than a child, to marry a man for whom +she cared nothing;--when, however, though she was little more than +a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She had very heavy +troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in vindication +of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. In the pages of +Can You Forgive Her? the girl's first love is introduced,--beautiful, +well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a girl from wasting +herself, and an heiress from wasting her property on such a scamp, +was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But it must ever +be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she does not +love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom she does +love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected the young +wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to whom her +heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish ground, +leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one +of the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my +novels read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book +which caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to +vicious sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, +he did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should +it not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made +known nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, +and ought not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no +attraction to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full +of grace, and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation +without abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much +too long for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with +him in the country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, +however, has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then of +political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after his thorough +nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is imperfectly true +to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been maintained +by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to nature,--but also +of those changes which time always produces. There, are, perhaps, +but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will be found to +have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man will still +be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of showing or +of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also our power +of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my study that +these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the changes +which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. The +Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime Minister's +wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost longs to +go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will never do +so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and sore +spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place when +they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the changes +which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. To do +all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I do +not know that the game has been worth the candle. + +To carry out my scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide +a canvas that I cannot expect that any lover of such art should +trouble himself to look at it as a whole. Who will read Can You +Forgive Her? Phineas Finn, Phineas Redux, and The Prime Minister +consecutively, in order that they may understand the characters of +the Duke of Omnium, of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? +Who will ever know that they should be so read? But in the performance +of the work I had much gratification, and was enabled from time to +time to have in this way that fling at the political doings of the +day which every man likes to take, if not in one fashion then in +another. I look upon this string of characters,--carried sometimes +into other novels than those just named,--as the best work of +my life. Taking him altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser +stands more firmly on the ground than any other personage I have +created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +Cornhill Magazine,--a position for which he was hardly fitted either +by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in writing +for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had grown +into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys +and troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in +early life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an +afflicted wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before +his children were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much +upon clubs, and taught him to dislike general society. But it never +affected his heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel +in the pangs and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as +he did to the very last--the duty of showing to his readers the +evil consequences of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault +as a writer that he could never abstain from that dash of satire +which he felt to be demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around +him. The satirist who writes nothing but satire should write but +little,--or it will seem that his satire springs rather from his +own caustic nature than from the sins of the world in which he +lives. I myself regard Esmond as the greatest novel in the English +language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its language, +on the clear individuality of the characters, on the truth of +its delineations in regard to the tine selected, and on its great +pathos. There are also in it a few scenes so told that even Scott +has never equalled the telling. Let any one who doubts this read +the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the Duke of Hamilton to +think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be honoured if Colonel +Esmond will give away the bride. When he went from us he left behind +living novelists with great names; but I think that they who best +understood the matter felt that the greatest master of fiction of +this age had gone. + +Rachel Ray underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called Good Words +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he +was wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel +to the readers of Good Words, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with +any specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for Good Words. He persisted in his request, and I came +to terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it +to him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable +portion having been printed--with an intimation that it would not +do. A letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. +It was, he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. +He should have known better. But the story, such as it was, he +could not give to his readers in the pages of Good Words. Would I +forgive him? Any pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject +me the owner of the publication would willingly make good. There +was some loss--or rather would have been--and that money I exacted, +feeling that the fault had in truth been with the editor. There is +the tale now to speak for itself. It is not brilliant nor in any +way very excellent; but it certainly is not very wicked. There is +some dancing in one of the early chapters, described, no doubt, +with that approval of the amusement which I have always entertained; +and it was this to which my friend demurred. It is more true of +novels than perhaps of anything else, that one man's food is another +man's poison. + +Miss Mackenzie was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who +was overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before +the end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. +There is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made +with a violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such +attempts at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg +to say that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. +Miss Mackenzie was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our +trust or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, +and have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but +we would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say +it, speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility +of his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity of +Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a publication +as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one or two who had +proposed to join us. But we went on, and our company--limited--was +formed. We subscribed, I think, £1250 each. I at least subscribed +that amount, and--having agreed to bring out our publication every +fortnight, after the manner of the well-known French publication,--we +called it The Fortnightly. We secured the services of G. H. Lewes +as our editor. We agreed to manage our finances by a Board, which +was to meet once a fortnight, and of which I was the Chairman. +And we determined that the payments for our literature should be +made on a liberal and strictly ready-money system. We carried out +our principles till our money was all gone, and then we sold the +copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a trifle. But before we +parted with our property we found that a fortnightly issue was not +popular with the trade through whose hands the work must reach the +public; and, as our periodical had not become sufficiently popular +itself to bear down such opposition, we succumbed, and brought +it out once a month. Still it was The Fortnightly, and still it +is The Fortnightly. Of all the serial publications of the day, it +probably is the most serious, the most earnest, the least devoted +to amusement, the least flippant, the least jocose,--and yet it +has the face to show itself month after month to the world, with +so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know the laws of modern +literature are aware, a very serious thing to change the name of +a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether new enterprise. +Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas this was very +ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined +to support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, freethinking, and open inquiry will never object to appear +in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit to +think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result +has been good; and though there is much in the now established +principles of The Fortnightly with which I do not myself agree, I +may safely say that the publication has assured an individuality, +and asserted for itself a position in our periodical literature, +which is well understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving after +some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still desirable but +which is hardly to be attained by the means which then recommended +themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a paper +advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of +my case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether +the reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of +political writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other +subjects. Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very +bad indeed;--. so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty +and incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are +criticised by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism +of the incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, +editors would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that +we should get but little criticism, and that the public would put +but little trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care +to have his books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation +of the great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the Times, +the Spectator, or the Saturday. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In The +Fortnightly everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals +have become much more common since The Fortnightly was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that +the work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss +in him was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in +finding a successor. I must say that the present proprietor has +been fortunate in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done +the work with admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course +he has got around him a set of contributors whose modes of thought +are what we may call much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, +would not work with other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone +of its own; but it holds its own with ability, and though there +are many who perhaps hate it, there are none who despise it. When +the company sold it, having spent about £9000 on it, it was worth +little or nothing. Now I believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter, of fox-hunting. +[Footnote: I have written various articles for it since, especially +two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] There came out in +it an article from the pen of Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning +the amusement, which I love, on the grounds of cruelty and general +brutality. Was it possible, asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, +that any educated man should find delight in so coarse a pursuit? +Always bearing in mind my own connection with The Fortnightly, I +regarded this almost as a rising of a child against the father. I +felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. Freeman in the same columns, +and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission to do so. I wrote my defence +of fox-hunting, and there it is. In regard to the charge of cruelty, +Mr. Freeman seems to assert that nothing unpleasant should be +done to any of God's creatures except f or a useful purpose. The +protection of a lady's shoulders from the cold is a useful purpose; +and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals may be snared in the +snow and left to starve to death in the wires, in order that the +lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of wool would serve +the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the congregation and +healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, on whose behalf +a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a useful purpose. I +think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that amusement is as +needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. The absurdity +of the further charge as to the general brutality of the pursuit, +and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is to be attributed +to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done and said in the +hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of Cicero's words. +There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked for space for +further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, if I much wished +it; but he preferred that the subject should be closed. Of course +I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. Freeman,--and +against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would cease to exist +in England. And I felt that The Fortnighty was hardly the place for +the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman kindly suggested +to me that he would be glad to publish my article in a little book +to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting generally. He was +to have the last word and the first word, and that power of picking +to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a manner, without +any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If he would give +me the last word, as he would have the first, then, I told him, I +should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did not however +meet his views. + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in opposition +to my own ideas on the subject, that the Fortnightly Review should +always contain a novel. It was of course natural that I should write +the first novel, and I wrote The Belton Estate. It is similar in +its attributes to Rachel Ray and to Miss Mackenzie. It is readable, +and contains scenes which are true to life; but it has no peculiar +merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a novelist. I have +not looked at it since it was published; and now turning back to +it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it than of any +book that I have written. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"THE CLAVERINGS," THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE," "NINA BALATKA," AND +"LINDA TRESSEL" + + + + +The Claverings, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the Cornhill; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the +same length as Framley Parsonage, and the price was £2800. Whether +much or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, +and was paid in a single cheque. + +In The Claverings I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar +to myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had +appeared before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider +the story as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the +public has ever corroborated that verdict. The chief character +is that of a young woman who has married manifestly for money and +rank,--so manifestly that she does not herself pretend, even while +she is making the marriage, that she has any other reason. The +man is old, disreputable, and a wornout debauchee. Then comes the +punishment natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom +she had loved, and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. +He vacillates and is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the +book, as he plays the part of hero. But she is strong--strong in +her purpose, strong in her desires, and strong in her consciousness +that the punishment which comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of The Clarverings is in the genuine fun of +some of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined +to think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, +and Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of +Sophie, is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference +in a somewhat masterly manner. In The Claverings, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her +sorrow is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is +well told. But I doubt now whether any one reads The Claverings. +When I remember how many novels I have written, I have no right +to expect that above a few of them shall endure even to the second +year beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +Cornhill Magazine;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate +form, and who about this time established the Pall Mall Gazette, +to which paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the Pall Mall Gazette was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means +of his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him +a society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at one under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the Pall Mall +Gazette owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met +at a Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the +House of Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even +on important occasions. There are many who now remember--and no +doubt when this is published there will be left some to remember--the +great stroke of business which was done by the revelations of a +visitor to one of the casual wards in London. A person had to be +selected who would undergo the misery of a night among the usual +occupants of a casual ward in a London poorhouse, and who should at +the same time be able to record what he felt and saw. The choice +fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, who certainly possessed the +courage and the powers of endurance. The description, which was +very well given, was, I think, chiefly written by the brother of +the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which was increased by +secrecy as to the person who encountered all the horrors of that +night. I was more than once assured that Lard Houghton was the man. +I heard it asserted also that I myself had been the hero. At last +the unknown one could no longer endure that his honours should be +hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, I fear, to promises +to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction that if known he +could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, however, that +record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more to establish +the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of Stephen, or the +polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of Lewes. + +My work was various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed +also some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had +a considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description of +the different classes of people who are to be met in the hunting-field. +There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was considered to +be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my head the critical +wrath of a great dean of that period. The most ill-natured review +that was ever written upon any work of mine appeared in the +Contemporary Review with reference to these Clerical Sketches. The +critic told me that I did not understand Greek. That charge has +been made not unfrequently by those who have felt themselves strong +in that pride-producing language. It is much to read Greek with +ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do so. To pretend +to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. The critic, +however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that Deans of the +Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the metropolitan +moon. + +I also did some critical work for the Pall Mall,--as I did also for +The Fortnightly. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, and +said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter time +altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. In +doing this for the Pall Mall, I fell into great sorrow. A gentleman, +whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister; was in +some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had been +blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a pamphlet. +This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and express my +opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I thought the +request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. He met me +again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very hard. I +promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself able +I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I +then went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was +one requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the +conduct of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that +charges made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. +This I said, emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the +opinion which I had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often +be the case when a man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club +or sledge-hammer,--in using which, either for defence or attack, +a man can hardly measure the strength of the blows he gives. Of +course there was offence,--and a breaking off of intercourse between +loving friends,--and a sense of wrong received, and I must own, +too, of wrong done. It certainly was not open to me to whitewash +with honesty him whom I did not find to be white; but there was no +duty incumbent on me to declare what was his colour in my eyes,--no +duty even to ascertain. But I had been ruffled by the persistency +of the gentleman's request,--which should not have been made,--and +I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing a wrong myself. I must +add, that before he died his wife succeeded in bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until +human nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during +an entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give +a graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. +I did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called A Zulu in Search of a Religion. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the Pall Mall Gazette, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of +such martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on +a newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn +its ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any work was +altered in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of +course, was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my +own subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of +the staff I was of no use, and after two or three years I dropped +out of the work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date +from the beginning of the Cornhill Magazine, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me +that a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed +had never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter +of course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom +the critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when +they wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner +would not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope +no one will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy +of others. Though I never reached that height, still I had so +far progressed that that which I wrote was received with too much +favour. The injustice which struck me did not consist in that which +was withheld from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt +that aspirants coming up below me might do work as good as mine, +and probably much better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. +In order to test this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, +and to begin a course of novels anonymously, in order that I might +see whether I could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made +one mark by such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed +in doing so again. In 1865 I began a short tale called Nina Balatka, +which in 1866 was published anonymously in Blackwood's Magazine. +In 1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called +Linda Tressel. I will speak of them together, as they are of the +same nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself +read the MS. of Nina Balatka, expressed an opinion that it would +not from its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but +it was discovered by Mr. Hutton of the Spectator, who found the +repeated use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear +too frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other +works of mine. He declared in his paper that Nina Balatka was by +me, showing I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, +however, to complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he +has been the most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. +Nina Balatka never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make +its detection a matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the +story mentioned by readers who did not know me to be the author, +and always with praise; but it had no real success. The same may +be said of Linda Tressel. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, +was willing to publish them, trusting that works by an experienced +writer would make their way, even without the writer's name, and he +was willing to pay me for them, perhaps half what they would have +fetched with my name. But he did not find the speculation answer, +and declined a third attempt, though a third such tale was written +for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They +were both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of +labour; and both were written immediately after visits to the towns +in which the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of +course I had endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, +but my manner of story-telling also; and in this, pace Mr. Hutton, +I think that I was successful. English life in them there was none. +There was more of romance proper than had been usual with me. And +I made an attempt at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes +and places, which has not been usual with me. In all this I am +confident that I was in a measure successful. In the loves, and +fears, and hatreds, both of Nina and of Linda, there is much that +is pathetic. Prague is Prague, and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know +that the stories are good, but they missed the object with which +they had been written. Of course there is not in this any evidence +that I might not have succeeded a second time as I succeeded before, +had I gone on with the same dogged perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, +had I still further reduced my price, would probably have continued +the experiment. Another ten years of unpaid unflagging labour might +have built up a second reputation. But this at any rate did seem +clear to me, that with all the increased advantages which practice +in my art must have given me, I could not induce English readers +to read what I gave to them, unless I gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with public +judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course that +in all things the public should trust to established reputation. It +is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to a +library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a lady +when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the Times would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human and +has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts on the +matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much consideration +is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to +aspire, because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their +reach. "My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn +your stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, +I can only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be +better suited to your abilities." What old-established successful +author has not said such words as these to humble aspirants for +critical advice, till they have become almost formulas? No doubt +there is cruelty in such answers; but the man who makes them has +considered the matter within himself, and has resolved that such +cruelty is the best mercy. No doubt the chances against literary +aspirants are very great. It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! +A man cannot make a watch or a shoe without a variety of tools and +many materials. He must also have learned much. But any young lady +can write a book who has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can +be done anywhere; in any clothes--which is a great thing; at any +hours--to which happy accident in literature I owe my success. +And the success, when achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of +course, are very many; and the experienced councillor, when asked +for his candid judgment as to this or that effort, knows that among +every hundred efforts there will be ninety-nine failures. Then the +answer is so ready: "My dear young lady, do darn your stockings; +it will be for the best." Or perhaps, less tenderly, to the male +aspirant: "You must earn some money, you say. Don't you think +that a stool in a counting-house might be better?" The advice will +probably be good advice,--probably, no doubt, as may be proved by +the terrible majority of failures. But who is to be sure that he +is not expelling an angel from the heaven to which, if less roughly +treated, he would soar,--that he is not dooming some Milton to be +mute and inglorious, who, but for such cruel ill-judgment, would +become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who +consents to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in +this matter no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the +matter subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an +assured answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your +vocation;" or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But +cases as to which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The +critic who wrote the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which +produced the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, was justified in +his criticism by the merits of the Hours of Idleness. The lines had +nevertheless been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. +In a little satire called The Biliad, which, I think, nobody knows, +are the following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's Taste was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--THE LINES WERE PINDAR'S!" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we +are so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to +desist. + +There is perhaps no career or life so charming as that of a successful +man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which I just +now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, live in +the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, choose +the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, +hardly even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those +which bind other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? +The judge must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making +his £20,000 a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister +must be in his place on that weary front bench shortly after +prayers, and must sit there, either asleep or awake, even though +---- or ---- should be addressing the House. During all that Sunday +which he maintains should be a day of rest, the active clergyman +toils like a galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, +is bound to his footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there +from ten till four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve +to six is just as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five +in the morning when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the +morning before he goes there. And the author wants no capital, and +encounters no risks. When once he is afloat, the publisher finds +all that;--and indeed, unless he be rash, finds it whether he be +afloat or not. But it is in the consideration which he enjoys that +the successful author finds his richest reward. He is, if not of +equal rank, yet of equal standing with the highest; and if he be +open to the amenities of society, may choose his own circles. He +without money can enter doors which are closed against almost all +but him and the wealthy. I have often heard it said that in this +country the man of letters is not recognised. I believe the meaning +of this to be that men of letters are not often invited to be +knights and baronets. I do not think that they wish it;--and if +they had it they would, as a body, lose much more than they would +gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put after my name, or +to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom Hughes and Charles +Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not know how I might +feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left unbedecked. As +it is, the man of letters who would be selected for titular honour, +if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives from the general +respect of those around him a much more pleasant recognition of +his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not +he has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He +makes an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! +So many have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or +twice! Who will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to +find out that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple +to that office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much +merit in his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also +to foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may +be said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel +given, that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not +begin by trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as +recommended to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours +as may belong to you, let the praise which has come from the lips +of that soft man induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. +Should you fail, then your failure will not be fatal,--and what +better could you have done with the leisure hours had you not so +failed? Such double toil, you will say, is severe. Yes, but if +you want this thing, you must submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed +for the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and +in that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. +I may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which +I regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should +be glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it +now, because the experience I have acquired in being active in its +cause forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly +on a literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I +should have failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere +while I was making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I +commenced with some aid from the fact that others of my family were +in the same profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, +ink, and paper which I was using; and then when, with all my +experience in my art, I began again as from a new springing point, +I should have failed again unless again I could have given years +to the task. Of course there have been many who have done better +than I,--many whose powers have been infinitely greater. But then, +too, I have seen the failure of many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with +my well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, +cannot earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in +a little room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The +very charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him +than to others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that +gives it to him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding +with a sense of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM + + + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write +a history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary +to read an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so +to read them as to point out the excellences of those which are +most excellent, and to explain the defects of those which, though +defective, had still reached sufficient reputation to make them +worthy of notice. I did read many after this fashion,--and here +and there I have the criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, +they were written on some blank page within the book; I have not, +however, even a list of the books so criticised. I think that the +Arcadia was the first, and Ivanhoe the last. My plan, as I settled +it at last, had been to begin with Robinson Crusoe, which is the +earliest really popular novel which we have in our language, and +to continue the review so as to include the works of all English +novelists of reputation, except those who might still be living +when my task should be completed. But when Dickens and Bulwer died, +my spirit flagged, and that which I had already found to be very +difficult had become almost impossible to me at my then period of +life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +Robinson Crusoe, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the Arcadia, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present +day have become what they are, to point out the effects which they +have produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on +the whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still +think that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as +a novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature +which has created and nourished the profession which I follow. +And I was stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that +there still exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect +to novels which might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This +prejudice is not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their +general acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference +to the appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it +robs them of much of that high character which they may claim to +have earned by their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much, whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to +good. I have written many novels, and have known many writers of +novels, and I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with +them and with myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have +received from the public a full measure of credit for such genius, +ingenuity, or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that +there is still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence +of their calling, and a general understanding of the high nature +of the work which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes +the highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and +all but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before +she can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed +it is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in +truth achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above +the earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. +He who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, +nor does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but +his teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to +the same end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false +notions of humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, +false worship may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue +may be taught. But by each, equally, may true honour, true love; +true worship, and true humanity be inculcated; and that will be +the greatest teacher who will spread such truth the widest. But +at present, much as novels, as novels, are bought and read, there +exists still an idea, a feeling which is very prevalent, that novels +at their best are but innocent. Young men and women,--and old men +and women too,--read more of them than of poetry, because such reading +is easier than the reading of poetry; but they read them,--as men +eat pastry after dinner,--not without some inward conviction that +the taste is vain if not vicious. I take upon myself to say that +it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily +labour and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted +and then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them +to be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what +had been the nature of English novels since they first became common +in our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they +had done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young +days, they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms +which they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they +were not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in +the preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, Peregrine +Pickle was hidden beneath the bolster, and Lord Ainsworth put away +under the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission +was given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many +they were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct +morality of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men +and women understand that lessons which were good in poetry could +not be bad in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was +laid upon novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist +a much heavier tax than that want of full appreciation of which I +now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own +hands to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right +and left, above stairs and below, in town houses and in country +parsonages, by young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old +lawyers and by young students. It has not only come to pass that +a special provision of them has to be made for the godly, but that +the provision so made must now include books which a few years since +the godly would have thought to be profane. It was this necessity +which, a few years since, induced the editor of Good Words to apply +to me for a novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but +which now, probably, owing to further change in the same direction, +would have been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little +of their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right +in saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, +when the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently +assaulted by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the +easiest road to greatness; when the temptations to which men are +subjected dull their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; +when it is so hard for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, +which so many are handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's +conduct will be actuated much by that which is from day to day +depicted to them as leading to glorious or inglorious results. The +woman who is described as having obtained all that the world holds +to be precious, by lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily +and heartlessly, will induce other women to do the same with +theirs,--as will she who is made interesting by exhibitions of +bold passion teach others to be spuriously passionate. The young +man who in a novel becomes a hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, +and almost a Prime Minister, by trickery, falsehood, and flash +cleverness, will have many followers, whose attempts to rise in +the world ought to lie heavily on the conscience of the novelists +who create fictitious Cagliostros. There are Jack Sheppards other +than those who break into houses and out of prisons,--Macheaths, +who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, +for which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or +drawn would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and +odious. The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and +the nose, is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there +are outskirts on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers +seem to grow; and grass to be green. It is in these border-lands +that the danger lies. The novelist may not be dull. If he commit +that fault he can do neither harm nor good. He must please, and the +flowers and the grass in these neutral territories sometimes seem +to give him so easy an opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And +he must teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach +lessons of virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to +his readers? That sermons are not in themselves often thought to +be agreeable we all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy +supposed to be pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, +if he have a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same +purpose as the clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. +If he can do this efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and +vice ugly, while he charms his readers instead of wearying them, +then I think Mr. Carlyle need not call him distressed, nor talk +of that long ear of fiction, nor question whether he be or not the +most foolish of existing mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists +may boast as a class that has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such +to have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George +Eliot. Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, +with that absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I +will boast that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any +one by search through the works of the six great English novelists +I have named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach +a girl to be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their +pages have been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have +they not ever been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, +baldly and simply: "Because you lied here, or were heartless there, +because you Lydia Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, +or you Earl Leicester were false through your ambition, or you +Beatrix loved too well the glitter of the world, therefore you shall +be scourged with scourges either in this world or in the next;" but +it is for him to show, as he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, +or his Leicester, or his Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation +of all readers by his or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, +beautiful, attractive,--so as to make men love her, and women +almost envy her,--and let her be made also heartless, unfeminine, +and ambitious of evil grandeur, as was Beatrix, what a danger is +there not in such a character! To the novelist who shall handle it, +what peril of doing harm! But if at last it have been so handled +that every girl who reads of Beatrix shall say: "Oh! not like +that;--let me not be like that!" and that every youth shall say: +"Let me not have such a one as that to press my bosom, anything +rather than that!"--then will not the novelist have preached his +sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel +can hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few +might be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the +softness of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. +Pickwick has been named as an exception to the rule, but even +in Pickwick there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little +amatory longings give a softness to the work. I tried it once with +Miss Mackenzie, but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this +frequent allusion to the passion which most stirs the imagination +of the young, there must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction +is probably well aware. Then the question has to be asked, whether +the danger may not be so averted that good may be the result,--and +to be answered. + + + +respect the necessity of dealing with love is advantageous,--advantageous +from the very circumstance which has made love necessary to +all novelists. It is necessary because the passion is one which +interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has felt it, +or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness which +still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, can +so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will +be very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their +business better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; +but it is done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make +young men and women believe that truth in love will make them +happy, then, if my writings be popular, I shall have a very large +class of pupils. No doubt the cause for that fear which did exist +as to novels arose from an idea that the matter of love would be +treated in an inflammatory and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," +says Sir Anthony in the play, "a circulating library in a town is +an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the +year; and depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of +handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony +was no doubt right. But he takes it for granted that the longing +for the fruit is an evil. The novelist who writes of love thinks +differently, and thinks that the honest love of an honest man is +a treasure which a good girl may fairly hope to win,--and that if +she can be taught to wish only for that, she will have been taught +to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love +by reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in +truth a very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but +the girl's love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became +a wife so womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, +so wifely, so worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told +that they ought to worship their husband,--that I cannot believe +that any girl can be injured, or even not benefited, by reading of +Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still +are some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear +nothing of love till the time come in which she is to be married. +That, no doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. +Malaprop. But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system +was more favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia +Languish, though she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide +the book, yet had Peregrine Pickle in her collection. While human +nature talks of love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn +to be silent on the subject. "Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque +recurret." There are countries in which it has been in accordance +with the manners of the upper classes that the girl should be brought +to marry the man almost out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out +of the convent--without having enjoyed that freedom of thought +which the reading of novels and of poetry will certainly produce; +but I do not know that the marriages so made have been thought to +be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English +novelists, a great division is made. There are sensational novels +and anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed +to be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to +take delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by +the other are charmed by the continuation and gradual development +of a plot. All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises +from the inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time +realistic and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in +the highest degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure +in art. Let those readers who believe that they do not like +sensational scenes in novels think of some of those passages from +our great novelists which have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in +the castle with Ivanhoe; of Burley in the cave with Morton; of the +mad lady tearing the veil of the expectant bride, in Jane Eyre; of +Lady Castlewood as, in her indignation, she explains to the Duke +of Hamilton Henry Esmond's right to be present at the marriage of +his Grace with Beatrix;--may I add of Lady Mason, as she makes her +confession at the feet of Sir Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that +the authors of these passages have sinned in being over-sensational? No +doubt, a string of horrible incidents, bound together without truth +in detail, and told as affecting personages without character,--wooden +blocks, who cannot make themselves known to the reader as men +and women, does not instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with +awe. Horrors heaped upon horrors, and which are horrors only in +themselves, and not as touching any recognised and known person, +are not tragic, and soon cease even to horrify. And such would-be +tragic elements of a story may be increased without end, and +without difficulty. I may tell you of a woman murdered,--murdered +in the same street with you, in the next house,--that she was a +wife murdered by her husband,--a bride not yet a week a wife. I may +add to it for ever. I may say that the murderer roasted her alive. +There is no end to it. I may declare that a former wife was treated +with equal barbarity; and may assert that, as the murderer was led +away to execution, he declared his only sorrow, his only regret +to be, that he could not live to treat a third wife after the same +fashion. There is nothing so easy as the creation and the cumulation +of fearful incidents after this fashion. If such creation and cumulation +be the beginning and the end of the novelist's work,--and novels have +been written which seem to be without other attractions,--nothing +can be more dull or more useless. But not on that account are we +averse to tragedy in prose fiction. As in poetry, so in prose, he +who can deal adequately with tragic elements is a greater artist +and reaches a higher aim than the writer whose efforts never carry +him above the mild walks of everyday life. The Bride of Lammermoor +is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its comic elements. The life +of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, is a tragedy. Rochester's +wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in Jane Eyre, is a tragedy. +But these stories charm us not simply because they are tragic, but +because we feel that men and women with flesh and blood, creatures +with whom we can sympathise, are struggling amidst their woes. It +all lies in that. No novel is anything, for the purposes either +of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can sympathise with the +characters whose names he finds upon the pages. Let an author so +tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and draw his tears, +and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let there be,--truth +of description, truth of character, human truth as to men and +women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel can be +too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on +the art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage +of the experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, +be too long for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet +got the rules quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say +a few words on one or two points which my own practice has pointed +out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down +to commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell +a story, but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first +novel will generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series +of events, or some development of character, will have presented +itself to his imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he +thinks he can present his picture in strong and agreeable language +to others. He sits down and tells his story because he has a story +to tell; as you, my friend, when you have heard something which +has at once tickled your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry +to tell it to the first person you meet. But when that first novel +has been received graciously by the public and has made for itself +a success, then the writer naturally feeling that the writing of +novels is within his grasp, looks about for something to tell in +another. He cudgels his brains, not always successfully, and sits +down to write, not because he has something which he burns to +tell, but because he feels it to be incumbent on him to be telling +something. As you, my friend, if you are very successful in +the telling of that first story, will become ambitious of further +storytelling, and will look out for anecdotes,--in the narration +of which you will not improbably sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that +it would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the +art of British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of +that portion of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential +to success. That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of +writing to be a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing +has become a habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the +weary novelist refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of +observation and reception from which has come his power, without +which work his power cannot be continued,--which work should +be going on not only when he is at his desk, but in all his walks +abroad, in all his movements through the world, in all his intercourse +with his fellow-creatures. He has become a novelist, as another has +become a poet, because he has in those walks abroad, unconsciously +for the most part, been drawing in matter from all that he has seen +and heard. But this has not been done without labour, even when +the labour has been unconscious. Then there comes a time when he +shuts his eyes and shuts his ears. When we talk of memory fading +as age comes on, it is such shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. +The things around cease to interest us, and we cannot exercise +our minds upon them. To the novelist thus wearied there comes the +demand for further novels. He does not know his own defect, and +even if he did he does not wish to abandon his own profession. He +still writes; but he writes because he has to tell a story, not +because he has a story to tell. What reader of novels has not felt +the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? The characters do not +live and move, but are cut out of blocks and are propped against the +wall. The incidents are arranged in certain lines--the arrangement +being as palpable to the reader as it has been to the writer--but +do not follow each other as results naturally demanded by previous +action. The reader can never feel--as he ought to feel--that only +for that flame of the eye, only for that angry word, only for that +moment of weakness, all might have been different. The course of +the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in which there is no room +for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, +but can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That +they are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that +they apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last +because we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to +himself, + + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories +when they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather +than from innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at +work when the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently +at work as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much +about the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially +on thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been +very thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected +plot has been at any period within my power. But the novelist has +other aims than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make +his readers so intimately acquainted with his characters that the +creatures of his brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, +human creatures. This he can never do unless he know those fictitious +personages himself, and he can never know them unless he can live +with them in the full reality of established intimacy. They must +be with him as he lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his +dreams. He must learn to hate them and to love them. He must argue +with them, quarrel with them, forgive them, and even submit to them. +He must know of them whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, +whether true or false, and how far true, and how far false. The +depth and the breadth, and the narrowness and the shallowness of +each should be clear to him. And, as here, in our outer world, we +know that men and women change,--become worse or better as temptation +or conscience may guide them,--so should these creations of his +change, and every change should be noted by him. On the last day +of each month recorded, every person in his novel should be a month +older than on the first. If the would-be novelist have aptitudes +that way, all this will come to him without much struggling;--but +if it do not come, I think he can only make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and +of all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, +and the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very +clothes they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have +said these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would +then have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this +intimacy ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be +turned out to grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, +I will by no means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than +Gil Blas' canon; but I do know that the power indicated is one without +which the teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject his +work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity of his +position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, much more is +necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed be pleasant without +being correct,--as I think can be proved by the works of more than +one distinguished novelist. But he must be intelligible,--intelligible +without trouble; and he must be harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by +the word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning +that may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language +should be so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without +an effort of the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, +but the very sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended +to put into his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by +all writers: "How little the all-important art of making meaning +pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself +thinks of it." The language used should be as ready and as efficient +a conductor of the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader +as is the electric spark which passes from one battery to another +battery. In all written matter the spark should carry everything; +but in matters recondite the recipient will search to see that +he misses nothing, and that he takes nothing away too much. The +novelist cannot expect that any such search will be made. A young +writer, who will acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will +often feel himself tempted by the difficulties of language to +tell himself that some one little doubtful passage, some single +collocation of words, which is not quite what it ought to be, will +not matter. I know well what a stumbling-block such a passage may +be. But he should leave none such behind him as he goes on. The +habit of writing clearly soon comes to the writer who is a severe +critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel written +in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a novelist +who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony which +is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are few +ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to them, +decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. And +the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza +be or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, +well instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such +a stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion CANENDO LAPIDES, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with +none of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, +become familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover +the fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is +harmonious in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him +in his business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able +to weigh the rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, +when it has been done for a time, even for a short time, will become +so habitual to him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration +of every syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon +paper. The art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how +each sound which he is about to utter will affect the force of his +climax. If a writer will do so he will charm his readers, though +his readers will probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden +of many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should +cover a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels +are not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of +the ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they +are subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks +to novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this +burden of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden +to the end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have +by their practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to +preach;--but they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault +and by dint of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a +novel. Every sentence, every word, through all those pages, should +tend to the telling of the story. Such episodes distract the +attention of the reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not +felt this to be the case even with The Curious Impertinent and with +the History of the Man of the Hill. And if it be so with Cervantes +and Fielding, who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you +have to write must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion +of episodes should be carried down into the smallest details. +Every sentence and every word used should tend to the telling of +the story. "But," the young novelist will say, "with so many pages +before me to be filled, how shall I succeed if I thus confine +myself;--how am I to know beforehand what space this story of mine +will require? There must be the three volumes, or the certain number +of magazine pages which I have contracted to supply. If I may not +be discursive should occasion require, how shall I complete my task? +The painter suits the size of his canvas to his subject, and must +I in my art stretch my subject to my canas?" This undoubtedly must +be done by the novelist; and if he will learn his business, may +be done without injury to his effect. He may not paint different +pictures on the same canvas, which he will do if he allow himself +to wander away to matters outside his own story; but by studying +proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to tell his story +that it shall naturally fall into the required length. Though his +story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. Though the +plot itself may require but few characters, it may be so enlarged +as to find its full development in many. There may be subsidiary +plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main story, +and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make +any two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer +presumes himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, +or sport, may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and +the writer, while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt +to think that he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no +greater mistake. The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part +of a novel; but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to +the telling of the main story. It need not seem to be confined to +that, but it should always have a tendency in that direction. The +unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe. +When a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind, he at +once feels that he is being cheated into taking something which he +did not bargain to accept when he took up that novel. He does not +at that moment require politics or philosophy, but he wants his +story. He will not perhaps be able to say in so many words that at +some certain point the dialogue has deviated from the story; but +when it does so he will feel it, and the feeling will be unpleasant. +Let the intending novel-writer, if he doubt this, read one of +Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much to charm,--and then +ask himself whether he has not been offended by devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into +the mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably +use. He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short, sharp, expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people +is often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue +must so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would +give to his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly +inaccuracy of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would +offend by an appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of +his readers a sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem +to attempt to be funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to +be unreal. And above all, let the speeches be short. No character +should utter much above a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer +can justify to himself a longer flood of speech by the specialty +of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been +set at defiance. I might name Caleb Williams as one and Adam Blair +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove +the rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does +so with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate +human nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this +or that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to +print his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by +constant and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to +listen and to observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners +of people in his memory as to be able to say to himself with assurance +that these words might have been said in a given position, and that +those other words could not have been said,--I do not think that +in these days he can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, +in paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be +said with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his reader. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY + + + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists +of my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour +to point whence their success has come, and why they have failed +when there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of +human nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human +beings, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been +within the reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know +no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the +reader becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. +How great a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we +admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there +any one of whom we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel +Newcombe? It is not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman +that we think Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but +because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force +us to love him, a weak and silly old man, on account of this grace +of character. It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he +lived with the characters he was creating. He had always a story +to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was +so, not by the interest which he had in his own plots,--for I doubt +whether his plots did occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing +us that his characters were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, +with Lady Castlewood and her daughter, and with Esmond, with +Warrington, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and +with Barry Lynon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse. +Therefore he has made these personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, +he deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining +his work minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of +every scene, adds something to the clearness with which the story +is told. Among all his stories there is not one which does not +leave on the mind a feeling of distress that women should ever +be immodest or men dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so +devoted and men so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of +Pendennis, the worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how +we love the honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, +and the devoted affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil +and love of good can hardly have come upon so many readers without +doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used; I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in The Virginians and in Philip the reader +is introduced to no character with which he makes a close and undying +acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because Thackeray +himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary of +that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She +is best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, +and not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will +come from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far +removed indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. +Her imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather +than in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled +to pieces so that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if +possible by her readers as clearly as by herself. This searching +analysis is carried so far that, in studying her latter writings, +one feels oneself to be in company with some philosopher rather +than with a novelist. I doubt whether any young person can read +with pleasure either Felix Holt, Middlemarch, or Daniel Deronda. +I know that they are very difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and +Tom Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in Romola, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to +have been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever +of that weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces +him to declare that the author has written himself out. It is not +from decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because +the author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly +the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour +of affectation. In Daniel Deronda, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to +take home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I +may be permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my +dearest and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, +I will not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, +in criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a +novelist is to please; and this man's novels have been found more +pleasant than those of any other writer. It might of course be +objected to this, that though the books have pleased they have been +injurious, that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching +vicious; but it is almost needless to say that no such charge has +ever been made against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. +From all which, there arises to the critic a question whether, with +such evidence against him as to the excellence of this writer, he +should not subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of +the world of readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong +to place Dickens after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do +that so great a majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any +of the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been +the peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has +invested, his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense +with human nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, +very much below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the +intellect of all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect +of many. Nor is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and +melodramatic. But it is so expressed that it touches every heart +a little. There is no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, +his devotion for Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and +incompatible with each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. +Every reader can find a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like +Boucicault's plays. He has known how to draw his lines broadly, so +that all should see the colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and +he, too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, +ceased to charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember +Mrs. Gamp and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, +dwell in the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such +a one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result +has been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from +Bulwer's novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result +rather of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than +of mere intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their +way. It is perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as +he wrote in varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as +Pelham and Ernest Maltravers, pictures of a fictitious life, and +afterwards pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in My Novel +and The Caxtons. But from all of them there comes the same flavour +of an effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it +would have been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, +with the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking +always of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not +think he ever knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do +we know them. Even Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to +us, as are Pickwick, and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and successful. +The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie Collins, +that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there is no plot. +The story comes naturally without calling for too much attention, +and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's intellect. His +language is clear, good, intelligible English, but it is defaced +by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and +his rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did +a sense of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from +man's voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and +whether in sickness or in health, I have never come across him +without finding him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the +men I have encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have +known many witty men, many who could say good things, many who +would sometimes be ready to say them when wanted, though they would +sometimes fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of +the night, and wit would come from him before he was half awake. +And yet he never monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would +take no more than his own share of the words spoken, and would yet +seem to brighten all that was said during the night. His earlier +novels--the later I have not read--are just like his conversation. +The fun never flags, and to me, when I read them, they were never +tedious. As to character he can hardly be said to have produced +it. Corney Delaney, the old manservant, may perhaps be named as an +exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to +be alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I +do not know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and +that he never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was +seated with a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Bronte was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be +right to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of +one novel, and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as +strong as he shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, +I should be inclined to put Miss Bronte very high indeed. I know +no interest more thrilling than that which she has been able to +throw into the characters of Rochester and the governess, in the +second volume of Jane Eyre. She lived with those characters, and +felt every fibre of the heart, the longings of the one and the +sufferings of the other. And therefore, though the end of the book +is weak, and the beginning not very good, I venture to predict that +Jane Eyre will be read among English novels when many whose names +are now better known shall have been forgotten. Jane Eyre, and +Esmond, and Adam Bede will be in the hands of our grandchildren, +when Pickwick, and Pelham, and Harry Lorrequer are forgotten; +because the men and women depicted are human in their aspirations, +human in their sympathies, and human in their actions. + +In Vilette, too, and in Shirley, there is to be found human life as +natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of interest +as those told in Jane Eyre. The character of Paul in the former of +the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in love +with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined to +prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled +me by his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as +Charles Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but +as one who has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of +reasoning. He can see what is grandly noble and admire it with +all his heart. He can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate +it with equal ardour. But in the common affairs of life he cannot +see what is right or wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be +guided by the opinion of others, he is constantly making mistakes +in his literary career, and subjecting himself to reproach which he +hardly deserves. He means to be honest. He means to be especially +honest,--more honest than other people. He has written a book +called The Eighth Commandment on behalf of honesty in literary +transactions,--a wonderful work, which has I believe been read by +a very few. I never saw a copy except that in my own library, or +heard of any one who knew the book. Nevertheless it is a volume +that must have taken very great labour, and have been written,--as +indeed he declares that it was written,--without the hope of +pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal to the British Parliament and +British people on behalf of literary honesty, declaring that should +he fail--"I shall have to go on blushing for the people I was born +among." And yet of all the writers of my day he has seemed to me +to understand literary honesty the least. On one occasion, as he +tells us in this book, he bought for a certain sum from a French +author the right of using a plot taken from a play,--which he +probably might have used without such purchase, and also without +infringing any international copyright act. The French author not +unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling him that he +is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in a novel; and +a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his discovery to +the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called his critic +a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact of his +own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we all mean +when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. The sin +of which the author is accused is not that of taking another man's +property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had +found the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which +there was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, +had he given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness +of purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so +strong a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, +that I have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has +accused. So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist +ever before had combined! In storytelling he has occasionally been +almost great. Among his novels I would especially recommend The +Cloister and the Hearth. I do not know that in this work, or in any, +that he has left a character that will remain; but he has written +some of his scenes so brightly that to read them would always be +a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in +a certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch +which I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural +that his work should be very much lost upon me individually. When +I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very +much care, how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct +his that he not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to +the minutest detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots +it all back again, to see that there is no piece of necessary +dove-tailing which does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The +construction is most minute and most wonderful. But I can never +lose the taste of the construction. The author seems always to be +warning me to remember that something happened at exactly half-past +two o'clock on Tuesday morning; or that a woman disappeared from +the road just fifteen yards beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is +constrained by mysteries and hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, +however, that the mysteries will be made clear, and the difficulties +overcome at the end of the third volume. Such work gives me no +pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared to acknowledge that the +want of pleasure comes from fault of my intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare how +much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and Rhoda +Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former almost +as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that +good produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which +she need be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be +proud. But she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, +and who allows her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though +she too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, +does take the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the +ground. And she has the gift of making them speak as men and women +do speak. "You beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man +who was to be her husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her +brother. Now Nancy, whether right or wrong, was just the girl who +would, as circumstances then were, have called her brother a beast. +There is nothing wooden about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and +in these days so many novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured +as are those by Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to +nature. In Miss Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and +missish, she has made her ladies do and say things which ladies +would not do and say. They throw themselves at men's heads, and +when they are not accepted only think how they may throw themselves +again. Miss Broughton is still so young that I hope she may live +to overcome her fault in this direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing Vivian Grey when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written +by a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his Sketches +by Boz, and as young when he was writing the Pickwick Papers. It +was hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought +out Lothair, and between the two there were eight or ten others. +To me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. +In whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment +and aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, +more rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the +glory has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been +a wealth of tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and +the enterprise has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious +conjurer has generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful +cleverness, can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to +his hand. Through it all there is a feeling of stage properties, +a smell of hair-oil, an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, +and that pricking of the conscience which must be the general +accompaniment of paste diamonds. I can understand that Mr. Disraeli +should by his novels have instigated many a young man and many a +young woman on their way in life, but I cannot understand that he +should have instigated any one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably +as many followers as Jack Sheppard, and has led his followers in +the same direction. + +Lothair, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended Vivian Grey. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, +that flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes +out stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than +Vivian Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more +inane and unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the +very bathos of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as +often excused to myself, that lack of public judgment which enables +readers to put up with bad work because it comes from good or from +lofty hands. I never felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little +able to excuse it, as when a portion of the reading public received +Lothair with satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON CRITICISM + + + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is +bad, in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. +English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as +this. It attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether +a book be or be not worth public attention; and, in the second +place, so to describe the purport of the work as to enable those +who have not time or inclination for reading it to feel that by a +short cut they can become acquainted with its contents. Both these +objects, if fairly well carried out, are salutary. Though the +critic may not be a profound judge himself; though not unfrequently +he be a young man making his first literary attempts, with tastes +and judgment still unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the +matter, and would not have been selected for that work had he not +shown some aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible +guide to the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. +Real substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and +that which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is +given to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without +it would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner +in which the work is done generally, so are others open to very +severe censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are +chiefly due on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is +not critical ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence +that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we +pay is not attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, +and when displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that +critics should be honest we have a right to demand, and critical +dishonesty we are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what +he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, +we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does not think, +actuated either by friendship or by animosity, then there should +be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English criticism +of which there is most reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It +has become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse +so many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling +author learns that so much has been done for A by the Barsetshire +Gazette, so much for B by the Dillsborough Herald, and, again, so +much for C by that powerful metropolitan organ the Evening Pulpit, +and is told also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal +interest, he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' +wives,--or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their +wives' first or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon +an editor or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced +by other considerations than the duty h owes to the public, all +sense of critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. +Facilis descensus Averni. In a very short time that editorial +honesty becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that +he wields the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what +should be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him +to be quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last +twenty years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out +now with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty +begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice +to be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself +a continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both +in the giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should +neither have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated +with scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by +his contract with certain employers to review such books as were +sent to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present +for praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever +noticed at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence +of honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar +with the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the +forms which their struggles will take:--how little presents will +be sent to men who write little articles; how much flattery may +be expended even on the keeper of a circulating library; with what +profuse and distant genuflexions approaches are made to the outside +railing of the temple which contains within it the great thunderer +of some metropolitan periodical publication! The evil here is not +only that done to the public when interested counsel is given to +them, but extends to the debasement of those who have at any rate +considered themselves fit to provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the conscience +and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling could be +produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for praise,--and +demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every walk of +life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only of +the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very disagreeable. +He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or she. It +may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an author +successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, +as coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author +try to obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if +possible, by care and industry. But when they come, let him take +them as coming from some source which he cannot influence, and with +which he should not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken +of the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing +can be gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book +which he has disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by +the praise of others; if bad, his judgment will be confirmed by +others. Or if, unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil +a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, +the author may be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own +book will not set matters right. If injustice be done him, let him +bear it. To do so is consonant with the dignity of the position +which he ought to assume. To shriek, and scream, and sputter, +to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that he has been +belied and defamed in that he has been accused of bad grammar or a +false metaphor, of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine, +will leave on the minds of the public nothing but a sense of +irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or +he will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than +he went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a +right to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will +be again, though the circumstances of English literature do not +tend to produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to +speak with authority. These great men have declared, tanquam ex +cathedra, that such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or +that it has been altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world +has believed them. When making such assertions they have given +their reasons, explained their causes, and have carried conviction. +Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics, but not +without infinite study and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. +In the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young +writer, who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever +book is sent to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through +for the purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the +amount of labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure +his work by his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this +must far the most part be, the general reader has no right to expect +philosophical analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence +may be placed. But he probably may believe that the books praised +will be better than the books censured, and that those which are +praised by periodicals which never censure are better worth his +attention than those which are not noticed. And readers will also +find that by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms +of the week, they will enable themselves to have an opinion about +the books of the day. The knowledge so acquired will not be great, +nor will that little be lasting; but it adds something to the +pleasure of life to be able to talk on subjects of which others are +speaking; and the man who has sedulously gone through the literary +notices in the Spectator and the Saturday may perhaps be justified +in thinking himself as well able to talk about the new book as +his friend who has bought that new book on the tapis, and who, not +improbably, obtained his information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which +have been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know +where I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only +greasy adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the +delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find +an equal mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much +judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its +staff. Among it all there is much chaff, which I have learned bow +to throw to the winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or +blames;--but I have also found some corn, on which I have fed and +nourished myself, and for which I have been thankful. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET"--"LEAVING THE POST OFFICE"--"ST. +PAUL'S MAGAZINE" + + + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weathertight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve +miles from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse +with the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country +for hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it +had to be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to +the Essex meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much +or more than I had a right to expect. It was within my own postal +district, and had, upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work that I did during the twelve years that I remained there, +from 1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that +in amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department +no slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least +twice a week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I +lived much in society in London, and was made happy by the presence +of many friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always +spent six weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived +a fuller life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether +to the virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table +every morning at 5.30 A. M.; and it was also my practice to allow +myself no mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, +and to whom I paid £5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no +mercy. During all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once +late with the coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not +know that I ought not to feel that I owe more to him than to any +one else for the success I have had. By beginning at that hour I +could complete my literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily +as literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day +will produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should +so have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously +during those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall +not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the +wall before him, till he shall have found the words with which he +wants to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and +it still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient +to myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from +myself 250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 +words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my +three hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began +my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which +would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing +with my ear the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly +recommend this practice to all tyros in writing. That their work +should be read after it has been written is a matter of course,--that +it should be read twice at least before it goes to the printers, +I take to be a matter of course. But by reading what he has last +written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch +the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the +fault of seeming to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed +me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, +and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results +three novels of three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount +which so greatly acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which +must at any rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers +of the world can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or +two or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I +to die now there are three such besides The Prime Minister, half +of which has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years +finished, and has never seen the light since it was first tied up +in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, +and to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of +a period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed +from me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 The Last Chronicle of Barset was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without +other accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might +be had for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was +always included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel +alone. Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference +to novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined +to make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me £3000 +for the use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If +I remember right the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have +written. I was never quite satisfied with the development of the +plot, which consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made +against a clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty +on the part of the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the +cheque had found its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself +believe that even such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten +how he got it, nor would the generous friend who was anxious to +supply his wants have supplied them by tendering the cheque of a +third person. Such fault I acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same +time that I have never been capable of constructing with complete +success the intricacies of a plot that required to be unravelled. +But while confessing so much, I claim to have portrayed the mind +of the unfortunate man with great accuracy and great delicacy. The +pride, the humility, the manliness, the weakness, the conscientious +rectitude and bitter prejudices of Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true +to nature and well described. The surroundings too are good. Mrs. +Proudie at the palace is a real woman; and the poor old dean dying +at the deanery is also real. The archdeacon in his victory is very +real. There is a true savour of English country life all through +the book. It was with many misgivings that I killed my old friend +Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I think, have done it, but for a resolution +taken and declared under circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenaeum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on +the other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were +reading, and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The +gravamen of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced +the same characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon +whom we have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," +said the other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till +everybody is tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I +would not write novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. +Proudie. It was impossible for me not to hear their words, and +almost impossible to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing +between them, I acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. +Proudie," I said, "I will go home and kill her before the week is +over." And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, +and one of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all the +shades of her character. It was not only that she was a tyrant, +a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one who +would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means +a hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; +but I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still +live much in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote Can You Forgive Her? +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called The Noble Jilt. Some year or two after the completion +of The Last Chronicle, I was asked by the manager of a theatre to +prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy Did He Steal It? But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was +less attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley +nearly crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason +given. I have little doubt but that the manager was right. That +he intended to express a true opinion, and would have been glad to +have taken the piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be The Warden, Barchester +Towers, Doctor Thorne, Framley Parsonage, and The Last Chronicle +of Barset. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are in the +hands of four different persons, including myself, and with one of +the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert with the +others. [Footnote: Since this was written I have made arrangements +for doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will +now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was +the resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described +how it was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties +with my other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but +even this did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which +no scruple of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I +was driven to work at night. In the winter when hunting was going +on, I had to keep myself very much on the alert. And during the +London season, when I was generally two or three days of the week +in town, I found the official work to be a burden. I had determined +some years previously, after due consideration with my wife, to +abandon the Post Office when I had put by an income equal to the +pension to which I should be entitled if I remained in the department +till I was sixty. That I had now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and +my brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I +applied for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained +this I should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my +literary work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and +would have returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the +General Post Office. There was very much against such a change in +life. The increase of salary would not have amounted to above £400 +a year, and I should have lost much more than that in literary +remuneration. I should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance +at an office, from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty +years. I should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. +But I was attached to the department, had imbued myself with a +thorough love of letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by +the post,--and was anxious for their welfare as though they were +all my own. In short, I wished to continue the connection. I did +not wish, moreover, that any younger officer should again pass over +my head. I believed that I bad been a valuable public servant, +and I will own to a feeling existing at that time that I had not +altogether been well treated. I was probably wrong in this. I had +been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I pleased, and to say what +I liked, and had in that way received my reward. I applied for +the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to it. He no doubt +was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He understood +the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was a great +accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in regard +to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed by +the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A man +shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a pension,--unless +his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to one-sixtieth of +his salary for every year he has served up to forty years. If his +health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work before the +age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to one-sixtieth +for every year he has served. I could not say that my health had +failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I have since +felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left the Post +Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to my +literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still +a little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined +after my death that I had slighted the public service to which I +belonged, I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to +the letter containing my resignation. + + + "GENERAL POST OFFICE, + October 9th, 1867. + +"Sir,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in which you +tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post Office service, and +state as your reason for this step that you have adopted another +profession, the exigencies of which are so great as to make you +feel you cannot give to the duties of the Post Office that amount +of attention which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right +to expect. + +"You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous members +of the Post Office, which, on several occasions when you have been +employed on large and difficult matters, has reaped much benefit +from the great abilities which you have been able to place at its +disposal; and in mentioning this, I have been especially glad to +record that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you +have never permitted your other avocations to interfere with your +Post Office work, which has been faithfully and indeed energetically +performed." (There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," +but still it did not displease me.) + +"In accepting your resignation, which he does with much regret, +the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you his own sense of +the value of your services, and to state how alive he is to the +loss which will be sustained by the department in which you have +long been an ornament, and where your place will with difficulty +be replaced. + + (Signed) "J. TILLEY." + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, +and some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy +me more than to think that I should even be supposed to have been +among the number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which +I had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not +say devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have +their letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar +letter-boxes should be put up for them (of which accommodation +in the streets and ways of England I was the originator, having, +however, got the authority for the erection of the first at St. +Heliers in Jersey); that the letter-carriers and sorters should not +be overworked; that they should be adequately paid, and have some +hours to themselves, especially on Sundays; above all, that they +should be made to earn their wages and latterly that they should +not be crushed by what I thought to be the damnable system of +so-called merit;--these were the matters by which I was stirred to +what the secretary was pleased to call energetic performance of my +duties. How I loved, when I was contradicted,--as I was very often +and, no doubt, very properly,--to do instantly as I was bid, and then +to prove that what I was doing was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, +and impracticable! And then there were feuds--such delicious feuds! +I was always an anti-Hillite, acknowledging, indeed, the great thing +which Sir Rowland Hill had done for the country, but believing him +to be entirely unfit to manage men or to arrange labour. It was a +pleasure to me to differ from him on all occasions;--and, looking +back now, I think that in all such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything +to improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to +do so gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own +reports unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant +to be read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing +myself to re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but +sending them up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots +and erasures there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a +man should search after a fine neatness at the expense of so much +waste labour; or that he should not be able to exact from himself +the necessity of writing words in the form in which they should be +read. If a copy be required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand +or by machine, as may be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his +words to prevail with the reader, should send them out as written +by himself, by his own hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, +correct or incorrect, with the evidence upon them that they have +come out from his own mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the +world where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for +him, and had offered me a salary of £1000 a year for the work over +and above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had +known something of magazines, and did not believe that they were +generally very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some +publishers as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business +was chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, +this consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I +very strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to +him that a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine +In accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it +on any other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate +return to him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, +listened to my arguments with great patience, and the told me that +if I would not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should, from month to month, give +in to him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that +he should pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and, thirdly, +that the arrangement should remain in force, at any rate, for two +years. To all this he made no objection; and during the time that +he and I were thus bound together he not only complied with these +stipulations, but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine +that I made to him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide +liberality and absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, +and perpetual good humour, would have produced success, our magazine +certainly would have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. The Liberal may cease to be liberal, or The +Fortnightly, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But The Cornhill +and The Argosy are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or, possibly, the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. Blackwood's has, indeed, always +remained Blackwood's, and Fraser's, though it has been bought and +sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called Anthony Trollope's. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town,--still are about the town,--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would +have driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we +settled on St. Paul's as the name for our bantling--not as being +in any way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks +with many others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, +it was not by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. +Lynn Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles +Lever, E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. +H. Lewes, C. Mackay, Hardman (of the Times), George Macdonald, W. +R. Greg, Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton +Cook--and others, whose names would make the list too long. It +might have been thought that with such aid the St. Paul's would have +succeeded. I do not think that the failure,--for it did fail,--arose +from bad editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the +fault. I was too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of +what might be lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two occasions +may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set on foot +on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything short of +a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set a magazine +afloat, though, when afloat, it will sustain it. Time is wanted--or +the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by ubiquitous +sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may be +effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time +and intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done +better than Blackwood's. The Cornhill, too, after Thackeray had +left it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in +quite efficient hands--those hands being the hands of proprietor +and publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and +what he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into +that worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for +the sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so +sin very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My +dear friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn +in his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know +that I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work +did not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did +so, I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that +such editors as Thackeray and myself,--if I may, for the moment, be +allowed to couple men so unequal,--will always be liable to commit +such faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors +will be less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to +be open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, +or why the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that +may be sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce +a periodical that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably +best do by securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BEVERLEY + + + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning +to fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who +was himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should +like best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether +I wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far a he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to +look for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one +by leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could +get a seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that +bourne from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there +feel that he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to +every educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that +every educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in +Parliament as a probable or even a possible career; but that the man +in Parliament has reached a higher position than the man out,--that +to serve one's country without pay is the grandest work that a man +can do,--that of all studies the study of politics is the one in +which a man may make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and +that of all lives, public political lives are capable of the highest +efforts. So thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too +late an age at which to commence a new career,--I resolved with +much hesitation that I would make the attempt. Writing now at an +age beyond sixty, I can say that my political feelings and convictions +have never undergone any change. They are now what they became when +I first began to have political feelings and convictions. Nor do I +find in myself any tendency to modify them as I have found generally +in men as they grow old. I consider myself to be an advanced, but +still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard not only as a possible, +but as a rational and consistent phase of political existence. +I can, I believe, in a very few words, make known my political +theory; and, as I am anxious that any who know aught of me should +know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It should, +I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel superiority, +unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do not +understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are, therefore, +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that +we see--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from +a full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but +still we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of +our brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for, +in this matter, I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tossed-bound life of those who cannot even +feed themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling +of injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck +by apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. +Make all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they +shall be all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the +conscientious, philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being +surely convinced that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells +himself that it is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the +preservation of the welfare of the world depends on the maintenance +of those distances between the prince and the peasant by which he +finds himself to be surrounded; and, perhaps, I may add, that the +duty is not unpleasant, as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it +is apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his +duty to retard. He cannot prevent it; and, therefore, the society +to which he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, +at times, assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, +under the gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and +holdfasts which he may add, the movement would be slower than it +would become if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. +Such, I think, are Conservatives; and I speak of men who, with the +fear of God before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm +in their hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their +ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best understood, +I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious Liberal +is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that these +distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness; but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of +steps towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even +willing to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he +knows, as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. +What is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the +word is offensive, and presents to the imagination of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and, therefore, he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any +political doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition +of his fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, +and a conjurer--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be stilted, +overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. Many +will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active +part in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals +or Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings +as to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is +so; and in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further +and further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and Members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are +the intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply +such a game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater +results. To the minds that create and lead and sway political +opinion, some such theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. +But I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about +myself in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, +must be able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied +with doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must +patiently get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, +and then be satisfied with himself when at last he has induced +a Chancellor of the Exchequer to say that he will consider the +impost at the first opportunity. He must be content to be beaten +six times in order that, on a seventh, his work may be found to +be of assistance to some one else. He must remember that he is one +out of 650, and be content with 1-650th part of the attention of +the nation. If he have grand ideas, he must keep them to himself, +unless by chance, he can work his way up to the top of the tree. +In short, he must be a practical man. Now I knew that in politics +I could never become a practical man. I should never be satisfied +with a soft word from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but would +always be flinging my overtaxed ketchup in his face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a +good speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied +the art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I +had found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else +all impromptu,--which was very bad, indeed, unless I had something +special on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by +going into Parliament--that the time for it, if there could have +been a time, had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire +to sit there, and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn +had not been deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a dissolution, +I should stand for one division of the County of Essex; and I had +promised that I would do so, though the promise at that time was +as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this by the +late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very +anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex +was portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, +one of which,--that adjacent to London,--would, it was thought, +be altogether Liberal. After the promise which I had given, +the performance of which would have cost me a large sum of money +absolutely in vain, it was felt by some that I should be selected +as one of the candidates for the new division--and as such I was +proposed by Mr. Charles Buxton. But another gentleman, who would +have been bound by previous pledges to support me, was put forward +by what I believe to have been the defeating interest, and I had +to give way. At the election this gentleman, with another Liberal, +who had often stood for the county, was returned without a contest. +Alas! alas! They were both unseated at the next election, when the +great Conservative reaction took place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or, at least, the +East Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly +better than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of +canvassing, and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the +prospect of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they +who knew Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," +said he, "you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely +that I was thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he +said. Again I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but, +nevertheless, I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh, no!" +continued he, with good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I +don't suppose you really expect it. But there is a fine career open +to you. You will spend £1000, and lose the election. Then you will +petition, and spend another £1000. You will throw out the elected +members. There will be a commission, and the borough will be +disfranchised. For a beginner such as you are, that will be a great +success." And yet, in the teeth of this, from a man who knew all +about it, I persisted in going to Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented +by Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying +that he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of +the seat. There had been many contests, many petitions, many void +elections, many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept +his seat, if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next +door to permanence. I fancy that with a little management between +the parties the borough might at this time have returned a member +of each colour quietly; but there were spirits there who did not +love political quietude, and it was at last decided that there +should be two Liberal and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry +was joined by a young man of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was +grouped with Mr. Maxwell, the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch +Roman Catholic peer, who lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure +me a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands, at any +rate, the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. +Maxwell and I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves +but the one holiday during this period of intense labour; but I +was assured, as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, +that if we committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert +us. From morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes +and by-ways of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, +exposed to the rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable +to assume that air of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful +candidate should be invested. At night, every night I had to +speak somewhere,--which was bad; and to listen to the speaking of +others,--which was much worse. When, on one Sunday, I proposed to +go to the Minster Church, I was told that was quite useless, as +the Church party were all certain to support Sir Henry! "Indeed," +said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes there in a kind of official +profession, and you had better not allow yourself to be seen in the +same place." So I stayed away and omitted my prayers. No Church of +England church in Beverley would on such an occasion have welcomed +a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a kind of pariah in the +borough, to whom was opposed all that was pretty, and all that was +nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the conviction +that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to the men +whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my doctrines, +and could not be made to understand that I should have any. I had +been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry Edwards,--which, +however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or to cause him +the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, and expense. +There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my wished-for +supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two points +I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious for +the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extending electoral divisions and by +an increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parlimentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so +utterly unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into +Yorkshire merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not +have said more than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of +course I was not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became +members for Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid +£400 for my expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the +cost. He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque +for £400, and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. +How it came to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never +knew, but such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from +me, but from the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen +were unseated, the borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards +was put on his trial for some kind of Parliamentary offence and +was acquitted. In this way Beverley's privilege as a borough and +my Parliamentary ambition were brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should +do, I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed +to me that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing +more absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, +than the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had +come to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. +There was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal +there turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should +be no bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. +It was a matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were +appreciated because they might subserve electoral purposes, and +how little it was understood that electoral purposes, which are in +themselves a nuisance, should be endured in order that they may +subserve politics. And then the time, the money, the mental energy, +which had been expended in making the borough a secure seat for +a gentleman who had realised the idea that it would become him to +be a member of Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be +realised and approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants +had taught themselves to think that it was for such purposes that +boroughs were intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, +even in one town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS + + + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, +as being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has +been brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go +over to the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. +This, as I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and +of course I went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made +two since. As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was +very far from being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, +a place I do not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by +incompetence, and opposed by what I felt to be personal and not +national views. I had to deal with two men,--with one who was a +working officer of the American Post Office, than whom I have never +met a more zealous, or, as far as I could judge, a more honest +public servant. He had his views and I had mine, each of us having +at heart the welfare of the service in regard to his own country,--each +of us also having certain orders which we were bound to obey. But +the other gentleman, who was in rank the superior,--whose executive +position was dependent on his official status, as is the case with +our own Ministers,--did not recommend himself to me equally. He +would make appointments with me and then not keep them, which at +last offended me so grievously, that I declared at the Washington +Post Office that if this treatment were continued, I would write +home to say that any further action on my part was impossible. I +think I should have done so had it not occurred to me that I might +in this way serve his purpose rather than my own, or the purposes +of those who had sent me. The treaty, however, was at last made,--the +purport of which was, that everything possible should be done, at +a heavy expenditure on the part of England, to expedite the mails +from England to America, and that nothing should be done by America +to expedite the mails from thence to us. The expedition I believe +to be now equal both ways; but it could not be maintained as it is +without the payment of a heavy subsidy from Great Britain, whereas +no subsidy is paid by the States. [Footnote: This was a state of +things which may probably have appeared to American politicians +to be exactly that which they should try to obtain. The whole +arrangement has again been altered since the time of which I have +spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands +in the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have +never had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my +work; but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found +many years ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, +being then in the States, the details of which are sufficiently +amusing [Footnote: In answer to a question from myself, a certain +American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised me +that IF ANY OTHER AMERICAN PUBLISHER REPUBLISHED MY WORK ON AMERICA +BEFORE HE HAD DONE SO, he would not bring out a competing edition, +though there would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an +agreement with another American publisher, stipulating to supply +him with early sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain +royalty on his sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly. +I sent the sheets with energetic punctuality, and the work was +brought out with equal energy and precision--by my old American +publishers. The gentleman who made the promise had not broken his +word. No other American edition had come out before his. I never +got any account, and, of course, never received a dollar.]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though +I do not know that I have raised my price against them on that +score, I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from +the American market. But I do know that what the publishers have +received here is very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, my present publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States +as much as 5 per cent. on the price they pay me for my manuscript. +But the American readers are more numerous than the English, and +taking them all through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get +£1000 for a book here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be +able to get as much there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes +in place of 300, there is no question as to such result. Why not, +then, if I can supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having +a certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers, [Footnote: I might also say +American publishers, if I might count them by the number of heads, +and not by the amount of work done by the firms.] that an assent +to an international copyright would be the result. The state of +things as it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers +will not pay them a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply +their customers with modern English literature without paying for +it. The English amount of production so much exceeds the American, +that the rate at which the former can be published rules the +market. It is equally injurious to American booksellers,--except +to two or three of the greatest houses. No small man can now acquire +the exclusive right of printing and selling an English book. If +such a one attempt it, the work is printed instantly by one of the +leviathans,--who alone are the gainers. The argument of course is, +that the American readers are the gainers,--that as they can get +for nothing the use of certain property, they would be cutting their +own throats were they to pass a law debarring themselves from the +power of such appropriation. In this argument all idea of honesty +is thrown to the winds. It is not that they do not approve of +a system of copyright,--as many great men have disapproved,--for +their own law of copyright is as stringent as is ours. A bold +assertion is made that they like to appropriate the goods of other +people; and that, as in this case, they can do so with impunity, +they will continue to do so. But the argument, as far as I have been +able to judge, comes not from the people, but from the bookselling +leviathans, and from those politicians whom the leviathans are able +to attach to their interests. The ordinary American purchaser is +not much affected by slight variations in price. He is at any rate +too high-hearted to be affected by the prospect of such variation. +It is the man who wants to make money, not he who fears that he may +be called upon to spend it, who controls such matters as this in +the United States. It is the large speculator who becomes powerful +in the lobbies of the House, and understands how wise it may +be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation of a great +business, or in protecting that which he has created from competition. +Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done since (up to +1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is now about to +sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a member; and +the question must then be handled, though nothing done by a Royal +Commission here can effect American legislators. But I do believe +that if the measure be consistently and judiciously urged, the +enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. Some years +since we had some quasi private meetings, under the presidency of +Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the subject of +international copyright. At one of these I discussed this matter of +American international copyright with Charles Dickens, who strongly +declared his conviction that nothing would induce an American to +give up the power he possesses of pirating British literature. But +he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, would not +realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this matter +the American decision had been, according to his thinking, dishonest, +therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be expected from +Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now protest. American +dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among a few. It +is the great misfortune of the community that those few have been +able to dominate so large a portion of the population among which +all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has +sat and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and +could serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which +are discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that £20 was paid to my publisher in England for the +use of the early sheets of a novel for which I received £1600 in +England. When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that +the firm with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to +another firm?" I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because +no other firm would care to run counter to that great firm which +had assumed to itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after +received a copy of my own novel in the American form, and found +that it was published for 7 1/2d. That a great sale was expected +can be argued from the fact that without a great sale the paper and +printing necessary for the republication of a three-volume novel +could not be supplied. Many thousand copies must have been sold. +But from these the author received not one shilling. I need hardly +point out that the sum of £20 would not do more than compensate +the publisher for his trouble in making the bargain. The publisher +here no doubt might have refused to supply the early sheets, but +he had no means of exacting a higher price than that offered. I +mention the circumstance here because it has been boasted, on behalf +of the American publishers, that though there is no international +copyright, they deal so liberally with English authors as to make +it unnecessary that the English author should be so protected. +With the fact of the £20 just brought to my knowledge, and with the +copy of my book published at 7 1/2d. now in my hands, I feel that +an international copyright is very necessary for my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love +of education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions +in the minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk +upright, fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for +his own actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by +private munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where +can the English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than +the normal American, when once the American shall have found the +Englishman to be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is +so much an object of heart-felt admiration of the American man and +the American woman as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman +or Englishman? These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost +in the minds of the unprejudiced English traveller as he makes +acquaintance with these near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant +of their official doings, of their politics, of their municipal +scandals, of their great ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and +briberies, and the infinite baseness of their public life. There +at the top of everything he finds the very men who are the least +fit to occupy high places. American public dishonesty is so glaring +that the very friends he has made in the country are not slow +to acknowledge it,--speaking of public life as a thing apart from +their own existence, as a state of dirt in which it would be an +insult to suppose that they are concerned! In the midst of it all +the stranger, who sees so much that he hates and so much that he +loves, hardly knows how to express himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with +what energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the +clean outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight +outnumber the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead +you. It is not by the private lives of the millions that the outside +world will judge you, but by the public career of those units whose +venality is allowed to debase the name of your country. There never +was plainer proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of +every honest citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond +of pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which +makes no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen +high in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two +old gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high +in public estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned +the occasion into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious +at first, and fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of +manners which with us has become a habit from our childhood. But +they are never fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be +a memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of +the chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last +fifteen years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. +She is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark +by thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do +any good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages +would amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of +myself without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. +I trust she may live to read the words I have now written, and to +wipe away a tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and +on my return I went back with energy to my work at the St. Paul's +Magazine. The first novel in it from my own pen was called Phineas +Finn, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, +I took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my +seat on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon +by the Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a +seat in the gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with +the ways and doings of the House in which some of my scenes were +to be placed. The Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running +order for, I think, a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, +to enable me often to be very tired,--and, as I have been assured +by members, to talk of the proceedings almost as well as though +Fortune had enabled me to fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing Phineas Finn, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my +own sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with +perhaps a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this +way I think I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly +a blunder to take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the +circumstance that I created the scheme of the book during a visit +to Ireland. There was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and +there was an added difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection +for a politician belonging to a nationality whose politics are not +respected in England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It +was not a brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant +with political matters could not care much for a hero who spent +so much of his time either in the House of Commons or in a public +office. But the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the +book, and the women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish +read it also. As this was what I had intended, I was contented. It +is all fairly good except the ending,--as to which till I got to +it I made no provision. As I fully intended to bring my hero again +into the world, I was wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish +girl, who could only be felt as an encumbrance on such return. When +he did return I had no alternative but to kill the simple pretty +Irish girl, which was an unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing Phineas Finn I had constantly before me the necessity +of progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and +women which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In +most novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +Ivanhoe, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as +they become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this +in Tom Jones, which is one of the greatest novels in the English +language, for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature +may fall away under temptation and be again strengthened and made +to stand upright. But I do not think that novelists have often +set before themselves the state of progressive change,--nor should +I have done it, had I not found myself so frequently allured back +to my old friends. So much of my inner life was passed in their +company, that I was continually asking myself how this woman would +act when this or that event had passed over her head, or how that +man would carry himself when his youth had become manhood, or +his manhood declined to old age. It was in regard to the old Duke +of Omnium, of his nephew and heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady +Glencora, that I was anxious to carry out this idea; but others added +themselves to my mind as I went on, and I got round me a circle of +persons as to whom I knew not only their present characters, but +how those characters were to be affected by years and circumstances. +The happy motherly life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the +girl's honest but long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady +Laura, which was equally due to the sale she made of herself in her +wretched marriage; and the long suffering but final success of the +hero, of which he had deserved the first by his vanity, and the +last by his constant honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from +the first. As to the incidents of the story, the circumstances by +which these personages were to be affected, I knew nothing. They +were created for the most part as they were described. I never +could arrange a set of events before me. But the evil and the good +of my puppets, and how the evil would always lead to evil, and the +good produce good,--that was clear to me as the stars on a summer +night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in Phineas Finn and its +sequel Phineas Redux,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the St. Paul's Magazine in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the Graphic in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, +or that any little interest which might have been taken in the +career of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that +such interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the +same popularity as the former part, and among the same class of +readers. Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet +had become--and the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the +new duke, and the young duchess, either kept their old friends or +made new friends for themselves. Phineas Finn, I certainly think, +was successful from first to last. I am aware, however, that there +was nothing in it to touch the heart like the abasement of Lady +Mason when confessing her guilt to her old lover, or any approach +in delicacy of delineation to the character of Mr. Crawley. + +Phineas Finn, the first part of the story, was completed in +May, 1867. In June and July I wrote Linda Tressel for Blackwood's +Magazine, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called The Golden Lion of Granpere, which +was intended also for Blackwood,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in Good Words. It +was written on the model of Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, but +is very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, +1867, I began a very long novel, which I called He Knew He Was +Right, and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of +the St. Paul's Magazine, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not +know that in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short +of my own intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create +sympathy for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do +his duty to all around him, should be led constantly astray by his +unwillingness to submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. +The man is made to be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he +does is apparent. So far I did not fail, but the sympathy has not +been created yet. I look upon the story as being nearly altogether +bad. It is in part redeemed by certain scenes in the house and +vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. But a novel which in its main +parts is bad cannot, in truth, be redeemed by the vitality of +subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced The Vicar of +Bullhampton, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by +it during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the +St. Paul's Magazine, in reference to which I had read an enormous +amount of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I +had written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and +had made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had +hunted three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy +I was with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered +as a part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained +my experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched +American Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able +to escape from that capital till July; but all that had added to +the activity of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; +but I had read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a +part of my duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my +novels I had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation +and scorn produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I +was nevertheless proud of having done so much. I always had a pen +in my hand. Whether crossing the seas, or fighting with American +officials, or tramping about the streets of Beverley, I could do a +little, and generally more than a little. I had long since convinced +myself that in such work as mine the great secret consisted +in acknowledging myself to be bound to rules of labour similar to +those which an artisan or a mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker +when he has finished one pair of shoes does not sit down and +contemplate his work in idle satisfaction. "There is my pair of +shoes finished at last! What a pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker +who so indulged himself would be without wages half his time. It +is the same with a professional writer of books. An author may of +course want time to study a new subject. He will at any rate assure +himself that there is some such good reason why he should pause. +He does pause, and will be idle for a month or two while he tells +himself how beautiful is that last pair of shoes which he has +finished! Having thought much of all this, and having made up my +mind that I could be really happy only when I was at work, I had +now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as soon as the +first was out of my hands. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON"--"SIR HARRY HOTSPUR"--"AN EDITOR'S +TALES"--"CAESAR" + + + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then +the sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the +firm. He remained there three years and a half; but he did not like +it, nor do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he +left the business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might +have been expected from the short period of his labours, and has +since taken himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will +work at it so hard as his father, and write as many books, may be +doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone to Australia, +having resolved on a colonial career when he found that boys who did +not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This departure +was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted on the +understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, and +then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, +and in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I +have since that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which +at any rate I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the +Australasian Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word +or two further on of him and his doings. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written in 1868 for publication in Once +a Week, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont had made +my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my terms +and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before it +was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was the +first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have +I ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I +had stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled +to suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to +console myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of +virtue. The industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple +will always be the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, +who keep none waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for +the unpunctual. But these earthly sufferers know that they are making +their way heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. +If the former reflection does not suffice for consolation, the +deficiency is made up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on +the matter of the publication of my new Vicar, and had to think +very much of the ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. +About the end of March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the +editor. All the Once a Week people were in a terrible trouble. They +had bought the right of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern +novels, L'Homme Qui Rit; they had fixed a date, relying on positive +pledges from the French publishers; and now the great French author +had postponed his work from week to week and from month to month, +and it had so come to pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would +have to appear exactly at the same time as my clergyman. Was it +not quite apparent to me, the editor asked, that Once a Week could +not hold the two? Would I allow my clergyman to make his appearance +in the Gentleman's Magazine instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by +the stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he +had put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches +on his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +Gentleman's Magazine, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, by novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no +doubt are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is +irregular. He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till +three months after the time named." In these emergencies I have +given perhaps half what was wanted, and have refused to give the +other half. I have endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and +at the same time not to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But +the circumstances have impressed on my mind the great need there is +that men engaged in literature should feel themselves to be bound +to their industry as men know that they are bound in other callings. +There does exist, I fear, a feeling that authors, because they are +authors, are relieved from the necessity of paying attention to +everyday rules. A writer, if he be making £800 a year, does not think +himself bound to live modestly on £600, and put by the remainder +for his wife and children. He does not understand that he should +sit down at his desk at a certain hour. He imagines that publishers +and booksellers should keep all their engagements with him to +the letter;--but that he, as a brain-worker, and conscious of the +subtle nature of the brain, should be able to exempt himself from +bonds when it suits him. He has his own theory about inspiration +which will not always come,--especially will not come if wine-cups +overnight have been too deep. All this has ever been odious to +me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in health, and therefore +unable to do as he has contracted in whatever grade of life. He who +has been blessed with physical strength to work day by day, year +by year--as has been my case--should pardon deficiencies caused +by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect have been a little +hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my repentance. But +I think that no allowance should be given to claims for exemption +from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score still with +the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for fallen woman, and of raising +a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other women. I +could not venture to make this female the heroine of my story. To +have made her a heroine at all would have been directly opposed +to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should be +a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference to +her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the heroine with +their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I affixed a +preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my old-established +principle. I do not know that any one read it; but as I wish to +have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + +"I have introduced in the Vicar of Bullhampton the character of a +girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall not in +its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured to endow +her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I have brought +her back at last from degradation, at least to decency. I have not +married her to a wealthy lover, and I have endeavoured to explain +that though there was possible to her a way out of perdition, still +things could not be with her as they would have been had she not +fallen. + +"There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who +professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, +should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as +that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within the +memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a condition +of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our sisters and +daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of them. Whether that +ignorance was good may be questioned; but that it exists no longer +is beyond question. Then arises the further question,--how far the +conditions of such unfortunates should be made a matter of concern +to the sweet young hearts of those whose delicacy and cleanliness +of thought is a matter of pride to so many of us. Cannot women, +who are good, pity the sufferings of the vicious, and do something +perhaps to mitigate and shorten them without contamination from the +vice? It will be admitted probably by most men who have thought +upon the subject that no fault among us is punished so heavily +as that fault, often so light in itself but so terrible in its +consequences to the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a +woman falls. All of her own sex is against her, and all those of +the other sex in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought +to have contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were +her trouble any other than it is. + +"She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, +unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has placed +her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It may be said, +no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts as a protection +to female virtue,--deterring, as all known punishments do deter, from +vice. But this punishment, which is horrible beyond the conception +of those who have not regarded it closely, is not known beforehand. +Instead of the punishment, there is seen a false glitter of gaudy +life,--a glitter which is damnably false,--and which, alas I has +been more often portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of +young girls, than have those horrors which ought to deter, with +the dark shadowings which belong to them. + +"To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, +as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life +is, happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice +and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter be +handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been thoughtless, +may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may be softened." + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that +feeling I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her +family. I have not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I +presented her to the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of +those fallacious luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more +seductive to evil than love itself. She is introduced as a poor +abased creature, who hardly knows how false were her dreams, with +very little of the Magdalene about her--because though there may +be Magdalenes they are not often found--but with an intense horror +of the sufferings of her position. Such being her condition, will +they who naturally are her friends protect her? The vicar who has +taken her by the hand endeavours to excite them to charity; but +father, and brother, and sister are alike hard-hearted. It had +been my purpose at first that the hand of every Brattle should be +against her; but my own heart was too soft to enable me to make +the mother cruel,--or the unmarried sister who had been the early +companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. +The characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping +with human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. +It is not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have +myself forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she +tumbles into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should +remember her. But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said +by any of the Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out +of ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is +of such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is +the woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? +Then comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone +that we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument +used in favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse +given for their severity by women who will relax nothing of their +harshness. But in truth the severity of the punishment is not known +beforehand; it is not in the least understood by women in general, +except by those who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, +the contumely of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all +good things, the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed +round with lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the +weary pavement, the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then +the quick depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted +paint, garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still +can hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the +life to which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their +error we close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find +pardon easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope +to recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at +all, must be induced to obey the summons before they have reached +the last stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. +To me the mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that +the girl who has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if +possible, at any rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, +and that this ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, put +in part also from a dread of the taint which the sin brings with +it. Very low as is the degradation to which a girl is brought when +she falls through love or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for +luxurious ease, still much lower is that to which she must descend +perforce when, through the hardness of the world around her, +she converts that sin into a trade. Mothers and sisters, when the +misfortune comes upon them of a fallen female from among their +number, should remember this, and not fear contamination so strongly +as did Carry Brattle's married sister and sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of +the three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had +nothing to do with it except to write it. These were Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, An Editor's Tales, and a little volume +on Julius Caesar. Sir Harry Hotspur was written on the same plan as +Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. Nina and Linda Tressel and The Golden Lion +had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English story. +In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I think, +by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love of +the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in Macmillan's Magazine, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it +should have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of +a good many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, +the subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. +Macmillan, and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them +as a novel in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel +in one volume, and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that +the public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is +the object of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they +can, and that the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, +however, did not overcome me, and I stood to my guns. Sir Harry +was published in one volume, containing something over the normal +300 pages, with an average of 220 words to a page,--which I +had settled with my conscience to be the proper length of a novel +volume. I may here mention that on one occasion, and one occasion +only, a publisher got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He +had a two-volume novel of mine running through a certain magazine, +and had it printed complete in three volumes before I knew where I +was,--before I had seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for +a while, but I had not the heart to make him break up the type. + +The Editor's Tales was a volume republished from the St. Paul's +Magazine, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned +the memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it +the outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance +of some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation +with me, I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed +his little article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with +a becoming pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how +I was appealed to by the dearest of little women whom here I have +called Mary Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle +over an abortive periodical which was intended to be the best +thing ever done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, +who with infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort +to reclaim himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly +how a poor weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened +litigation from a rejected contributor. Of these stories, The Spotted +Dog, with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I +know now, however, that when the things were good they came out +too quick one upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, +luckily, when they were bad. + +The Caesar was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had set +on foot a series of small volumes called Ancient Classics for English +Readers, and had placed the editing of them, and the compiling of +many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, a clergyman +who, from my connection with the series, became a most intimate +friend. The Iliad and the Odyssey had already come out when I was +at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing my very strong +admiration for those two little volumes,--which I here recommend +to all young ladies as the most charming tales they can read,--he +asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. Herodotus was +in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine should be next. +Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the readers of +English on The Commentaries of Julius Caesar. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation +or English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has +since become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an +hour with some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After +the reading what my author had left behind him, I fell into the +reading of what others had written about him, in Latin, in English, +and even in French,--for I went through much of that most futile +book by the late Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a +short period I ever worked harder. The amount I had to write was +nothing. Three weeks would have done it easily. But I was most +anxious, in this soaring out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace +myself. I do not think that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was +anxious for something more. If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by all, old +and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an account of +Caesar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary intention,--and +the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. A well-educated +girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps know as much +about Caesar and his writings as she need know. Beyond the consolation +of thinking as I do about it, I got very little gratification from +the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very learned friend +to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Caesar," but said no +more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into me. +Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There +was, however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that +of others, a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing +English novels could not be fit to write about Caesar. It was as +when an amateur gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. +What business had I there? Ne sutor ultra crepidam. In the press it +was most faintly damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having +read the book again within the last month or two, I make bold to say +that it is a good book. The series, I believe, has done very well. +I am sure that it ought to do well in years to come, for, putting +aside Caesar, the work has been done with infinite scholarship, and +very generally with a light hand. With the leave of my sententious +and sonorous friend, who had not endured that subjects which had +been grave to him should be treated irreverently, I will say that +such a work, unless it be light, cannot answer the purpose for which +it is intended. It was not exactly a schoolbook that was wanted, +but something that would carry the purposes of the schoolroom even +into the leisure hours of adult pupils. Nothing was ever better +suited for such a purpose than the Iliad and the Odyssey, as done +by Mr. Collins. The Virgil, also done by him, is very good; and so +is the Aristophanes by the same hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +"RALPH THE HEIR"--"THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS"--"LADY ANNA"--"AUSTRALIA" + + + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we +would go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before +doing so I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the +Colonies. For such a work as this I had always been aware that +I could not fairly demand more than half the price that would be +given for the same amount of fiction; and as such books have an +indomitable tendency to stretch themselves, so that more is given +than what is sold, and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the +writing of them is not remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes +not, I think, generally from the ambition of the writer, but from +his inability to comprise the different parts in their allotted +spaces. If you have to deal with a country, a colony, a city, a +trade, or a political opinion, it is so much easier to deal with +it in twenty than in twelve pages! I also made an engagement with +the editor of a London daily paper to supply him with a series of +articles,--which were duly written, duly published, and duly paid +for. But with all this, travelling with the object of writing is +not a good trade. If the travelling author can pay his bills, he +must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London +be cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, +and was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, +away, and the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of +my friends told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up +the fabrication of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon +go, and I would not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. +And then, why should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that +I had fixed on that place in reference to the Post Office? It was +therefore determined that we would flit, and as we were to be away +for eighteen months, we determined also to sell our furniture. So +there was a packing up, with many tears, and consultations as to +what should be saved out of the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. +I lost by the transaction about £800. As I continually hear that +other men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am +not well adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made +money by selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of +horseflesh I am so inefficient that I have generally given away +horses that I have not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May, 1871, Ralph the Heir was +running through the St. Paul's. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should +not write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and +that part which appertains to politics, and which recounts the +electioneering experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well +enough. Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same +place. Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good +in their way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only +lover, but also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But +the main thread of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the +young gentlemen and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is +not good. Ralph the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph +who is not the heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has +none. The same may be said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she +who was meant to be the chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, +without leaving a trace of remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of The Fortnightly, ready for +production on the 1st of July following, a story called The Eustace +Diamonds. In that I think that my friend's dictum was disproved. +There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. The +character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine and +as well told as that of Lucy Robarts of Lily Dale. + +But The Eustace Diamonds achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a +series of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant +to the reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented +itself to me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but +in planning the character I had not thought of this, and I believe +that Lizzie would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had +never been described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, +well arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. +I had no idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got +my heroine to bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment +of the thieves, till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with +the news that her door had been broken open. All these things, and +many more, Wilkie Collins would have arranged before with infinite +labour, preparing things present so that they should fit in with +things to come. I have gone on the very much easier plan of making +everything as it comes fit in with what has gone before. At any +rate, the book was a success, and did much to repair the injury +which I felt had come to my reputation in the novel-market by the +works of the last few years. I doubt whether I had written anything +so successful as The Eustace Diamonds, since The Small House at +Allington. I had written what was much better,--as, for instance, +Phineas Finn and Nina Balatka; but that is by no means the same +thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of Phineas Redux, +a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I subsequently +sold to the proprietors of the Graphic newspaper. The editor of +that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that the public +would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was dissatisfied +with me when I replied that I had no objection to them doing +so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any other +language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, +I could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +An Eye for an Eye, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. +When making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting +a desk put up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the +Great Britain, so that I could go to work the day after we left +Liverpool. This I did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished +a story called Lady Anna. Every word of this was written at sea, +during the two months required for our voyage, and was done day by +day--with the intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, +at the rate of 66 pages of manuscript in each week, every page of +manuscript containing 250 words. Every word was counted. I have +seen work come back to an author from the press with terrible +deficiencies as to the amount supplied. Thirty-two pages have +perhaps been wanted for a number, and the printers with all their +art could not stretch the matter to more than twenty-eight or -nine! +The work of filling up must be very dreadful. I have sometimes been +ridiculed for the methodical details of my business. But by these +contrivances I have been preserved from many troubles; and I have +saved others with whom I have worked--editors, publishers, and +printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, Lady Anna appeared in The +Fortnightly, following The Eustace Diamonds. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for +her, and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown +in her way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. +And the charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that +she is bound by her troth to the man who had always been true to +her overcomes everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my +wish of course to justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers +along with me in my sympathy with her. But everybody found fault +with me for marrying her to the tailor. What would they have said +if I had allowed her to jilt the tailor and marry the good-looking +young lord? How much louder, then, would have been the censure! +The book was read, and I was satisfied. If I had not told my story +well, there would have been no feeling in favour of the young lord. +The horror which was expressed to me at the evil thing I had done, +in giving the girl to the tailor, was the strongest testimony I +could receive of the merits of the story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say +that this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew +a man work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has +done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might +be enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them +all. Making my headquarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New +South Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of +Western Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was +absent in all eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in +learning much of the political, social, and material condition of +these countries. I wrote my book as I was travelling and brought +it back with me to England all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much +more to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much +more is said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter +than from the former book. I am sure that any one who will take +the trouble to read the book on Australia, will learn much from +it. But the West Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that +either of the other works are, in the proper sense of that word. +When I go back to them I find that the pages drag with me;--and if +so with me, how must it be with others who have none of that love +which a father feels even for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all +the needs a book has the chief need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like +to pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had +heard so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to +enter, and inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him +that I was not a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I +told him I did. "I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured +him that I was not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him +I did so by writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then +he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the +door. I was properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive +that he would have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made +to the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No +real resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four +horses I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the +two summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival +I bought another, and settled myself down to hunting from London +three days a week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, +but finding that to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton +Buzzard, and became one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode +with the "Baron" and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer +was alive, and the riding with his hounds was very good. I did not +care so much for Mr. Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and +1875, I had my horses back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, +always trying to resolve that I would give it up. But still I +bought fresh horses, and, as I did not give it up, I hunted more +than ever. Three times a week the cab has been at my door in London +very punctually, and not unfrequently before seven in the morning. +In order to secure this attendance, the man has always been invited +to have his breakfast in the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern +Railway,--ah! so often with the fear that frost would make all my +exertions useless, and so often too with that result! And then, +from one station or another station, have travelled on wheels at +least a dozen miles. After the day's sport, the same toil has been +necessary to bring me home to dinner at eight. This has been work +for a young man and a rich man, but I have done it as an old man +and comparatively a poor man. Now at last, in April, 1876, I do +think that my resolution has been taken. I am giving away my old +horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles and horse-furniture. + + + "Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ladum; + Tendunt extorquere poemata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + + +This Is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport, + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"THE WAY WE LIVE NOW" AND "THE PRIME MINISTER"--CONCLUSION + + + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I +had arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and +early in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope +to live and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to +place upon new shelves the books which I had collected round myself +at Waltham. And this work, which was in itself great, entailed +also the labour of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, +a catalogue is nothing unless it show the spot on which every +book is to be found,--information which every volume also ought to +give as to itself. Only those who have done it know how great is +the labour of moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the +present moment I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to +me even than the horses which are going, or than the wine in the +cellar, which is very apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I +began a novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I +conceived to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the +world does or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a +question which probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since +the world began to think. That men have become less cruel, less +violent, less selfish, less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but +have they become less honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from +day to day in honesty, be considered to be in a state of progress? +We know the opinion on this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. +If he be right, we are all going straight away to darkness and the +dogs. But then we do not put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor +in Mr. Ruskin and his other followers. The loudness and extravagance +of their lamentations, the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes +from them, over a world which is supposed to have gone altogether +shoddy-wards, are so contrary to the convictions of men who cannot +but see how comfort has been increased, how health has been improved, +and education extended,--that the general effect of their teaching +is the opposite of what they have intended. It is regarded simply +as Carlylism to say that the English-speaking world is growing +worse from day to day. And it is Carlylism to opine that the general +grand result of increased intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all +its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory +in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into +Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, +and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. +Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down +in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured +to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the +iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an +onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want +to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain +single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to +cheat the public into buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can +so moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects The Way We Live Now +was, as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers +is weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to +have two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them +both with interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be +no more than padding to the other. And so it was in The Way We Live +Now. The interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish +people,--with Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, +with the American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the +girl of his heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta +Carbury are uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon +the book as one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by +the public or the press. + +While I was writing The Way We Live Now, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the Graphic for a Christmas story. I feel, with regard +to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and undertaker +feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has to supply +it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and he will +starve if he neglects it. So have I felt that, when anything in the +shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. Nothing +can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish of +Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be +the ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire +for Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, +better still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens +when he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the +things written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas +like children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour +of Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! +at this very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to +supply within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always +require a long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling +my brain for the last month. I can't send away the order to another +shop, but I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not +loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, +by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no +worse success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When Harry Heathcote was over, I returned with a full heart to +Lady Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed +picture of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The +personages with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps +even the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in +a wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would +be destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst +of human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as +a rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box +into the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves +into one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to +set aside his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal +contact of men who must often be personally disagreeable, having +been thoroughly taught that in no other way can they serve either +their country or their own ambition. These are the men who are +publicly useful, and whom the necessities of the age supply,--as +to whom I have never ceased to wonder that stones of such strong +calibre should be so quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness +of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But had I also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of +a party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but +also even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a +very little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. +The time may come, the glorious time when some great self action +shall be possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave +up the Corn Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, +should not allow himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, +smooth, hard, useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he +must harden his skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and +again we see the attempt, made by men who cannot get their skins to +be hard--who after a little while generally fall out of the ranks. +The statesman of whom I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was +one who did not fall out of the ranks, even though his skin would +not become hard. He should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary +habits, by which to bind him to the service of his country; and he +should also have unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love +of country. That virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. +They who are without it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should +have it as the ruling principle of his life; and it should so rule +him that all other things should be made to give way to it. But he +should be scrupulous, and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to +the highest place in the council of his Sovereign, he should feel +with true modesty his own insufficiency; but not the less should +the greed of power grow upon him when he had once allowed himself +to taste and enjoy it. Such was the character I endeavoured to +depict in describing the triumph, the troubles, and the failure +of my Prime Minister. And I think that I have succeeded. What the +public may think, or what the press may say, I do not yet know, +the work having as yet run but half its course. [Footnote: Writing +this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly three years, I am obliged +to say that, as regards the public, The Prime Minister was a failure. +It was worse spoken of by the press than any novel I had written. +I was specially hurt by a criticism on it in the Spectator. The +critic who wrote the article I know to be a good critic, inclined +to be more than fair to me; but in this case I could not agree with +him, so much do I love the man whose character I had endeavoured +to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand +it--or that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been +a matter of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing +that the operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, +which might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who +commenced it. It has been carried on through three or four, each +of which will be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost +as soon as read. In The Prime Minister, my Prime Minister will not +allow his wife to take office among, or even over, those ladies who +are attached by office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," +he says to her, "that my wife should have any duties unconnected +with our joint family and home." Who will remember in reading +those words that, in a former story, published some years before, +he tells his wife, when she has twitted him with his willingness +to clean the Premier's shoes, that he would even allow her to clean +them if it were for the good of the country? And yet it is by such +details as these that I have, for many years past, been manufacturing +within my own mind the characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over +a woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think +it probable that my name will remain among those who in the next +century will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but +if it does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the +character of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. +Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I +have an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my +political hero as the mainstay of another story. When The Prime +Minister was finished, I at once began another novel, which is now +completed in three volumes, and which is called Is He Popenjoy? +There are two Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title +held by the other; but as they are both babies, and do not in the +course of the story progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, +should the tale ever be published, will not be much interested in +them. Nevertheless the story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. +Since that I have written still another three-volume novel, to +which, very much in opposition to my publisher, I have given the +name of The American Senator. [Footnote: The American Senator and +Popenjoy have appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has +encountered that reproach which, in regard to The Prime Minister, +seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should be brought to +a close. And yet I feel assured that they are very inferior to The +Prime Minister.] It is to appear in Temple Bar, and is to commence +its appearance on the first of next month. Such being its +circumstances, I do not know that I can say anything else about it +here. + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I +think are more in amount than the works of any other living English +author. If any English authors not living have written more--as +may probably have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find +that, taking the books which have appeared under our names, I have +published much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also +published considerably more than Voltaire, even including his +letters. We are told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written +480 volumes, and that he went on writing for eight years longer. +I wish I knew what was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort +myself by reflecting that the amount of manuscript described as a +book in Varro's time was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; +whereas I am still living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates +given are the years in which the works were published as a whole, +most of them having appeared before in some serial form. + + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + +The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 £48 6 9 +The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 +La Vendee, 1850 20 0 0 +The Warden, 1855 \ 727 11 3 +Barchester Towers, 1857 / +The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 +Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 +The West Indies and the +Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 +The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + + Carried forward, £2219 16 17 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought Forward, £2219 16 17 +Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 +Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 +Tales of All +Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + " " 2d 1863 > 1830 0 0 + " " 3d 1870 / +Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 +North America, 1862 1250 0 0 +Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 +The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 +Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 +Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 +The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 +The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 +The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 +Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 +Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 +Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 +He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 +Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 +The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 +An Editor's Tales, 1870 378 0 0 +Caesar (Ancient Classics), 1870 0 0 0 +[Footnote: This was given by me as a present to +my friend John Blackwood] + +Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 +Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 +The Golden Lion of Granpere, 1872 550 0 0 +The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 +Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 +Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 +Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + + Carry forward, £48,389 17 5 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought forward, £48,389 17 5 +Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 +The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 +The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 +The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 +Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 +South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 +John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 +Sundries, 7800 0 0 + ____________ + £68,939 17 5 + ------------ + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as +to the quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary +excellence. That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is +a vice and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave +a doubt on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit +should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. +And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for +the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may +intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine linea. Let that +be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work +to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. +He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours +at his desk without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they +have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done +in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed +another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving +due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. +But I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer +all difficulties. Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo. + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near £70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but +not splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed +in much the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his +life? If the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my +blood; if a cup of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought +tobacco at midnight in pleasant company to be one of the elements +of an earthly paradise; if now and again I have somewhat recklessly +fluttered a £5 note over a card-table;--of what matter is that to +any reader? I have betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no +sorrow. It has been the companionship of smoking that I have loved, +rather than the habit. I have never desired to win money, and I +have lost none. To enjoy the excitement of pleasure, but to be free +from its vices and ill effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the +bitter untasted,--that has been my study. The preachers tell us that +this is impossible. It seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded +fairly well. I will not say that I have never scorched a finger,--but +I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still +chiefly to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with +me, God may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according +to my view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who +love me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while +I am reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men +do, what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is +so with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found +my greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want +of truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but +from curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. +If I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies +of these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Autobiography of Anthony Trollope, by +Anthony Trollope + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + +***** This file should be named 5978-8.txt or 5978-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/7/5978/ + +Produced by Jesse Chandler + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Posting Date: June 6, 2012 [EBook #5978] +Release Date: June, 2004 +First Posted: October 4, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + + + + +Produced by Jesse Chandler + + + + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +By Anthony Trollope + + + + + +PREFACE + + + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said +that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his +death, containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much +of it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from +me, given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir +of my life. My intention is that they shall be published after +my death, and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your +discretion whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also +to your discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. +But I would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. +If you wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in +the shape of a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there +is a postscript: "The publication, if made at all, should be effected +as soon as possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of +December, 1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass +the book through the press conformably to the above instructions. +I have placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, +and I do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions +of any other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my +father's own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. +I have suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount +to two printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any +of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give +in a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he +completed his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighborhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his +life: he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed +him not to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke +willingly on hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up +his favourite amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there +should be an end of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South +Africa, and returned early in the following year with a book on +the colony already written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of +a party of ladies and gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland +in the "Mastiff," one of Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey +lasted altogether sixteen days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. +Burns were the hospitable entertainers. When my father returned, +he wrote a short account of How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland. +The book was printed, but was intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. +He would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself +less than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was +always done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were +published after the last included in the list which he himself has +given at the end of the second volume:-- + +An Eye for an Eye, . . . . 1879 +Cousin Henry, . . . . . . 1879 +Thackeray, . . . . . . . 1879 +The Duke's Children, . . . . 1880 +Life of Cicero, . . . . . 1880 +Ayala's Angel, . . . . . 1881 +Doctor Wortle's School, . . . 1881 +Frau Frohmann and other Stories, . 1882 +Lord Palmerston, . . . . . 1882 +The Fixed Period, . . . . . 1882 +Kept in the Dark, . . . . . 1882 +Marion Fay, . . . . . . 1882 +Mr. Scarborough's Family, . . . 1883 + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called The Landleaguers, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called An Old Man's Love, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighborhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved +his asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen +months. In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but +from this journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested +in, and was very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the +country. Few men know Ireland better than he did. He had lived +there for sixteen years, and his Post Office word had taken him +into every part of the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his +last novel, The Landleaguers, which, as stated above, was unfinished +when he died. This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not +rid his mind of the fact that he had a story already in the course +of publication, but which he had not yet completed. In no other +case, except Framley Parsonage, did my father publish even the +first number of any novel before he had fully completed the whole +tale. + +On the evening of the 3rd of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His +mind had also failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return +to him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became +rarer, but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind +was sound or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of +December following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire +to supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the +main incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In +what I have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +Henry M. Trollope. +September, 1883. + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY EDUCATION + +1815-1834 + + + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, +or any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there +that has done none? But this I protest:--that nothing that I say +shall be untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give +to myself, or others, honour which I do not believe to have been +fairly won. My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young +gentleman could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of +poverty and gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an +utter want on my part of the juvenile manhood which enables some +boys to hold up their heads even among the distresses which such +a position is sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and +of those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny +and of ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New +College, and Winchester was the destination of my brothers and +myself; but as he had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as +the school offered an education almost gratuitous to children living +in the parish, he, with a certain aptitude to do things differently +from others, which accompanied him throughout his life, determined +to use that august seminary as "t'other school" for Winchester, and +sent three of us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. +My father at this time was a Chancery barrister practising in +London, occupying dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old +Square, Lincoln's Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion +did become absolutely suicidal. [Footnote: A pupil of his destroyed +himself in the rooms.] He was, as I have been informed by those +quite competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, +but plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from +him. In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of +higher hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that +he was felt to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that +in Keppel Street; and in order that he might build such a residence, +he took the farm. This place he called Julians, and the land runs +up to the foot of the hill on which the school and the church +stand,--on the side towards London. Things there went much against +him; the farm was ruinous, and I remember that we all regarded the +Lord Northwick of those days as a cormorant who was eating us up. +My father's clients deserted him. He purchased various dark gloomy +chambers in and about Chancery Lane, and his purchases always went +wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, and old uncle, whose heir he +was to have been, married and had a family! The house in London was +let; and also the house he built at Harrow, from which he descended +to a farmhouse on the land, which I have endeavoured to make known +to some readers under the name of Orley Farm. This place, just as it +was when we lived there, is to be seen in the frontispiece to the +first edition of that novel, having the good fortune to be delineated +by no less a pencil than that of John Millais. + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow +School from the bigger house, and may probably have been received +among the aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a +day-boarder at Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at +any rate as other day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well +treated, but I doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy +which I endured. I was only seven, and I think that boys at seven +are now spared among their more considerate seniors. I was never +spared; and was not even allowed to run to and fro between our house +and the school without a daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance +was against me. I remember well, when I was still the junior boy +in the school, Dr. Butler, the head-master, stopping me in the +street, and asking me, with all the clouds of Jove upon his brow +and the thunder in his voice, whether it was possible that Harrow +School was disgraced by so disreputably dirty a boy as I! Oh, what +I felt at that moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not +doubt that I was dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must +have known me had he seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was +in the habit of flogging me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise +me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur +Drury. This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the +advice of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my +father's friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that +my juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the +way of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other +boys than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. +Even here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one +occasion, four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators +of some nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even +guess; but I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged +to have been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out +a sermon, and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the +whole of one term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were +not allowed to visit the playground till the sermon was finished. +Mine was only done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, +when she saw us, shook her head with pitying horror. There were +ever so many other punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke +my heart, knowing myself to be innocent, and suffering also under +the almost equally painful feeling that the other three--no doubt +wicked boys--were the curled darlings of the school, who would never +have selected me to share their wickedness with them. I contrived +to learn, from words that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned +me because I, having come from a public school, might be supposed +to be the leader of wickedness! On the first day of the next term +he whispered to me half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. +With all a stupid boy's slowness, I said nothing; and he had not +the courage to carry reparation further. All that was fifty years +ago, and it burns me now as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered +curs those boys must have been not to have told the truth!--at any +rate as far as I was concerned. I remember their names well, and +almost wish to write them here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and +the younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost +his chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions +of my father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man +was never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the +prize which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our +reach. My eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went +to Oxford, taking three exhibitions from the school, though he +lost the great glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well +known to the public as a writer in connection with all Italian +subjects. He is still living as I now write. But my other brother +died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in +this case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming +should be a business in which he might make money without any +special education or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is +the one in which an accurate knowledge of what things should be +done, and the best manner of doing them, is most necessary. And it is +one also for success in which a sufficient capital is indispensable. +He had no knowledge, and, when he took this second farm, no capital. +This was the last step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that +he had an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little +goods, such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out +to the still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an +opening might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar +or extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money +came I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval +of some year and a half during which he and I were in Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more +of brotherhood. But in those schooldays he was, of all my foes, +the worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which +submits, or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger +boys from the elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher +and ruler, he had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well +how he used to exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. +Hang a little boy for stealing apples, he used to say, and other +little boys will not steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded +elsewhere, but he stuck to it with conservative energy. The result +was that, as a part of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big +stick. That such thrashings should have been possible at a school +as a continual part of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a +very ill condition of school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be +done with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering +about among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare +out of a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It +was not that I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing +else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course +knew that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of +boys to be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other +they do usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I +suffered horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend +to whom I could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and +ugly, and, I have no doubt, sulked about in a most unattractive +manner. Of course I was ill-dressed and dirty. But ah! how well +I remember all the agonies of my young heart; how I considered +whether I should always be alone; whether I could not find my way +up to the top of that college tower, and from thence put an end to +everything? And a worse thing came than the stoppage of the supplies +from the shopkeepers. Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, +which we called battels, and which was advanced to us out of the +pocket of the second master. On one awful day the second master +announced to me that my battels would be stopped. He told me the +reason,--the battels for the last half-year had not been repaid; and +he urged his own unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a +shilling a week would not have been much,--even though pocket-money +from other sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all +knew it! Every now and again, perhaps three or four times in a +half-year, these weekly shillings were given to certain servants +of the college, in payment, it may be presumed, for some extra +services. And now, when it came to the turn of any servant, he +received sixty-nine shillings instead of seventy, and the cause +of the defalcation was explained to him. I never saw one of those +servants without feeling I had picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed +to have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, +have gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional +number of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there +would have been no funds for my maintenance at the University +till I should have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's +endowment, and my career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm +he had hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three +miles from Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from +this house I was again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let +those who know what is the usual appearance and what the usual +appurtenances of a boy at such a school, consider what must have +been my condition among them, with a daily walk of twelve miles +through the lanes, added to the other little troubles and labours +of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, +walking to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst +period of my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age +at which I could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion +from all social intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was +despised by all my companions. The farmhouse was not only no more +than a farmhouse, but was one of those farmhouses which seem always +to be in danger of falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it +crept downwards from house to stables, from stables to barns, from +barns to cowsheds, and from cowsheds to dungheaps, one could hardly +tell where one began and the other ended! There was a parlour in +which my father lived, shut up among big books; but I passed my most +jocund hours in the kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's +daughter. The farm kitchen might be very well through the evening, +when the horrors of the school were over; but it all added to the +cruelty of the days. A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk +at Oxford, has not pleasant days, or used not to have them half a +century ago; but his position was recognised, and the misery was +measured. I was a sizar at a fashionable school, a condition never +premeditated. What right had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from +a dunghill, to sit next to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, +next to the sons of big tradesmen who made their ten thousand a +year? The indignities I endured are not to be described. As I look +back it seems to me that all hands were turned against me,--those +of masters as well as boys. I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor +did I learn anything,--for I was taught nothing. The only expense, +except that of books, to which a house-boarder was then subject, +was the fee to a tutor, amounting, I think, to ten guineas. My +tutor took me without the fee; but when I heard him declare the fact +in the pupil-room before the boys, I hardly felt grateful for the +charity. I was never a coward, and cared for a thrashing as little +as any boy, but one cannot make a stand against the acerbities of +three hundred tyrants without a moral courage of which at that time +I possessed none. I know that I skulked, and was odious to the eyes +of those I admired and envied. At last I was driven to rebellion, +and there came a great fight,--at the end of which my opponent +had to be taken home for a while. If these words be ever printed, +I trust that some schoolfellow of those days may still be left alive +who will be able to say that, in claiming this solitary glory of +my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to +get me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hayfields +on holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much +profit. My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years +of his life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering +agony from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when +suffering. He had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopedia +Ecclesiastica, as he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment +of his death. It was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical +terms, including the denominations of every fraternity of monks +and every convent of nuns, with all their orders and subdivisions. +Under crushing disadvantages, with few or no books of reference, +with immediate access to no library, he worked at his most ungrateful +task with unflagging industry. When he died, three numbers out +of eight had been published by subscription; and are now, I fear, +unknown, and buried in the midst of that huge pile of futile +literature, the building up of which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in +the hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. +From my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to +take my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the +morning, and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat +the Greek alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold +my head inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, +he might be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or +dropping his shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for +the education of his children, though I think none ever knew less +how to go about the work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, +he never recognised the need. He allowed himself no distraction, +and did not seem to think it was necessary to a child. I cannot +bethink me of aught that he ever did for my gratification; but for +my welfare,--for the welfare of us all,--he was willing to make +any sacrifice. At this time, in the farmhouse at Harrow Weald, +he could not give his time to teach me, for every hour that he was +not in the fields was devoted to his monks and nuns; but he would +require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and Gradus before me. +As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed determination to +make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon me, or of the +hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great energy in +after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly altered, or +whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never punished +me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but in passion +he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with the great +folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were the two first +volumes of Cooper's novel, called The Prairie, a relic--probably a +dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's library. Other +books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many dozen times I +read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a +walk along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather +fine, and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same +lanes four times a day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with +all the accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I +might have been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance +by my boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I +was so known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler +when I was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have +said the same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his +life was able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became +Dean of Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of +Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called +Orley Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at +Harrow Weald. Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved +circumstances. The three miles became half a mile, and probably +some salutary changes were made in my wardrobe. My mother and +my sisters, too, were there. And a great element of happiness was +added to us all in the affectionate and life-enduring friendship +of the family of our close neighbour Colonel Grant. But I was never +able to overcome--or even to attempt to overcome--the absolute +isolation of my school position. Of the cricket-ground or racket-court +I was allowed to know nothing. And yet I longed for these things +with an exceeding longing. I coveted popularity with a covetousness +that was almost mean. It seemed to me that there would be an +Elysium in the intimacy of those very boys whom I was bound to hate +because they hated me. Something of the disgrace of my school-days +has clung to me all through life. Not that I have ever shunned to +speak of them as openly as I am writing now, but that when I have +been claimed as schoolfellow by some of those many hundreds who +were with me either at Harrow or at Winchester, I have felt that +I had no right to talk of things from most of which I was kept in +estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry +to Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship +that would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. +There were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried +for a sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile +attempt for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then +the idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate +it was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance +only as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt +and ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt +had been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very +little attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember +any lessons either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I +certainly was not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, +but I do assert that I have no recollection of other tuition +except that in the dead languages. At the school at Sunbury there +was certainly a writing master and a French master. The latter was +an extra, and I never had extras. I suppose I must have been in +the writing master's class, but though I can call to mind the man, +I cannot call to mind his ferule. It was by their ferules that I +always knew them, and they me. I feel convinced in my mind that I +have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just +possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and +I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over +half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true; but +if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such +waste of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I +read and enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself +understood in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have +acquired since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork +of the language which will in the process of years make its way +slowly, even through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition +in which I do not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left +Harrow I was nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, +I think, the seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation +upwards. I bear in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used +to be showered about; but I never got a prize. From the first to +the last there was nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except +the way in which I licked the boy who had to be taken home to be +cured. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MY MOTHER + + + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of +all the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly +because filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent +who made for herself a considerable name in the literature of her +day, and partly because there were circumstances in her career +well worthy of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William +Milton, vicar of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been +a fellow of New College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she +married my father. Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters +from her to him fell into my hand in a very singular way, having +been found in the house of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, +sent them to me. They were then about sixty years old, and had been +written some before and some after her marriage, over the space of +perhaps a year. In no novel of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have +I seen a correspondence at the same time so sweet, so graceful, +and so well expressed. But the marvel of these letters was in the +strange difference they bore to the love-letters of the present +day. They are, all of them, on square paper, folded and sealed, +and addressed to my father on circuit; but the language in each, +though it almost borders on the romantic, is beautifully chosen, +and fit, without change of a syllable, for the most critical eye. +What girl now studies the words with which she shall address her +lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? She dearly likes +a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire familiarity with +a new and strange being. There is something in that, too, pleasant +to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life does not conduce +to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my mother was a writer +of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic feeling clung to her +to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family. [Footnote: +The family of Estienne, the great French printers of the fifteenth +and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were at least nine or ten, +did more perhaps for the production of literature than any other +family. But they, though they edited, and not unfrequently translated +the works which they published, were not authors in the ordinary +sense.] My married sister added to the number by one little anonymous +high church story, called Chollerton. + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went +to America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the +world. She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal role +and professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from +the wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. +An Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from +the clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, +or a French proletaire with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in +every way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so +thorough, and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she +generally got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it +must be acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her +books, and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best +were Dante and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such +ladies were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept +over the persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized +with avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown +Scott, and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. +With the literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets +of the past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. +Her life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was +easy, luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own +aspirations sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary +people, of whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; +but till long after middle life she never herself wrote a line for +publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish +my brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional +object of breaking up her English home without pleading broken +fortunes to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, +she built a bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have +been embarked in that speculation. It could not have been much, and +I think that others also must have suffered. But she looked about +her, at her American cousins, and resolved to write a book about +them. This book she brought back with her in 1831, and published +it early in 1832. When she did this she was already fifty. When +doing this she was aware that unless she could so succeed in making +money, there was no money for any of the family. She had never before +earned a shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable +sum from the publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two +sums of L400 each within a few months; and from that moment till +nearly the time of her death, at any rate for more than twenty +years, she was in the receipt of a considerable income from her +writings. It was a late age at which to begin such a career. + +The Domestic Manners of the Americans was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. +What though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they +put their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? +The Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she +told them so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so +pretty in a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes +were very bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the +family from ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book +on Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which +I have called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate +comforts. Of the mixture of joviality and industry which formed +her character, it is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. +The industry was a thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary +that any one who lived with her should see it. She was at her table +at four in the morning, and had finished her work before the world +had begun to be aroused. But the joviality was all for others. +She could dance with other people's legs, eat and drink with other +people's palates, be proud with the lustre of other people's finery. +Every mother can do that for her own daughters; but she could do it +for any girl whose look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even +when she was at work, the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure +to her. She had much, very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came +hard to her, so much being required,--for she was extravagant, and +liked to have money to spend; but of all people I have known she +was the most joyous, or, at any rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, +during which I was still at the school, and at the end of which +I was nearly nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My +father, who, when he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and +nuns, still kept a horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as +it had been decided that I should leave the school then, instead +of remaining, as had been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned +very early in the morning, to drive him up to London. He had been +ill, and must still have been very ill indeed when he submitted to +be driven by any one. It was not till we had started that he told +me that I was to put him on board the Ostend boat. This I did, +driving him through the city down to the docks. It was not within +his nature to be communicative, and to the last he never told me +why he was going to Ostend. Something of a general flitting abroad +I had heard before, but why he should have flown first, and flown +so suddenly, I did not in the least know till I returned. When I got +back with the gig, the house and furniture were all in the charge +of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +barness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The +little piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand +and carried through successfully was of no special service to any +of us. I drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage +to the ironmonger for L17, the exact sum which he claimed as being +due to himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed +to think that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy +that the ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, +for in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it +is now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, +and a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and +things like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through +a gap between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend +Colonel Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the +Grant girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To +such forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and +between us we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, +amidst the anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal +violence, of the men in charge of the property. I still own a few +books that were thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all women, +his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and established +ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of Bruges. At +this time, and till my father's death, everything was done with +money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the house,--this +being the third that she had put in order since she came back from +America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother +Henry had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. +And though as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began +to feel that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My +father was broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could +sit at his table he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My +elder sister and I were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate +hanger-on, that most hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy +of nineteen, without any idea of a career, or a profession, or +a trade. As well as I can remember I was fairly happy, for there +were pretty girls at Bruges with whom I could fancy that I was in +love; and I had been removed from the real misery of school. But +as to my future life I had not even an aspiration. Now and again +there would arise a feeling that it was hard upon my mother that +she should have to do so much for us, that we should be idle while +she was forced to work so constantly; but we should probably have +thought more of that had she not taken to work as though it were +the recognised condition of life for an old lady of fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity +for peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said +so, and we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's +most visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick +men in the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The +novels went on, of course. We had already learned to know that they +would be forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were +forthcoming. The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal +places in my mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many +circumstances; but I doubt much whether I could write one when my +whole heart was by the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing +herself into two parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear +from the troubles of the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, +I never saw equalled. I do not think that the writing of a novel +is the most difficult task which a man may be called upon to do; +but it is a task that may be supposed to demand a spirit fairly +at ease. The work of doing it with a troubled spirit killed Sir +Walter Scott. My mother went through it unscathed in strength, +though she performed all the work of day-nurse and night-nurse to +a sick household;--for there were soon three of them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and +French, of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year +was allowed me, and in order that it might be accomplished without +expense, I undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school +then kept by William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of +the masters at Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is +now, after an interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating +as clergyman at that place. [Footnote: He died two years after +these words were written.] To Brussels I went, and my heart still +sinks within me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to +me the tuition of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went +there to learn French, and that their parents were not particular +as to their classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions +I was sent to take the school out for a walk; but that after the +second attempt Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not +stand any further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind +any learning by me of other languages; but as I only remained in +that position for six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not +been as yet commenced. At the end of the six weeks a letter reached +me, offering me a clerkship in the General Post Office, and I +accepted it. Among my mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. +Freeling, the wife of Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis +Freeling, then ruled the Post Office. She had heard of my desolate +position, and had begged from her father-in-law the offer of a +berth in his own office. + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on +the balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the +heart should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was +now ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, +though I had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any +one. And my father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not +know it. And my mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to +England, thinking that the vicinity of so much sickness might be +injurious to her. All this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in +the spring of which year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother +was left alone in a big house outside the town, with two Belgian +women-servants, to nurse these dying patients--the patients being +her husband and children--and to write novels for the sustenance +of the family! It was about this period of her career that her best +novels were written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average +of men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to +fair fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to +have had everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with +him. The touch of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked +in one hopeless enterprise after another, spending on each all the +money he could at the time command. But the worse curse to him of +all was a temper so irritable that even those whom he loved the +best could not endure it. We were all estranged from him, and yet +I believe that he would have given his heart's blood for any of +us. His life as I knew it was one long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished +a small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the +London Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place +with little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while +she herself was at work every morning long before others had left +their beds. But she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She +went up to London, where she again took and furnished a house, +from which my remaining sister was married and carried away into +Cumberland. My mother soon followed her, and on this occasion did +more than take a house. She bought a bit of land,--a field of three +acres near the town,--and built a residence for herself. This, I +think, was in 1841, and she had thus established and re-established +herself six times in ten years. But in Cumberland she found the +climate too severe, and in 1844 she moved herself to Florence, +where she remained till her death in 1863. She continued writing +up to 1856, when she was seventy-six years old,--and had at that +time produced 114 volumes, of which the first was not written till +she was fifty. Her career offers great encouragement to those who +have not begun early in life, but are still ambitious to do something +before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, +and a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted +nor accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and +even facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE + +1834-1841 + + + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's +school at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London +Post Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my +father and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household +never was held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who +would sit up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing +novels the while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them +to die under. Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know +where the roof would have been found. It is now more that forty +years ago, and looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell +the story, though it be the story of my own father and mother, of +my own brother and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done +some scene of intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed +full of pathos. I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition +of my father's life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the +strain which my mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go +and leave them. There was something that comforted me in the idea +that I need no longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon +proved. My salary was to be L90 a year, and on that I was to live +in London, keep up my character as a gentleman, and be happy. +That I should have thought this possible at the age of nineteen, +and should have been delighted at being able to make the attempt, +does not surprise me now; but that others should have thought it +possible, friends who knew something of the world, does astonish +me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, or might do so even in +these days, who was properly looked after and kept under control,--on +whose behalf some law of life had been laid down. Let him pay so +much a week for his board and lodging, so much for his clothes, so +much for his washing, and then let him understand that he has--shall +we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and omnibuses. Any +one making the calculation will find the sixpence far too much. No +such calculation was made for me or by me. It was supposed that a +sufficient income had been secured to me, and that I should live +upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the L90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at +the Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future +labours in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the +secretary, but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at +first by a new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest +son Henry Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him +I was examined as to my fitness. The story of that examination is +given accurately in one of the opening chapters of a novel written +by me, called The Three Clerks. If any reader of this memoir would +refer to that chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have +been admitted into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader +will learn how Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the +Secretary's office of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked +to copy some lines from the Times newspaper with an old quill pen, +and at once made a series of blots and false spellings. "That +won't do, you know," said Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. +Clayton, who was my friend, urged that I was nervous, and asked +that I might be allowed to do a bit of writing at home and bring +it as a sample on the next day. I was then asked whether I was +a proficient in arithmetic. What could I say? I had never learned +the multiplication table, and had no more idea of the rule of three +than of conic sections. "I know a little of it," I said humbly, +whereupon I was sternly assured that on the morrow, should I succeed +in showing that my handwriting was all that it ought to be, I should +be examined as to that little of arithmetic. If that little should +not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge of all the ordinary +rules, together with practised and quick skill, my career in life +could not be made at the Post Office. Going down the main stairs +of the building,--stairs which have I believe been now pulled down +to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton Freeling told me +not to be too down-hearted. I was myself inclined to think that I +had better go back to the school in Brussels. But nevertheless I +went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder brother made +a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. With a +faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. With +my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should come +to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in +St. Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the +comers. I object to this, that at present there exists no known +mode of learning who is best, and that the method employed has no +tendency to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide +who among a certain number of lads will best answer a string of +questions, for the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, +who have sprung up for the purpose since this fashion of election +has been adopted. When it is decided in a family that a boy shall +"try the Civil Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of +cramming. But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever +with education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was +before for the future work of his life. But his very success fills +him with false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far +unfits him. And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that +no one is in truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, +or even for the character of the youth. The responsibility was +perhaps slight before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say +that, had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost +a valuable public servant. This is a statement that will not, I +think, be denied by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything +of my work. Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of +the small acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be +schools in which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, +or French should be learned. But all that could be ascertained +without the perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those +who have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. +There had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it +had become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence +for the purchase of political support. A member of the House of +Commons, holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships +to give away in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them +among those who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing +pleasant to the distributer of patronage. Do away with the system +altogether, and he would have as much chance of support as another. +He bartered his patronage only because another did so also. The +beggings, the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were +simply troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed +to rid themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their +hands are the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do +doubt whether the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There +are places in life which can hardly be well filled except by +"Gentlemen." The word is one the use of which almost subjects one +to ignominy. If I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a +bishop, I am met with a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." +Were I to make such an assertion with reference to the House of +Commons, nothing that I ever said again would receive the slightest +attention. A man in public life could not do himself a greater +injury than by saying in public that the commissions in the army or +navy, or berths in the Civil Service, should be given exclusively +to gentlemen. He would be defied to define the term,--and would +fail should he attempt to do so. But he would know what he meant, +and so very probably would they who defied him. It may be that the +son of a butcher of the village shall become as well fitted for +employments requiring gentle culture as the son of the parson. +Such is often the case. When such is the case, no one has been more +prone to give the butcher's son all the welcome he has merited than +I myself; but the chances are greatly in favour of the parson's son. +The gates of the one class should be open to the other; but neither +to the one class nor to the other can good be done by declaring +that there are no gates, no barrier, no difference. The system of +competitive examination is, I think, based on a supposition that +there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling +I had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. +I could speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as +elsewhere that I never acquired the power of really talking French. +I have been able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but +never got much beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences +I was completely ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My +spelling was imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination +would have been possible on which I could have gone through an +examination otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew +more than the average young men of the same rank who began life at +nineteen. I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets +of all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably +of historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate +idea of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the +names of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, +and all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, +but one that had not been acquired without other matter which was +more useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could +talk about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to +me. I had already made up my mind that Pride and Prejudice was the +best novel in the English language,--a palm which I only partially +withdrew after a second reading of Ivanhoe, and did not completely +bestow elsewhere till Esmond was written. And though I would +occasionally break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If +I had a thing to say, I could so say it in written words that the +readers should know what I meant,--a power which is by no means +at the command of all those who come out from these competitive +examinations with triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, +I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this +I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession +unregarded--never looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, +with many blushes, destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, +ignorance, indiscretion, idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But +they had habituated me to the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught +me how to express myself with faculty. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from +still earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay +when I thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, +must have tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a +child, I was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking +of my school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not +play with me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays +within myself. Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it +always has been. Study was not my bent, and I could not please +myself by being all idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always +going about with some castle in the air firmly build within my +mind. Nor were these efforts in architecture spasmodic, or subject +to constant change from day to day. For weeks, for months, if +I remember rightly, from year to year, I would carry on the same +tale, binding myself down to certain laws, to certain proportions, +and proprieties, and unities. Nothing impossible was ever +introduced,--nor even anything which, from outward circumstances, +would seem to be violently improbable. I myself was of course my own +hero. Such is a necessity of castle-building. But I never became a +king, or a duke,--much less when my height and personal appearance +were fixed could I be an Antinous, or six feet high. I never was +a learned man, nor even a philosopher. But I was a very clever +person, and beautiful young women used to be fond of me. And I +strove to be kind of heart, and open of hand, and noble in thought, +despising mean things; and altogether I was a very much better +fellow than I have ever succeeded in being since. This had been +the occupation of my life for six or seven years before I went to +the Post Office, and was by no means abandoned when I commenced +my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be a more dangerous mental +practice; but I have often doubted whether, had it not been my +practice, I should ever have written a novel. I learned in this way +to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to dwell on a work +created by my own imagination, and to live in a world altogether +outside the world of my own material life. In after years I have +done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded the +hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own identity +aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch +which was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved +a character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black +sheep by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very +good public servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if +I did not take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour +in my early days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton +Freeling,--who, as I write this, is still living, and who, with +tears in her eyes, besought me to think of my mother. That was during +the life of Sir Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a +little more than twelve months after I joined the office. And yet +the old man showed me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing +to me with his own hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of +me as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost +feel, without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my +anguish when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful +work. I did struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing +which was not easy without any struggling--but to show that I +was willing to do it. My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, +and was not to be got rid of by any efforts within my power. I do +admit that I was irregular. It was not considered to be much in +my favour that I could write letters--which was mainly the work of +our office--rapidly, correctly, and to the purpose. The man who +came at ten, and who was always still at his desk at half-past four, +was preferred before me, though when at his desk he might be less +efficient. Such preference was no doubt proper; but, with a little +encouragement, I also would have been punctual. I got credit for +nothing and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one +of our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all +night. Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and +play ecarte for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways +are possible now in our public offices. And here we used to have +suppers and card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much +smoking of tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a +whole bevy of clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was +to make up and receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that +they worked later or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but +there was supposed to be something special in foreign letters, +which required that the men who handled them should have minds +undistracted by the outer world. Their salaries, too, were higher +than those of their more homely brethren; and they paid nothing +for their lodgings. Consequently there was a somewhat fast set in +those apartments, given to cards and to tobacco, who drank spirits +and water in preference to tea. I was not one of them, but was a +good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance +of my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on +the secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was +not marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had +not been moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was +gone. In the meantime I had returned to the room, again in the +performance of some duty. When the letter was missed I was sent +for, and there I found the Colonel much moved about his letter, and +a certain chief clerk, who, with a long face, was making suggestions +as to the probable fate of the money. "The letter has been taken," +said the Colonel, turning to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has +been nobody in the room but you and I." As he spoke, he thundered +his fist down upon the table. "Then," said I, "by G----! you have +taken it." And I also thundered my fist down;--but, accidentally, +not upon the table. There was there a standing movable desk, at +which, I presume, it was the Colonel's habit to write, and on this +movable desk was a large bottle full of ink. My fist unfortunately +came on the desk, and the ink at once flew up, covering the Colonel's +face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight to see that senior clerk, +as he seized a quite of blotting-paper, and rushed to the aid of his +superior officer, striving to mop up the ink; and a sight also to +see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out through the blotting-paper +at that senior clerk's unoffending stomach. At that moment there +came in the Colonel's private secretary, with the letter and the +money, and I was desired to go back to my own room. This was an +incident not much in my favour, though I do not know that it did +me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had +taken it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very +foolish young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. +I need not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise +than by protesting that no young man in such a position was ever +much less to blame than I had been in this. The invitation had +come from her, and I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided +negative; but I had left the house within half an hour, going away +without my dinner, and had never returned to it. Then there was a +correspondence,--if that can be called a correspondence in which +all the letters came from one side. At last the mother appeared at +the Post Office. My hair almost stands on my head now as I remember +the figure of the woman walking into the big room in which I sat +with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket on her arm and +an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured +to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man +in, and walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud +voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?" +We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I +lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These +little incidents were all against me in the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely +at this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state +of things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I +think, L12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. +With that man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, +I formed a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. +In cash I once received from him L4. For that and for the original +amount of the tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated +renewals, I paid ultimately something over L200. That is so common +a story as to be hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of +this man was that he became so attached to me as to visit me every +day at my office. For a long period he found it to be worth his +while to walk up those stone steps daily, and come and stand behind +my chair, whispering to me always the same words: "Now I wish you +would be punctual. If you only would be punctual, I should like +you to have anything you want." He was a little, clean, old man, +who always wore a high starched white cravat inside of which he +had a habit of twisting his chin as he uttered his caution. When I +remember the constant persistency of his visits, I cannot but feel +that he was paid very badly for his time and trouble. Those visits +were very terrible, and can have hardly been of service to me in +the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of +the Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion +when I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty +years old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven +in the evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think +Saxony, but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night +mails sent out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, +this was a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see +it. But preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit +of the office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion +we were taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore +gave the orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, +walking backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great +peril as I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite +satisfied with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most +important duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, +no doubt, were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They +had come and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure +in two glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two +barons consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result +of that conversation one of them handed me a half-a-crown! That +also was a bad moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon L90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was L140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I +asked her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But +who in such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of +it? The debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now +how I could have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such +a burden of duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny +documents, of which I never understood anything, were common +attendants on me. And yet I do not remember that I was ever locked +up, though I think I was twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some +one paid for me. And now, looking back at it, I have to ask myself +whether my youth was very wicked. I did no good in it; but was there +fair ground for expecting good from me? When I reached London no +mode of life was prepared for me,--no advice even given to me. I +went into lodgings, and then had to dispose of my time. I belonged +to no club, and knew very few friends who would receive me into +their houses. In such a condition of life a young man should no +doubt go home after his work, and spend the long hours of the evening +in reading good books and drinking tea. A lad brought up by strict +parents, and without having had even a view of gayer things, might +perhaps do so. I had passed all my life at public schools, where I +had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed them. Towards the good +books and tea no training had been given me. There was no house in +which I could habitually see a lady's face and hear a lady's voice. +No allurement to decent respectability came in my way. It seems to +me that in such circumstances the temptations of loose life will +almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course if the mind be +strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together of sufficiently +stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But such minds +and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation at any +rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being turned +loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, of +all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is sent +to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept from +danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood to anticipate +pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding circumstances. +I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had been among +those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And I had +filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. + +And now, except during official hours, I was entirely without +control,--without the influences of any decent household around me. +I have said something of the comedy of such life, but it certainly +had its tragic aspect. Turning it all over in my own mind, as I +have constantly done in after years, the tragedy has always been +uppermost. And so it was as the time was passing. Could there be +any escape from such dirt? I would ask myself; and I always answered +that there was no escape. The mode of life was itself wretched. I +hated the office. I hated my work. More than all I hated my idleness. +I had often told myself since I left school that the only career in +life within my reach was that of an author, and the only mode of +authorship open to me that of a writer of novels. In the journal which +I read and destroyed a few years since, I found the matter argued +out before I had been in the Post Office two years. Parliament was +out of the question. I had not means to go to the Bar. In Official +life, such as that to which I had been introduced, there did not +seem to be any opening for real success. Pens and paper I could +command. Poetry I did not believe to be within my grasp. The drama, +too, which I would fain have chosen, I believed to be above me. For +history, biography, or essay writing I had not sufficient erudition. +But I thought it possible that I might write a novel. I had resolved +very early that in that shape must the attempt be made. But the +months and years ran on, and no attempt was made. And yet no day was +passed without thoughts of attempting, and a mental acknowledgment +of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader will not understand +the agony of remorse produced by such a condition of mind? +The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in the +morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when the +evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's Lives of the Poets, because +he spoke sneeringly of Lycidas. That was Northumberland Street by +the Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment +my room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must +have almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my +constant inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast +to pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I +had no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham +Road I had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post +Office, and almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings +of money, sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew +of my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this +week. I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those +days I lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he +had a home in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury +which I endured. For more than fifty years he and I have been close +friends. And then there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in +life will not permit me to give his full name, but whom I dearly +loved. He had been at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places +had fallen into trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps +I had better say usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was +unfortunate in all things, and died some years ago in poverty. He +was most perverse; bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable +to restrain himself in anything, but yet with a conscience that +was always stinging him; a loving friend, though very quarrelsome; +and, perhaps, of all men I have known, the most humorous. And he +was entirely unconscious of his own humour. He did not know that +he could so handle all matters as to create infinite amusement out +of them. Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point +at which life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience to +which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to London. +Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but Buckinghamshire +and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were the happiest +hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least innocent, although +we were frequently in peril from the village authorities whom we +outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to spend above five +shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected ruler of the +hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our statutes. +I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- enacted +an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got ourselves +a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached the +lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by +a pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled +through the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! +But the fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun +as told by me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for +many years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married +my sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was +stationed as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more +than forty years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House +of Lords, who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who +assisted us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized +by the Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and +dearest friends of my life, and I can thank God that three of them +are still alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of +the Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always +fearing that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of +escape. There had latterly been created in the service a new body +of officers called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time +seven surveyors in England, two in Scotland and three in Ireland. +To each of these officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose +duty it was to travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. +There had been much doubt among the young men in the office whether +they should or should not apply for these places. The emoluments +were good and the work alluring; but there was at first supposed +to be something derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that +the first surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his +beer, and that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen +to the wash. There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be +worse than the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks +were all appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for +anything, nor would anything have been given me. But after a while +there came a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent +there was absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that +none but a man absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the +west of Ireland. When the report reached the London office I was +the first to read it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having +debts on my head and quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a +full conviction that my life was taking me downwards to the lowest +pits. So I went to the Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland +if he would send me. He was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. +This happened in August, 1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My +salary in Ireland was to be but L100 a year; but I was to receive +fifteen shillings a day for every day that I was away from home, +and sixpence for every mile that I travelled. The same allowances +were made in England; but at that time travelling in Ireland was +done at half the English prices. My income in Ireland, after paying +my expenses, became at once L400. This was the first good fortune +of my life. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS + +1841-1848 + + + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but, in truth, I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature +of whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel +certain now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few +friends who had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were +half afraid of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to +be loved,--of a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No +child, no boy, no lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I +had been so poor, and so little able to bear poverty. But from the +day on which I set my foot in Ireland all these evils went away +from me. Since that time who has had a happier life than mine? +Looking round upon all those I know, I cannot put my hand upon +one. But all is not over yet. And, mindful of that, remembering +how great is the agony of adversity, how crushing the despondency +of degradation, how susceptible I am myself to the misery coming +from contempt,--remembering also how quickly good things may go +and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to hope, almost to +pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy +to happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think +it must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life +in London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were +at this time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know +my intention in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted +no one, except a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I +borrowed L200 to help me out of England. He lent me the money, and +looked upon me with pitying eyes--shaking his head. "After all, +you were right to go," he said to me when I paid him the money a +few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk to +an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of L100 a year, at +twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even myself,--except +that anything was right which would take me away from the General +Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were +also my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, +seated at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into +books those which others had written. I had never been called upon +to do anything I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that +in Ireland I was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, +and that among other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' +accounts! But as no other person asked a question as to my fitness +for this work, it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. +I went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered +some whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the +punch was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a +country in which there was not a single individual whom I had ever +spoken to or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into +Connaught and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never +learned the multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must, in all probability, +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I +had acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of +which I told in the Tales of All Countries, under the names of The +O'Conors of Castle Conor, and Father Giles of Ballymoy. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of +each is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were +this the place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had +been sent kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. +I do not think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never +rode to hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of +the great joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the +sport, having learned to love it with an affection which I cannot +myself fathom or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I +have done, or hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and +natural disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in +reference to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have +often had to travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that +I might hunt the next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good +horseman. And I have passed the greater part of my hunting life +under the discipline of the Civil Service. But it has been for +more than thirty years a duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have +performed that duty with a persistent energy. Nothing has ever +been allowed to stand in the way of hunting,--neither the writing +of books, nor the work of the Post Office, nor other pleasures. +As regarded the Post Office, it soon seemed to be understood that +I was to hunt; and when my services were re-transferred to England, +no word of difficulty ever reached me about it. I have written on +very many subjects, and on most of them with pleasure, but on no +subject with such delight as that on hunting. I have dragged it +into many novels,--into too many, no doubt,--but I have always felt +myself deprived of a legitimate joy when the nature of the tale has +not allowed me a hunting chapter. Perhaps that which gave me the +greatest delight was the description of a run on a horse accidentally +taken from another sportsman--a circumstance which occurred to my +dear friend Charles Buxton, who will be remembered as one of the +members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I +was always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my +past life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even +break my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the +working classes very much more intelligent than those of +England--economical, and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift +nature; but extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He +will count the shillings in a pound much more accurately than an +Englishman, and will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth +from each. But they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound +by the love of truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally +leaving the country until 1859, and I had the means of studying +their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon +his capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. +They adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor +has nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt +with were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. +I went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach +me the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course, he was dismissed; but he had +been a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty +in the matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and +is to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant +and to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole, as confidence is engendered, and a feeling +is produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own +and does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and +to me always easy, as it required at its close no more than the +writing of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no +keeping of books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. +I must tell of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result +I think it was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in +that scorn which is easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and I +drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle of a +snowstorm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open jaunting +car, and was on my way from one little town to another, the cause +of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance between +the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then +he assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as +that, and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy +and water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. +I shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought +up the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I +such a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my +wine, and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept +in his armchair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was +too sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It +was absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning +after breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed +then. He shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable +disgust,--almost in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" +I asked. "Anything you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you +want an excuse for yourself. Here I sit all the day--with nothing +to do; and I like writing letters." I did report that Mr. ---- was +now quite satisfied with the postal arrangement of his district; +and I felt a soft regret that I should have robbed my friend of his +occupation. Perhaps he was able to take up the Poor Law Board, or +to attack the Excise. At the Post Office nothing more was heard +from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been +paid off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When +I had been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the +11th of June, 1844;--and, perhaps, I ought to name that happy day +as the commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which +I first landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from +my mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of +novels. When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor +had I done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being +then twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first +work. This constant putting off of the day of work was a great +sorrow to me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had +learned my work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe +in my hands; and I held a position altogether the reverse of that +in which I was always trembling while I remained in London. But +that did not suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that +there might be a career before me, if I could only bring myself to +begin the work. I do not think I much doubted my own intellectual +sufficiency for the writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt +was my own industry, and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time +is not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found +the vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I +had not as yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a +young man; but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power +to alter the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties +of publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who +could fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before +the public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, +how little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! +I had already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort +was made after the following fashion. I was located at a little +town called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, +where the postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and +my friend John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As +we were taking a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned +up through a deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, +till we came to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of +the most melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it +here, because I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. +We wandered about the place, suggesting to each other causes for +the misery we saw there, and, while I was still among the ruined +walls and decayed beams, I fabricated the plot of The Macdermots +of Ballycloran. As to the plot itself, I do not know that I ever +made one so good,--or, at any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. +I am aware that I broke down in the telling, not having yet studied +the art. Nevertheless, The Macdermots is a good novel, and worth +reading by any one who wishes to understand what Irish life was +before the potato disease, the famine, and the Encumbered Estates +Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter +or two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was +only now and then that I found either time or energy for a few +pages. I commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written +a volume when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no +special interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place +at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a +bank. We were not very rich, having about L400 a year on which to +live. + +Many people would say that we were two fools to encounter such +poverty together. I can only reply that since that day I have never +been without money in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means +of paying what I owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to +pass over our heads before I received any payment for any literary +work which afforded an appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an +Irish circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he +should marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is +expected of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. +I had given offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, +that I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people +have spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages +are now nearly double what they were then. The Post Office, at any +rate, is paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week +when it used to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. +Banks have sprung up in almost every village. Rents are paid with +more than English punctuality. And the religious enmity between +the classes, though it is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I +reached Banagher in 1841, I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. +I was informed next day by a Protestant gentleman who had been +very hospitable to me that I must choose my party. I could not sit +both at Protestant and Catholic tables. Such a caution would now +be impossible in any part of Ireland. Home-rule, no doubt, is a +nuisance,--and especially a nuisance because the professors of the +doctrine do not at all believe it themselves. There are probably +no other twenty men in England or Ireland who would be so utterly +dumfounded and prostrated were Home-rule to have its way as the +twenty Irish members who profess to support it in the House of +Commons. But it is not to be expected that nuisances such as these +should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule is, at any rate, better +and more easily managed than the rebellion at the close of the +last century; it is better than the treachery of the Union; less +troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less dangerous than +Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at Ballingary, +and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent from O'Connell +to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a political disease, +which we had no right to hope would be cured by any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In +July, 1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of +my writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I am sure +I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I ever read a +word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one exception,--which +shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never consulted a friend +as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I have been doing. +My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing with her that +it would be as well that she should not look at it before she gave +it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me credit for the +sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could see in the +faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who were around +me at the house in Cumberland,--my mother, my sister, my brother-in-law, +and, I think, my brother,--that they had not expected me to come +out as one of the family authors. There were three or four in the +field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd that another +should wish to add himself to the number. My father had written +much,--those long ecclesiastical descriptions,--quite unsuccessfully. +My mother had become one of the popular authors of the day. My +brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for his work. +My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was at the +time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her name, +and was called Chollerton. I could perceive that this attempt of +mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother, however, did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby, of Mortimer Street, was to publish the book. It +was to be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the +profits. Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such +an undertaking. I can, with truth, declare that I expected nothing. +And I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. +I was sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. +I never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was +any notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. +I never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on +the subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, +in duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I +did not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong +me in that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell +fifty copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no +account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I +am quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I +may say that after the publication I never said a word about the +book, even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published +it, and that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere +with my life, or with my determination to make the best I could of +the Post Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had +written a novel. But I went on writing. The Macdermots was published +in 1847, and The Kellys and the O'Kellys followed in 1848. I +changed my publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second +Irish story was sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had +long been my mother's publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough +Street, and I believe created the business which is now carried on +by Messrs. Hurst & Blackett. He had previously been in partnership +with Mr. Bentley in New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement +as before as to half profits, and with precisely the same results. +The book was not only not read, but was never heard of,--at any +rate, in Ireland. And yet it is a good Irish story, much inferior +to The Macdermots as to plot, but superior in the mode of telling. +Again I held my tongue, and not only said nothing but felt nothing. +Any success would, I think, have carried me off my legs, but I was +altogether prepared for failure. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the +writing of these books, I did not imagine, when the time came for +publishing them, that any one would condescend to read them. + +But in reference to The O'Kellys there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend +of mine to whom the book had been sent,--as have all my books,--wrote +me word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man +high in authority among the gods of the Times newspaper, and that +this special god had almost promised that The O'Kellys should be +noticed in that most influential of "organs." The information moved +me very much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it +ever appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate, more +honest, if it had been produced by other means;--if, for instance, +the writer of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits +of the book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made +up my mind then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, +I would have no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would +neither ask for nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a +critic for praise, or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for +censure. To this rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and +this rule I would recommend to all young authors. What can be got +by touting among the critics is never worth the ignominy. The same +may, of course, be said of all things acquired by ignominious means. +But in this matter it is so easy to fall into the dirt. Facilis +descensus Averni. There seems to be but little fault in suggesting +to a friend that a few words in this or that journal would be of +service. But any praise so obtained must be an injustice to the +public, for whose instruction, and not for the sustentation of the +author, such notices are intended. And from such mild suggestion +the descent to crawling at the critic's feet, to the sending of +presents, and at last to a mutual understanding between critics +and criticised, is only too easy. Other evils follow, for the +denouncing of which this is hardly the place;--though I trust I +may find such place before my work is finished. I took no notice +of my friend's letter, but I was not the less careful in watching +The Times. At last the review came,--a real review in The Times. I +learned it by heart, and can now give, if not the words, the exact +purport. "Of The Kellys and the O'Kellys we may say what the master +said to his footman, when the man complained of the constant supply +of legs of mutton on the kitchen table. Well, John, legs of mutton +are good, substantial food;' and we may say also what John replied: +'Substantial, sir,--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" +That was the review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, +I presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and +that he had incurred a loss of L63 19S. 1 1/2d. The truth of the +account I never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom +of the advice given to me in the following letter, though I never +thought of obeying it-- + + "GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, + November 11, 1848. + +"MY DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to say that absence from town and other +circumstances have prevented me from earlier inquiring into the +results of the sale of The Kellys and the O'Kellys, with which the +greatest efforts have been used, but in vain. The sale has been, +I regret to say, so small that the loss upon the publication is +very considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although in +consequence of the great number of novels that are published, the +sale of each, with some few exceptions, must be small, yet it is +evident that readers do not like novels on Irish subjects as well +as on others. Thus, you will perceive, it is impossible for me to +give any encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + +"As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the novel La Vendee, +perhaps you will favour me with a sight of it when convenient.--I +remain, etc., etc., + + "H. COLBURN." + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling +a plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the +greatest efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which +might be made for the popularity of a book ought to have come from +the author;--but I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that +he could not encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would +have bet twenty to one against my own success. But by continuing +I could lose only pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty +did turn up in my favour, then how much might I win! + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY FIRST SUCCESS + +1849-1855 + + + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly +completed it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the +former. I find, however, that the agreement for its publication was +not made till 1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must +have forgotten the disastrous result of The O'Kellys, as he thereby +agrees to give me L20 down for my "new historical novel, to be +called La Vendee." He agreed also to pay me L30 more when he had +sold 350 copies, and L50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I +got my L20, and then heard no more of La Vendee, not even receiving +any account. Perhaps the historical title had appeared more alluring +to him than an Irish subject; though it was not long afterwards that +I received a warning from the very same house of business against +historical novels,--as I will tell at length when the proper time +comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. +The story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendee country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits +of my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read +the book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception +as to the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters +are distinct, and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, +this morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on +the book. + +I had, however, received L20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness +to authors in the same men,--but by nothing so much as by the ease +with which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small +sums of money. If you will only make the payment future instead of +present, you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your +client's favour. "You might as well promise her L20. This day six +months will do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the +money will never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to +rid himself of your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing La Vendee I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland +the desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of +the pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that +time to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which +the misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their +worst. The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts,--I may say, the successful efforts,--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal the +Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian +corn. The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by +many. The people themselves wished, of course, to be fed without +working; and the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, +were disposed to think that the management of affairs was taken +too much out of their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with +the matter, and, thinking that the Government was right, I was +inclined to defend them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. +(Lord Sydney Godolphin Osborne) was at that time denouncing the +Irish scheme of the Administration in the Times, using very strong +language,--as those who remember his style will know. I fancied +then,--as I still think,--that I understood the country much better +than he did; and I was anxious to show that the steps taken for +mitigating the terrible evil of the times were the best which the +Minister of the day could have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, +and, full of my purpose, I presented myself to Mr. John Forster,--who +has since been an intimate and valued friend,--but who was at that +time the editor of the Examiner. I think that that portion of the +literary world which understands the fabrication of newspapers +will admit that neither before his time, nor since, has there been +a more capable editor of a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he +was not without his faults. That which the cabman is reported to +have said of him before the magistrate is quite true. He was always +"an arbitrary cove." As a critic, he belonged to the school of +Bentley and Gifford,--who would always bray in a literary mortar +all critics who disagreed from them, as though such disagreement +were a personal offence requiring personal castigation. But that +very eagerness made him a good editor. Into whatever he did he put +his very heart and soul. During his time the Examiner was almost +all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. So to John Forster I +went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's Inn Fields in which, +some three or four years earlier, Dickens had given that reading of +which there is an illustration with portraits in the second volume +of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man +could get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself +as in part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some +degree by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that +any one would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any +claim. I stated my name and official position, and the fact that +opportunities had been given me of seeing the poorhouses in Ireland, +and of making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the +time. Would a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the +Examiner? The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased +to say that if the letters should recommend themselves by their +style and matter, if they were not too long, and if,--every reader +will know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself,--if +this and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland +did not declare that the Government had at last been adequately +defended, nor did the treasurer of the Examiner send me a cheque +in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. +A man who writes a single letter to a newspaper, of course, is not +paid for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal +to himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and +have been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On +this occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not +much disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could +not refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I +said. But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its predecessors, +the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, after all, +that was my proper line. I had never thought of questioning the +justice of the verdict expressed against me. The idea that I was +the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never troubled me. I +did not look at the books after they were published, feeling sure +that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. But still +I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. Then and +therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a play. +I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called The Noble Jilt. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called Can You Forgive Her? I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, +and re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then +sent it to my very old friend, George Bartley, the actor, who had +when I was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, +and who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give +me the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter +which I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. +"When I commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. +I did not think it opened dramatically, but that might have been +remedied." I knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend +warmed to the subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, +till my ears tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the +character of your heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, +but you have done it for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." +Madame Brudo was the heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never +play the jilt again; 'tis a most unbecoming character. Play it +with what skill you will, it meets but little sympathy.' And this, +be assured, would be its effect upon an audience. So that I must +reluctantly add that, had I been still a manager, The Noble Jilt +is not a play I could have recommended for production." This was a +blow that I did feel. The neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact +which grows upon an author by degrees. There is no special moment +of agony,--no stunning violence of condemnation. But a piece of +criticism such as this, from a friend, and from a man undoubtedly +capable of forming an opinion, was a blow in the face! But I +accepted the judgment loyally, and said not a word on the subject +to any one. I merely showed the letter to my wife, declaring my +conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. And as critical gospel +it has since been accepted. In later days I have more than once +read the play, and I know that he was right. The dialogue, however, +I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of the scenes be not +the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, +and for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced +to Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for +Ireland. I explained to him that I knew the country better than +most other people, perhaps better than any other person, and could +do it well. He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send +him a certain number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer +within a fortnight after he should have received my work. I came +back to Ireland, and for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" +the city of Dublin, and the county of Kerry, in which lies the +lake scenery of Killarney, and I "did" the route from Dublin to +Killarney, altogether completing nearly a quarter of the proposed +volume. The roll of MS. was sent to Albemarle Street,--but was never +opened. At the expiration of nine months from the date on which it +reached that time-honoured spot it was returned without a word, in +answer to a very angry letter from myself. I insisted on having +back my property,--and got it. I need hardly say that my property +has never been of the slightest use to me. In all honesty I think +that had he been less dilatory, John Murray would have got a very +good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery +of letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had +been done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier +would be sent in one direction in which there were but few letters +to be delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at +the request of some influential person, while in another direction +there was no letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted +himself. It was intended to set this right throughout England, +Ireland, and Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish +district to which I was attached. I was then invited to do the same +in a portion of England, and I spent two of the happiest years of +my life at the task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think +I may say, every nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, +the greater part of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of +Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, +Monmouthshire, and the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I +had an opportunity of seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, +with a minuteness which few have enjoyed. And I did my business +after a fashion in which no other official man has worked at +least for many years. I went almost everywhere on horseback. I had +two hunters of my own, and here and there, where I could, I hired +a third horse. I had an Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has +now been in my service for thirty-five years; and in this manner I +saw almost every house--I think I may say every house of importance--in +this large district. The object was to create a postal network +which should catch all recipients of letters. In France it was, and +I suppose still is, the practice to deliver every letter. Wherever +the man may live to whom a letter is addressed, it is the duty of +some letter-carrier to take that letter to his house, sooner or +later. But this, of course, must be done slowly. With us a delivery +much delayed was thought to be worse than none at all. In some places +we did establish posts three times a week, and perhaps occasionally +twice a week; but such halting arrangements were considered to +be objectionable, and we were bound down by a salutary law as to +expense, which came from our masters at the Treasury. We were not +allowed to establish any messenger's walk on which a sufficient +number of letters would not be delivered to pay the man's wages, +counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the counting was in our +own hands, and an enterprising official might be sanguine in his +figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare false accounts; +but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who absolutely had the +country to do became aware that I was anxious for good results. +It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a man. During +those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover the country +with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any case a +rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; but I +fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, or +because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short +cuts; and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would +have to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to +them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a +day. I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it +was necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for +my equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have +often surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen +or heard of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the +morning, with a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating +him as to the disposal of every letter which came into his office. +And in the same guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, +or other lone residences about the country, and ask the people how +they got their letters, at what hour, and especially whether they +were delivered free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept +into use, which came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin +for which there was no pardon, in accordance with which these rural +letter-carriers used to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the +house was out of their beat, and that they must be paid for their +extra work. I think that I did stamp out that evil. In all these +visits I was, in truth, a beneficent angel to the public, bringing +everywhere with me an earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery +of letters. But not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission +was imperfectly understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to +get on, and did not allow as much time as was necessary to explain +to the wondering mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, +why it was that a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions +which might be considered impertinent, as applying to his or her +private affairs. "Good-morning, sir. I have just called to ask a +few questions. I am a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get +your letters? As I am a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain +at once." Then I would take out my pencil and notebook, and wait +for information. And in fact there was no other way in which the +truth could be ascertained. Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's +storm upon them, the very people who were robbed by our messengers +would not confess the robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It +was necessary to startle them into the revelations which I required +them to make for their own good. And I did startle them. I became +thoroughly used to it, and soon lost my native bashfulness;--but +sometimes my visits astonished the retiring inhabitants of country +houses. I did, however, do my work, and can look back upon what I +did with thorough satisfaction. I was altogether in earnest; and +I believe that many a farmer now has his letters brought daily to +his house free of charge, who but for me would still have had to +send to the post-town for them twice a week, or to have paid a man +for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting +to make another effort, and often turning over in my head some +fragment of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not +come in which I could sit down with my pen and paper and begin +another novel. For, after all, what could it be but a novel? The +play had failed more absolutely than the novels, for the novels +had attained the honour of print. The cause of this pressure of +official work lay, not in the demands of the General Post Office, +which more than once expressed itself as astonished by my celerity, +but in the necessity which was incumbent on me to travel miles +enough to pay for my horses, and upon the amount of correspondence, +returns, figures, and reports which such an amount of daily travelling +brought with it. I may boast that the work was done very quickly +and very thoroughly,--with no fault but an over-eagerness to extend +postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one mid-summer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of The Warden,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one +at their commencement could have had less reason than myself to +presume himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been +often asked in what period of my early life I had lived so long +in a cathedral city as to have become intimate with the ways of a +Close. I never lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never +knew anything of any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar +intimacy with any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be +life-like, and for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond +affection, was, I think, the simple result of an effort of my moral +consciousness. It was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon +should be,--or, at any rate, would be with such advantages as +an archdeacon might have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who +has been declared by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon +down to the very ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had +not then even spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment +to be very great. The archdeacon came whole from my brain after +this fashion;--but in writing about clergymen generally, I had to +pick up as I went whatever I might know or pretend to know about +them. But my first idea had no reference to clergymen in general. +I had been struck by two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to +be evils,--and with an absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I +thought that I might be able to expose them, or rather to describe +them, both in one and the same tale. The first evil was the +possession by the Church of certain funds and endowments which had +been intended for charitable purposes, but which had been allowed +to become incomes for idle Church dignitaries. There had been more +than one such case brought to public notice at the time, in which +there seemed to have been an egregious malversation of charitable +purposes. The second evil was its very opposite. Though I had been +much struck by the injustice above described, I had also often +been angered by the undeserved severity of the newspapers towards +the recipients of such incomes, who could hardly be considered +to be the chief sinners in the matter. When a man is appointed to +a place, it is natural that he should accept the income allotted +to that place without much inquiry. It is seldom that he will be +the first to find out that his services are overpaid. Though he be +called upon only to look beautiful and to be dignified upon State +occasions, he will think L2000 a year little enough for such beauty +and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt that there had been +some tearing to pieces which might have been spared. But I was +altogether wrong in supposing that the two things could be combined. +Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after the fashion of +an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. He should take up +one side and cling to that, and then he may be powerful. There should +be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples make a man impotent for +such work. It was open to me to have described a bloated parson, +with a red nose and all other iniquities, openly neglecting every +duty required from him, and living riotously on funds purloined +from the poor,--defying as he did do so the moderate remonstrances +of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a man as good, as sweet, +and as mild as my warden, who should also have been a hard-working, +ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have subjected him to the +rancorous venom of some daily Jupiter, who, without a leg to stand +on, without any true case, might have been induced, by personal +spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with poisonous, anonymous, +and ferocious leading articles. But neither of these programmes +recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though it may exaggerate +the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating it in order that +it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become a slander, and +satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither of the red-nosed +clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous assassin of the +journals. I did believe that through want of care and the natural +tendency of every class to take care of itself, money had slipped +into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have gone +elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which +was cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects +should not have been combined--and I now know myself well enough +to be aware that I was not the man to have carried out either of +them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began The Warden, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion +I did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +L450 to about L800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work +to which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other +parts of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly +finished the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have +liked to ride over the whole country, and to have sent a rural +post letter-carrier to every parish, every village, every hamlet, +and every grange in England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town +in the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the +centre of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But +our house there had been given up when it was known that I should +be detained in England; and then we had wandered about in the western +counties, moving our headquarters from one town to another. During +this time we had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, +at Cheltenham, and at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled +ourselves for eighteen months at Belfast. After that we took a +house at Donnybrook, the well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters +and their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my +book at once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, +and it was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was +only one small volume, and in later days would have been completed +in six weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had +pressed. On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published +till 1855. I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, +with William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an +assurance that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked +at," and Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half +profits. I had no reason to love "half profits," but I was very +anxious to have my book published, and I acceded. It was now more +than ten years since I had commenced writing The Macdermots, and +I thought that if any success was to be achieved, the time surely +had come. I had not been impatient; but, if there was to be a time, +surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about The Warden; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, +and after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. +At the end of 1855 I received a cheque for L9 8s. 8d., which was +the first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that L20 which +poor Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been +earned at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of L10 +15s. 1d. The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded +remuneration for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. +A thousand copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or +six years, about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold +as belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form The Warden +never reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in +the purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its +own,--a merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see +wherein lay whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the +bishop, of the archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially +of the warden, are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to +myself a series of portraits, and had been able so to put them on +the canvas that my readers should see that which I meant them to +see. There is no gift which an author can have more useful to him +than this. And the style of the English was good, though from most +unpardonable carelessness the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. +With such results I had no doubt but that I would at once begin +another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the Times newspaper as to The Warden. +In an article-if I remember rightly--on The Warden and Barchester +Towers combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the Times are actuated by higher +motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel are spoken +of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. But there was +added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid condition of the +author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in personalities,--the +personalities in question having reference to some editor or manager +of the Times newspaper. For I had introduced one Tom Towers as being +potent among the contributors to the Jupiter, under which name I +certainly did allude to the Times. But at that time, living away in +Ireland, I had not even heard the name of any gentleman connected +with the Times newspaper, and could not have intended to represent +any individual by Tom Towers. As I had created an archdeacon, so had +I created a journalist, and the one creation was no more personal +or indicative of morbid tendencies than the other. If Tom Towers +was at all like any gentleman connected with the Times, my moral +consciousness must again have been very powerful. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"BARCHESTER TOWERS" AND THE "THREE CLERKS" + +1855-1858 + + + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the +rural posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. +I had read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of +Charles Menvale's History of the Romans under the Empire, and had +got into some correspondence with the author's brother as to the +author's views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to +investigate the character of probably the greatest man who ever +lived, which tendency in after years produced a little book of +which I shall have to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste +generally for Latin literature, which has been one of the chief +delights of my later life. And I may say that I became at this time +as anxious about Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as +to his character, as we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these +latter days. I lived in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly +whether he crossed the Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In +order that I might review Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that +I was dealing unwarrantably with a subject beyond me, I studied the +Commentaries thoroughly, and went through a mass of other reading +which the object of a magazine article hardly justified,--but which +has thoroughly justified itself in the subsequent pursuits of my +life. I did write two articles, the first mainly on Julius Caesar, +and the second on Augustus, which appeared in the Dublin University +Magazine. They were the result of very much labour, but there came +from them no pecuniary product. I had been very modest when I sent +them to the editor, as I had been when I called on John Forster, +not venturing to suggest the subject of money. After a while I did +call upon the proprietor of the magazine in Dublin, and was told +by him that such articles were generally written to oblige friends, +and that articles written to oblige friends were not usually paid +for. The Dean of Ely, as the author of the work in question now +is, was my friend; but I think I was wronged, as I certainly had +no intention of obliging him by my criticism. Afterwards, when I +returned to Ireland, I wrote other articles for the same magazine, +one of which, intended to be very savage in its denunciation, was +on an official blue-book just then brought out, preparatory to the +introduction of competitive examinations for the Civil Service. For +that and some other article, I now forget what, I was paid. Up to +the end of 1857 I had received L55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on Barchester Towers that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not +any longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very +many hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though +Carlyle has since told me that a man when travelling should not +read, but "sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended +to make a profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same +time, to do my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours +to more account than I could do even by reading. I made for myself +therefore a little tablet, and found after a few days' exercise +that I could write as quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at +my desk. I worked with a pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied +afterwards. In this way was composed the greater part of Barchester +Towers and of the novel which succeeded it, and much also of others +subsequent to them. My only objection to the practice came from +the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself to +be subject when going to work before four or five fellow-passengers. +But I got used to it, as I had done to the amazement of the west +country farmers' wives when asking them after their letters. + +In the writing of Barchester Towers I took great delight. The bishop +and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the troubles +of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was done, +Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his reader; +and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and voluminous +criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was accompanied +by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, with a +payment of L100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on condition +that I would comply with the suggestions made by his critic. One +of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel down to +two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, rejecting +one and accepting another, almost alternately, but declaring at +last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a third of +my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could have been +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book +on the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn +from a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have +been attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the +attempt. Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's +terms; and the book was published, certainly none the worse, and +I do not think much the better, for the care that had been taken +with it. + +The work succeeded just as The Warden had succeeded. It achieved +no great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel +readers were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon +myself more than I have a right to do in saying now that Barchester +Towers has become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, +which live and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if +that be so, its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of +some of its younger brothers. Barchester Towers would hardly be +so well known as it is had there been no Framley Parsonage and no +Last Chronicle of Barset. + +I received my L100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, +as may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author +forget the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make +a money return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will +be much offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory +and my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice +of a so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in +my eyes, would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like +clergymen who preach sermons against the love of money, but who +know that the love of money is so distinctive a characteristic +of humanity that such sermons are mere platitudes called for by +customary but unintelligent piety. All material progress has come +from man's desire to do the best he can for himself and those +about him, and civilisation and Christianity itself have been made +possible by such progress. Though we do not all of us argue this +matter out within our breasts, we do all feel it; and we know that +the more a man earns the more useful he is to his fellow-men. The +most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been those who have made the +greatest incomes,--and it is the same with the doctors. It would +be the same in the Church if they who have the choosing of bishops +always chose the best man. And it has in truth been so too in art +and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard their pecuniary +rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always for money, +giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as an actor. +In our own century what literary names stand higher than those of +Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? And I think +I may say that none of those great men neglected the pecuniary result +of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among us who in any +calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious teaching, +in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm utterly +disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man +is a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few +in doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable +to his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent +to his children, and to be himself free from the casking fear which +poverty creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet +authors are told that they should disregard payment for their work, +and be content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of +the public. Brains that are unbought will never serve the public +much. Take away from English authors their copyrights, and you +would very soon take away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what +to me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in +which professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen +what prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature +with industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair +average talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man +does in another profession. The result with me has been comfortable +but not splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the +combination of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be +no more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and +I think beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last +infirmity of noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who +lacks it is either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. +But I confess that my first object in taking to literature as a +profession was that which is common to the barrister when he goes +to the Bar, and to the baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to +make an income on which I and those belonging to me might live in +comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures +badly, because he can make his money faster in that fashion than +by doing them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the +best he can do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he +is dishonest, as is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the +barrister who takes money that he does not earn, or the clergyman +who is content to live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the +author may have a difficulty which will not occur to the seller of +cloth, in settling within himself what is good work and what is +bad,--when labour enough has been given, and when the task has been +scamped. It is a danger as to which he is bound to be severe with +himself--in which he should feel that his conscience should be set +fairly in the balance against the natural bias of his interest. If +he do not do so, sooner or later his dishonesty will be discovered, +and will be estimated accordingly. But in this he is to be governed +only by the plain rules of honesty which should govern us all. +Having said so much, I shall not scruple as I go on to attribute +to the pecuniary result of my labours all the importance which I +felt them to have at the time. + +Barchester Towers, for which I had received L100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from +the publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am +writing, that book and The Warden together have given me almost +every year some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, +and I find that I have received L727 11S. 3d. for the two. It is +more than I got for the three or four works that came afterwards, +but the payments have been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, The Three Clerks, +in my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum +down was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to +buy it from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, +and I argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into +a position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than +I gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. +"It is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your +title-page are not worth more to you than the increased payment." +This seemed to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the +contempt of money which I have never admired. I did think much +of Messrs. Longman's name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a +cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by +a remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply +that they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a +fertile writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- +(naming the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) +three novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard +to a man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I +did not know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that +I had better go elsewhere. + +I had then written The Three Clerks, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. +Hurst & Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had +made an appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that +gentleman was unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, +and had but one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. +I sat for an hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return +of the peccant publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about +to depart with my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the +house came to me. He seemed to think it a pity that I should go, +and wished me to leave my work with him. This, however, I would not +do, unless he would undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he +lacked authority. Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. +But while we debated the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope +it's not historical, Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, +don't be historical; your historical novel is not worth a damn." +Thence I took The Three Clerks to Mr. Bentley; and on the same +afternoon succeeded in selling it to him for L250. His son still +possesses it, and the firm has, I believe, done very well with the +purchase. It was certainly the best novel I had as yet written. +The plot is not so good as that of the Macdermots; nor are there +any characters in the book equal to those of Mrs. Proudie and the +Warden; but the work has a more continued interest, and contains +the first well-described love-scene that I ever wrote. The passage +in which Kate Woodward, thinking that she will die, tries to take +leave of the lad she loves, still brings tears to my eyes when I +read it. I had not the heart to kill her. I never could do that. +And I do not doubt but that they are living happily together to +this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, +and I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this +novel now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I +introduced a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by +which I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme +of competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles +Trevelyan was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended +for Sir Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who +had taken an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him +Sir Gregory," Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came +to know her and her husband. I never learned to love competitive +examination; but I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. +Sir Stafford Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, +was then leagued with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears +in The Three Clerks under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick +West End. + +But for all that The Three Clerks was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, +paying a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in +1857, and she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in +which she had not written, and she expressed to me her delight that +her labours should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning +in the same field. In truth they had already been continued for +a dozen years, but a man's career will generally be held to date +itself from the commencement of his success. On those foreign +tours I always encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon +them now, tempt me almost to write a little book of my long past +Continental travels. On this occasion, as we made our way slowly +through Switzerland and over the Alps, we encountered again and +again a poor forlorn Englishman, who had no friend and no aptitude +for travelling. He was always losing his way, and finding himself +with no seat in the coaches and no bed at the inns. On one occasion +I found him at Coire seated at 5 A. M. in the coupe of a diligence +which was intended to start at noon for the Engadine, while it was +his purpose to go over the Alps in another which was to leave at +5.30, and which was already crowded with passengers. "Ah!" he said, +"I am in time now, and nobody shall turn me out of this seat," +alluding to former little misfortunes of which I had been a witness. +When I explained to him his position, he was as one to whom life +was too bitter to be borne. But he made his way into Italy, and +encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in Florence. "Can you +tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, having touched my +shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't like to ask them. +Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent him to the Uffizzi, +but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, +and on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. +Thence we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. +The misery is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of +another case in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to +get out of the conveyance into the middle of the street because the +horse could not be made to go any further. Such was our condition. +I induced the driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was +nearest to him, and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the +porter to get the master to come down to me; and, though my French +is ordinarily very defective, I spoke with such eloquence to +that German innkeeper that he, throwing his arms round my neck in +a transport of compassion, swore that he would never leave me nor +my wife till he had put us to bed. And he did so; but, ah! there +were so many in those beds! It is such an experience as this which +teaches a travelling foreigner how different on the Continent is +the accommodation provided for him, from that which is supplied +for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that +we had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that +night. There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and +we asked some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering +supper and beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but +we persisted, and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves +charged twenty zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at +Milan, and the prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We +paid our twenty zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the +thought of our ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached +Verona, there arose a great cry along the platform for Signor +Trollope. I put out my head and declared my identity, when I +was waited upon by a glorious personage dressed like a beau for a +ball, with half-a-dozen others almost as glorious behind him, who +informed me, with his hat in his hand, that he was the landlord of +the "Due Torre." It was a heating moment, but it became more hot +when he asked after my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, +and point to my wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." +There were three carriages provided for us, each with a pair of +grey horses. When we reached the house it was all lit up. We were +not allowed to move without an attendant with a lighted candle. It +was only gradually that the mistake came to be understood. On us +there was still the horror of the bill, the extent of which could +not be known till the hour of departure had come. The landlord, +however, had acknowledged to himself that his inductions had been +ill-founded, and he treated us with clemency. He had never before +received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished The Three Clerks just before +I left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for +a new plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a +plot, and he drew out that of my next novel, called Doctor Thorne. +I mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in +which I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains +for the thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted +incidents from what I have read,--either from history or from works +of imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not +been aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's +work, and deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from +censuring this practice in others. Our greatest masters in works +of imagination have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare +dug out of such quarries whenever he could find them. Ben Jonson, +with heavier hand, built up his structures on his studies of +the classics, not thinking it beneath him to give, without direct +acknowledgment, whole pieces translated both from poets and +historians. But in those days no such acknowledgment was usual. +Plagiary existed, and was very common, but was not known as a sin. +It is different now; and I think that an author, when he uses either +the words or the plot of another, should own as much, demanding to +be credited with no more of the work than he has himself produced. +I may say also that I have never printed as my own a word that has +been written by others. [Footnote: I must make one exception to +this declaration. The legal opinion as to heirlooms in The Eustace +Diamonds was written for me by Charles Merewether, the present +Member for Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling +authority on the subject.] It might probably have been better for +my readers had I done so, as I am informed that Doctor Thorne, the +novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger sale than any other +book of mine. + +Early in 1858, while I was writing Doctor Thorne, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded L400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures +after I had left him, and had found that L300 would be the outside +value of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman +& Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward +Chapman in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great +many words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. +Looking at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had +stopped him on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might +as well do as I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it +was a sale. I remember that he held the poker in his hand all the +time that I was with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined +to buy the book, there would have been no danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"DOCTOR THORNE"--"THE BERTRAMS"--"THE WEST INDIES" AND "THE SPANISH +MAIN" + + + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper +on the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my +state room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but +still I did my work. Labor omnia vincit improbus. I do not say that +to all men has been given physical strength sufficient for such +exertion as this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable +most men to work at almost any season. I had previously to this +arranged a system of task-work for myself, which I would strongly +recommend to those who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not +made absolutely obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should +never be allowed to become spasmodic. There was no day on which +it was my positive duty to write for the publishers, as it was my +duty to write reports for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if +I pleased. But as I had made up my mind to undertake this second +profession, I found it to be expedient to bind myself by certain +self-imposed laws. When I have commenced a new book, I have always +prepared a diary, divided into weeks, and carried it on for the +period which I have allowed myself for the completion of the work. +In this I have entered, day by day, the number of pages I have +written, so that if at any time I have slipped into idleness for +a day or two, the record of that idleness has been there, staring +me in the face, and demanding of me increased labour, so that the +deficiency might be supplied. According to the circumstances of the +time,--whether my other business might be then heavy or light, or +whether the book which I was writing was or was not wanted with +speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. The average +number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as 20, and has +risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page has been +made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, will have +a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as I went. In +the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of course, +with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always to +supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that +the excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing +my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided +myself especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and +I have always done so. There has ever been the record before me, +and a week passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a +blister to my eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow +to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not +be disobeyed. It has the force of the water drop that hollows the +stone. A small daily task, If it be really daily, will beat the +labours of a spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always +catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in +glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise +to make half his journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They +have ever been as boys struggling to learn their lessons as they +entered the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they +have failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger +of being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." +The needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always +been in the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates +and ruled spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly +demand upon my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to +such a taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his +imagination should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves +him. When I have heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been +able to repress my scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the +shoemaker were to wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for +the divine moment of melting. If the man whose business it is to +write has eaten too many good things, or has drunk too much, or +smoked too many cigars,--as men who write sometimes will do,--then +his condition may be unfavourable for work; but so will be the +condition of a shoemaker who has been similarly imprudent. I have +sometimes thought that the inspiration wanted has been the remedy +which time will give to the evil results of such imprudence.--Mens +sana in corpore sano. The author wants that as does every other +workman,--that and a habit of industry. I was once told that the +surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler's wax on +my chair. I certainly believe in the cobbler's wax much more than +the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready +to admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by +the products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own +very high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do +the work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the +habit of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I +therefore venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship +as the business of their lives, even when they propose that that +authorship be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic +rushes with their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day +by day as though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit +until the allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished Doctor Thorne, and on the following +day began The Bertrams. I was moved now by a determination to excel, +if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. An ignoble ambition +for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But not, I think, +altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to look at his +work as does any other workman. This had become my task, this +was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing the +doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to work +at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good +as I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between +each they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I +finished Doctor Thorne on one day, and began The Bertrams on the +next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last +succeeded in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty +years have passed since that time, and other years may yet run on +before these pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official +sin by describing here the nature of the difficulty which met me. +I found, on my arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer +of the Pasha, who was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have +been the gentleman who has lately dealt with our Government as to +the Suez Canal shares, and who is now well known to the political +world as Nubar Pasha. I found him a most courteous gentlemen, an +Armenian. I never went to his office, nor do I know that he had an +office. Every other day he would come to me at my hotel, and bring +with him servants, and pipes, and coffee. I enjoyed his coming +greatly; but there was one point on which we could not agree. As +to money and other details, it seemed as though he could hardly +accede fast enough to the wishes of the Postmaster-General; but +on one point he was firmly opposed to me. I was desirous that the +mails should be carried through Egypt in twenty-four hours, and he +thought that forty-eight hours should be allowed. I was obstinate, +and he was obstinate; and for a long time we could come to +no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity seemed to desert +him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with almost more than +British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick transit, a terrible +responsibility would rest on my head. I made this mistake, he +said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which would be +easy and secure in England could be attained with safety in Egypt. +"The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede to +any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no +longer any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and +he assured me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his +care to see that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually +kept, and, I believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my +persistency was not the result of any courage specially personal to +myself. While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered +to me that the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had +conceived that forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their +traffic better than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great +paymasters on the railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, +who managed the railway, might probably wish to accommodate them. +I often wondered who originated that frightful picture of blood +and desolation. That it came from an English heart and an English +hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the +Post Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with +true tales of my adventures. The Tales of All Countries have, most +of them, some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called +John Bull on the Guadalquivir, the chief incident in which occurred +to me and a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We +both of us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to +be a bull-fighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, +too, who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet +how thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received L400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall for +Doctor Thorne, and agreed to sell them The Bertrams for the same sum. +This latter novel was written under very vagrant circumstances,--at +Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at sea, and at last +finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West Indies I will say +a few words presently, but I may as well speak of these two novels +here. Doctor Thorne has, I believe, been the most popular book that +I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof of comparative +popularity. The Bertrams has had quite an opposite fortune. I do not +know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even by my friends, +and I cannot remember that there is any character in it that has +dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that they are +of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. They fall +away very much from The Three Clerks, both in pathos and humour. +There is no personage in either of them comparable to Chaffanbrass the +lawyer. The plot of Doctor Thorne is good, and I am led therefore +to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own feeling, is the +most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which will most raise +it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The plots of Tom Jones +and of Ivanhoe are almost perfect, and they are probably the most +popular novels of the schools of the last and of this century; but +to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged strength of Burley +and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those great novelists +than the gift of construction shown in the two works I have named. +A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour +and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, +the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals +known to the world or to the author, but of created personages +impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, +the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the +vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the +agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, +however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. That +of The Bertrams was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book was +relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of Doctor +Thorne. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add L600 a year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a week, on L1400 +a year. If more should come, it would be well;--but L600 a year I +was prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but +was very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and +then I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to The Bertrams, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated +for residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous +for want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the +stables had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in +some of the islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to +the island Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I +was then to go on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish +authorities, and to Panama for the same purpose with the Government +of New Grenada. All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and +I hope to that of my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, +as having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard +as the best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I +think I may venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as +I had learned from the secretary at the General Post Office that +this journey would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, demanding L250 for a single volume. The contract +was made without any difficulty, and when I returned home the work +was complete in my desk. I began it on board the ship in which I +left Kingston, Jamaica, for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried +it on as I went. From Cuba I made my way to St. Thomas, and through +the island down to Demerara, then back to St. Thomas,--which is +the starting-point for all places in that part of the globe,--to +Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, over the Isthmus to Panama, up +the Pacific to a little harbour on the coast of Costa Rica, thence +across Central America, through Costa Rica, and down the Nicaragua +river to the Mosquito coast, and after that home by Bermuda and New +York. Should any one want further details of the voyage, are they +not written in my book? The fact memorable to me now is that I +never made a single note while writing or preparing it. Preparation, +indeed, there was none. The descriptions and opinions came hot +on to the paper from their causes. I will not say that this is the +best way of writing a book intended to give accurate information. +But it is the best way of producing to the eye of the reader, and +to his ear, that which the eye of the writer has seen and his ear +heard. There are two kinds of confidence which a reader may have +in his author,--which two kinds the reader who wishes to use his +reading well should carefully discriminate. There is a confidence +in facts and a confidence in vision. The one man tells you accurately +what has been. The other suggests to you what may, or perhaps what +must have been, or what ought to have been. The former require simple +faith. The latter calls upon you to judge for yourself, and form +your own conclusions. The former does not intend to be prescient, +nor the latter accurate. Research is the weapon used by the former; +observation by the latter. Either may be false,--wilfully false; as +also may either be steadfastly true. As to that, the reader must +judge for himself. But the man who writes currente calamo, who +works with a rapidity which will not admit of accuracy, may be as +true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who bases every word +upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I have, travelled +about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have always +written the exact truth as I saw it;--and I have, I think, drawn +my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies +of black men and white men was the view of the Times newspaper at +that period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for +it even by the Times newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position +as an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad +for literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future +chapter. But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to +Chapman & Hall and successfully demanded L600 for my next novel. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "CORNHILL MAGAZINE" AND "FRAMLEY PARSONAGE" + + + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my +own district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and +there my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return +to England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all +with whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable +home, and I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great +delight to me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a +house in the neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be +abandoned. [Footnote: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years +had passed away.] Nevertheless I thought that a man who could +write books ought not to live in Ireland,--ought to live within +the reach of the publishers, the clubs, and the dinner-parties of +the metropolis. So I made my request at headquarters, and with some +little difficulty got myself appointed to the Eastern District of +England,--which comprised Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, +Huntingdonshire, and the greater part of Hertfordshire. + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest +at the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had +been, some time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by +Mr. Rowland Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never +had any sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most +accurate, but I never came across any one who so little understood +the ways of men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two +brothers the servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to +have formed a large army in old days,--were so many machines who +could be counted on for their exact work without deviation, as +wheels may be counted on, which are kept going always at the same +pace and always by the same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious +public servant, anxious for the good of his country; but he was +a hard taskmaster, and one who would, I think, have put the great +department with which he was concerned altogether out of gear by +his hardness, had he not been at last controlled. He was the Chief +Secretary, my brother-in-law--who afterwards succeeded him--came +next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother was the Junior Secretary. In +the natural course of things, I had not, from my position, anything +to do with the management of affairs;--but from time to time I found +myself more or less mixed up in it. I was known to be a thoroughly +efficient public servant; I am sure I may say so much of myself +without fear of contradiction from any one who has known the Post +Office;--I was very fond of the department, and when matters came +to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my own. I have +no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I know that I +sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because I knew +my business and was useful. I had given official offence by the +publication of The Three Clerks. I afterwards gave greater offence +by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of the +large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On this +occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether +he was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was +no threat to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in +that fashion. The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed +no order. In the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing +to bring me to shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil +servant is only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he +is beyond that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in +his general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in +open professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted +now, but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one +in the Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style +of official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands +of reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them +dealing with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; +some few in which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos +might find an entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these +reports, habituating myself always to write them in the form in +which they should be sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus +that a man can throw on to his paper the exact feeling with which +his mind is impressed at the moment. A rough copy, or that which +is called a draft, is written in order that it may be touched and +altered and put upon stilts. The waste of time, moreover, in such +an operation, is terrible. If a man knows his craft with his pen, +he will have learned to write without the necessity of changing +his words or the form of his sentences. I had learned so to write +my reports that they who read them should know what it was that I +meant them to understand. But I do not think that they were regarded +with favour. I have heard horror expressed because the old forms +were disregarded and language used which had no savour of red-tape. +During the whole of this work in the Post Office it was my principle +always to obey authority in everything instantly, but never to allow +my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my opinion. They who +had the ordering of me very often did not know the work as I knew +it,--could not tell as I could what would be the effect of this +or that change. When carrying out instructions which I knew should +not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the fatuity of +the improper order in the strongest language that I could decently +employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, and look +back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. But I am +not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which +could hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our +residence towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing Castle +Richmond, the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for L600. But there arose at this time a certain literary project +which probably had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling +on postal service abroad or riding over the rural districts +in England, or arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the +last eighteen years had now been my life,--I had no opportunity +of becoming acquainted with the literary life in London. It was +probably some feeling of this which had made me anxious to move +my penates back to England. But even in Ireland, where I was still +living in October, 1859, I had heard of the Cornhill Magazine, which +was to come out on the 1st of January, 1860, under the editorship +of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of Tales of All Countries. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the Cornhill, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + "36 ONSLOW SQUARE, S. W. + October 28th. + +"MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their proposals; +and the business part done, let me come to the pleasure, and say +how very glad indeed I shall be to have you as a co-operator in +our new magazine. And looking over the annexed programme, you will +see whether you can't help us in many other ways besides tale-telling. +Whatever a man knows about life and its doings, that let us hear +about. You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and have +countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. Please +to think if you can furbish up any of these besides a novel. When +events occur, and you have a good lively tale, bear us in mind. One +of our chief objects in this magazine is the getting out of novel +spinning, and back into the world. Don't understand me to disparage +our craft, especially YOUR wares. I often say I am like the +pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread and cheese; +but the public love the tarts (luckily for us), and we must bake and +sell them. There was quite an excitement in my family one evening +when Paterfamilias (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always +when he tries it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room +wide awake and calling for the second volume of The Three Clerks. +I hope the Cornhill Magazine will have as pleasant a story. And +the Chapmans, if they are the honest men I take them to be, I've no +doubt have told you with what sincere liking your works have been +read by yours very faithfully, + + "W. M. THACKERAY." + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me L1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to +come out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion +of it should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in +all this that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which +was more than double what I had yet received, and nearly double +that which I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. +Then there was the suddenness of the call. It was already the end +of October, and a portion of the work was required to be in the +printer's hands within six weeks. Castle Richmond was indeed half +written, but that was sold to Chapman. And it had already been +a principle with me in my art, that no part of a novel should +be published till the entire story was completed. I knew, from +what I read from month to month, that this hurried publication of +incompleted work was frequently, I might perhaps say always, adopted +by the leading novelists of the day. That such has been the case, +is proved by the fact that Dickens, Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell +died with unfinished novels, of which portions had been already +published. I had not yet entered upon the system of publishing +novels in parts, and therefore had never been tempted. But I was +aware that an artist should keep in his hand the power of fitting +the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is his first +duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour to do +so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of remedying +any defect in this respect. + + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, +be "impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he +is, will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should +be always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his +pigs to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path +which he has intended for them. When some young lady at the end +of a story cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid +description of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines +of her portrait should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the +rushing mode of publication to which the system of serial stories +had given rise, and by which small parts as they were written were +sent hot to the press, was injurious to the work done. If I now +complied with the proposition made to me, I must act against my +own principle. But such a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot +be superseded on a just occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the +principle should for the occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as +judge, and decreed that the present reason was "tanti." On this my +first attempt at a serial story, I thought it fit to break my own +rule. I can say, however, that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day +this new Cornhill Magazine should be in want of a novel. Perhaps +some of my future readers will be able to remember the great +expectations which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's +was a good name with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. +Smith & Elder, were most liberal in their manner of initiating the +work, and were able to make an expectant world of readers believe +that something was to be given them for a shilling very much in +excess of anything they had ever received for that or double the +money. Whether these hopes were or were not fulfilled it is not for +me to say, as, for the first few years of the magazine's existence, +I wrote for it more than any other one person. But such was certainly +the prospect;--and how had it come to pass that, with such promises +made, the editor and the proprietors were, at the end of October, +without anything fixed as to what must be regarded as the chief +dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. +He had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed +its commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. +There was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. +I think there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, +I had the Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his +own energy, that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was +but four years my senior in life but he was at the top of the tree, +while I was still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d +of November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime +I had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit +the Cornhill, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the Cornhill, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that Castle Richmond was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that Castle Richmond would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must +call the plot of Framley Parsonage. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of +what I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English +clergyman who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation +by his own youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of +those around him. The love of his sister for the young lord was +an adjunct necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And +then by placing Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to +fall back upon my old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out +of these slight elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the +real plot consisted at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the +man she loved till the man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. +Nothing could be less efficient or artistic. But the characters +were so well handled, that the work from the first to the last +was popular,--and was received as it went on with still increasing +favour by both editor and proprietor of the magazine. The story was +thoroughly English. There was a little fox-hunting and a little +tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some Christian cant. There +was no heroism and no villainy. There was much Church, but more +love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in which there was +no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too ethereal to +be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the part of the +man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. Each of +them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say so. +Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked Framley Parsonage. I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in The Three +Clerks, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed +I doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than +Lucy Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak part,--no +long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in serial +form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not allow +himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a +fault that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he +embarks in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have +many pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's +eye at the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first +volume of Waverley coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised +this when I was writing Framley Parsonage; and working on the +conviction which had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos +of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written +on me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than +myself, and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him +to a kind of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel +Hawthorne, the American, whom I did not then know, but whose works +I knew. Though it praises myself highly, I will insert it here, +because it certainly is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he +says, "that my own individual taste is for quite another class of +works than those which I myself am able to write. If I were to meet +with such books as mine by another writer, I don't believe I should +be able to get through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony +Trollope? They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, +written on the strength of beef and through the inspiration of +ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of +the earth and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants +going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they +were being made a show of. And these books are just as English as +a beef-steak. Have they ever been tried in America? It needs an +English residence to make them thoroughly comprehensible; but still +I should think that human nature would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +Framley Parsonage; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed +in impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that +honesty is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood +fails; that a girl will be loved as she is pure; and sweet, and +unselfish; that a man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, +and brave of heart; that things meanly done are ugly and odious, +and things nobly done beautiful and gracious. I do not say that +lessons such as these may not be more grandly taught by higher +flights than mine. Such lessons come to us from our greatest poets. +But there are so many who will read novels and understand them, who +either do not read the works of our great poets, or reading them +miss the lesson! And even in prose fiction the character whom +the fervid imagination of the writer has lifted somewhat into the +clouds, will hardly give so plain an example to the hasty normal +reader as the humbler personage whom that reader unconsciously feels +to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a girl would more +probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than after Flora +Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard +the reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be +simply an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as +among the tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a +wicked world. I have regarded my art from so different a point of +view that I have ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, +and my pulpit as one which I could make both salutary and agreeable +to my audience. I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading +of my pages less modest than she was before, and that some may have +learned from them that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I +think that no youth has been taught that in falseness and flashness +is to be found the road to manliness; but some may perhaps have +learned from me that it is to be found in truth and a high but +gentle spirit. Such are the lessons I have striven to teach; and +I have thought it might best be done by representing to my readers +characters like themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. + +Framley Parsonage--or, rather, my connection with the Cornhill--was +the means of introducing me very quickly to that literary world +from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of my residence +in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very hard at work +on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern District, +and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from London, +in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and Middlesex,--which +was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This I took on +lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about L1000 on +improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent both +in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity came, +among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the Cornhill Magazine but the Pall Mall Gazette--gave +a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a memorable banquet +in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that occasion I first +met many men who afterwards became my most intimate associates. +It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be the first +starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that table, and +on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor (Sir)--than +whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert Bell, G. H. +Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men I afterwards +lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak specially of +the last, because from that time he was joined with me in so much +of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate Framley Parsonage, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's Unspoken +Dialogue. The first drawing he did for Framley Parsonage did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When +I did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated +Orley Farm, The Small House of Allington, Rachel Ray, and Phineas +Finn. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to +have learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of +which may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To +which class Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good +artist, it was open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to +study the work of the author from whose writing he was bound to take +his subject. I have too often found that the former alternative +has been thought to be the better, as it certainly is the easier +method. An artist will frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas +to those of an author, and will sometimes be too idle to find out +what those ideas are. But this artist was neither proud nor idle. +In every figure that he drew it was his object to promote the +views of the writer whose work he had undertaken to illustrate, and +he never spared himself any pains in studying that work, so as to +enable him to do so. I have carried on some of those characters from +book to book, and have had my own early ideas impressed indelibly +on my memory by the excellence of his delineations. Those illustrations +were commenced fifteen years ago, and from that time up to this +day my affection for the man of whom I am speaking has increased. +To see him has always been a pleasure. His voice has been a sweet +sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never heard him praised +without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a word spoken +against him without opposing the censurer. These words, should he +ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will tell him +of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that +evening, and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very +close, was born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the +necessities of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But +he lived much with those who did so,--and could have done it himself +had want or ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick +Club, to which, however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best +dinners of my time, and was,--happily I may say is, [Footnote: +Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went from us.]--the +best giver of dinners. A man rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, +odious to those who dislike him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he +is the prince of friends, honest as the sun, and as openhanded as +Charity itself. + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back +over the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd +to me that we should have known each other for no more than six +years. He was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; +and was so far successful that I do not think that want ever came +near him. But he never made that mark which his industry and talents +would have seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary +men, but not known to readers. As a journalist he was useful +and conscientious, but his plays and novels never made themselves +popular. He wrote a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated +edition of the British poets; but he achieved no great success. +I have known no man better read in English literature. Hence his +conversation had a peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy +with his pen. He will long be remembered at the Literary Fund +Committees, of which he was a staunch and most trusted supporter. +I think it was he who first introduced me to that board. It has +often been said that literary men are peculiarly apt to think that +they are slighted and unappreciated. Robert Bell certainly never +achieved the position in literature which he once aspired to fill, +and which he was justified in thinking that he could earn for +himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects with him, but +I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to his own +literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, and he +loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no sound +ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. +He is, I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His +severity, however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when +honesty may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has +not required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged +himself to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. +I am not speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in +another, but of that confidence in literary excellence, which is, +I think, necessary for the full enjoyment of literature. In one +modern writer he did believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming +than the unstinted admiration which he has accorded to everything +that comes from the pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has +been united. To her name I shall recur again when speaking of the +novelists of the present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say +that I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the +more astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a +little the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But +"Billy" also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, +or at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the Times, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would +have risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer +in his day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, +a man of very different calibre, who had not yet culminated, but +who, no doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many +others;--but I cannot now recall their various names as identified +with those banquets. + +Of Framley Parsonage I need only further say, that as I wrote it I +became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of Parliament, +and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all the great +lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the rectors +and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had placed +the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of the +dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name given +to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of which I +know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered there. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"CASTLE RICHMOND;" "BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON;" "NORTH AMERICA;" +"ORLEY FARM" + + + + +When I had half-finished Framley Parsonage, I went back to my other +story, Castle Richmond, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion +on which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same +time. This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. +Many of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all +his belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family +history; and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we +rode so unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, +once a gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary +Cann, whose marriage with the wheelwright we did something to +expedite;--though we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our +brain the club gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or +any incident of our London intimacies. In our lives we are always +weaving novels, and we manage to keep the different tales distinct. +A man does, in truth, remember that which it interests him to +remember; and when we hear that memory has gone as age has come on, +we should understand that the capacity for interest in the matter +concerned has perished. A man will be generally very old and feeble +before he forgets how much money he has in the funds. There is +a good deal to be learned by any one who wishes to write a novel +well; but when the art has been acquired, I do not see why two or +three should not be well written at the same time. I have never +found myself thinking much about the work that I had to do till +I was doing it. I have indeed for many years almost abandoned the +effort to think, trusting myself, with the narrowest thread of +a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand. But my +mind is constantly employing itself on the work I have done. Had +I left either Framley Parsonage or Castle Richmond half-finished +fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales now with very +little trouble. I have not looked at Castle Richmond since it was +published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the incidents. + +Castle Richmond certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of +itself a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. +The heroine has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other +a prig. As regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. +Rivalry of the same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray +in his Esmond; but there the mother's love seems to be justified +by the girl's indifference. In Castle Richmond the mother strives +to rob her daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no +character; and the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. +The dialogue is often lively, and some of the incidents are well +told; but the story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, +however, that it was roughly handled by the critics when it came +out; and I much doubt whether anything so hard was said of it then +as that which I have said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages +and strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with +which institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged +to it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited +to fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that +august body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little +among men, having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as +a boy been banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at +first the gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine +there--which I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play +a rubber in the little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking +now of the old club in King Street. This playing of whist before +dinner has since that become a habit with me, so that unless there +be something else special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am +wanted to ride in the park by the young tyrant of my household--it +is "my custom always in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore +with myself for this persistency, feeling that I was making myself +a slave to an amusement which has not after all very much to +recommend it. I have often thought that I would break myself away +from it, and "swear off," as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing +off has been like that of Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of +it coolly, I do not know but that I have been right to cling to it. +As a man grows old he wants amusement, more even than when he is +young; and then it becomes so difficult to find amusement. Reading +should, no doubt, be the delight of men's leisure hours. Had I to +choose between books and cards, I should no doubt take the books. +But I find that I can seldom read with pleasure for above an hour +and a half at a time, or more than three hours a day. As I write +this I am aware that hunting must soon be abandoned. After sixty +it is given but to few men to ride straight across country, and I +cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of riding. I think that +without cards I should now be much at a loss. When I began to play +at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked the society of the +men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. +I have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, +which I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be +liked by those around me,--a wish that during the first half of +my life was never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my +misery came from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of +popular boys. They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while +the desolation of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, +when I was in London as a young man, I had but few friends. Among +the clerks in the Post Office I held my own fairly for the first +two or three years; but even then I regarded myself as something of +a pariah. My Irish life had been much better. I had had my wife and +children, and had been sustained by a feeling of general respect. +But even in Ireland I had in truth lived but little in society. +Our means had been sufficient for our wants, but insufficient for +entertaining others. It was not till we had settled ourselves at +Waltham that I really began to live much with others. The Garrick +Club was the first assemblage of men at which I felt myself to be +popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. +Then I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not +from judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left +for the same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected +by the Committee at the Athenaeum. For this I was indebted to the +kindness of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when +I was informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member +of the Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in +Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, +and its members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! +The gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met +Jacob Omnium, Monckton Mimes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry +Reeve, Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally +a strong political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain +spirit to the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, +Lord Enfield, Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, +Bromley Davenport, Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to +whisper the secrets of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I +became a member of the Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or +the reverse--only for the playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the Cornhill Magazine. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called +The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In this I attempted a +style for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never +had again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, +and was intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think +that there is some good fun it it, but I have heard no one else +express such an opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion +expressed on it, except by the publisher, who kindly remarked +that he did not think it was equal to my usual work. Though he had +purchased the copyright, he did not republish the story in a book +form till 1870, and then it passed into the world of letters sub +silentio. I do not know that it was ever criticised or ever read. +I received L600 for it. From that time to this I have been paid at +about that rate for my work--L600 for the quantity contained in +an ordinary novel volume, or L3000 for a long tale published in +twenty parts, which is equal in length to five such volumes. I have +occasionally, I think, received something more than this, never +I think less for any tale, except when I have published my work +anonymously. [Footnote: Since the date at which this was written +I have encountered a diminution in price.] Having said so much, I +need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that Brown, Jones and Robinson was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from +the first I interested myself much in the question. My mother +had thirty years previously written a very popular, but, as I had +thought, a somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. +She had seen what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, +but had hardly recognised their energy. I had entertained for +many years an ambition to follow her footsteps there, and to write +another book. I had already paid a short visit to New York City and +State on my way home from the West Indies, but had not seen enough +then to justify me in the expression of any opinion. The breaking +out of the war did not make me think that the time was peculiarly +fit for such inquiry as I wished to make, but it did represent itself +as an occasion on which a book might be popular. I consequently +consulted the two great powers with whom I was concerned. Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, the publishers, were one power, and I had no difficulty +in arranging my affairs with them. They agreed to publish the book +on my terms, and bade me God-speed on my journey. The other power +was the Postmaster-General and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of +the Post Office. I wanted leave of absence for the unusual period +of nine months, and fearing that I should not get it by the ordinary +process of asking the Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. +"Is it on the plea of ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, +which was then that of a very robust man. His lordship knew the +Civil Service as well as any one living, and must have seen much +of falseness and fraudulent pretence, or he could not have asked +that question. I told him that I was very well, but that I wanted +to write a book. "Had I any special ground to go upon in asking for +such indulgence?" I had, I said, done my duty well by the service. +There was a good deal of demurring, but I got my leave for nine +months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. Hill attached to +the minute granting me the leave an intimation that it was to be +considered as a full equivalent for the special services rendered +by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the grace +with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions of +the Postmaster-General. [Footnote: During the period of my service +in the Post Office I did very much special work for which I never +asked any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments +for special services were common in the department at that time. +But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did not +choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon it by +Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected +because new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, +is that we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances +around us. Though three parts of London were in flames I should +no doubt expect to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the +quarter which was free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it +was not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, +I think, be of future value to those who wish to make themselves +acquainted with the United States. It was published about the +middle of the war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those +who loved the South were I most buoyant, and the fears of those who +stood by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, +and on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, +and that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was +right in my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which +they were made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked +the quarrel because its political supremacy was checked by the election +of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man +against a big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a +feeling based on a misconception as to American character that the +Southerners are better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did +create great sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too +just to be led into political action by a spirit of romance, and +I was warranted in that belief. There was a moment in which the +Northern cause was in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the +prospect of British interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two +men insignificant in themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the +Southern party, and had managed to get on board the British mail +steamer called "The Trent," at the Havannah. A most undue importance +was attached to this mission by Mr. Lincoln's government, and +efforts were made to stop them. A certain Commodore Wilkes, doing +duty as policeman on the seas, did stop the "Trent," and took the +men out. They were carried, one to Boston and one to New York, +and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph of the nation. Commodore +Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a brave man could take glory, +was made a hero and received a prize sword. England of course +demanded her passengers back, and the States for a while refused +to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that time the Secretary +of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political faults, was a wise +man. I was at Washington at the time, and it was known there that +the contest among the leading Northerners was very sharp on the +matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under Mr. Lincoln, the two +chiefs of the party. It was understood that Mr. Sumner was opposed +to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward in favour of it. Mr. +Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the President, and England's +declaration of war was prevented. I dined with Mr. Seward on the +day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at his house, and was told +as I left the dining-room what the decision had been. During the +afternoon I and others had received intimation through the embassy +that we might probably have to leave Washington at an hour's +notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the Northern +cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It +served its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public +and by the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed Orley Farm, a novel which +appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which Pickwick, +Nicholas Nickleby, and many others had been published. Most of +those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, and are +competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is the +best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify +me in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of Orley Farm +is probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of +declaring itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. +When Lady Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the +will, the plot of Orley Farm has unravelled itself;--and this she +does in the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the +novel is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, +Mr. Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, +are all good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. +Moulder carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his +tables and chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull +page in the book. I am fond of Orley Farm;--and am especially fond +of its illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in +any novel in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the Macdermots in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured +to myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged L4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps +to have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but +I have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has +come easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used +to cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing +myself to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride +in having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to +reach the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters +should be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is +generally done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as +a great blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much +of shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned +too quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred +by the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps +foolishly, to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to +the comfort of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost +say the last twenty years, though no man in his youth had less +prospect of doing so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five +to have had such luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, and +the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty +boots and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling +myself that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but +that the mud and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me +mud and solitude and poverty through my life. Those lads about me +would go into Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires +of parishes, or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not +live with me now,--but neither should I be able to live with them +in after years. Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the +age in which others go to the universities, I became a clerk in +the Post Office, I felt that my old visions were being realised. I +did not think it a high calling. I did not know then how very much +good work may be done by a member of the Civil Service who will show +himself capable of doing it. The Post Office at last grew upon me +and forced itself into my affections. I became intensely anxious +that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually. +But my hope to rise had always been built on the writing of novels, +and at last by the writing of novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education +is to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son +of a peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed +men than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the +wife of him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her +whose husband has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think +it. The discerning man will recognise the information and the graces +when they are achieved without such assistance, and will honour +the owners of them the more because of the difficulties they have +overcome;--but the fact remains that the society of the well-born +and of the wealthy will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this +now, because these are the rules by which I have lived, and these +are the causes which have instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? +If a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his +intimacy, am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close +acquaintance or his high rank? I have always said that where the +difference in position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy +should always come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be +ever fixed, then that rank should be held of no account. It seems +to me that intimate friendship admits of no standing but that +of equality. I cannot be the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the +friend of many very much beneath the Sovereign, because such equality +is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than +in Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was +too light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the +money came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First +one horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home +I have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, +and gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had +been an Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more +closely than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding +capacities of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me +by Essex men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my +delight in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my +own satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little +about hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the +field. I am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore +tell whether the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the +notice I take of hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so +constituted that I can never see the nature of a fence. I either +follow some one, or ride at it with the full conviction that I +may be going into a horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into +both one and the other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden +expensive horses. I am also now old for such work, being so stiff +that I cannot get on to my horse without the aid of a block or a +bank. But I ride still after the same fashion, with a boy's energy, +determined to get ahead if it may possibly be done, hating the +roads, despising young men who ride them, and with a feeling that +life can not, with all her riches, have given me anything better +than when I have gone through a long run to the finish, keeping a +place, not of glory, but of credit, among my juniors. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON," "CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?" "RACHEL +RAY," AND THE "FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW" + + + + +During the early months of 1862 Orley Farm was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time Brown, Jones and Robinson was +appearing in the Cornhill Magazine. In September, 1862, the Small +House at Allington began its career in the same periodical. The +work on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, +the first number of Can You Forgive Her? was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called Rachel Ray. In addition +to these I published during the time two volumes of stories called +The Tales of all Countries. In the early spring of 1865 Miss Mackenzie +was issued in the same form as Rachel Ray; and in May of the same +year The Belton Estate was commenced with the commencement of the +Fortnightly Review, of which periodical I will say a few words in +this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers +and readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. +Of publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins +were, I think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received +from them individually. What I wrote for the Cornhill Magazine, I +always wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were +published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts +made by me with them, and always made with their good-will. Could +I have been two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom +one might have been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests +of the firm in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as +I preserved my identity in both places, I myself became aware that +my name was too frequent on titlepages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too +great rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving +to the subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of +my own work as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I +believe that the work which has been done quickest has been done +the best. I have composed better stories--that is, have created +better plots--than those of The Small House at Allington and Can +You Forgive Her? and I have portrayed two or three better characters +than are to be found in the pages of either of them; but taking +these books all through, I do not think that I have ever done better +work. Nor would these have been improved by any effort in the art +of story telling, had each of these been the isolated labour of a +couple of years. How short is the time devoted to the manipulation +of a plot can be known only to those who have written plays and +novels; I may say also, how very little time the brain is able +to devote to such wearing work. There are usually some hours of +agonising doubt, almost of despair,--so at least it has been with +me,--or perhaps some days. And then, with nothing settled in my +brain as to the final development of events, with no capability +of settling anything, but with a most distinct conception of some +character or characters, I have rushed at the work as a rider rushes +at a fence which he does not see. Sometimes I have encountered +what, in hunting language, we call a cropper. I had such a fall in +two novels of mine, of which I have already spoken--The Bertrams +and Castle Richmond. I shall have to speak of other such troubles. +But these failures have not arisen from over-hurried work. When my +work has been quicker done,--and it has sometimes been done very +quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by hot pressure, not in +the conception, but in the telling of the story. Instead of writing +eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead of working five +days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my usual average, +and have done so in circumstances which have enabled me to give +up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been writing. +This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, +no ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done +has had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have +been able to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself +thoroughly with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered +alone among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to +the rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far +from well in reference to the style in which that work has been +given to the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for +conveying his thoughts to the public should not be less important +to him than the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to +be popular unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; +but then comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, +I may say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire +a mode of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible +to the reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he +can be neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him +to obey those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have +been taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does +obey them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will +achieve such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has +learned that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has +learned with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not +while he is writing that which shall please, but long before. His +language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of +the great performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the +indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained +compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form +themselves to the ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of +his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work +that smells of oil. I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry +we know what care is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. +A singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because +other pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into +plural tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in +demanding fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has +been already expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, +which must have been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the +long sentences of Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity +of divisions, has done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer +will hardly avoid these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I +am ready to declare that, with much training, I have been unable to +avoid them. But the writer for the press is rarely called upon--a +writer of books should never be called upon--to send his manuscript +hot from his hand to the printer. It has been my practice to read +everything four times at least--thrice in manuscript and once in +print. Very much of my work I have read twice in print. In spite +of this I know that inaccuracies have crept through,--not single +spies, but in battalions. From this I gather that the supervision +has been insufficient, not that the work itself has been done too +fast. I am quite sure that those passages which have been written +with the greatest stress of labour, and consequently with the +greatest haste, have been the most effective and by no means the +most inaccurate. + +The Small House at Allington redeemed my reputation with the spirited +proprietor of the Cornhill, which must, I should think, have been +damaged by Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In it appeared Lily Dale, +one of the characters which readers of my novels have liked the +best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have hardly +joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a +French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, The Small House at Allington is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. +I have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have +taken the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, +whose life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, +I think, well described. + +Of Can you Forgive Her? I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase +my reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that +of the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, +the circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The +play had been called The Noble Jilt; but I was afraid of the name +for a novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. +There was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. +The character of the girl is carried through with considerable +strength, but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are +also taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open +chooses the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is +the better looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain +Bellfield and Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun +of novels is. But that which endears the book to me is the first +presentation which I made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his +wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in +making any reader understand how much these characters with their +belongings have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently +I have used them for the expression of my political or social +convictions. They have been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. +Cobden, or the dominion of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have +not been able to speak from the benches of the House of Commons, +or to thunder from platforms, or to be efficacious as a lecturer, +they have served me as safety-valves by which to deliver my soul. +Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared in The Small House at Allington, +but his birth had not been accompanied by many hopes. In the last +pages of that novel he is made to seek a remedy for a foolish +false step in life by marrying the grand heiress of the day;--but +the personage of the great heiress does not appear till she comes +on the scene as a married woman in Can You Forgive Her? He is +the nephew and heir to a duke--the Duke of Omnium--who was first +introduced in Doctor Thorne, and afterwards in Framley Parsonage, +and who is one of the belongings of whom I have spoken. In these +personages and their friends, political and social, I have endeavoured +to depict the faults and frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, +the graces, and the strength of our highest classes; and if I have +not made the strength and virtues predominant over the faults and +vices, I have not painted the picture as I intended. Plantagenet +Palliser I think to be a very noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies +to the nation the seeming anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of +primogeniture. His wife is in all respects very inferior to him; +but she, too, has, or has been intended to have, beneath the thin +stratum of her follies a basis of good principle, which enabled her +to live down the conviction of the original wrong which was done +to her, and taught her to endeavour to do her duty in the position +to which she was called. She had received a great wrong,--having +been made, when little more than a child, to marry a man for whom +she cared nothing;--when, however, though she was little more than +a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She had very heavy +troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in vindication +of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. In the pages of +Can You Forgive Her? the girl's first love is introduced,--beautiful, +well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a girl from wasting +herself, and an heiress from wasting her property on such a scamp, +was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But it must ever +be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she does not +love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom she does +love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected the young +wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to whom her +heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish ground, +leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one +of the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my +novels read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book +which caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to +vicious sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, +he did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should +it not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made +known nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, +and ought not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no +attraction to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full +of grace, and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation +without abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much +too long for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with +him in the country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, +however, has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then of +political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after his thorough +nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is imperfectly true +to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been maintained +by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to nature,--but also +of those changes which time always produces. There, are, perhaps, +but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will be found to +have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man will still +be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of showing or +of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also our power +of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my study that +these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the changes +which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. The +Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime Minister's +wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost longs to +go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will never do +so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and sore +spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place when +they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the changes +which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. To do +all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I do +not know that the game has been worth the candle. + +To carry out my scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide +a canvas that I cannot expect that any lover of such art should +trouble himself to look at it as a whole. Who will read Can You +Forgive Her? Phineas Finn, Phineas Redux, and The Prime Minister +consecutively, in order that they may understand the characters of +the Duke of Omnium, of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? +Who will ever know that they should be so read? But in the performance +of the work I had much gratification, and was enabled from time to +time to have in this way that fling at the political doings of the +day which every man likes to take, if not in one fashion then in +another. I look upon this string of characters,--carried sometimes +into other novels than those just named,--as the best work of +my life. Taking him altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser +stands more firmly on the ground than any other personage I have +created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +Cornhill Magazine,--a position for which he was hardly fitted either +by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in writing +for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had grown +into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys +and troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in +early life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an +afflicted wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before +his children were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much +upon clubs, and taught him to dislike general society. But it never +affected his heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel +in the pangs and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as +he did to the very last--the duty of showing to his readers the +evil consequences of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault +as a writer that he could never abstain from that dash of satire +which he felt to be demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around +him. The satirist who writes nothing but satire should write but +little,--or it will seem that his satire springs rather from his +own caustic nature than from the sins of the world in which he +lives. I myself regard Esmond as the greatest novel in the English +language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its language, +on the clear individuality of the characters, on the truth of +its delineations in regard to the tine selected, and on its great +pathos. There are also in it a few scenes so told that even Scott +has never equalled the telling. Let any one who doubts this read +the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the Duke of Hamilton to +think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be honoured if Colonel +Esmond will give away the bride. When he went from us he left behind +living novelists with great names; but I think that they who best +understood the matter felt that the greatest master of fiction of +this age had gone. + +Rachel Ray underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called Good Words +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he +was wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel +to the readers of Good Words, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with +any specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for Good Words. He persisted in his request, and I came +to terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it +to him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable +portion having been printed--with an intimation that it would not +do. A letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. +It was, he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. +He should have known better. But the story, such as it was, he +could not give to his readers in the pages of Good Words. Would I +forgive him? Any pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject +me the owner of the publication would willingly make good. There +was some loss--or rather would have been--and that money I exacted, +feeling that the fault had in truth been with the editor. There is +the tale now to speak for itself. It is not brilliant nor in any +way very excellent; but it certainly is not very wicked. There is +some dancing in one of the early chapters, described, no doubt, +with that approval of the amusement which I have always entertained; +and it was this to which my friend demurred. It is more true of +novels than perhaps of anything else, that one man's food is another +man's poison. + +Miss Mackenzie was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who +was overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before +the end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. +There is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made +with a violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such +attempts at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg +to say that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. +Miss Mackenzie was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our +trust or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, +and have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but +we would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say +it, speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility +of his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity of +Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a publication +as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one or two who had +proposed to join us. But we went on, and our company--limited--was +formed. We subscribed, I think, L1250 each. I at least subscribed +that amount, and--having agreed to bring out our publication every +fortnight, after the manner of the well-known French publication,--we +called it The Fortnightly. We secured the services of G. H. Lewes +as our editor. We agreed to manage our finances by a Board, which +was to meet once a fortnight, and of which I was the Chairman. +And we determined that the payments for our literature should be +made on a liberal and strictly ready-money system. We carried out +our principles till our money was all gone, and then we sold the +copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a trifle. But before we +parted with our property we found that a fortnightly issue was not +popular with the trade through whose hands the work must reach the +public; and, as our periodical had not become sufficiently popular +itself to bear down such opposition, we succumbed, and brought +it out once a month. Still it was The Fortnightly, and still it +is The Fortnightly. Of all the serial publications of the day, it +probably is the most serious, the most earnest, the least devoted +to amusement, the least flippant, the least jocose,--and yet it +has the face to show itself month after month to the world, with +so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know the laws of modern +literature are aware, a very serious thing to change the name of +a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether new enterprise. +Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas this was very +ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined +to support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, freethinking, and open inquiry will never object to appear +in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit to +think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result +has been good; and though there is much in the now established +principles of The Fortnightly with which I do not myself agree, I +may safely say that the publication has assured an individuality, +and asserted for itself a position in our periodical literature, +which is well understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving after +some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still desirable but +which is hardly to be attained by the means which then recommended +themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a paper +advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of +my case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether +the reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of +political writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other +subjects. Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very +bad indeed;--. so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty +and incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are +criticised by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism +of the incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, +editors would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that +we should get but little criticism, and that the public would put +but little trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care +to have his books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation +of the great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the Times, +the Spectator, or the Saturday. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In The +Fortnightly everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals +have become much more common since The Fortnightly was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that +the work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss +in him was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in +finding a successor. I must say that the present proprietor has +been fortunate in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done +the work with admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course +he has got around him a set of contributors whose modes of thought +are what we may call much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, +would not work with other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone +of its own; but it holds its own with ability, and though there +are many who perhaps hate it, there are none who despise it. When +the company sold it, having spent about L9000 on it, it was worth +little or nothing. Now I believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter, of fox-hunting. +[Footnote: I have written various articles for it since, especially +two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] There came out in +it an article from the pen of Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning +the amusement, which I love, on the grounds of cruelty and general +brutality. Was it possible, asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, +that any educated man should find delight in so coarse a pursuit? +Always bearing in mind my own connection with The Fortnightly, I +regarded this almost as a rising of a child against the father. I +felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. Freeman in the same columns, +and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission to do so. I wrote my defence +of fox-hunting, and there it is. In regard to the charge of cruelty, +Mr. Freeman seems to assert that nothing unpleasant should be +done to any of God's creatures except f or a useful purpose. The +protection of a lady's shoulders from the cold is a useful purpose; +and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals may be snared in the +snow and left to starve to death in the wires, in order that the +lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of wool would serve +the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the congregation and +healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, on whose behalf +a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a useful purpose. I +think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that amusement is as +needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. The absurdity +of the further charge as to the general brutality of the pursuit, +and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is to be attributed +to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done and said in the +hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of Cicero's words. +There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked for space for +further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, if I much wished +it; but he preferred that the subject should be closed. Of course +I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. Freeman,--and +against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would cease to exist +in England. And I felt that The Fortnighty was hardly the place for +the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman kindly suggested +to me that he would be glad to publish my article in a little book +to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting generally. He was +to have the last word and the first word, and that power of picking +to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a manner, without +any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If he would give +me the last word, as he would have the first, then, I told him, I +should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did not however +meet his views. + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in opposition +to my own ideas on the subject, that the Fortnightly Review should +always contain a novel. It was of course natural that I should write +the first novel, and I wrote The Belton Estate. It is similar in +its attributes to Rachel Ray and to Miss Mackenzie. It is readable, +and contains scenes which are true to life; but it has no peculiar +merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a novelist. I have +not looked at it since it was published; and now turning back to +it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it than of any +book that I have written. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"THE CLAVERINGS," THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE," "NINA BALATKA," AND +"LINDA TRESSEL" + + + + +The Claverings, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the Cornhill; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the +same length as Framley Parsonage, and the price was L2800. Whether +much or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, +and was paid in a single cheque. + +In The Claverings I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar +to myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had +appeared before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider +the story as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the +public has ever corroborated that verdict. The chief character +is that of a young woman who has married manifestly for money and +rank,--so manifestly that she does not herself pretend, even while +she is making the marriage, that she has any other reason. The +man is old, disreputable, and a wornout debauchee. Then comes the +punishment natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom +she had loved, and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. +He vacillates and is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the +book, as he plays the part of hero. But she is strong--strong in +her purpose, strong in her desires, and strong in her consciousness +that the punishment which comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of The Clarverings is in the genuine fun of +some of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined +to think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, +and Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of +Sophie, is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference +in a somewhat masterly manner. In The Claverings, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her +sorrow is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is +well told. But I doubt now whether any one reads The Claverings. +When I remember how many novels I have written, I have no right +to expect that above a few of them shall endure even to the second +year beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +Cornhill Magazine;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate +form, and who about this time established the Pall Mall Gazette, +to which paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the Pall Mall Gazette was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means +of his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him +a society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at one under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the Pall Mall +Gazette owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met +at a Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the +House of Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even +on important occasions. There are many who now remember--and no +doubt when this is published there will be left some to remember--the +great stroke of business which was done by the revelations of a +visitor to one of the casual wards in London. A person had to be +selected who would undergo the misery of a night among the usual +occupants of a casual ward in a London poorhouse, and who should at +the same time be able to record what he felt and saw. The choice +fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, who certainly possessed the +courage and the powers of endurance. The description, which was +very well given, was, I think, chiefly written by the brother of +the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which was increased by +secrecy as to the person who encountered all the horrors of that +night. I was more than once assured that Lard Houghton was the man. +I heard it asserted also that I myself had been the hero. At last +the unknown one could no longer endure that his honours should be +hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, I fear, to promises +to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction that if known he +could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, however, that +record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more to establish +the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of Stephen, or the +polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of Lewes. + +My work was various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed +also some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had +a considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description of +the different classes of people who are to be met in the hunting-field. +There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was considered to +be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my head the critical +wrath of a great dean of that period. The most ill-natured review +that was ever written upon any work of mine appeared in the +Contemporary Review with reference to these Clerical Sketches. The +critic told me that I did not understand Greek. That charge has +been made not unfrequently by those who have felt themselves strong +in that pride-producing language. It is much to read Greek with +ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do so. To pretend +to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. The critic, +however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that Deans of the +Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the metropolitan +moon. + +I also did some critical work for the Pall Mall,--as I did also for +The Fortnightly. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, and +said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter time +altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. In +doing this for the Pall Mall, I fell into great sorrow. A gentleman, +whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister; was in +some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had been +blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a pamphlet. +This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and express my +opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I thought the +request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. He met me +again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very hard. I +promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself able +I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I +then went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was +one requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the +conduct of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that +charges made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. +This I said, emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the +opinion which I had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often +be the case when a man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club +or sledge-hammer,--in using which, either for defence or attack, +a man can hardly measure the strength of the blows he gives. Of +course there was offence,--and a breaking off of intercourse between +loving friends,--and a sense of wrong received, and I must own, +too, of wrong done. It certainly was not open to me to whitewash +with honesty him whom I did not find to be white; but there was no +duty incumbent on me to declare what was his colour in my eyes,--no +duty even to ascertain. But I had been ruffled by the persistency +of the gentleman's request,--which should not have been made,--and +I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing a wrong myself. I must +add, that before he died his wife succeeded in bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until +human nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during +an entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give +a graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. +I did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called A Zulu in Search of a Religion. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the Pall Mall Gazette, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of +such martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on +a newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn +its ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any work was +altered in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of +course, was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my +own subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of +the staff I was of no use, and after two or three years I dropped +out of the work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date +from the beginning of the Cornhill Magazine, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me +that a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed +had never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter +of course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom +the critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when +they wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner +would not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope +no one will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy +of others. Though I never reached that height, still I had so +far progressed that that which I wrote was received with too much +favour. The injustice which struck me did not consist in that which +was withheld from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt +that aspirants coming up below me might do work as good as mine, +and probably much better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. +In order to test this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, +and to begin a course of novels anonymously, in order that I might +see whether I could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made +one mark by such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed +in doing so again. In 1865 I began a short tale called Nina Balatka, +which in 1866 was published anonymously in Blackwood's Magazine. +In 1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called +Linda Tressel. I will speak of them together, as they are of the +same nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself +read the MS. of Nina Balatka, expressed an opinion that it would +not from its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but +it was discovered by Mr. Hutton of the Spectator, who found the +repeated use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear +too frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other +works of mine. He declared in his paper that Nina Balatka was by +me, showing I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, +however, to complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he +has been the most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. +Nina Balatka never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make +its detection a matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the +story mentioned by readers who did not know me to be the author, +and always with praise; but it had no real success. The same may +be said of Linda Tressel. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, +was willing to publish them, trusting that works by an experienced +writer would make their way, even without the writer's name, and he +was willing to pay me for them, perhaps half what they would have +fetched with my name. But he did not find the speculation answer, +and declined a third attempt, though a third such tale was written +for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They +were both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of +labour; and both were written immediately after visits to the towns +in which the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of +course I had endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, +but my manner of story-telling also; and in this, pace Mr. Hutton, +I think that I was successful. English life in them there was none. +There was more of romance proper than had been usual with me. And +I made an attempt at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes +and places, which has not been usual with me. In all this I am +confident that I was in a measure successful. In the loves, and +fears, and hatreds, both of Nina and of Linda, there is much that +is pathetic. Prague is Prague, and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know +that the stories are good, but they missed the object with which +they had been written. Of course there is not in this any evidence +that I might not have succeeded a second time as I succeeded before, +had I gone on with the same dogged perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, +had I still further reduced my price, would probably have continued +the experiment. Another ten years of unpaid unflagging labour might +have built up a second reputation. But this at any rate did seem +clear to me, that with all the increased advantages which practice +in my art must have given me, I could not induce English readers +to read what I gave to them, unless I gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with public +judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course that +in all things the public should trust to established reputation. It +is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to a +library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a lady +when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the Times would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human and +has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts on the +matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much consideration +is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to +aspire, because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their +reach. "My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn +your stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, +I can only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be +better suited to your abilities." What old-established successful +author has not said such words as these to humble aspirants for +critical advice, till they have become almost formulas? No doubt +there is cruelty in such answers; but the man who makes them has +considered the matter within himself, and has resolved that such +cruelty is the best mercy. No doubt the chances against literary +aspirants are very great. It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! +A man cannot make a watch or a shoe without a variety of tools and +many materials. He must also have learned much. But any young lady +can write a book who has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can +be done anywhere; in any clothes--which is a great thing; at any +hours--to which happy accident in literature I owe my success. +And the success, when achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of +course, are very many; and the experienced councillor, when asked +for his candid judgment as to this or that effort, knows that among +every hundred efforts there will be ninety-nine failures. Then the +answer is so ready: "My dear young lady, do darn your stockings; +it will be for the best." Or perhaps, less tenderly, to the male +aspirant: "You must earn some money, you say. Don't you think +that a stool in a counting-house might be better?" The advice will +probably be good advice,--probably, no doubt, as may be proved by +the terrible majority of failures. But who is to be sure that he +is not expelling an angel from the heaven to which, if less roughly +treated, he would soar,--that he is not dooming some Milton to be +mute and inglorious, who, but for such cruel ill-judgment, would +become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who +consents to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in +this matter no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the +matter subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an +assured answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your +vocation;" or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But +cases as to which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The +critic who wrote the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which +produced the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, was justified in +his criticism by the merits of the Hours of Idleness. The lines had +nevertheless been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. +In a little satire called The Biliad, which, I think, nobody knows, +are the following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's Taste was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--THE LINES WERE PINDAR'S!" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we +are so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to +desist. + +There is perhaps no career or life so charming as that of a successful +man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which I just +now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, live in +the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, choose +the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, +hardly even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those +which bind other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? +The judge must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making +his L20,000 a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister +must be in his place on that weary front bench shortly after +prayers, and must sit there, either asleep or awake, even though +---- or ---- should be addressing the House. During all that Sunday +which he maintains should be a day of rest, the active clergyman +toils like a galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, +is bound to his footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there +from ten till four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve +to six is just as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five +in the morning when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the +morning before he goes there. And the author wants no capital, and +encounters no risks. When once he is afloat, the publisher finds +all that;--and indeed, unless he be rash, finds it whether he be +afloat or not. But it is in the consideration which he enjoys that +the successful author finds his richest reward. He is, if not of +equal rank, yet of equal standing with the highest; and if he be +open to the amenities of society, may choose his own circles. He +without money can enter doors which are closed against almost all +but him and the wealthy. I have often heard it said that in this +country the man of letters is not recognised. I believe the meaning +of this to be that men of letters are not often invited to be +knights and baronets. I do not think that they wish it;--and if +they had it they would, as a body, lose much more than they would +gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put after my name, or +to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom Hughes and Charles +Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not know how I might +feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left unbedecked. As +it is, the man of letters who would be selected for titular honour, +if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives from the general +respect of those around him a much more pleasant recognition of +his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not +he has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He +makes an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! +So many have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or +twice! Who will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to +find out that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple +to that office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much +merit in his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also +to foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may +be said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel +given, that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not +begin by trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as +recommended to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours +as may belong to you, let the praise which has come from the lips +of that soft man induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. +Should you fail, then your failure will not be fatal,--and what +better could you have done with the leisure hours had you not so +failed? Such double toil, you will say, is severe. Yes, but if +you want this thing, you must submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed +for the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and +in that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. +I may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which +I regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should +be glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it +now, because the experience I have acquired in being active in its +cause forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly +on a literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I +should have failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere +while I was making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I +commenced with some aid from the fact that others of my family were +in the same profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, +ink, and paper which I was using; and then when, with all my +experience in my art, I began again as from a new springing point, +I should have failed again unless again I could have given years +to the task. Of course there have been many who have done better +than I,--many whose powers have been infinitely greater. But then, +too, I have seen the failure of many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with +my well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, +cannot earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in +a little room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The +very charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him +than to others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that +gives it to him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding +with a sense of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM + + + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write +a history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary +to read an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so +to read them as to point out the excellences of those which are +most excellent, and to explain the defects of those which, though +defective, had still reached sufficient reputation to make them +worthy of notice. I did read many after this fashion,--and here +and there I have the criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, +they were written on some blank page within the book; I have not, +however, even a list of the books so criticised. I think that the +Arcadia was the first, and Ivanhoe the last. My plan, as I settled +it at last, had been to begin with Robinson Crusoe, which is the +earliest really popular novel which we have in our language, and +to continue the review so as to include the works of all English +novelists of reputation, except those who might still be living +when my task should be completed. But when Dickens and Bulwer died, +my spirit flagged, and that which I had already found to be very +difficult had become almost impossible to me at my then period of +life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +Robinson Crusoe, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the Arcadia, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present +day have become what they are, to point out the effects which they +have produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on +the whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still +think that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as +a novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature +which has created and nourished the profession which I follow. +And I was stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that +there still exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect +to novels which might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This +prejudice is not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their +general acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference +to the appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it +robs them of much of that high character which they may claim to +have earned by their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much, whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to +good. I have written many novels, and have known many writers of +novels, and I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with +them and with myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have +received from the public a full measure of credit for such genius, +ingenuity, or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that +there is still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence +of their calling, and a general understanding of the high nature +of the work which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes +the highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and +all but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before +she can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed +it is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in +truth achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above +the earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. +He who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, +nor does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but +his teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to +the same end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false +notions of humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, +false worship may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue +may be taught. But by each, equally, may true honour, true love; +true worship, and true humanity be inculcated; and that will be +the greatest teacher who will spread such truth the widest. But +at present, much as novels, as novels, are bought and read, there +exists still an idea, a feeling which is very prevalent, that novels +at their best are but innocent. Young men and women,--and old men +and women too,--read more of them than of poetry, because such reading +is easier than the reading of poetry; but they read them,--as men +eat pastry after dinner,--not without some inward conviction that +the taste is vain if not vicious. I take upon myself to say that +it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily +labour and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted +and then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them +to be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what +had been the nature of English novels since they first became common +in our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they +had done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young +days, they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms +which they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they +were not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in +the preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, Peregrine +Pickle was hidden beneath the bolster, and Lord Ainsworth put away +under the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission +was given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many +they were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct +morality of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men +and women understand that lessons which were good in poetry could +not be bad in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was +laid upon novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist +a much heavier tax than that want of full appreciation of which I +now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own +hands to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right +and left, above stairs and below, in town houses and in country +parsonages, by young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old +lawyers and by young students. It has not only come to pass that +a special provision of them has to be made for the godly, but that +the provision so made must now include books which a few years since +the godly would have thought to be profane. It was this necessity +which, a few years since, induced the editor of Good Words to apply +to me for a novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but +which now, probably, owing to further change in the same direction, +would have been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little +of their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right +in saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, +when the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently +assaulted by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the +easiest road to greatness; when the temptations to which men are +subjected dull their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; +when it is so hard for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, +which so many are handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's +conduct will be actuated much by that which is from day to day +depicted to them as leading to glorious or inglorious results. The +woman who is described as having obtained all that the world holds +to be precious, by lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily +and heartlessly, will induce other women to do the same with +theirs,--as will she who is made interesting by exhibitions of +bold passion teach others to be spuriously passionate. The young +man who in a novel becomes a hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, +and almost a Prime Minister, by trickery, falsehood, and flash +cleverness, will have many followers, whose attempts to rise in +the world ought to lie heavily on the conscience of the novelists +who create fictitious Cagliostros. There are Jack Sheppards other +than those who break into houses and out of prisons,--Macheaths, +who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, +for which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or +drawn would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and +odious. The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and +the nose, is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there +are outskirts on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers +seem to grow; and grass to be green. It is in these border-lands +that the danger lies. The novelist may not be dull. If he commit +that fault he can do neither harm nor good. He must please, and the +flowers and the grass in these neutral territories sometimes seem +to give him so easy an opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And +he must teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach +lessons of virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to +his readers? That sermons are not in themselves often thought to +be agreeable we all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy +supposed to be pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, +if he have a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same +purpose as the clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. +If he can do this efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and +vice ugly, while he charms his readers instead of wearying them, +then I think Mr. Carlyle need not call him distressed, nor talk +of that long ear of fiction, nor question whether he be or not the +most foolish of existing mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists +may boast as a class that has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such +to have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George +Eliot. Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, +with that absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I +will boast that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any +one by search through the works of the six great English novelists +I have named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach +a girl to be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their +pages have been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have +they not ever been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, +baldly and simply: "Because you lied here, or were heartless there, +because you Lydia Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, +or you Earl Leicester were false through your ambition, or you +Beatrix loved too well the glitter of the world, therefore you shall +be scourged with scourges either in this world or in the next;" but +it is for him to show, as he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, +or his Leicester, or his Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation +of all readers by his or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, +beautiful, attractive,--so as to make men love her, and women +almost envy her,--and let her be made also heartless, unfeminine, +and ambitious of evil grandeur, as was Beatrix, what a danger is +there not in such a character! To the novelist who shall handle it, +what peril of doing harm! But if at last it have been so handled +that every girl who reads of Beatrix shall say: "Oh! not like +that;--let me not be like that!" and that every youth shall say: +"Let me not have such a one as that to press my bosom, anything +rather than that!"--then will not the novelist have preached his +sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel +can hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few +might be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the +softness of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. +Pickwick has been named as an exception to the rule, but even +in Pickwick there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little +amatory longings give a softness to the work. I tried it once with +Miss Mackenzie, but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this +frequent allusion to the passion which most stirs the imagination +of the young, there must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction +is probably well aware. Then the question has to be asked, whether +the danger may not be so averted that good may be the result,--and +to be answered. + + + +respect the necessity of dealing with love is advantageous,--advantageous +from the very circumstance which has made love necessary to +all novelists. It is necessary because the passion is one which +interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has felt it, +or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness which +still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, can +so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will +be very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their +business better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; +but it is done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make +young men and women believe that truth in love will make them +happy, then, if my writings be popular, I shall have a very large +class of pupils. No doubt the cause for that fear which did exist +as to novels arose from an idea that the matter of love would be +treated in an inflammatory and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," +says Sir Anthony in the play, "a circulating library in a town is +an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the +year; and depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of +handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony +was no doubt right. But he takes it for granted that the longing +for the fruit is an evil. The novelist who writes of love thinks +differently, and thinks that the honest love of an honest man is +a treasure which a good girl may fairly hope to win,--and that if +she can be taught to wish only for that, she will have been taught +to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love +by reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in +truth a very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but +the girl's love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became +a wife so womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, +so wifely, so worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told +that they ought to worship their husband,--that I cannot believe +that any girl can be injured, or even not benefited, by reading of +Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still +are some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear +nothing of love till the time come in which she is to be married. +That, no doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. +Malaprop. But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system +was more favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia +Languish, though she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide +the book, yet had Peregrine Pickle in her collection. While human +nature talks of love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn +to be silent on the subject. "Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque +recurret." There are countries in which it has been in accordance +with the manners of the upper classes that the girl should be brought +to marry the man almost out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out +of the convent--without having enjoyed that freedom of thought +which the reading of novels and of poetry will certainly produce; +but I do not know that the marriages so made have been thought to +be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English +novelists, a great division is made. There are sensational novels +and anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed +to be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to +take delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by +the other are charmed by the continuation and gradual development +of a plot. All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises +from the inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time +realistic and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in +the highest degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure +in art. Let those readers who believe that they do not like +sensational scenes in novels think of some of those passages from +our great novelists which have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in +the castle with Ivanhoe; of Burley in the cave with Morton; of the +mad lady tearing the veil of the expectant bride, in Jane Eyre; of +Lady Castlewood as, in her indignation, she explains to the Duke +of Hamilton Henry Esmond's right to be present at the marriage of +his Grace with Beatrix;--may I add of Lady Mason, as she makes her +confession at the feet of Sir Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that +the authors of these passages have sinned in being over-sensational? No +doubt, a string of horrible incidents, bound together without truth +in detail, and told as affecting personages without character,--wooden +blocks, who cannot make themselves known to the reader as men +and women, does not instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with +awe. Horrors heaped upon horrors, and which are horrors only in +themselves, and not as touching any recognised and known person, +are not tragic, and soon cease even to horrify. And such would-be +tragic elements of a story may be increased without end, and +without difficulty. I may tell you of a woman murdered,--murdered +in the same street with you, in the next house,--that she was a +wife murdered by her husband,--a bride not yet a week a wife. I may +add to it for ever. I may say that the murderer roasted her alive. +There is no end to it. I may declare that a former wife was treated +with equal barbarity; and may assert that, as the murderer was led +away to execution, he declared his only sorrow, his only regret +to be, that he could not live to treat a third wife after the same +fashion. There is nothing so easy as the creation and the cumulation +of fearful incidents after this fashion. If such creation and cumulation +be the beginning and the end of the novelist's work,--and novels have +been written which seem to be without other attractions,--nothing +can be more dull or more useless. But not on that account are we +averse to tragedy in prose fiction. As in poetry, so in prose, he +who can deal adequately with tragic elements is a greater artist +and reaches a higher aim than the writer whose efforts never carry +him above the mild walks of everyday life. The Bride of Lammermoor +is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its comic elements. The life +of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, is a tragedy. Rochester's +wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in Jane Eyre, is a tragedy. +But these stories charm us not simply because they are tragic, but +because we feel that men and women with flesh and blood, creatures +with whom we can sympathise, are struggling amidst their woes. It +all lies in that. No novel is anything, for the purposes either +of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can sympathise with the +characters whose names he finds upon the pages. Let an author so +tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and draw his tears, +and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let there be,--truth +of description, truth of character, human truth as to men and +women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel can be +too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on +the art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage +of the experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, +be too long for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet +got the rules quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say +a few words on one or two points which my own practice has pointed +out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down +to commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell +a story, but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first +novel will generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series +of events, or some development of character, will have presented +itself to his imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he +thinks he can present his picture in strong and agreeable language +to others. He sits down and tells his story because he has a story +to tell; as you, my friend, when you have heard something which +has at once tickled your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry +to tell it to the first person you meet. But when that first novel +has been received graciously by the public and has made for itself +a success, then the writer naturally feeling that the writing of +novels is within his grasp, looks about for something to tell in +another. He cudgels his brains, not always successfully, and sits +down to write, not because he has something which he burns to +tell, but because he feels it to be incumbent on him to be telling +something. As you, my friend, if you are very successful in +the telling of that first story, will become ambitious of further +storytelling, and will look out for anecdotes,--in the narration +of which you will not improbably sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that +it would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the +art of British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of +that portion of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential +to success. That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of +writing to be a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing +has become a habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the +weary novelist refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of +observation and reception from which has come his power, without +which work his power cannot be continued,--which work should +be going on not only when he is at his desk, but in all his walks +abroad, in all his movements through the world, in all his intercourse +with his fellow-creatures. He has become a novelist, as another has +become a poet, because he has in those walks abroad, unconsciously +for the most part, been drawing in matter from all that he has seen +and heard. But this has not been done without labour, even when +the labour has been unconscious. Then there comes a time when he +shuts his eyes and shuts his ears. When we talk of memory fading +as age comes on, it is such shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. +The things around cease to interest us, and we cannot exercise +our minds upon them. To the novelist thus wearied there comes the +demand for further novels. He does not know his own defect, and +even if he did he does not wish to abandon his own profession. He +still writes; but he writes because he has to tell a story, not +because he has a story to tell. What reader of novels has not felt +the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? The characters do not +live and move, but are cut out of blocks and are propped against the +wall. The incidents are arranged in certain lines--the arrangement +being as palpable to the reader as it has been to the writer--but +do not follow each other as results naturally demanded by previous +action. The reader can never feel--as he ought to feel--that only +for that flame of the eye, only for that angry word, only for that +moment of weakness, all might have been different. The course of +the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in which there is no room +for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, +but can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That +they are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that +they apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last +because we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to +himself, + + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories +when they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather +than from innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at +work when the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently +at work as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much +about the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially +on thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been +very thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected +plot has been at any period within my power. But the novelist has +other aims than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make +his readers so intimately acquainted with his characters that the +creatures of his brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, +human creatures. This he can never do unless he know those fictitious +personages himself, and he can never know them unless he can live +with them in the full reality of established intimacy. They must +be with him as he lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his +dreams. He must learn to hate them and to love them. He must argue +with them, quarrel with them, forgive them, and even submit to them. +He must know of them whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, +whether true or false, and how far true, and how far false. The +depth and the breadth, and the narrowness and the shallowness of +each should be clear to him. And, as here, in our outer world, we +know that men and women change,--become worse or better as temptation +or conscience may guide them,--so should these creations of his +change, and every change should be noted by him. On the last day +of each month recorded, every person in his novel should be a month +older than on the first. If the would-be novelist have aptitudes +that way, all this will come to him without much struggling;--but +if it do not come, I think he can only make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and +of all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, +and the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very +clothes they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have +said these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would +then have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this +intimacy ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be +turned out to grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, +I will by no means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than +Gil Blas' canon; but I do know that the power indicated is one without +which the teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject his +work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity of his +position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, much more is +necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed be pleasant without +being correct,--as I think can be proved by the works of more than +one distinguished novelist. But he must be intelligible,--intelligible +without trouble; and he must be harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by +the word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning +that may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language +should be so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without +an effort of the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, +but the very sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended +to put into his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by +all writers: "How little the all-important art of making meaning +pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself +thinks of it." The language used should be as ready and as efficient +a conductor of the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader +as is the electric spark which passes from one battery to another +battery. In all written matter the spark should carry everything; +but in matters recondite the recipient will search to see that +he misses nothing, and that he takes nothing away too much. The +novelist cannot expect that any such search will be made. A young +writer, who will acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will +often feel himself tempted by the difficulties of language to +tell himself that some one little doubtful passage, some single +collocation of words, which is not quite what it ought to be, will +not matter. I know well what a stumbling-block such a passage may +be. But he should leave none such behind him as he goes on. The +habit of writing clearly soon comes to the writer who is a severe +critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel written +in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a novelist +who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony which +is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are few +ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to them, +decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. And +the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza +be or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, +well instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such +a stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion CANENDO LAPIDES, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with +none of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, +become familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover +the fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is +harmonious in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him +in his business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able +to weigh the rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, +when it has been done for a time, even for a short time, will become +so habitual to him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration +of every syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon +paper. The art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how +each sound which he is about to utter will affect the force of his +climax. If a writer will do so he will charm his readers, though +his readers will probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden +of many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should +cover a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels +are not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of +the ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they +are subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks +to novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this +burden of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden +to the end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have +by their practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to +preach;--but they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault +and by dint of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a +novel. Every sentence, every word, through all those pages, should +tend to the telling of the story. Such episodes distract the +attention of the reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not +felt this to be the case even with The Curious Impertinent and with +the History of the Man of the Hill. And if it be so with Cervantes +and Fielding, who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you +have to write must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion +of episodes should be carried down into the smallest details. +Every sentence and every word used should tend to the telling of +the story. "But," the young novelist will say, "with so many pages +before me to be filled, how shall I succeed if I thus confine +myself;--how am I to know beforehand what space this story of mine +will require? There must be the three volumes, or the certain number +of magazine pages which I have contracted to supply. If I may not +be discursive should occasion require, how shall I complete my task? +The painter suits the size of his canvas to his subject, and must +I in my art stretch my subject to my canas?" This undoubtedly must +be done by the novelist; and if he will learn his business, may +be done without injury to his effect. He may not paint different +pictures on the same canvas, which he will do if he allow himself +to wander away to matters outside his own story; but by studying +proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to tell his story +that it shall naturally fall into the required length. Though his +story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. Though the +plot itself may require but few characters, it may be so enlarged +as to find its full development in many. There may be subsidiary +plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main story, +and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make +any two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer +presumes himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, +or sport, may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and +the writer, while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt +to think that he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no +greater mistake. The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part +of a novel; but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to +the telling of the main story. It need not seem to be confined to +that, but it should always have a tendency in that direction. The +unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe. +When a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind, he at +once feels that he is being cheated into taking something which he +did not bargain to accept when he took up that novel. He does not +at that moment require politics or philosophy, but he wants his +story. He will not perhaps be able to say in so many words that at +some certain point the dialogue has deviated from the story; but +when it does so he will feel it, and the feeling will be unpleasant. +Let the intending novel-writer, if he doubt this, read one of +Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much to charm,--and then +ask himself whether he has not been offended by devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into +the mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably +use. He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short, sharp, expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people +is often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue +must so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would +give to his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly +inaccuracy of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would +offend by an appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of +his readers a sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem +to attempt to be funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to +be unreal. And above all, let the speeches be short. No character +should utter much above a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer +can justify to himself a longer flood of speech by the specialty +of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been +set at defiance. I might name Caleb Williams as one and Adam Blair +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove +the rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does +so with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate +human nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this +or that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to +print his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by +constant and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to +listen and to observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners +of people in his memory as to be able to say to himself with assurance +that these words might have been said in a given position, and that +those other words could not have been said,--I do not think that +in these days he can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, +in paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be +said with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his reader. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY + + + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists +of my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour +to point whence their success has come, and why they have failed +when there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of +human nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human +beings, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been +within the reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know +no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the +reader becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. +How great a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we +admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there +any one of whom we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel +Newcombe? It is not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman +that we think Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but +because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force +us to love him, a weak and silly old man, on account of this grace +of character. It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he +lived with the characters he was creating. He had always a story +to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was +so, not by the interest which he had in his own plots,--for I doubt +whether his plots did occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing +us that his characters were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, +with Lady Castlewood and her daughter, and with Esmond, with +Warrington, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and +with Barry Lynon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse. +Therefore he has made these personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, +he deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining +his work minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of +every scene, adds something to the clearness with which the story +is told. Among all his stories there is not one which does not +leave on the mind a feeling of distress that women should ever +be immodest or men dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so +devoted and men so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of +Pendennis, the worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how +we love the honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, +and the devoted affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil +and love of good can hardly have come upon so many readers without +doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used; I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in The Virginians and in Philip the reader +is introduced to no character with which he makes a close and undying +acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because Thackeray +himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary of +that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She +is best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, +and not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will +come from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far +removed indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. +Her imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather +than in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled +to pieces so that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if +possible by her readers as clearly as by herself. This searching +analysis is carried so far that, in studying her latter writings, +one feels oneself to be in company with some philosopher rather +than with a novelist. I doubt whether any young person can read +with pleasure either Felix Holt, Middlemarch, or Daniel Deronda. +I know that they are very difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and +Tom Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in Romola, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to +have been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever +of that weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces +him to declare that the author has written himself out. It is not +from decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because +the author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly +the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour +of affectation. In Daniel Deronda, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to +take home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I +may be permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my +dearest and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, +I will not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, +in criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a +novelist is to please; and this man's novels have been found more +pleasant than those of any other writer. It might of course be +objected to this, that though the books have pleased they have been +injurious, that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching +vicious; but it is almost needless to say that no such charge has +ever been made against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. +From all which, there arises to the critic a question whether, with +such evidence against him as to the excellence of this writer, he +should not subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of +the world of readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong +to place Dickens after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do +that so great a majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any +of the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been +the peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has +invested, his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense +with human nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, +very much below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the +intellect of all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect +of many. Nor is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and +melodramatic. But it is so expressed that it touches every heart +a little. There is no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, +his devotion for Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and +incompatible with each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. +Every reader can find a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like +Boucicault's plays. He has known how to draw his lines broadly, so +that all should see the colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and +he, too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, +ceased to charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember +Mrs. Gamp and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, +dwell in the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such +a one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result +has been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from +Bulwer's novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result +rather of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than +of mere intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their +way. It is perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as +he wrote in varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as +Pelham and Ernest Maltravers, pictures of a fictitious life, and +afterwards pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in My Novel +and The Caxtons. But from all of them there comes the same flavour +of an effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it +would have been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, +with the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking +always of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not +think he ever knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do +we know them. Even Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to +us, as are Pickwick, and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and successful. +The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie Collins, +that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there is no plot. +The story comes naturally without calling for too much attention, +and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's intellect. His +language is clear, good, intelligible English, but it is defaced +by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and +his rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did +a sense of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from +man's voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and +whether in sickness or in health, I have never come across him +without finding him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the +men I have encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have +known many witty men, many who could say good things, many who +would sometimes be ready to say them when wanted, though they would +sometimes fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of +the night, and wit would come from him before he was half awake. +And yet he never monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would +take no more than his own share of the words spoken, and would yet +seem to brighten all that was said during the night. His earlier +novels--the later I have not read--are just like his conversation. +The fun never flags, and to me, when I read them, they were never +tedious. As to character he can hardly be said to have produced +it. Corney Delaney, the old manservant, may perhaps be named as an +exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to +be alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I +do not know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and +that he never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was +seated with a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Bronte was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be +right to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of +one novel, and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as +strong as he shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, +I should be inclined to put Miss Bronte very high indeed. I know +no interest more thrilling than that which she has been able to +throw into the characters of Rochester and the governess, in the +second volume of Jane Eyre. She lived with those characters, and +felt every fibre of the heart, the longings of the one and the +sufferings of the other. And therefore, though the end of the book +is weak, and the beginning not very good, I venture to predict that +Jane Eyre will be read among English novels when many whose names +are now better known shall have been forgotten. Jane Eyre, and +Esmond, and Adam Bede will be in the hands of our grandchildren, +when Pickwick, and Pelham, and Harry Lorrequer are forgotten; +because the men and women depicted are human in their aspirations, +human in their sympathies, and human in their actions. + +In Vilette, too, and in Shirley, there is to be found human life as +natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of interest +as those told in Jane Eyre. The character of Paul in the former of +the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in love +with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined to +prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled +me by his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as +Charles Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but +as one who has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of +reasoning. He can see what is grandly noble and admire it with +all his heart. He can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate +it with equal ardour. But in the common affairs of life he cannot +see what is right or wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be +guided by the opinion of others, he is constantly making mistakes +in his literary career, and subjecting himself to reproach which he +hardly deserves. He means to be honest. He means to be especially +honest,--more honest than other people. He has written a book +called The Eighth Commandment on behalf of honesty in literary +transactions,--a wonderful work, which has I believe been read by +a very few. I never saw a copy except that in my own library, or +heard of any one who knew the book. Nevertheless it is a volume +that must have taken very great labour, and have been written,--as +indeed he declares that it was written,--without the hope of +pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal to the British Parliament and +British people on behalf of literary honesty, declaring that should +he fail--"I shall have to go on blushing for the people I was born +among." And yet of all the writers of my day he has seemed to me +to understand literary honesty the least. On one occasion, as he +tells us in this book, he bought for a certain sum from a French +author the right of using a plot taken from a play,--which he +probably might have used without such purchase, and also without +infringing any international copyright act. The French author not +unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling him that he +is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in a novel; and +a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his discovery to +the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called his critic +a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact of his +own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we all mean +when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. The sin +of which the author is accused is not that of taking another man's +property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had +found the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which +there was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, +had he given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness +of purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so +strong a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, +that I have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has +accused. So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist +ever before had combined! In storytelling he has occasionally been +almost great. Among his novels I would especially recommend The +Cloister and the Hearth. I do not know that in this work, or in any, +that he has left a character that will remain; but he has written +some of his scenes so brightly that to read them would always be +a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in +a certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch +which I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural +that his work should be very much lost upon me individually. When +I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very +much care, how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct +his that he not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to +the minutest detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots +it all back again, to see that there is no piece of necessary +dove-tailing which does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The +construction is most minute and most wonderful. But I can never +lose the taste of the construction. The author seems always to be +warning me to remember that something happened at exactly half-past +two o'clock on Tuesday morning; or that a woman disappeared from +the road just fifteen yards beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is +constrained by mysteries and hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, +however, that the mysteries will be made clear, and the difficulties +overcome at the end of the third volume. Such work gives me no +pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared to acknowledge that the +want of pleasure comes from fault of my intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare how +much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and Rhoda +Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former almost +as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that +good produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which +she need be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be +proud. But she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, +and who allows her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though +she too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, +does take the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the +ground. And she has the gift of making them speak as men and women +do speak. "You beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man +who was to be her husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her +brother. Now Nancy, whether right or wrong, was just the girl who +would, as circumstances then were, have called her brother a beast. +There is nothing wooden about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and +in these days so many novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured +as are those by Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to +nature. In Miss Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and +missish, she has made her ladies do and say things which ladies +would not do and say. They throw themselves at men's heads, and +when they are not accepted only think how they may throw themselves +again. Miss Broughton is still so young that I hope she may live +to overcome her fault in this direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing Vivian Grey when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written +by a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his Sketches +by Boz, and as young when he was writing the Pickwick Papers. It +was hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought +out Lothair, and between the two there were eight or ten others. +To me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. +In whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment +and aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, +more rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the +glory has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been +a wealth of tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and +the enterprise has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious +conjurer has generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful +cleverness, can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to +his hand. Through it all there is a feeling of stage properties, +a smell of hair-oil, an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, +and that pricking of the conscience which must be the general +accompaniment of paste diamonds. I can understand that Mr. Disraeli +should by his novels have instigated many a young man and many a +young woman on their way in life, but I cannot understand that he +should have instigated any one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably +as many followers as Jack Sheppard, and has led his followers in +the same direction. + +Lothair, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended Vivian Grey. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, +that flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes +out stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than +Vivian Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more +inane and unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the +very bathos of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as +often excused to myself, that lack of public judgment which enables +readers to put up with bad work because it comes from good or from +lofty hands. I never felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little +able to excuse it, as when a portion of the reading public received +Lothair with satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON CRITICISM + + + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is +bad, in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. +English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as +this. It attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether +a book be or be not worth public attention; and, in the second +place, so to describe the purport of the work as to enable those +who have not time or inclination for reading it to feel that by a +short cut they can become acquainted with its contents. Both these +objects, if fairly well carried out, are salutary. Though the +critic may not be a profound judge himself; though not unfrequently +he be a young man making his first literary attempts, with tastes +and judgment still unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the +matter, and would not have been selected for that work had he not +shown some aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible +guide to the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. +Real substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and +that which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is +given to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without +it would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner +in which the work is done generally, so are others open to very +severe censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are +chiefly due on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is +not critical ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence +that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we +pay is not attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, +and when displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that +critics should be honest we have a right to demand, and critical +dishonesty we are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what +he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, +we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does not think, +actuated either by friendship or by animosity, then there should +be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English criticism +of which there is most reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It +has become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse +so many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling +author learns that so much has been done for A by the Barsetshire +Gazette, so much for B by the Dillsborough Herald, and, again, so +much for C by that powerful metropolitan organ the Evening Pulpit, +and is told also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal +interest, he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' +wives,--or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their +wives' first or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon +an editor or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced +by other considerations than the duty h owes to the public, all +sense of critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. +Facilis descensus Averni. In a very short time that editorial +honesty becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that +he wields the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what +should be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him +to be quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last +twenty years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out +now with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty +begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice +to be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself +a continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both +in the giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should +neither have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated +with scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by +his contract with certain employers to review such books as were +sent to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present +for praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever +noticed at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence +of honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar +with the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the +forms which their struggles will take:--how little presents will +be sent to men who write little articles; how much flattery may +be expended even on the keeper of a circulating library; with what +profuse and distant genuflexions approaches are made to the outside +railing of the temple which contains within it the great thunderer +of some metropolitan periodical publication! The evil here is not +only that done to the public when interested counsel is given to +them, but extends to the debasement of those who have at any rate +considered themselves fit to provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the conscience +and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling could be +produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for praise,--and +demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every walk of +life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only of +the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very disagreeable. +He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or she. It +may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an author +successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, +as coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author +try to obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if +possible, by care and industry. But when they come, let him take +them as coming from some source which he cannot influence, and with +which he should not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken +of the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing +can be gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book +which he has disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by +the praise of others; if bad, his judgment will be confirmed by +others. Or if, unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil +a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, +the author may be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own +book will not set matters right. If injustice be done him, let him +bear it. To do so is consonant with the dignity of the position +which he ought to assume. To shriek, and scream, and sputter, +to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that he has been +belied and defamed in that he has been accused of bad grammar or a +false metaphor, of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine, +will leave on the minds of the public nothing but a sense of +irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or +he will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than +he went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a +right to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will +be again, though the circumstances of English literature do not +tend to produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to +speak with authority. These great men have declared, tanquam ex +cathedra, that such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or +that it has been altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world +has believed them. When making such assertions they have given +their reasons, explained their causes, and have carried conviction. +Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics, but not +without infinite study and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. +In the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young +writer, who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever +book is sent to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through +for the purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the +amount of labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure +his work by his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this +must far the most part be, the general reader has no right to expect +philosophical analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence +may be placed. But he probably may believe that the books praised +will be better than the books censured, and that those which are +praised by periodicals which never censure are better worth his +attention than those which are not noticed. And readers will also +find that by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms +of the week, they will enable themselves to have an opinion about +the books of the day. The knowledge so acquired will not be great, +nor will that little be lasting; but it adds something to the +pleasure of life to be able to talk on subjects of which others are +speaking; and the man who has sedulously gone through the literary +notices in the Spectator and the Saturday may perhaps be justified +in thinking himself as well able to talk about the new book as +his friend who has bought that new book on the tapis, and who, not +improbably, obtained his information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which +have been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know +where I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only +greasy adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the +delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find +an equal mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much +judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its +staff. Among it all there is much chaff, which I have learned bow +to throw to the winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or +blames;--but I have also found some corn, on which I have fed and +nourished myself, and for which I have been thankful. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET"--"LEAVING THE POST OFFICE"--"ST. +PAUL'S MAGAZINE" + + + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weathertight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve +miles from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse +with the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country +for hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it +had to be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to +the Essex meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much +or more than I had a right to expect. It was within my own postal +district, and had, upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work that I did during the twelve years that I remained there, +from 1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that +in amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department +no slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least +twice a week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I +lived much in society in London, and was made happy by the presence +of many friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always +spent six weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived +a fuller life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether +to the virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table +every morning at 5.30 A. M.; and it was also my practice to allow +myself no mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, +and to whom I paid L5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no +mercy. During all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once +late with the coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not +know that I ought not to feel that I owe more to him than to any +one else for the success I have had. By beginning at that hour I +could complete my literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily +as literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day +will produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should +so have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously +during those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall +not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the +wall before him, till he shall have found the words with which he +wants to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and +it still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient +to myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from +myself 250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 +words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my +three hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began +my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which +would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing +with my ear the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly +recommend this practice to all tyros in writing. That their work +should be read after it has been written is a matter of course,--that +it should be read twice at least before it goes to the printers, +I take to be a matter of course. But by reading what he has last +written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch +the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the +fault of seeming to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed +me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, +and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results +three novels of three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount +which so greatly acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which +must at any rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers +of the world can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or +two or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I +to die now there are three such besides The Prime Minister, half +of which has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years +finished, and has never seen the light since it was first tied up +in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, +and to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of +a period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed +from me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 The Last Chronicle of Barset was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without +other accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might +be had for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was +always included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel +alone. Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference +to novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined +to make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me L3000 +for the use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If +I remember right the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have +written. I was never quite satisfied with the development of the +plot, which consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made +against a clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty +on the part of the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the +cheque had found its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself +believe that even such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten +how he got it, nor would the generous friend who was anxious to +supply his wants have supplied them by tendering the cheque of a +third person. Such fault I acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same +time that I have never been capable of constructing with complete +success the intricacies of a plot that required to be unravelled. +But while confessing so much, I claim to have portrayed the mind +of the unfortunate man with great accuracy and great delicacy. The +pride, the humility, the manliness, the weakness, the conscientious +rectitude and bitter prejudices of Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true +to nature and well described. The surroundings too are good. Mrs. +Proudie at the palace is a real woman; and the poor old dean dying +at the deanery is also real. The archdeacon in his victory is very +real. There is a true savour of English country life all through +the book. It was with many misgivings that I killed my old friend +Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I think, have done it, but for a resolution +taken and declared under circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenaeum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on +the other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were +reading, and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The +gravamen of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced +the same characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon +whom we have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," +said the other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till +everybody is tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I +would not write novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. +Proudie. It was impossible for me not to hear their words, and +almost impossible to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing +between them, I acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. +Proudie," I said, "I will go home and kill her before the week is +over." And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, +and one of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all the +shades of her character. It was not only that she was a tyrant, +a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one who +would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means +a hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; +but I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still +live much in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote Can You Forgive Her? +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called The Noble Jilt. Some year or two after the completion +of The Last Chronicle, I was asked by the manager of a theatre to +prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy Did He Steal It? But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was +less attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley +nearly crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason +given. I have little doubt but that the manager was right. That +he intended to express a true opinion, and would have been glad to +have taken the piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be The Warden, Barchester +Towers, Doctor Thorne, Framley Parsonage, and The Last Chronicle +of Barset. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are in the +hands of four different persons, including myself, and with one of +the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert with the +others. [Footnote: Since this was written I have made arrangements +for doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will +now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was +the resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described +how it was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties +with my other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but +even this did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which +no scruple of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I +was driven to work at night. In the winter when hunting was going +on, I had to keep myself very much on the alert. And during the +London season, when I was generally two or three days of the week +in town, I found the official work to be a burden. I had determined +some years previously, after due consideration with my wife, to +abandon the Post Office when I had put by an income equal to the +pension to which I should be entitled if I remained in the department +till I was sixty. That I had now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and +my brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I +applied for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained +this I should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my +literary work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and +would have returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the +General Post Office. There was very much against such a change in +life. The increase of salary would not have amounted to above L400 +a year, and I should have lost much more than that in literary +remuneration. I should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance +at an office, from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty +years. I should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. +But I was attached to the department, had imbued myself with a +thorough love of letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by +the post,--and was anxious for their welfare as though they were +all my own. In short, I wished to continue the connection. I did +not wish, moreover, that any younger officer should again pass over +my head. I believed that I bad been a valuable public servant, +and I will own to a feeling existing at that time that I had not +altogether been well treated. I was probably wrong in this. I had +been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I pleased, and to say what +I liked, and had in that way received my reward. I applied for +the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to it. He no doubt +was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He understood +the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was a great +accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in regard +to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed by +the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A man +shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a pension,--unless +his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to one-sixtieth of +his salary for every year he has served up to forty years. If his +health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work before the +age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to one-sixtieth +for every year he has served. I could not say that my health had +failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I have since +felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left the Post +Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to my +literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still +a little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined +after my death that I had slighted the public service to which I +belonged, I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to +the letter containing my resignation. + + + "GENERAL POST OFFICE, + October 9th, 1867. + +"Sir,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in which you +tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post Office service, and +state as your reason for this step that you have adopted another +profession, the exigencies of which are so great as to make you +feel you cannot give to the duties of the Post Office that amount +of attention which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right +to expect. + +"You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous members +of the Post Office, which, on several occasions when you have been +employed on large and difficult matters, has reaped much benefit +from the great abilities which you have been able to place at its +disposal; and in mentioning this, I have been especially glad to +record that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you +have never permitted your other avocations to interfere with your +Post Office work, which has been faithfully and indeed energetically +performed." (There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," +but still it did not displease me.) + +"In accepting your resignation, which he does with much regret, +the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you his own sense of +the value of your services, and to state how alive he is to the +loss which will be sustained by the department in which you have +long been an ornament, and where your place will with difficulty +be replaced. + + (Signed) "J. TILLEY." + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, +and some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy +me more than to think that I should even be supposed to have been +among the number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which +I had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not +say devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have +their letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar +letter-boxes should be put up for them (of which accommodation +in the streets and ways of England I was the originator, having, +however, got the authority for the erection of the first at St. +Heliers in Jersey); that the letter-carriers and sorters should not +be overworked; that they should be adequately paid, and have some +hours to themselves, especially on Sundays; above all, that they +should be made to earn their wages and latterly that they should +not be crushed by what I thought to be the damnable system of +so-called merit;--these were the matters by which I was stirred to +what the secretary was pleased to call energetic performance of my +duties. How I loved, when I was contradicted,--as I was very often +and, no doubt, very properly,--to do instantly as I was bid, and then +to prove that what I was doing was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, +and impracticable! And then there were feuds--such delicious feuds! +I was always an anti-Hillite, acknowledging, indeed, the great thing +which Sir Rowland Hill had done for the country, but believing him +to be entirely unfit to manage men or to arrange labour. It was a +pleasure to me to differ from him on all occasions;--and, looking +back now, I think that in all such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything +to improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to +do so gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own +reports unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant +to be read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing +myself to re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but +sending them up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots +and erasures there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a +man should search after a fine neatness at the expense of so much +waste labour; or that he should not be able to exact from himself +the necessity of writing words in the form in which they should be +read. If a copy be required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand +or by machine, as may be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his +words to prevail with the reader, should send them out as written +by himself, by his own hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, +correct or incorrect, with the evidence upon them that they have +come out from his own mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the +world where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for +him, and had offered me a salary of L1000 a year for the work over +and above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had +known something of magazines, and did not believe that they were +generally very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some +publishers as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business +was chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, +this consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I +very strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to +him that a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine +In accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it +on any other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate +return to him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, +listened to my arguments with great patience, and the told me that +if I would not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should, from month to month, give +in to him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that +he should pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and, thirdly, +that the arrangement should remain in force, at any rate, for two +years. To all this he made no objection; and during the time that +he and I were thus bound together he not only complied with these +stipulations, but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine +that I made to him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide +liberality and absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, +and perpetual good humour, would have produced success, our magazine +certainly would have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. The Liberal may cease to be liberal, or The +Fortnightly, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But The Cornhill +and The Argosy are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or, possibly, the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. Blackwood's has, indeed, always +remained Blackwood's, and Fraser's, though it has been bought and +sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called Anthony Trollope's. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town,--still are about the town,--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would +have driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we +settled on St. Paul's as the name for our bantling--not as being +in any way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks +with many others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, +it was not by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. +Lynn Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles +Lever, E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. +H. Lewes, C. Mackay, Hardman (of the Times), George Macdonald, W. +R. Greg, Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton +Cook--and others, whose names would make the list too long. It +might have been thought that with such aid the St. Paul's would have +succeeded. I do not think that the failure,--for it did fail,--arose +from bad editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the +fault. I was too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of +what might be lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two occasions +may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set on foot +on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything short of +a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set a magazine +afloat, though, when afloat, it will sustain it. Time is wanted--or +the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by ubiquitous +sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may be +effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time +and intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done +better than Blackwood's. The Cornhill, too, after Thackeray had +left it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in +quite efficient hands--those hands being the hands of proprietor +and publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and +what he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into +that worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for +the sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so +sin very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My +dear friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn +in his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know +that I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work +did not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did +so, I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that +such editors as Thackeray and myself,--if I may, for the moment, be +allowed to couple men so unequal,--will always be liable to commit +such faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors +will be less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to +be open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, +or why the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that +may be sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce +a periodical that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably +best do by securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BEVERLEY + + + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning +to fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who +was himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should +like best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether +I wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far a he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to +look for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one +by leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could +get a seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that +bourne from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there +feel that he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to +every educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that +every educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in +Parliament as a probable or even a possible career; but that the man +in Parliament has reached a higher position than the man out,--that +to serve one's country without pay is the grandest work that a man +can do,--that of all studies the study of politics is the one in +which a man may make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and +that of all lives, public political lives are capable of the highest +efforts. So thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too +late an age at which to commence a new career,--I resolved with +much hesitation that I would make the attempt. Writing now at an +age beyond sixty, I can say that my political feelings and convictions +have never undergone any change. They are now what they became when +I first began to have political feelings and convictions. Nor do I +find in myself any tendency to modify them as I have found generally +in men as they grow old. I consider myself to be an advanced, but +still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard not only as a possible, +but as a rational and consistent phase of political existence. +I can, I believe, in a very few words, make known my political +theory; and, as I am anxious that any who know aught of me should +know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It should, +I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel superiority, +unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do not +understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are, therefore, +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that +we see--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from +a full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but +still we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of +our brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for, +in this matter, I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tossed-bound life of those who cannot even +feed themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling +of injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck +by apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. +Make all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they +shall be all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the +conscientious, philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being +surely convinced that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells +himself that it is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the +preservation of the welfare of the world depends on the maintenance +of those distances between the prince and the peasant by which he +finds himself to be surrounded; and, perhaps, I may add, that the +duty is not unpleasant, as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it +is apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his +duty to retard. He cannot prevent it; and, therefore, the society +to which he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, +at times, assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, +under the gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and +holdfasts which he may add, the movement would be slower than it +would become if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. +Such, I think, are Conservatives; and I speak of men who, with the +fear of God before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm +in their hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their +ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best understood, +I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious Liberal +is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that these +distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness; but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of +steps towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even +willing to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he +knows, as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. +What is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the +word is offensive, and presents to the imagination of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and, therefore, he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any +political doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition +of his fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, +and a conjurer--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be stilted, +overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. Many +will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active +part in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals +or Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings +as to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is +so; and in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further +and further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and Members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are +the intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply +such a game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater +results. To the minds that create and lead and sway political +opinion, some such theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. +But I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about +myself in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, +must be able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied +with doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must +patiently get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, +and then be satisfied with himself when at last he has induced +a Chancellor of the Exchequer to say that he will consider the +impost at the first opportunity. He must be content to be beaten +six times in order that, on a seventh, his work may be found to +be of assistance to some one else. He must remember that he is one +out of 650, and be content with 1-650th part of the attention of +the nation. If he have grand ideas, he must keep them to himself, +unless by chance, he can work his way up to the top of the tree. +In short, he must be a practical man. Now I knew that in politics +I could never become a practical man. I should never be satisfied +with a soft word from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but would +always be flinging my overtaxed ketchup in his face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a +good speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied +the art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I +had found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else +all impromptu,--which was very bad, indeed, unless I had something +special on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by +going into Parliament--that the time for it, if there could have +been a time, had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire +to sit there, and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn +had not been deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a dissolution, +I should stand for one division of the County of Essex; and I had +promised that I would do so, though the promise at that time was +as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this by the +late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very +anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex +was portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, +one of which,--that adjacent to London,--would, it was thought, +be altogether Liberal. After the promise which I had given, +the performance of which would have cost me a large sum of money +absolutely in vain, it was felt by some that I should be selected +as one of the candidates for the new division--and as such I was +proposed by Mr. Charles Buxton. But another gentleman, who would +have been bound by previous pledges to support me, was put forward +by what I believe to have been the defeating interest, and I had +to give way. At the election this gentleman, with another Liberal, +who had often stood for the county, was returned without a contest. +Alas! alas! They were both unseated at the next election, when the +great Conservative reaction took place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or, at least, the +East Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly +better than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of +canvassing, and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the +prospect of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they +who knew Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," +said he, "you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely +that I was thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he +said. Again I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but, +nevertheless, I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh, no!" +continued he, with good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I +don't suppose you really expect it. But there is a fine career open +to you. You will spend L1000, and lose the election. Then you will +petition, and spend another L1000. You will throw out the elected +members. There will be a commission, and the borough will be +disfranchised. For a beginner such as you are, that will be a great +success." And yet, in the teeth of this, from a man who knew all +about it, I persisted in going to Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented +by Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying +that he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of +the seat. There had been many contests, many petitions, many void +elections, many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept +his seat, if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next +door to permanence. I fancy that with a little management between +the parties the borough might at this time have returned a member +of each colour quietly; but there were spirits there who did not +love political quietude, and it was at last decided that there +should be two Liberal and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry +was joined by a young man of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was +grouped with Mr. Maxwell, the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch +Roman Catholic peer, who lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure +me a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands, at any +rate, the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. +Maxwell and I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves +but the one holiday during this period of intense labour; but I +was assured, as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, +that if we committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert +us. From morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes +and by-ways of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, +exposed to the rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable +to assume that air of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful +candidate should be invested. At night, every night I had to +speak somewhere,--which was bad; and to listen to the speaking of +others,--which was much worse. When, on one Sunday, I proposed to +go to the Minster Church, I was told that was quite useless, as +the Church party were all certain to support Sir Henry! "Indeed," +said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes there in a kind of official +profession, and you had better not allow yourself to be seen in the +same place." So I stayed away and omitted my prayers. No Church of +England church in Beverley would on such an occasion have welcomed +a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a kind of pariah in the +borough, to whom was opposed all that was pretty, and all that was +nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the conviction +that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to the men +whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my doctrines, +and could not be made to understand that I should have any. I had +been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry Edwards,--which, +however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or to cause him +the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, and expense. +There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my wished-for +supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two points +I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious for +the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extending electoral divisions and by +an increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parlimentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so +utterly unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into +Yorkshire merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not +have said more than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of +course I was not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became +members for Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid +L400 for my expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the +cost. He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque +for L400, and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. +How it came to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never +knew, but such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from +me, but from the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen +were unseated, the borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards +was put on his trial for some kind of Parliamentary offence and +was acquitted. In this way Beverley's privilege as a borough and +my Parliamentary ambition were brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should +do, I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed +to me that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing +more absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, +than the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had +come to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. +There was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal +there turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should +be no bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. +It was a matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were +appreciated because they might subserve electoral purposes, and +how little it was understood that electoral purposes, which are in +themselves a nuisance, should be endured in order that they may +subserve politics. And then the time, the money, the mental energy, +which had been expended in making the borough a secure seat for +a gentleman who had realised the idea that it would become him to +be a member of Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be +realised and approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants +had taught themselves to think that it was for such purposes that +boroughs were intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, +even in one town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS + + + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, +as being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has +been brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go +over to the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. +This, as I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and +of course I went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made +two since. As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was +very far from being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, +a place I do not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by +incompetence, and opposed by what I felt to be personal and not +national views. I had to deal with two men,--with one who was a +working officer of the American Post Office, than whom I have never +met a more zealous, or, as far as I could judge, a more honest +public servant. He had his views and I had mine, each of us having +at heart the welfare of the service in regard to his own country,--each +of us also having certain orders which we were bound to obey. But +the other gentleman, who was in rank the superior,--whose executive +position was dependent on his official status, as is the case with +our own Ministers,--did not recommend himself to me equally. He +would make appointments with me and then not keep them, which at +last offended me so grievously, that I declared at the Washington +Post Office that if this treatment were continued, I would write +home to say that any further action on my part was impossible. I +think I should have done so had it not occurred to me that I might +in this way serve his purpose rather than my own, or the purposes +of those who had sent me. The treaty, however, was at last made,--the +purport of which was, that everything possible should be done, at +a heavy expenditure on the part of England, to expedite the mails +from England to America, and that nothing should be done by America +to expedite the mails from thence to us. The expedition I believe +to be now equal both ways; but it could not be maintained as it is +without the payment of a heavy subsidy from Great Britain, whereas +no subsidy is paid by the States. [Footnote: This was a state of +things which may probably have appeared to American politicians +to be exactly that which they should try to obtain. The whole +arrangement has again been altered since the time of which I have +spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands +in the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have +never had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my +work; but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found +many years ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, +being then in the States, the details of which are sufficiently +amusing [Footnote: In answer to a question from myself, a certain +American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised me +that IF ANY OTHER AMERICAN PUBLISHER REPUBLISHED MY WORK ON AMERICA +BEFORE HE HAD DONE SO, he would not bring out a competing edition, +though there would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an +agreement with another American publisher, stipulating to supply +him with early sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain +royalty on his sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly. +I sent the sheets with energetic punctuality, and the work was +brought out with equal energy and precision--by my old American +publishers. The gentleman who made the promise had not broken his +word. No other American edition had come out before his. I never +got any account, and, of course, never received a dollar.]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though +I do not know that I have raised my price against them on that +score, I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from +the American market. But I do know that what the publishers have +received here is very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, my present publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States +as much as 5 per cent. on the price they pay me for my manuscript. +But the American readers are more numerous than the English, and +taking them all through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get +L1000 for a book here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be +able to get as much there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes +in place of 300, there is no question as to such result. Why not, +then, if I can supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having +a certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers, [Footnote: I might also say +American publishers, if I might count them by the number of heads, +and not by the amount of work done by the firms.] that an assent +to an international copyright would be the result. The state of +things as it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers +will not pay them a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply +their customers with modern English literature without paying for +it. The English amount of production so much exceeds the American, +that the rate at which the former can be published rules the +market. It is equally injurious to American booksellers,--except +to two or three of the greatest houses. No small man can now acquire +the exclusive right of printing and selling an English book. If +such a one attempt it, the work is printed instantly by one of the +leviathans,--who alone are the gainers. The argument of course is, +that the American readers are the gainers,--that as they can get +for nothing the use of certain property, they would be cutting their +own throats were they to pass a law debarring themselves from the +power of such appropriation. In this argument all idea of honesty +is thrown to the winds. It is not that they do not approve of +a system of copyright,--as many great men have disapproved,--for +their own law of copyright is as stringent as is ours. A bold +assertion is made that they like to appropriate the goods of other +people; and that, as in this case, they can do so with impunity, +they will continue to do so. But the argument, as far as I have been +able to judge, comes not from the people, but from the bookselling +leviathans, and from those politicians whom the leviathans are able +to attach to their interests. The ordinary American purchaser is +not much affected by slight variations in price. He is at any rate +too high-hearted to be affected by the prospect of such variation. +It is the man who wants to make money, not he who fears that he may +be called upon to spend it, who controls such matters as this in +the United States. It is the large speculator who becomes powerful +in the lobbies of the House, and understands how wise it may +be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation of a great +business, or in protecting that which he has created from competition. +Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done since (up to +1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is now about to +sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a member; and +the question must then be handled, though nothing done by a Royal +Commission here can effect American legislators. But I do believe +that if the measure be consistently and judiciously urged, the +enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. Some years +since we had some quasi private meetings, under the presidency of +Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the subject of +international copyright. At one of these I discussed this matter of +American international copyright with Charles Dickens, who strongly +declared his conviction that nothing would induce an American to +give up the power he possesses of pirating British literature. But +he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, would not +realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this matter +the American decision had been, according to his thinking, dishonest, +therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be expected from +Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now protest. American +dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among a few. It +is the great misfortune of the community that those few have been +able to dominate so large a portion of the population among which +all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has +sat and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and +could serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which +are discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that L20 was paid to my publisher in England for the +use of the early sheets of a novel for which I received L1600 in +England. When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that +the firm with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to +another firm?" I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because +no other firm would care to run counter to that great firm which +had assumed to itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after +received a copy of my own novel in the American form, and found +that it was published for 7 1/2d. That a great sale was expected +can be argued from the fact that without a great sale the paper and +printing necessary for the republication of a three-volume novel +could not be supplied. Many thousand copies must have been sold. +But from these the author received not one shilling. I need hardly +point out that the sum of L20 would not do more than compensate +the publisher for his trouble in making the bargain. The publisher +here no doubt might have refused to supply the early sheets, but +he had no means of exacting a higher price than that offered. I +mention the circumstance here because it has been boasted, on behalf +of the American publishers, that though there is no international +copyright, they deal so liberally with English authors as to make +it unnecessary that the English author should be so protected. +With the fact of the L20 just brought to my knowledge, and with the +copy of my book published at 7 1/2d. now in my hands, I feel that +an international copyright is very necessary for my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love +of education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions +in the minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk +upright, fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for +his own actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by +private munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where +can the English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than +the normal American, when once the American shall have found the +Englishman to be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is +so much an object of heart-felt admiration of the American man and +the American woman as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman +or Englishman? These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost +in the minds of the unprejudiced English traveller as he makes +acquaintance with these near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant +of their official doings, of their politics, of their municipal +scandals, of their great ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and +briberies, and the infinite baseness of their public life. There +at the top of everything he finds the very men who are the least +fit to occupy high places. American public dishonesty is so glaring +that the very friends he has made in the country are not slow +to acknowledge it,--speaking of public life as a thing apart from +their own existence, as a state of dirt in which it would be an +insult to suppose that they are concerned! In the midst of it all +the stranger, who sees so much that he hates and so much that he +loves, hardly knows how to express himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with +what energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the +clean outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight +outnumber the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead +you. It is not by the private lives of the millions that the outside +world will judge you, but by the public career of those units whose +venality is allowed to debase the name of your country. There never +was plainer proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of +every honest citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond +of pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which +makes no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen +high in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two +old gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high +in public estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned +the occasion into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious +at first, and fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of +manners which with us has become a habit from our childhood. But +they are never fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be +a memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of +the chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last +fifteen years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. +She is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark +by thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do +any good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages +would amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of +myself without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. +I trust she may live to read the words I have now written, and to +wipe away a tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and +on my return I went back with energy to my work at the St. Paul's +Magazine. The first novel in it from my own pen was called Phineas +Finn, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, +I took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my +seat on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon +by the Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a +seat in the gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with +the ways and doings of the House in which some of my scenes were +to be placed. The Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running +order for, I think, a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, +to enable me often to be very tired,--and, as I have been assured +by members, to talk of the proceedings almost as well as though +Fortune had enabled me to fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing Phineas Finn, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my +own sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with +perhaps a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this +way I think I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly +a blunder to take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the +circumstance that I created the scheme of the book during a visit +to Ireland. There was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and +there was an added difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection +for a politician belonging to a nationality whose politics are not +respected in England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It +was not a brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant +with political matters could not care much for a hero who spent +so much of his time either in the House of Commons or in a public +office. But the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the +book, and the women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish +read it also. As this was what I had intended, I was contented. It +is all fairly good except the ending,--as to which till I got to +it I made no provision. As I fully intended to bring my hero again +into the world, I was wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish +girl, who could only be felt as an encumbrance on such return. When +he did return I had no alternative but to kill the simple pretty +Irish girl, which was an unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing Phineas Finn I had constantly before me the necessity +of progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and +women which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In +most novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +Ivanhoe, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as +they become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this +in Tom Jones, which is one of the greatest novels in the English +language, for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature +may fall away under temptation and be again strengthened and made +to stand upright. But I do not think that novelists have often +set before themselves the state of progressive change,--nor should +I have done it, had I not found myself so frequently allured back +to my old friends. So much of my inner life was passed in their +company, that I was continually asking myself how this woman would +act when this or that event had passed over her head, or how that +man would carry himself when his youth had become manhood, or +his manhood declined to old age. It was in regard to the old Duke +of Omnium, of his nephew and heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady +Glencora, that I was anxious to carry out this idea; but others added +themselves to my mind as I went on, and I got round me a circle of +persons as to whom I knew not only their present characters, but +how those characters were to be affected by years and circumstances. +The happy motherly life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the +girl's honest but long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady +Laura, which was equally due to the sale she made of herself in her +wretched marriage; and the long suffering but final success of the +hero, of which he had deserved the first by his vanity, and the +last by his constant honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from +the first. As to the incidents of the story, the circumstances by +which these personages were to be affected, I knew nothing. They +were created for the most part as they were described. I never +could arrange a set of events before me. But the evil and the good +of my puppets, and how the evil would always lead to evil, and the +good produce good,--that was clear to me as the stars on a summer +night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in Phineas Finn and its +sequel Phineas Redux,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the St. Paul's Magazine in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the Graphic in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, +or that any little interest which might have been taken in the +career of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that +such interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the +same popularity as the former part, and among the same class of +readers. Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet +had become--and the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the +new duke, and the young duchess, either kept their old friends or +made new friends for themselves. Phineas Finn, I certainly think, +was successful from first to last. I am aware, however, that there +was nothing in it to touch the heart like the abasement of Lady +Mason when confessing her guilt to her old lover, or any approach +in delicacy of delineation to the character of Mr. Crawley. + +Phineas Finn, the first part of the story, was completed in +May, 1867. In June and July I wrote Linda Tressel for Blackwood's +Magazine, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called The Golden Lion of Granpere, which +was intended also for Blackwood,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in Good Words. It +was written on the model of Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, but +is very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, +1867, I began a very long novel, which I called He Knew He Was +Right, and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of +the St. Paul's Magazine, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not +know that in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short +of my own intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create +sympathy for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do +his duty to all around him, should be led constantly astray by his +unwillingness to submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. +The man is made to be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he +does is apparent. So far I did not fail, but the sympathy has not +been created yet. I look upon the story as being nearly altogether +bad. It is in part redeemed by certain scenes in the house and +vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. But a novel which in its main +parts is bad cannot, in truth, be redeemed by the vitality of +subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced The Vicar of +Bullhampton, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by +it during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the +St. Paul's Magazine, in reference to which I had read an enormous +amount of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I +had written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and +had made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had +hunted three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy +I was with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered +as a part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained +my experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched +American Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able +to escape from that capital till July; but all that had added to +the activity of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; +but I had read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a +part of my duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my +novels I had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation +and scorn produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I +was nevertheless proud of having done so much. I always had a pen +in my hand. Whether crossing the seas, or fighting with American +officials, or tramping about the streets of Beverley, I could do a +little, and generally more than a little. I had long since convinced +myself that in such work as mine the great secret consisted +in acknowledging myself to be bound to rules of labour similar to +those which an artisan or a mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker +when he has finished one pair of shoes does not sit down and +contemplate his work in idle satisfaction. "There is my pair of +shoes finished at last! What a pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker +who so indulged himself would be without wages half his time. It +is the same with a professional writer of books. An author may of +course want time to study a new subject. He will at any rate assure +himself that there is some such good reason why he should pause. +He does pause, and will be idle for a month or two while he tells +himself how beautiful is that last pair of shoes which he has +finished! Having thought much of all this, and having made up my +mind that I could be really happy only when I was at work, I had +now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as soon as the +first was out of my hands. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON"--"SIR HARRY HOTSPUR"--"AN EDITOR'S +TALES"--"CAESAR" + + + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then +the sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the +firm. He remained there three years and a half; but he did not like +it, nor do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he +left the business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might +have been expected from the short period of his labours, and has +since taken himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will +work at it so hard as his father, and write as many books, may be +doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone to Australia, +having resolved on a colonial career when he found that boys who did +not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This departure +was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted on the +understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, and +then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, +and in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I +have since that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which +at any rate I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the +Australasian Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word +or two further on of him and his doings. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written in 1868 for publication in Once +a Week, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont had made +my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my terms +and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before it +was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was the +first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have +I ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I +had stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled +to suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to +console myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of +virtue. The industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple +will always be the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, +who keep none waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for +the unpunctual. But these earthly sufferers know that they are making +their way heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. +If the former reflection does not suffice for consolation, the +deficiency is made up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on +the matter of the publication of my new Vicar, and had to think +very much of the ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. +About the end of March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the +editor. All the Once a Week people were in a terrible trouble. They +had bought the right of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern +novels, L'Homme Qui Rit; they had fixed a date, relying on positive +pledges from the French publishers; and now the great French author +had postponed his work from week to week and from month to month, +and it had so come to pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would +have to appear exactly at the same time as my clergyman. Was it +not quite apparent to me, the editor asked, that Once a Week could +not hold the two? Would I allow my clergyman to make his appearance +in the Gentleman's Magazine instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by +the stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he +had put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches +on his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +Gentleman's Magazine, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, by novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no +doubt are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is +irregular. He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till +three months after the time named." In these emergencies I have +given perhaps half what was wanted, and have refused to give the +other half. I have endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and +at the same time not to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But +the circumstances have impressed on my mind the great need there is +that men engaged in literature should feel themselves to be bound +to their industry as men know that they are bound in other callings. +There does exist, I fear, a feeling that authors, because they are +authors, are relieved from the necessity of paying attention to +everyday rules. A writer, if he be making L800 a year, does not think +himself bound to live modestly on L600, and put by the remainder +for his wife and children. He does not understand that he should +sit down at his desk at a certain hour. He imagines that publishers +and booksellers should keep all their engagements with him to +the letter;--but that he, as a brain-worker, and conscious of the +subtle nature of the brain, should be able to exempt himself from +bonds when it suits him. He has his own theory about inspiration +which will not always come,--especially will not come if wine-cups +overnight have been too deep. All this has ever been odious to +me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in health, and therefore +unable to do as he has contracted in whatever grade of life. He who +has been blessed with physical strength to work day by day, year +by year--as has been my case--should pardon deficiencies caused +by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect have been a little +hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my repentance. But +I think that no allowance should be given to claims for exemption +from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score still with +the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for fallen woman, and of raising +a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other women. I +could not venture to make this female the heroine of my story. To +have made her a heroine at all would have been directly opposed +to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should be +a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference to +her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the heroine with +their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I affixed a +preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my old-established +principle. I do not know that any one read it; but as I wish to +have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + +"I have introduced in the Vicar of Bullhampton the character of a +girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall not in +its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured to endow +her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I have brought +her back at last from degradation, at least to decency. I have not +married her to a wealthy lover, and I have endeavoured to explain +that though there was possible to her a way out of perdition, still +things could not be with her as they would have been had she not +fallen. + +"There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who +professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, +should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as +that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within the +memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a condition +of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our sisters and +daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of them. Whether that +ignorance was good may be questioned; but that it exists no longer +is beyond question. Then arises the further question,--how far the +conditions of such unfortunates should be made a matter of concern +to the sweet young hearts of those whose delicacy and cleanliness +of thought is a matter of pride to so many of us. Cannot women, +who are good, pity the sufferings of the vicious, and do something +perhaps to mitigate and shorten them without contamination from the +vice? It will be admitted probably by most men who have thought +upon the subject that no fault among us is punished so heavily +as that fault, often so light in itself but so terrible in its +consequences to the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a +woman falls. All of her own sex is against her, and all those of +the other sex in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought +to have contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were +her trouble any other than it is. + +"She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, +unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has placed +her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It may be said, +no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts as a protection +to female virtue,--deterring, as all known punishments do deter, from +vice. But this punishment, which is horrible beyond the conception +of those who have not regarded it closely, is not known beforehand. +Instead of the punishment, there is seen a false glitter of gaudy +life,--a glitter which is damnably false,--and which, alas I has +been more often portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of +young girls, than have those horrors which ought to deter, with +the dark shadowings which belong to them. + +"To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, +as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life +is, happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice +and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter be +handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been thoughtless, +may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may be softened." + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that +feeling I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her +family. I have not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I +presented her to the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of +those fallacious luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more +seductive to evil than love itself. She is introduced as a poor +abased creature, who hardly knows how false were her dreams, with +very little of the Magdalene about her--because though there may +be Magdalenes they are not often found--but with an intense horror +of the sufferings of her position. Such being her condition, will +they who naturally are her friends protect her? The vicar who has +taken her by the hand endeavours to excite them to charity; but +father, and brother, and sister are alike hard-hearted. It had +been my purpose at first that the hand of every Brattle should be +against her; but my own heart was too soft to enable me to make +the mother cruel,--or the unmarried sister who had been the early +companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. +The characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping +with human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. +It is not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have +myself forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she +tumbles into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should +remember her. But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said +by any of the Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out +of ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is +of such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is +the woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? +Then comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone +that we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument +used in favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse +given for their severity by women who will relax nothing of their +harshness. But in truth the severity of the punishment is not known +beforehand; it is not in the least understood by women in general, +except by those who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, +the contumely of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all +good things, the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed +round with lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the +weary pavement, the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then +the quick depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted +paint, garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still +can hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the +life to which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their +error we close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find +pardon easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope +to recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at +all, must be induced to obey the summons before they have reached +the last stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. +To me the mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that +the girl who has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if +possible, at any rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, +and that this ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, put +in part also from a dread of the taint which the sin brings with +it. Very low as is the degradation to which a girl is brought when +she falls through love or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for +luxurious ease, still much lower is that to which she must descend +perforce when, through the hardness of the world around her, +she converts that sin into a trade. Mothers and sisters, when the +misfortune comes upon them of a fallen female from among their +number, should remember this, and not fear contamination so strongly +as did Carry Brattle's married sister and sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of +the three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had +nothing to do with it except to write it. These were Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, An Editor's Tales, and a little volume +on Julius Caesar. Sir Harry Hotspur was written on the same plan as +Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. Nina and Linda Tressel and The Golden Lion +had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English story. +In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I think, +by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love of +the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in Macmillan's Magazine, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it +should have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of +a good many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, +the subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. +Macmillan, and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them +as a novel in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel +in one volume, and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that +the public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is +the object of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they +can, and that the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, +however, did not overcome me, and I stood to my guns. Sir Harry +was published in one volume, containing something over the normal +300 pages, with an average of 220 words to a page,--which I +had settled with my conscience to be the proper length of a novel +volume. I may here mention that on one occasion, and one occasion +only, a publisher got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He +had a two-volume novel of mine running through a certain magazine, +and had it printed complete in three volumes before I knew where I +was,--before I had seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for +a while, but I had not the heart to make him break up the type. + +The Editor's Tales was a volume republished from the St. Paul's +Magazine, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned +the memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it +the outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance +of some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation +with me, I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed +his little article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with +a becoming pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how +I was appealed to by the dearest of little women whom here I have +called Mary Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle +over an abortive periodical which was intended to be the best +thing ever done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, +who with infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort +to reclaim himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly +how a poor weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened +litigation from a rejected contributor. Of these stories, The Spotted +Dog, with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I +know now, however, that when the things were good they came out +too quick one upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, +luckily, when they were bad. + +The Caesar was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had set +on foot a series of small volumes called Ancient Classics for English +Readers, and had placed the editing of them, and the compiling of +many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, a clergyman +who, from my connection with the series, became a most intimate +friend. The Iliad and the Odyssey had already come out when I was +at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing my very strong +admiration for those two little volumes,--which I here recommend +to all young ladies as the most charming tales they can read,--he +asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. Herodotus was +in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine should be next. +Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the readers of +English on The Commentaries of Julius Caesar. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation +or English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has +since become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an +hour with some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After +the reading what my author had left behind him, I fell into the +reading of what others had written about him, in Latin, in English, +and even in French,--for I went through much of that most futile +book by the late Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a +short period I ever worked harder. The amount I had to write was +nothing. Three weeks would have done it easily. But I was most +anxious, in this soaring out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace +myself. I do not think that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was +anxious for something more. If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by all, old +and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an account of +Caesar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary intention,--and +the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. A well-educated +girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps know as much +about Caesar and his writings as she need know. Beyond the consolation +of thinking as I do about it, I got very little gratification from +the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very learned friend +to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Caesar," but said no +more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into me. +Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There +was, however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that +of others, a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing +English novels could not be fit to write about Caesar. It was as +when an amateur gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. +What business had I there? Ne sutor ultra crepidam. In the press it +was most faintly damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having +read the book again within the last month or two, I make bold to say +that it is a good book. The series, I believe, has done very well. +I am sure that it ought to do well in years to come, for, putting +aside Caesar, the work has been done with infinite scholarship, and +very generally with a light hand. With the leave of my sententious +and sonorous friend, who had not endured that subjects which had +been grave to him should be treated irreverently, I will say that +such a work, unless it be light, cannot answer the purpose for which +it is intended. It was not exactly a schoolbook that was wanted, +but something that would carry the purposes of the schoolroom even +into the leisure hours of adult pupils. Nothing was ever better +suited for such a purpose than the Iliad and the Odyssey, as done +by Mr. Collins. The Virgil, also done by him, is very good; and so +is the Aristophanes by the same hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +"RALPH THE HEIR"--"THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS"--"LADY ANNA"--"AUSTRALIA" + + + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we +would go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before +doing so I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the +Colonies. For such a work as this I had always been aware that +I could not fairly demand more than half the price that would be +given for the same amount of fiction; and as such books have an +indomitable tendency to stretch themselves, so that more is given +than what is sold, and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the +writing of them is not remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes +not, I think, generally from the ambition of the writer, but from +his inability to comprise the different parts in their allotted +spaces. If you have to deal with a country, a colony, a city, a +trade, or a political opinion, it is so much easier to deal with +it in twenty than in twelve pages! I also made an engagement with +the editor of a London daily paper to supply him with a series of +articles,--which were duly written, duly published, and duly paid +for. But with all this, travelling with the object of writing is +not a good trade. If the travelling author can pay his bills, he +must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London +be cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, +and was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, +away, and the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of +my friends told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up +the fabrication of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon +go, and I would not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. +And then, why should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that +I had fixed on that place in reference to the Post Office? It was +therefore determined that we would flit, and as we were to be away +for eighteen months, we determined also to sell our furniture. So +there was a packing up, with many tears, and consultations as to +what should be saved out of the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. +I lost by the transaction about L800. As I continually hear that +other men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am +not well adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made +money by selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of +horseflesh I am so inefficient that I have generally given away +horses that I have not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May, 1871, Ralph the Heir was +running through the St. Paul's. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should +not write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and +that part which appertains to politics, and which recounts the +electioneering experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well +enough. Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same +place. Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good +in their way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only +lover, but also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But +the main thread of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the +young gentlemen and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is +not good. Ralph the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph +who is not the heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has +none. The same may be said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she +who was meant to be the chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, +without leaving a trace of remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of The Fortnightly, ready for +production on the 1st of July following, a story called The Eustace +Diamonds. In that I think that my friend's dictum was disproved. +There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. The +character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine and +as well told as that of Lucy Robarts of Lily Dale. + +But The Eustace Diamonds achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a +series of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant +to the reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented +itself to me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but +in planning the character I had not thought of this, and I believe +that Lizzie would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had +never been described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, +well arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. +I had no idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got +my heroine to bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment +of the thieves, till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with +the news that her door had been broken open. All these things, and +many more, Wilkie Collins would have arranged before with infinite +labour, preparing things present so that they should fit in with +things to come. I have gone on the very much easier plan of making +everything as it comes fit in with what has gone before. At any +rate, the book was a success, and did much to repair the injury +which I felt had come to my reputation in the novel-market by the +works of the last few years. I doubt whether I had written anything +so successful as The Eustace Diamonds, since The Small House at +Allington. I had written what was much better,--as, for instance, +Phineas Finn and Nina Balatka; but that is by no means the same +thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of Phineas Redux, +a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I subsequently +sold to the proprietors of the Graphic newspaper. The editor of +that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that the public +would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was dissatisfied +with me when I replied that I had no objection to them doing +so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any other +language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, +I could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +An Eye for an Eye, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. +When making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting +a desk put up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the +Great Britain, so that I could go to work the day after we left +Liverpool. This I did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished +a story called Lady Anna. Every word of this was written at sea, +during the two months required for our voyage, and was done day by +day--with the intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, +at the rate of 66 pages of manuscript in each week, every page of +manuscript containing 250 words. Every word was counted. I have +seen work come back to an author from the press with terrible +deficiencies as to the amount supplied. Thirty-two pages have +perhaps been wanted for a number, and the printers with all their +art could not stretch the matter to more than twenty-eight or -nine! +The work of filling up must be very dreadful. I have sometimes been +ridiculed for the methodical details of my business. But by these +contrivances I have been preserved from many troubles; and I have +saved others with whom I have worked--editors, publishers, and +printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, Lady Anna appeared in The +Fortnightly, following The Eustace Diamonds. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for +her, and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown +in her way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. +And the charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that +she is bound by her troth to the man who had always been true to +her overcomes everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my +wish of course to justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers +along with me in my sympathy with her. But everybody found fault +with me for marrying her to the tailor. What would they have said +if I had allowed her to jilt the tailor and marry the good-looking +young lord? How much louder, then, would have been the censure! +The book was read, and I was satisfied. If I had not told my story +well, there would have been no feeling in favour of the young lord. +The horror which was expressed to me at the evil thing I had done, +in giving the girl to the tailor, was the strongest testimony I +could receive of the merits of the story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say +that this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew +a man work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has +done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might +be enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them +all. Making my headquarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New +South Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of +Western Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was +absent in all eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in +learning much of the political, social, and material condition of +these countries. I wrote my book as I was travelling and brought +it back with me to England all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much +more to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much +more is said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter +than from the former book. I am sure that any one who will take +the trouble to read the book on Australia, will learn much from +it. But the West Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that +either of the other works are, in the proper sense of that word. +When I go back to them I find that the pages drag with me;--and if +so with me, how must it be with others who have none of that love +which a father feels even for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all +the needs a book has the chief need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like +to pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had +heard so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to +enter, and inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him +that I was not a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I +told him I did. "I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured +him that I was not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him +I did so by writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then +he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the +door. I was properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive +that he would have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made +to the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No +real resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four +horses I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the +two summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival +I bought another, and settled myself down to hunting from London +three days a week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, +but finding that to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton +Buzzard, and became one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode +with the "Baron" and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer +was alive, and the riding with his hounds was very good. I did not +care so much for Mr. Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and +1875, I had my horses back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, +always trying to resolve that I would give it up. But still I +bought fresh horses, and, as I did not give it up, I hunted more +than ever. Three times a week the cab has been at my door in London +very punctually, and not unfrequently before seven in the morning. +In order to secure this attendance, the man has always been invited +to have his breakfast in the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern +Railway,--ah! so often with the fear that frost would make all my +exertions useless, and so often too with that result! And then, +from one station or another station, have travelled on wheels at +least a dozen miles. After the day's sport, the same toil has been +necessary to bring me home to dinner at eight. This has been work +for a young man and a rich man, but I have done it as an old man +and comparatively a poor man. Now at last, in April, 1876, I do +think that my resolution has been taken. I am giving away my old +horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles and horse-furniture. + + + "Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ladum; + Tendunt extorquere poemata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + + +This Is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport, + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"THE WAY WE LIVE NOW" AND "THE PRIME MINISTER"--CONCLUSION + + + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I +had arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and +early in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope +to live and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to +place upon new shelves the books which I had collected round myself +at Waltham. And this work, which was in itself great, entailed +also the labour of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, +a catalogue is nothing unless it show the spot on which every +book is to be found,--information which every volume also ought to +give as to itself. Only those who have done it know how great is +the labour of moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the +present moment I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to +me even than the horses which are going, or than the wine in the +cellar, which is very apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I +began a novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I +conceived to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the +world does or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a +question which probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since +the world began to think. That men have become less cruel, less +violent, less selfish, less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but +have they become less honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from +day to day in honesty, be considered to be in a state of progress? +We know the opinion on this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. +If he be right, we are all going straight away to darkness and the +dogs. But then we do not put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor +in Mr. Ruskin and his other followers. The loudness and extravagance +of their lamentations, the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes +from them, over a world which is supposed to have gone altogether +shoddy-wards, are so contrary to the convictions of men who cannot +but see how comfort has been increased, how health has been improved, +and education extended,--that the general effect of their teaching +is the opposite of what they have intended. It is regarded simply +as Carlylism to say that the English-speaking world is growing +worse from day to day. And it is Carlylism to opine that the general +grand result of increased intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all +its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory +in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into +Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, +and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. +Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down +in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured +to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the +iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an +onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want +to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain +single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to +cheat the public into buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can +so moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects The Way We Live Now +was, as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers +is weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to +have two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them +both with interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be +no more than padding to the other. And so it was in The Way We Live +Now. The interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish +people,--with Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, +with the American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the +girl of his heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta +Carbury are uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon +the book as one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by +the public or the press. + +While I was writing The Way We Live Now, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the Graphic for a Christmas story. I feel, with regard +to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and undertaker +feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has to supply +it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and he will +starve if he neglects it. So have I felt that, when anything in the +shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. Nothing +can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish of +Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be +the ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire +for Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, +better still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens +when he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the +things written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas +like children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour +of Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! +at this very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to +supply within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always +require a long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling +my brain for the last month. I can't send away the order to another +shop, but I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not +loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, +by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no +worse success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When Harry Heathcote was over, I returned with a full heart to +Lady Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed +picture of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The +personages with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps +even the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in +a wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would +be destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst +of human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as +a rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box +into the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves +into one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to +set aside his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal +contact of men who must often be personally disagreeable, having +been thoroughly taught that in no other way can they serve either +their country or their own ambition. These are the men who are +publicly useful, and whom the necessities of the age supply,--as +to whom I have never ceased to wonder that stones of such strong +calibre should be so quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness +of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But had I also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of +a party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but +also even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a +very little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. +The time may come, the glorious time when some great self action +shall be possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave +up the Corn Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, +should not allow himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, +smooth, hard, useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he +must harden his skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and +again we see the attempt, made by men who cannot get their skins to +be hard--who after a little while generally fall out of the ranks. +The statesman of whom I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was +one who did not fall out of the ranks, even though his skin would +not become hard. He should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary +habits, by which to bind him to the service of his country; and he +should also have unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love +of country. That virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. +They who are without it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should +have it as the ruling principle of his life; and it should so rule +him that all other things should be made to give way to it. But he +should be scrupulous, and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to +the highest place in the council of his Sovereign, he should feel +with true modesty his own insufficiency; but not the less should +the greed of power grow upon him when he had once allowed himself +to taste and enjoy it. Such was the character I endeavoured to +depict in describing the triumph, the troubles, and the failure +of my Prime Minister. And I think that I have succeeded. What the +public may think, or what the press may say, I do not yet know, +the work having as yet run but half its course. [Footnote: Writing +this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly three years, I am obliged +to say that, as regards the public, The Prime Minister was a failure. +It was worse spoken of by the press than any novel I had written. +I was specially hurt by a criticism on it in the Spectator. The +critic who wrote the article I know to be a good critic, inclined +to be more than fair to me; but in this case I could not agree with +him, so much do I love the man whose character I had endeavoured +to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand +it--or that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been +a matter of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing +that the operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, +which might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who +commenced it. It has been carried on through three or four, each +of which will be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost +as soon as read. In The Prime Minister, my Prime Minister will not +allow his wife to take office among, or even over, those ladies who +are attached by office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," +he says to her, "that my wife should have any duties unconnected +with our joint family and home." Who will remember in reading +those words that, in a former story, published some years before, +he tells his wife, when she has twitted him with his willingness +to clean the Premier's shoes, that he would even allow her to clean +them if it were for the good of the country? And yet it is by such +details as these that I have, for many years past, been manufacturing +within my own mind the characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over +a woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think +it probable that my name will remain among those who in the next +century will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but +if it does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the +character of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. +Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I +have an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my +political hero as the mainstay of another story. When The Prime +Minister was finished, I at once began another novel, which is now +completed in three volumes, and which is called Is He Popenjoy? +There are two Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title +held by the other; but as they are both babies, and do not in the +course of the story progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, +should the tale ever be published, will not be much interested in +them. Nevertheless the story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. +Since that I have written still another three-volume novel, to +which, very much in opposition to my publisher, I have given the +name of The American Senator. [Footnote: The American Senator and +Popenjoy have appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has +encountered that reproach which, in regard to The Prime Minister, +seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should be brought to +a close. And yet I feel assured that they are very inferior to The +Prime Minister.] It is to appear in Temple Bar, and is to commence +its appearance on the first of next month. Such being its +circumstances, I do not know that I can say anything else about it +here. + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I +think are more in amount than the works of any other living English +author. If any English authors not living have written more--as +may probably have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find +that, taking the books which have appeared under our names, I have +published much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also +published considerably more than Voltaire, even including his +letters. We are told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written +480 volumes, and that he went on writing for eight years longer. +I wish I knew what was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort +myself by reflecting that the amount of manuscript described as a +book in Varro's time was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; +whereas I am still living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates +given are the years in which the works were published as a whole, +most of them having appeared before in some serial form. + + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + +The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 L48 6 9 +The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 +La Vendee, 1850 20 0 0 +The Warden, 1855 \ 727 11 3 +Barchester Towers, 1857 / +The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 +Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 +The West Indies and the +Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 +The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + + Carried forward, L2219 16 17 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought Forward, L2219 16 17 +Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 +Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 +Tales of All +Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + " " 2d 1863 > 1830 0 0 + " " 3d 1870 / +Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 +North America, 1862 1250 0 0 +Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 +The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 +Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 +Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 +The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 +The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 +The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 +Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 +Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 +Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 +He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 +Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 +The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 +An Editor's Tales, 1870 378 0 0 +Caesar (Ancient Classics), 1870 0 0 0 +[Footnote: This was given by me as a present to +my friend John Blackwood] + +Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 +Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 +The Golden Lion of Granpere, 1872 550 0 0 +The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 +Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 +Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 +Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + + Carry forward, L48,389 17 5 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought forward, L48,389 17 5 +Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 +The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 +The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 +The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 +Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 +South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 +John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 +Sundries, 7800 0 0 + ____________ + L68,939 17 5 + ------------ + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as +to the quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary +excellence. That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is +a vice and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave +a doubt on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit +should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. +And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for +the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may +intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine linea. Let that +be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work +to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. +He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours +at his desk without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they +have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done +in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed +another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving +due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. +But I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer +all difficulties. Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo. + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near L70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but +not splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed +in much the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his +life? If the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my +blood; if a cup of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought +tobacco at midnight in pleasant company to be one of the elements +of an earthly paradise; if now and again I have somewhat recklessly +fluttered a L5 note over a card-table;--of what matter is that to +any reader? I have betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no +sorrow. It has been the companionship of smoking that I have loved, +rather than the habit. I have never desired to win money, and I +have lost none. To enjoy the excitement of pleasure, but to be free +from its vices and ill effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the +bitter untasted,--that has been my study. The preachers tell us that +this is impossible. It seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded +fairly well. I will not say that I have never scorched a finger,--but +I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still +chiefly to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with +me, God may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according +to my view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who +love me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while +I am reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men +do, what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is +so with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found +my greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want +of truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but +from curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. +If I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies +of these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Autobiography of Anthony Trollope, by +Anthony Trollope + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + +***** This file should be named 5978.txt or 5978.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/7/5978/ + +Produced by Jesse Chandler + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5978] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 4, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + + + + +This etext was produced by Jesse Chandler (lots_of_nature@yahoo.co.uk) + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +By Anthony Trollope + + + + + +PREFACE + + + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said +that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his +death, containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much +of it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from +me, given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir +of my life. My intention is that they shall be published after +my death, and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your +discretion whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also +to your discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. +But I would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. +If you wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in +the shape of a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there +is a postscript: "The publication, if made at all, should be effected +as soon as possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of +December, 1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass +the book through the press conformably to the above instructions. +I have placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, +and I do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions +of any other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my +father's own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. +I have suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount +to two printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any +of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give +in a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he +completed his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighborhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his +life: he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed +him not to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke +willingly on hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up +his favourite amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there +should be an end of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South +Africa, and returned early in the following year with a book on +the colony already written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of +a party of ladies and gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland +in the "Mastiff," one of Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey +lasted altogether sixteen days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. +Burns were the hospitable entertainers. When my father returned, +he wrote a short account of How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland. +The book was printed, but was intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. +He would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself +less than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was +always done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were +published after the last included in the list which he himself has +given at the end of the second volume:-- + +An Eye for an Eye, . . . . 1879 +Cousin Henry, . . . . . . 1879 +Thackeray, . . . . . . . 1879 +The Duke's Children, . . . . 1880 +Life of Cicero, . . . . . 1880 +Ayala's Angel, . . . . . 1881 +Doctor Wortle's School, . . . 1881 +Frau Frohmann and other Stories, . 1882 +Lord Palmerston, . . . . . 1882 +The Fixed Period, . . . . . 1882 +Kept in the Dark, . . . . . 1882 +Marion Fay, . . . . . . 1882 +Mr. Scarborough's Family, . . . 1883 + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called The Landleaguers, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called An Old Man's Love, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighborhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved +his asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen +months. In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but +from this journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested +in, and was very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the +country. Few men know Ireland better than he did. He had lived +there for sixteen years, and his Post Office word had taken him +into every part of the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his +last novel, The Landleaguers, which, as stated above, was unfinished +when he died. This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not +rid his mind of the fact that he had a story already in the course +of publication, but which he had not yet completed. In no other +case, except Framley Parsonage, did my father publish even the +first number of any novel before he had fully completed the whole +tale. + +On the evening of the 3rd of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His +mind had also failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return +to him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became +rarer, but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind +was sound or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of +December following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire +to supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the +main incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In +what I have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +Henry M. Trollope. +September, 1883. + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY EDUCATION + +1815-1834 + + + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, +or any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there +that has done none? But this I protest:--that nothing that I say +shall be untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give +to myself, or others, honour which I do not believe to have been +fairly won. My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young +gentleman could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of +poverty and gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an +utter want on my part of the juvenile manhood which enables some +boys to hold up their heads even among the distresses which such +a position is sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and +of those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny +and of ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New +College, and Winchester was the destination of my brothers and +myself; but as he had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as +the school offered an education almost gratuitous to children living +in the parish, he, with a certain aptitude to do things differently +from others, which accompanied him throughout his life, determined +to use that august seminary as "t'other school" for Winchester, and +sent three of us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. +My father at this time was a Chancery barrister practising in +London, occupying dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old +Square, Lincoln's Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion +did become absolutely suicidal. [Footnote: A pupil of his destroyed +himself in the rooms.] He was, as I have been informed by those +quite competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, +but plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from +him. In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of +higher hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that +he was felt to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that +in Keppel Street; and in order that he might build such a residence, +he took the farm. This place he called Julians, and the land runs +up to the foot of the hill on which the school and the church +stand,--on the side towards London. Things there went much against +him; the farm was ruinous, and I remember that we all regarded the +Lord Northwick of those days as a cormorant who was eating us up. +My father's clients deserted him. He purchased various dark gloomy +chambers in and about Chancery Lane, and his purchases always went +wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, and old uncle, whose heir he +was to have been, married and had a family! The house in London was +let; and also the house he built at Harrow, from which he descended +to a farmhouse on the land, which I have endeavoured to make known +to some readers under the name of Orley Farm. This place, just as it +was when we lived there, is to be seen in the frontispiece to the +first edition of that novel, having the good fortune to be delineated +by no less a pencil than that of John Millais. + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow +School from the bigger house, and may probably have been received +among the aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a +day-boarder at Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at +any rate as other day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well +treated, but I doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy +which I endured. I was only seven, and I think that boys at seven +are now spared among their more considerate seniors. I was never +spared; and was not even allowed to run to and fro between our house +and the school without a daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance +was against me. I remember well, when I was still the junior boy +in the school, Dr. Butler, the head-master, stopping me in the +street, and asking me, with all the clouds of Jove upon his brow +and the thunder in his voice, whether it was possible that Harrow +School was disgraced by so disreputably dirty a boy as I! Oh, what +I felt at that moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not +doubt that I was dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must +have known me had he seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was +in the habit of flogging me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise +me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur +Drury. This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the +advice of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my +father's friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that +my juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the +way of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other +boys than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. +Even here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one +occasion, four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators +of some nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even +guess; but I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged +to have been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out +a sermon, and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the +whole of one term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were +not allowed to visit the playground till the sermon was finished. +Mine was only done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, +when she saw us, shook her head with pitying horror. There were +ever so many other punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke +my heart, knowing myself to be innocent, and suffering also under +the almost equally painful feeling that the other three--no doubt +wicked boys--were the curled darlings of the school, who would never +have selected me to share their wickedness with them. I contrived +to learn, from words that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned +me because I, having come from a public school, might be supposed +to be the leader of wickedness! On the first day of the next term +he whispered to me half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. +With all a stupid boy's slowness, I said nothing; and he had not +the courage to carry reparation further. All that was fifty years +ago, and it burns me now as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered +curs those boys must have been not to have told the truth!--at any +rate as far as I was concerned. I remember their names well, and +almost wish to write them here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and +the younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost +his chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions +of my father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man +was never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the +prize which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our +reach. My eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went +to Oxford, taking three exhibitions from the school, though he +lost the great glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well +known to the public as a writer in connection with all Italian +subjects. He is still living as I now write. But my other brother +died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in +this case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming +should be a business in which he might make money without any +special education or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is +the one in which an accurate knowledge of what things should be +done, and the best manner of doing them, is most necessary. And it is +one also for success in which a sufficient capital is indispensable. +He had no knowledge, and, when he took this second farm, no capital. +This was the last step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that +he had an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little +goods, such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out +to the still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an +opening might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar +or extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money +came I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval +of some year and a half during which he and I were in Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more +of brotherhood. But in those schooldays he was, of all my foes, +the worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which +submits, or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger +boys from the elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher +and ruler, he had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well +how he used to exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. +Hang a little boy for stealing apples, he used to say, and other +little boys will not steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded +elsewhere, but he stuck to it with conservative energy. The result +was that, as a part of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big +stick. That such thrashings should have been possible at a school +as a continual part of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a +very ill condition of school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be +done with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering +about among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare +out of a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It +was not that I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing +else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course +knew that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of +boys to be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other +they do usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I +suffered horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend +to whom I could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and +ugly, and, I have no doubt, sulked about in a most unattractive +manner. Of course I was ill-dressed and dirty. But ah! how well +I remember all the agonies of my young heart; how I considered +whether I should always be alone; whether I could not find my way +up to the top of that college tower, and from thence put an end to +everything? And a worse thing came than the stoppage of the supplies +from the shopkeepers. Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, +which we called battels, and which was advanced to us out of the +pocket of the second master. On one awful day the second master +announced to me that my battels would be stopped. He told me the +reason,--the battels for the last half-year had not been repaid; and +he urged his own unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a +shilling a week would not have been much,--even though pocket-money +from other sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all +knew it! Every now and again, perhaps three or four times in a +half-year, these weekly shillings were given to certain servants +of the college, in payment, it may be presumed, for some extra +services. And now, when it came to the turn of any servant, he +received sixty-nine shillings instead of seventy, and the cause +of the defalcation was explained to him. I never saw one of those +servants without feeling I had picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed +to have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, +have gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional +number of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there +would have been no funds for my maintenance at the University +till I should have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's +endowment, and my career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm +he had hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three +miles from Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from +this house I was again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let +those who know what is the usual appearance and what the usual +appurtenances of a boy at such a school, consider what must have +been my condition among them, with a daily walk of twelve miles +through the lanes, added to the other little troubles and labours +of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, +walking to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst +period of my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age +at which I could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion +from all social intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was +despised by all my companions. The farmhouse was not only no more +than a farmhouse, but was one of those farmhouses which seem always +to be in danger of falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it +crept downwards from house to stables, from stables to barns, from +barns to cowsheds, and from cowsheds to dungheaps, one could hardly +tell where one began and the other ended! There was a parlour in +which my father lived, shut up among big books; but I passed my most +jocund hours in the kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's +daughter. The farm kitchen might be very well through the evening, +when the horrors of the school were over; but it all added to the +cruelty of the days. A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk +at Oxford, has not pleasant days, or used not to have them half a +century ago; but his position was recognised, and the misery was +measured. I was a sizar at a fashionable school, a condition never +premeditated. What right had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from +a dunghill, to sit next to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, +next to the sons of big tradesmen who made their ten thousand a +year? The indignities I endured are not to be described. As I look +back it seems to me that all hands were turned against me,--those +of masters as well as boys. I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor +did I learn anything,--for I was taught nothing. The only expense, +except that of books, to which a house-boarder was then subject, +was the fee to a tutor, amounting, I think, to ten guineas. My +tutor took me without the fee; but when I heard him declare the fact +in the pupil-room before the boys, I hardly felt grateful for the +charity. I was never a coward, and cared for a thrashing as little +as any boy, but one cannot make a stand against the acerbities of +three hundred tyrants without a moral courage of which at that time +I possessed none. I know that I skulked, and was odious to the eyes +of those I admired and envied. At last I was driven to rebellion, +and there came a great fight,--at the end of which my opponent +had to be taken home for a while. If these words be ever printed, +I trust that some schoolfellow of those days may still be left alive +who will be able to say that, in claiming this solitary glory of +my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to +get me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hayfields +on holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much +profit. My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years +of his life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering +agony from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when +suffering. He had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopedia +Ecclesiastica, as he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment +of his death. It was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical +terms, including the denominations of every fraternity of monks +and every convent of nuns, with all their orders and subdivisions. +Under crushing disadvantages, with few or no books of reference, +with immediate access to no library, he worked at his most ungrateful +task with unflagging industry. When he died, three numbers out +of eight had been published by subscription; and are now, I fear, +unknown, and buried in the midst of that huge pile of futile +literature, the building up of which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in +the hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. +From my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to +take my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the +morning, and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat +the Greek alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold +my head inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, +he might be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or +dropping his shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for +the education of his children, though I think none ever knew less +how to go about the work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, +he never recognised the need. He allowed himself no distraction, +and did not seem to think it was necessary to a child. I cannot +bethink me of aught that he ever did for my gratification; but for +my welfare,--for the welfare of us all,--he was willing to make +any sacrifice. At this time, in the farmhouse at Harrow Weald, +he could not give his time to teach me, for every hour that he was +not in the fields was devoted to his monks and nuns; but he would +require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and Gradus before me. +As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed determination to +make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon me, or of the +hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great energy in +after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly altered, or +whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never punished +me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but in passion +he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with the great +folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were the two first +volumes of Cooper's novel, called The Prairie, a relic--probably a +dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's library. Other +books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many dozen times I +read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a +walk along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather +fine, and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same +lanes four times a day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with +all the accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I +might have been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance +by my boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I +was so known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler +when I was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have +said the same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his +life was able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became +Dean of Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of +Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called +Orley Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at +Harrow Weald. Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved +circumstances. The three miles became half a mile, and probably +some salutary changes were made in my wardrobe. My mother and +my sisters, too, were there. And a great element of happiness was +added to us all in the affectionate and life-enduring friendship +of the family of our close neighbour Colonel Grant. But I was never +able to overcome--or even to attempt to overcome--the absolute +isolation of my school position. Of the cricket-ground or racket-court +I was allowed to know nothing. And yet I longed for these things +with an exceeding longing. I coveted popularity with a covetousness +that was almost mean. It seemed to me that there would be an +Elysium in the intimacy of those very boys whom I was bound to hate +because they hated me. Something of the disgrace of my school-days +has clung to me all through life. Not that I have ever shunned to +speak of them as openly as I am writing now, but that when I have +been claimed as schoolfellow by some of those many hundreds who +were with me either at Harrow or at Winchester, I have felt that +I had no right to talk of things from most of which I was kept in +estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry +to Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship +that would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. +There were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried +for a sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile +attempt for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then +the idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate +it was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance +only as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt +and ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt +had been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very +little attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember +any lessons either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I +certainly was not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, +but I do assert that I have no recollection of other tuition +except that in the dead languages. At the school at Sunbury there +was certainly a writing master and a French master. The latter was +an extra, and I never had extras. I suppose I must have been in +the writing master's class, but though I can call to mind the man, +I cannot call to mind his ferule. It was by their ferules that I +always knew them, and they me. I feel convinced in my mind that I +have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just +possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and +I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over +half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true; but +if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such +waste of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I +read and enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself +understood in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have +acquired since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork +of the language which will in the process of years make its way +slowly, even through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition +in which I do not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left +Harrow I was nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, +I think, the seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation +upwards. I bear in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used +to be showered about; but I never got a prize. From the first to +the last there was nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except +the way in which I licked the boy who had to be taken home to be +cured. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MY MOTHER + + + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of +all the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly +because filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent +who made for herself a considerable name in the literature of her +day, and partly because there were circumstances in her career +well worthy of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William +Milton, vicar of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been +a fellow of New College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she +married my father. Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters +from her to him fell into my hand in a very singular way, having +been found in the house of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, +sent them to me. They were then about sixty years old, and had been +written some before and some after her marriage, over the space of +perhaps a year. In no novel of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have +I seen a correspondence at the same time so sweet, so graceful, +and so well expressed. But the marvel of these letters was in the +strange difference they bore to the love-letters of the present +day. They are, all of them, on square paper, folded and sealed, +and addressed to my father on circuit; but the language in each, +though it almost borders on the romantic, is beautifully chosen, +and fit, without change of a syllable, for the most critical eye. +What girl now studies the words with which she shall address her +lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? She dearly likes +a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire familiarity with +a new and strange being. There is something in that, too, pleasant +to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life does not conduce +to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my mother was a writer +of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic feeling clung to her +to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family. [Footnote: +The family of Estienne, the great French printers of the fifteenth +and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were at least nine or ten, +did more perhaps for the production of literature than any other +family. But they, though they edited, and not unfrequently translated +the works which they published, were not authors in the ordinary +sense.] My married sister added to the number by one little anonymous +high church story, called Chollerton. + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went +to America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the +world. She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal role +and professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from +the wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. +An Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from +the clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, +or a French proletaire with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in +every way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so +thorough, and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she +generally got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it +must be acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her +books, and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best +were Dante and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such +ladies were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept +over the persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized +with avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown +Scott, and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. +With the literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets +of the past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. +Her life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was +easy, luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own +aspirations sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary +people, of whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; +but till long after middle life she never herself wrote a line for +publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish +my brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional +object of breaking up her English home without pleading broken +fortunes to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, +she built a bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have +been embarked in that speculation. It could not have been much, and +I think that others also must have suffered. But she looked about +her, at her American cousins, and resolved to write a book about +them. This book she brought back with her in 1831, and published +it early in 1832. When she did this she was already fifty. When +doing this she was aware that unless she could so succeed in making +money, there was no money for any of the family. She had never before +earned a shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable +sum from the publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two +sums of (pounds)400 each within a few months; and from that moment till +nearly the time of her death, at any rate for more than twenty +years, she was in the receipt of a considerable income from her +writings. It was a late age at which to begin such a career. + +The Domestic Manners of the Americans was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. +What though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they +put their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? +The Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she +told them so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so +pretty in a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes +were very bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the +family from ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book +on Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which +I have called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate +comforts. Of the mixture of joviality and industry which formed +her character, it is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. +The industry was a thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary +that any one who lived with her should see it. She was at her table +at four in the morning, and had finished her work before the world +had begun to be aroused. But the joviality was all for others. +She could dance with other people's legs, eat and drink with other +people's palates, be proud with the lustre of other people's finery. +Every mother can do that for her own daughters; but she could do it +for any girl whose look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even +when she was at work, the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure +to her. She had much, very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came +hard to her, so much being required,--for she was extravagant, and +liked to have money to spend; but of all people I have known she +was the most joyous, or, at any rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, +during which I was still at the school, and at the end of which +I was nearly nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My +father, who, when he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and +nuns, still kept a horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as +it had been decided that I should leave the school then, instead +of remaining, as had been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned +very early in the morning, to drive him up to London. He had been +ill, and must still have been very ill indeed when he submitted to +be driven by any one. It was not till we had started that he told +me that I was to put him on board the Ostend boat. This I did, +driving him through the city down to the docks. It was not within +his nature to be communicative, and to the last he never told me +why he was going to Ostend. Something of a general flitting abroad +I had heard before, but why he should have flown first, and flown +so suddenly, I did not in the least know till I returned. When I got +back with the gig, the house and furniture were all in the charge +of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +barness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The +little piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand +and carried through successfully was of no special service to any +of us. I drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage +to the ironmonger for (pounds)17, the exact sum which he claimed as being +due to himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed +to think that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy +that the ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, +for in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it +is now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, +and a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and +things like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through +a gap between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend +Colonel Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the +Grant girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To +such forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and +between us we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, +amidst the anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal +violence, of the men in charge of the property. I still own a few +books that were thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all women, +his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and established +ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of Bruges. At +this time, and till my father's death, everything was done with +money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the house,--this +being the third that she had put in order since she came back from +America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother +Henry had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. +And though as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began +to feel that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My +father was broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could +sit at his table he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My +elder sister and I were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate +hanger-on, that most hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy +of nineteen, without any idea of a career, or a profession, or +a trade. As well as I can remember I was fairly happy, for there +were pretty girls at Bruges with whom I could fancy that I was in +love; and I had been removed from the real misery of school. But +as to my future life I had not even an aspiration. Now and again +there would arise a feeling that it was hard upon my mother that +she should have to do so much for us, that we should be idle while +she was forced to work so constantly; but we should probably have +thought more of that had she not taken to work as though it were +the recognised condition of life for an old lady of fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity +for peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said +so, and we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's +most visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick +men in the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The +novels went on, of course. We had already learned to know that they +would be forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were +forthcoming. The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal +places in my mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many +circumstances; but I doubt much whether I could write one when my +whole heart was by the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing +herself into two parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear +from the troubles of the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, +I never saw equalled. I do not think that the writing of a novel +is the most difficult task which a man may be called upon to do; +but it is a task that may be supposed to demand a spirit fairly +at ease. The work of doing it with a troubled spirit killed Sir +Walter Scott. My mother went through it unscathed in strength, +though she performed all the work of day-nurse and night-nurse to +a sick household;--for there were soon three of them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and +French, of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year +was allowed me, and in order that it might be accomplished without +expense, I undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school +then kept by William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of +the masters at Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is +now, after an interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating +as clergyman at that place. [Footnote: He died two years after +these words were written.] To Brussels I went, and my heart still +sinks within me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to +me the tuition of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went +there to learn French, and that their parents were not particular +as to their classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions +I was sent to take the school out for a walk; but that after the +second attempt Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not +stand any further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind +any learning by me of other languages; but as I only remained in +that position for six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not +been as yet commenced. At the end of the six weeks a letter reached +me, offering me a clerkship in the General Post Office, and I +accepted it. Among my mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. +Freeling, the wife of Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis +Freeling, then ruled the Post Office. She had heard of my desolate +position, and had begged from her father-in-law the offer of a +berth in his own office. + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on +the balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the +heart should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was +now ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, +though I had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any +one. And my father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not +know it. And my mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to +England, thinking that the vicinity of so much sickness might be +injurious to her. All this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in +the spring of which year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother +was left alone in a big house outside the town, with two Belgian +women-servants, to nurse these dying patients--the patients being +her husband and children--and to write novels for the sustenance +of the family! It was about this period of her career that her best +novels were written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average +of men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to +fair fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to +have had everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with +him. The touch of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked +in one hopeless enterprise after another, spending on each all the +money he could at the time command. But the worse curse to him of +all was a temper so irritable that even those whom he loved the +best could not endure it. We were all estranged from him, and yet +I believe that he would have given his heart's blood for any of +us. His life as I knew it was one long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished +a small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the +London Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place +with little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while +she herself was at work every morning long before others had left +their beds. But she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She +went up to London, where she again took and furnished a house, +from which my remaining sister was married and carried away into +Cumberland. My mother soon followed her, and on this occasion did +more than take a house. She bought a bit of land,--a field of three +acres near the town,--and built a residence for herself. This, I +think, was in 1841, and she had thus established and re-established +herself six times in ten years. But in Cumberland she found the +climate too severe, and in 1844 she moved herself to Florence, +where she remained till her death in 1863. She continued writing +up to 1856, when she was seventy-six years old,--and had at that +time produced 114 volumes, of which the first was not written till +she was fifty. Her career offers great encouragement to those who +have not begun early in life, but are still ambitious to do something +before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, +and a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted +nor accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and +even facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE + +1834-1841 + + + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's +school at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London +Post Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my +father and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household +never was held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who +would sit up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing +novels the while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them +to die under. Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know +where the roof would have been found. It is now more that forty +years ago, and looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell +the story, though it be the story of my own father and mother, of +my own brother and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done +some scene of intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed +full of pathos. I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition +of my father's life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the +strain which my mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go +and leave them. There was something that comforted me in the idea +that I need no longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon +proved. My salary was to be (pounds)90 a year, and on that I was to live +in (pounds)ondon, keep up my character as a gentleman, and be happy. +That I should have thought this possible at the age of nineteen, +and should have been delighted at being able to make the attempt, +does not surprise me now; but that others should have thought it +possible, friends who knew something of the world, does astonish +me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, or might do so even in +these days, who was properly looked after and kept under control,--on +whose behalf some law of life had been laid down. Let him pay so +much a week for his board and lodging, so much for his clothes, so +much for his washing, and then let him understand that he has--shall +we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and omnibuses. Any +one making the calculation will find the sixpence far too much. No +such calculation was made for me or by me. It was supposed that a +sufficient income had been secured to me, and that I should live +upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the (pounds)90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at +the Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future +labours in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the +secretary, but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at +first by a new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest +son Henry Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him +I was examined as to my fitness. The story of that examination is +given accurately in one of the opening chapters of a novel written +by me, called The Three Clerks. If any reader of this memoir would +refer to that chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have +been admitted into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader +will learn how Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the +Secretary's office of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked +to copy some lines from the Times newspaper with an old quill pen, +and at once made a series of blots and false spellings. "That +won't do, you know," said Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. +Clayton, who was my friend, urged that I was nervous, and asked +that I might be allowed to do a bit of writing at home and bring +it as a sample on the next day. I was then asked whether I was +a proficient in arithmetic. What could I say? I had never learned +the multiplication table, and had no more idea of the rule of three +than of conic sections. "I know a little of it," I said humbly, +whereupon I was sternly assured that on the morrow, should I succeed +in showing that my handwriting was all that it ought to be, I should +be examined as to that little of arithmetic. If that little should +not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge of all the ordinary +rules, together with practised and quick skill, my career in life +could not be made at the Post Office. Going down the main stairs +of the building,--stairs which have I believe been now pulled down +to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton Freeling told me +not to be too down-hearted. I was myself inclined to think that I +had better go back to the school in Brussels. But nevertheless I +went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder brother made +a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. With a +faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. With +my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should come +to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in +St. Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the +comers. I object to this, that at present there exists no known +mode of learning who is best, and that the method employed has no +tendency to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide +who among a certain number of lads will best answer a string of +questions, for the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, +who have sprung up for the purpose since this fashion of election +has been adopted. When it is decided in a family that a boy shall +"try the Civil Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of +cramming. But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever +with education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was +before for the future work of his life. But his very success fills +him with false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far +unfits him. And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that +no one is in truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, +or even for the character of the youth. The responsibility was +perhaps slight before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say +that, had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost +a valuable public servant. This is a statement that will not, I +think, be denied by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything +of my work. Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of +the small acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be +schools in which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, +or French should be learned. But all that could be ascertained +without the perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those +who have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. +There had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it +had become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence +for the purchase of political support. A member of the House of +Commons, holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships +to give away in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them +among those who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing +pleasant to the distributer of patronage. Do away with the system +altogether, and he would have as much chance of support as another. +He bartered his patronage only because another did so also. The +beggings, the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were +simply troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed +to rid themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their +hands are the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do +doubt whether the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There +are places in life which can hardly be well filled except by +"Gentlemen." The word is one the use of which almost subjects one +to ignominy. If I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a +bishop, I am met with a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." +Were I to make such an assertion with reference to the House of +Commons, nothing that I ever said again would receive the slightest +attention. A man in public life could not do himself a greater +injury than by saying in public that the commissions in the army or +navy, or berths in the Civil Service, should be given exclusively +to gentlemen. He would be defied to define the term,--and would +fail should he attempt to do so. But he would know what he meant, +and so very probably would they who defied him. It may be that the +son of a butcher of the village shall become as well fitted for +employments requiring gentle culture as the son of the parson. +Such is often the case. When such is the case, no one has been more +prone to give the butcher's son all the welcome he has merited than +I myself; but the chances are greatly in favour of the parson's son. +The gates of the one class should be open to the other; but neither +to the one class nor to the other can good be done by declaring +that there are no gates, no barrier, no difference. The system of +competitive examination is, I think, based on a supposition that +there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling +I had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. +I could speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as +elsewhere that I never acquired the power of really talking French. +I have been able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but +never got much beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences +I was completely ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My +spelling was imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination +would have been possible on which I could have gone through an +examination otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew +more than the average young men of the same rank who began life at +nineteen. I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets +of all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably +of historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate +idea of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the +names of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, +and all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, +but one that had not been acquired without other matter which was +more useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could +talk about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to +me. I had already made up my mind that Pride and Prejudice was the +best novel in the English language,--a palm which I only partially +withdrew after a second reading of Ivanhoe, and did not completely +bestow elsewhere till Esmond was written. And though I would +occasionally break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If +I had a thing to say, I could so say it in written words that the +readers should know what I meant,--a power which is by no means +at the command of all those who come out from these competitive +examinations with triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, +I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this +I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession +unregarded--never looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, +with many blushes, destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, +ignorance, indiscretion, idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But +they had habituated me to the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught +me how to express myself with faculty. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from +still earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay +when I thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, +must have tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a +child, I was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking +of my school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not +play with me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays +within myself. Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it +always has been. Study was not my bent, and I could not please +myself by being all idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always +going about with some castle in the air firmly build within my +mind. Nor were these efforts in architecture spasmodic, or subject +to constant change from day to day. For weeks, for months, if +I remember rightly, from year to year, I would carry on the same +tale, binding myself down to certain laws, to certain proportions, +and proprieties, and unities. Nothing impossible was ever +introduced,--nor even anything which, from outward circumstances, +would seem to be violently improbable. I myself was of course my own +hero. Such is a necessity of castle-building. But I never became a +king, or a duke,--much less when my height and personal appearance +were fixed could I be an Antinous, or six feet high. I never was +a learned man, nor even a philosopher. But I was a very clever +person, and beautiful young women used to be fond of me. And I +strove to be kind of heart, and open of hand, and noble in thought, +despising mean things; and altogether I was a very much better +fellow than I have ever succeeded in being since. This had been +the occupation of my life for six or seven years before I went to +the Post Office, and was by no means abandoned when I commenced +my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be a more dangerous mental +practice; but I have often doubted whether, had it not been my +practice, I should ever have written a novel. I learned in this way +to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to dwell on a work +created by my own imagination, and to live in a world altogether +outside the world of my own material life. In after years I have +done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded the +hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own identity +aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch +which was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved +a character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black +sheep by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very +good public servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if +I did not take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour +in my early days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton +Freeling,--who, as I write this, is still living, and who, with +tears in her eyes, besought me to think of my mother. That was during +the life of Sir Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a +little more than twelve months after I joined the office. And yet +the old man showed me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing +to me with his own hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of +me as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost +feel, without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my +anguish when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful +work. I did struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing +which was not easy without any struggling--but to show that I +was willing to do it. My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, +and was not to be got rid of by any efforts within my power. I do +admit that I was irregular. It was not considered to be much in +my favour that I could write letters--which was mainly the work of +our office--rapidly, correctly, and to the purpose. The man who +came at ten, and who was always still at his desk at half-past four, +was preferred before me, though when at his desk he might be less +efficient. Such preference was no doubt proper; but, with a little +encouragement, I also would have been punctual. I got credit for +nothing and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one +of our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all +night. Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and +play ecarte for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways +are possible now in our public offices. And here we used to have +suppers and card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much +smoking of tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a +whole bevy of clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was +to make up and receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that +they worked later or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but +there was supposed to be something special in foreign letters, +which required that the men who handled them should have minds +undistracted by the outer world. Their salaries, too, were higher +than those of their more homely brethren; and they paid nothing +for their lodgings. Consequently there was a somewhat fast set in +those apartments, given to cards and to tobacco, who drank spirits +and water in preference to tea. I was not one of them, but was a +good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance +of my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on +the secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was +not marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had +not been moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was +gone. In the meantime I had returned to the room, again in the +performance of some duty. When the letter was missed I was sent +for, and there I found the Colonel much moved about his letter, and +a certain chief clerk, who, with a long face, was making suggestions +as to the probable fate of the money. "The letter has been taken," +said the Colonel, turning to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has +been nobody in the room but you and I." As he spoke, he thundered +his fist down upon the table. "Then," said I, "by G----! you have +taken it." And I also thundered my fist down;--but, accidentally, +not upon the table. There was there a standing movable desk, at +which, I presume, it was the Colonel's habit to write, and on this +movable desk was a large bottle full of ink. My fist unfortunately +came on the desk, and the ink at once flew up, covering the Colonel's +face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight to see that senior clerk, +as he seized a quite of blotting-paper, and rushed to the aid of his +superior officer, striving to mop up the ink; and a sight also to +see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out through the blotting-paper +at that senior clerk's unoffending stomach. At that moment there +came in the Colonel's private secretary, with the letter and the +money, and I was desired to go back to my own room. This was an +incident not much in my favour, though I do not know that it did +me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had +taken it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very +foolish young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. +I need not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise +than by protesting that no young man in such a position was ever +much less to blame than I had been in this. The invitation had +come from her, and I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided +negative; but I had left the house within half an hour, going away +without my dinner, and had never returned to it. Then there was a +correspondence,--if that can be called a correspondence in which +all the letters came from one side. At last the mother appeared at +the Post Office. My hair almost stands on my head now as I remember +the figure of the woman walking into the big room in which I sat +with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket on her arm and +an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured +to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man +in, and walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud +voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?" +We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I +lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These +little incidents were all against me in the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely +at this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state +of things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I +think, (pounds)12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. +With that man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, +I formed a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. +In cash I once received from him (pounds)4. For that and for the original +amount of the tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated +renewals, I paid ultimately something over (pounds)200. That is so common +a story as to be hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of +this man was that he became so attached to me as to visit me every +day at my office. For a long period he found it to be worth his +while to walk up those stone steps daily, and come and stand behind +my chair, whispering to me always the same words: "Now I wish you +would be punctual. If you only would be punctual, I should like +you to have anything you want." He was a little, clean, old man, +who always wore a high starched white cravat inside of which he +had a habit of twisting his chin as he uttered his caution. When I +remember the constant persistency of his visits, I cannot but feel +that he was paid very badly for his time and trouble. Those visits +were very terrible, and can have hardly been of service to me in +the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of +the Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion +when I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty +years old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven +in the evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think +Saxony, but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night +mails sent out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, +this was a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see +it. But preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit +of the office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion +we were taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore +gave the orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, +walking backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great +peril as I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite +satisfied with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most +important duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, +no doubt, were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They +had come and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure +in two glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two +barons consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result +of that conversation one of them handed me a half-a-crown! That +also was a bad moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon (pounds)90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was (pounds)140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I +asked her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But +who in such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of +it? The debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now +how I could have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such +a burden of duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny +documents, of which I never understood anything, were common +attendants on me. And yet I do not remember that I was ever locked +up, though I think I was twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some +one paid for me. And now, looking back at it, I have to ask myself +whether my youth was very wicked. I did no good in it; but was there +fair ground for expecting good from me? When I reached London no +mode of life was prepared for me,--no advice even given to me. I +went into lodgings, and then had to dispose of my time. I belonged +to no club, and knew very few friends who would receive me into +their houses. In such a condition of life a young man should no +doubt go home after his work, and spend the long hours of the evening +in reading good books and drinking tea. A lad brought up by strict +parents, and without having had even a view of gayer things, might +perhaps do so. I had passed all my life at public schools, where I +had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed them. Towards the good +books and tea no training had been given me. There was no house in +which I could habitually see a lady's face and hear a lady's voice. +No allurement to decent respectability came in my way. It seems to +me that in such circumstances the temptations of loose life will +almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course if the mind be +strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together of sufficiently +stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But such minds +and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation at any +rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being turned +loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, of +all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is sent +to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept from +danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood to anticipate +pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding circumstances. +I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had been among +those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And I had +filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. + +And now, except during official hours, I was entirely without +control,--without the influences of any decent household around me. +I have said something of the comedy of such life, but it certainly +had its tragic aspect. Turning it all over in my own mind, as I +have constantly done in after years, the tragedy has always been +uppermost. And so it was as the time was passing. Could there be +any escape from such dirt? I would ask myself; and I always answered +that there was no escape. The mode of life was itself wretched. I +hated the office. I hated my work. More than all I hated my idleness. +I had often told myself since I left school that the only career in +life within my reach was that of an author, and the only mode of +authorship open to me that of a writer of novels. In the journal which +I read and destroyed a few years since, I found the matter argued +out before I had been in the Post Office two years. Parliament was +out of the question. I had not means to go to the Bar. In Official +life, such as that to which I had been introduced, there did not +seem to be any opening for real success. Pens and paper I could +command. Poetry I did not believe to be within my grasp. The drama, +too, which I would fain have chosen, I believed to be above me. For +history, biography, or essay writing I had not sufficient erudition. +But I thought it possible that I might write a novel. I had resolved +very early that in that shape must the attempt be made. But the +months and years ran on, and no attempt was made. And yet no day was +passed without thoughts of attempting, and a mental acknowledgment +of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader will not understand +the agony of remorse produced by such a condition of mind? +The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in the +morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when the +evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's Lives of the Poets, because +he spoke sneeringly of Lycidas. That was Northumberland Street by +the Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment +my room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must +have almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my +constant inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast +to pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I +had no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham +Road I had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post +Office, and almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings +of money, sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew +of my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this +week. I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those +days I lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he +had a home in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury +which I endured. For more than fifty years he and I have been close +friends. And then there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in +life will not permit me to give his full name, but whom I dearly +loved. He had been at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places +had fallen into trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps +I had better say usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was +unfortunate in all things, and died some years ago in poverty. He +was most perverse; bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable +to restrain himself in anything, but yet with a conscience that +was always stinging him; a loving friend, though very quarrelsome; +and, perhaps, of all men I have known, the most humorous. And he +was entirely unconscious of his own humour. He did not know that +he could so handle all matters as to create infinite amusement out +of them. Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point +at which life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience to +which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to London. +Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but Buckinghamshire +and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were the happiest +hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least innocent, although +we were frequently in peril from the village authorities whom we +outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to spend above five +shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected ruler of the +hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our statutes. +I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- enacted +an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got ourselves +a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached the +lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by +a pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled +through the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! +But the fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun +as told by me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for +many years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married +my sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was +stationed as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more +than forty years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House +of Lords, who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who +assisted us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized +by the Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and +dearest friends of my life, and I can thank God that three of them +are still alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of +the Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always +fearing that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of +escape. There had latterly been created in the service a new body +of officers called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time +seven surveyors in England, two in Scotland and three in Ireland. +To each of these officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose +duty it was to travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. +There had been much doubt among the young men in the office whether +they should or should not apply for these places. The emoluments +were good and the work alluring; but there was at first supposed +to be something derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that +the first surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his +beer, and that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen +to the wash. There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be +worse than the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks +were all appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for +anything, nor would anything have been given me. But after a while +there came a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent +there was absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that +none but a man absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the +west of Ireland. When the report reached the London office I was +the first to read it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having +debts on my head and quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a +full conviction that my life was taking me downwards to the lowest +pits. So I went to the Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland +if he would send me. He was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. +This happened in August, 1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My +salary in Ireland was to be but (pounds)100 a year; but I was to receive +fifteen shillings a day for every day that I was away from home, +and sixpence for every mile that I travelled. The same allowances +were made in England; but at that time travelling in Ireland was +done at half the English prices. My income in Ireland, after paying +my expenses, became at once (pounds)400. This was the first good fortune +of my life. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS + +1841-1848 + + + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but, in truth, I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature +of whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel +certain now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few +friends who had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were +half afraid of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to +be loved,--of a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No +child, no boy, no lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I +had been so poor, and so little able to bear poverty. But from the +day on which I set my foot in Ireland all these evils went away +from me. Since that time who has had a happier life than mine? +Looking round upon all those I know, I cannot put my hand upon +one. But all is not over yet. And, mindful of that, remembering +how great is the agony of adversity, how crushing the despondency +of degradation, how susceptible I am myself to the misery coming +from contempt,--remembering also how quickly good things may go +and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to hope, almost to +pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy +to happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think +it must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life +in London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were +at this time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know +my intention in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted +no one, except a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I +borrowed (pounds)200 to help me out of England. He lent me the money, and +looked upon me with pitying eyes--shaking his head. "After all, +you were right to go," he said to me when I paid him the money a +few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk to +an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of (pounds)100 a year, at +twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even myself,--except +that anything was right which would take me away from the General +Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were +also my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, +seated at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into +books those which others had written. I had never been called upon +to do anything I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that +in Ireland I was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, +and that among other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' +accounts! But as no other person asked a question as to my fitness +for this work, it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. +I went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered +some whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the +punch was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a +country in which there was not a single individual whom I had ever +spoken to or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into +Connaught and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never +learned the multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must, in all probability, +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I +had acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of +which I told in the Tales of All Countries, under the names of The +O'Conors of Castle Conor, and Father Giles of Ballymoy. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of +each is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were +this the place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had +been sent kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. +I do not think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never +rode to hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of +the great joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the +sport, having learned to love it with an affection which I cannot +myself fathom or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I +have done, or hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and +natural disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in +reference to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have +often had to travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that +I might hunt the next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good +horseman. And I have passed the greater part of my hunting life +under the discipline of the Civil Service. But it has been for +more than thirty years a duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have +performed that duty with a persistent energy. Nothing has ever +been allowed to stand in the way of hunting,--neither the writing +of books, nor the work of the Post Office, nor other pleasures. +As regarded the Post Office, it soon seemed to be understood that +I was to hunt; and when my services were re-transferred to England, +no word of difficulty ever reached me about it. I have written on +very many subjects, and on most of them with pleasure, but on no +subject with such delight as that on hunting. I have dragged it +into many novels,--into too many, no doubt,--but I have always felt +myself deprived of a legitimate joy when the nature of the tale has +not allowed me a hunting chapter. Perhaps that which gave me the +greatest delight was the description of a run on a horse accidentally +taken from another sportsman--a circumstance which occurred to my +dear friend Charles Buxton, who will be remembered as one of the +members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I +was always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my +past life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even +break my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the +working classes very much more intelligent than those of +England--economical, and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift +nature; but extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He +will count the shillings in a pound much more accurately than an +Englishman, and will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth +from each. But they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound +by the love of truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally +leaving the country until 1859, and I had the means of studying +their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon +his capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. +They adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor +has nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt +with were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. +I went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach +me the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course, he was dismissed; but he had +been a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty +in the matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and +is to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant +and to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole, as confidence is engendered, and a feeling +is produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own +and does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and +to me always easy, as it required at its close no more than the +writing of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no +keeping of books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. +I must tell of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result +I think it was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in +that scorn which is easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and I +drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle of a +snowstorm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open jaunting +car, and was on my way from one little town to another, the cause +of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance between +the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then +he assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as +that, and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy +and water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. +I shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought +up the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I +such a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my +wine, and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept +in his armchair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was +too sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It +was absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning +after breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed +then. He shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable +disgust,--almost in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" +I asked. "Anything you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you +want an excuse for yourself. Here I sit all the day--with nothing +to do; and I like writing letters." I did report that Mr.---- was +now quite satisfied with the postal arrangement of his district; +and I felt a soft regret that I should have robbed my friend of his +occupation. Perhaps he was able to take up the Poor Law Board, or +to attack the Excise. At the Post Office nothing more was heard +from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been +paid off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When +I had been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the +11th of June, 1844;--and, perhaps, I ought to name that happy day +as the commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which +I first landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from +my mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of +novels. When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor +had I done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being +then twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first +work. This constant putting off of the day of work was a great +sorrow to me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had +learned my work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe +in my hands; and I held a position altogether the reverse of that +in which I was always trembling while I remained in London. But +that did not suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that +there might be a career before me, if I could only bring myself to +begin the work. I do not think I much doubted my own intellectual +sufficiency for the writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt +was my own industry, and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time +is not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found +the vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I +had not as yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a +young man; but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power +to alter the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties +of publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who +could fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before +the public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, +how little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! +I had already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort +was made after the following fashion. I was located at a little +town called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, +where the postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and +my friend John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As +we were taking a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned +up through a deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, +till we came to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of +the most melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it +here, because I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. +We wandered about the place, suggesting to each other causes for +the misery we saw there, and, while I was still among the ruined +walls and decayed beams, I fabricated the plot of The Macdermots +of Ballycloran. As to the plot itself, I do not know that I ever +made one so good,--or, at any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. +I am aware that I broke down in the telling, not having yet studied +the art. Nevertheless, The Macdermots is a good novel, and worth +reading by any one who wishes to understand what Irish life was +before the potato disease, the famine, and the Encumbered Estates +Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter +or two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was +only now and then that I found either time or energy for a few +pages. I commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written +a volume when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no +special interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place +at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a +bank. We were not very rich, having about (pounds)400 a year on which to +live. + +Many people would say that we were two fools to encounter such +poverty together. I can only reply that since that day I have never +been without money in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means +of paying what I owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to +pass over our heads before I received any payment for any literary +work which afforded an appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an +Irish circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he +should marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is +expected of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. +I had given offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, +that I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people +have spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages +are now nearly double what they were then. The Post Office, at any +rate, is paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week +when it used to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. +Banks have sprung up in almost every village. Rents are paid with +more than English punctuality. And the religious enmity between +the classes, though it is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I +reached Banagher in 1841, I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. +I was informed next day by a Protestant gentleman who had been +very hospitable to me that I must choose my party. I could not sit +both at Protestant and Catholic tables. Such a caution would now +be impossible in any part of Ireland. Home-rule, no doubt, is a +nuisance,--and especially a nuisance because the professors of the +doctrine do not at all believe it themselves. There are probably +no other twenty men in England or Ireland who would be so utterly +dumfounded and prostrated were Home-rule to have its way as the +twenty Irish members who profess to support it in the House of +Commons. But it is not to be expected that nuisances such as these +should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule is, at any rate, better +and more easily managed than the rebellion at the close of the +last century; it is better than the treachery of the Union; less +troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less dangerous than +Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at Ballingary, +and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent from O'Connell +to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a political disease, +which we had no right to hope would be cured by any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In +July, 1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of +my writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I am sure +I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I ever read a +word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one exception,--which +shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never consulted a friend +as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I have been doing. +My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing with her that +it would be as well that she should not look at it before she gave +it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me credit for the +sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could see in the +faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who were around +me at the house in Cumberland,--my mother, my sister, my brother-in-law, +and, I think, my brother,--that they had not expected me to come +out as one of the family authors. There were three or four in the +field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd that another +should wish to add himself to the number. My father had written +much,--those long ecclesiastical descriptions,--quite unsuccessfully. +My mother had become one of the popular authors of the day. My +brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for his work. +My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was at the +time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her name, +and was called Chollerton. I could perceive that this attempt of +mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother, however, did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby, of Mortimer Street, was to publish the book. It +was to be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the +profits. Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such +an undertaking. I can, with truth, declare that I expected nothing. +And I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. +I was sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. +I never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was +any notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. +I never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on +the subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, +in duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I +did not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong +me in that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell +fifty copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no +account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I +am quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I +may say that after the publication I never said a word about the +book, even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published +it, and that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere +with my life, or with my determination to make the best I could of +the Post Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had +written a novel. But I went on writing. The Macdermots was published +in 1847, and The Kellys and the O'Kellys followed in 1848. I +changed my publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second +Irish story was sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had +long been my mother's publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough +Street, and I believe created the business which is now carried on +by Messrs. Hurst & Blackett. He had previously been in partnership +with Mr. Bentley in New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement +as before as to half profits, and with precisely the same results. +The book was not only not read, but was never heard of,--at any +rate, in Ireland. And yet it is a good Irish story, much inferior +to The Macdermots as to plot, but superior in the mode of telling. +Again I held my tongue, and not only said nothing but felt nothing. +Any success would, I think, have carried me off my legs, but I was +altogether prepared for failure. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the +writing of these books, I did not imagine, when the time came for +publishing them, that any one would condescend to read them. + +But in reference to The O'Kellys there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend +of mine to whom the book had been sent,--as have all my books,--wrote +me word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man +high in authority among the gods of the Times newspaper, and that +this special god had almost promised that The O'Kellys should be +noticed in that most influential of "organs." The information moved +me very much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it +ever appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate, more +honest, if it had been produced by other means;--if, for instance, +the writer of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits +of the book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made +up my mind then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, +I would have no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would +neither ask for nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a +critic for praise, or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for +censure. To this rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and +this rule I would recommend to all young authors. What can be got +by touting among the critics is never worth the ignominy. The same +may, of course, be said of all things acquired by ignominious means. +But in this matter it is so easy to fall into the dirt. Facilis +descensus Averni. There seems to be but little fault in suggesting +to a friend that a few words in this or that journal would be of +service. But any praise so obtained must be an injustice to the +public, for whose instruction, and not for the sustentation of the +author, such notices are intended. And from such mild suggestion +the descent to crawling at the critic's feet, to the sending of +presents, and at last to a mutual understanding between critics +and criticised, is only too easy. Other evils follow, for the +denouncing of which this is hardly the place;--though I trust I +may find such place before my work is finished. I took no notice +of my friend's letter, but I was not the less careful in watching +The Times. At last the review came,--a real review in The Times. I +learned it by heart, and can now give, if not the words, the exact +purport. "Of The Kellys and the O'Kellys we may say what the master +said to his footman, when the man complained of the constant supply +of legs of mutton on the kitchen table. Well, John, legs of mutton +are good, substantial food;' and we may say also what John replied: +'Substantial, sir,--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" +That was the review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, +I presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and +that he had incurred a loss of (pounds)63 19S. 1 1/2d. The truth of the +account I never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom +of the advice given to me in the following letter, though I never +thought of obeying it-- + + "GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, + November 11, 1848. + +"MY DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to say that absence from town and other +circumstances have prevented me from earlier inquiring into the +results of the sale of The Kellys and the O'Kellys, with which the +greatest efforts have been used, but in vain. The sale has been, +I regret to say, so small that the loss upon the publication is +very considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although in +consequence of the great number of novels that are published, the +sale of each, with some few exceptions, must be small, yet it is +evident that readers do not like novels on Irish subjects as well +as on others. Thus, you will perceive, it is impossible for me to +give any encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + +"As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the novel La Vendee, +perhaps you will favour me with a sight of it when convenient.--I +remain, etc., etc., + + "H. COLBURN." + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling +a plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the +greatest efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which +might be made for the popularity of a book ought to have come from +the author;--but I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that +he could not encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would +have bet twenty to one against my own success. But by continuing +I could lose only pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty +did turn up in my favour, then how much might I win! + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY FIRST SUCCESS + +1849-1855 + + + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly +completed it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the +former. I find, however, that the agreement for its publication was +not made till 1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must +have forgotten the disastrous result of The O'Kellys, as he thereby +agrees to give me (pounds)20 down for my "new historical novel, to be +called La Vendee." He agreed also to pay me (pounds)30 more when he had +sold 350 copies, and (pounds)50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I +got my (pounds)20, and then heard no more of (pounds)a Vendee, not even receiving +any account. Perhaps the historical title had appeared more alluring +to him than an Irish subject; though it was not long afterwards that +I received a warning from the very same house of business against +historical novels,--as I will tell at length when the proper time +comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. +The story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendee country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits +of my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read +the book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception +as to the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters +are distinct, and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, +this morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on +the book. + +I had, however, received (pounds)20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness +to authors in the same men,--but by nothing so much as by the ease +with which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small +sums of money. If you will only make the payment future instead of +present, you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your +client's favour. "You might as well promise her (pounds)20. This day six +months will do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the +money will never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to +rid himself of your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing La Vendee I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland +the desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of +the pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that +time to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which +the misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their +worst. The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts,--I may say, the successful efforts,--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal the +Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian +corn. The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by +many. The people themselves wished, of course, to be fed without +working; and the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, +were disposed to think that the management of affairs was taken +too much out of their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with +the matter, and, thinking that the Government was right, I was +inclined to defend them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. +(Lord Sydney Godolphin Osborne) was at that time denouncing the +Irish scheme of the Administration in the Times, using very strong +language,--as those who remember his style will know. I fancied +then,--as I still think,--that I understood the country much better +than he did; and I was anxious to show that the steps taken for +mitigating the terrible evil of the times were the best which the +Minister of the day could have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, +and, full of my purpose, I presented myself to Mr. John Forster,--who +has since been an intimate and valued friend,--but who was at that +time the editor of the Examiner. I think that that portion of the +literary world which understands the fabrication of newspapers +will admit that neither before his time, nor since, has there been +a more capable editor of a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he +was not without his faults. That which the cabman is reported to +have said of him before the magistrate is quite true. He was always +"an arbitrary cove." As a critic, he belonged to the school of +Bentley and Gifford,--who would always bray in a literary mortar +all critics who disagreed from them, as though such disagreement +were a personal offence requiring personal castigation. But that +very eagerness made him a good editor. Into whatever he did he put +his very heart and soul. During his time the Examiner was almost +all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. So to John Forster I +went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's Inn Fields in which, +some three or four years earlier, Dickens had given that reading of +which there is an illustration with portraits in the second volume +of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man +could get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself +as in part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some +degree by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that +any one would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any +claim. I stated my name and official position, and the fact that +opportunities had been given me of seeing the poorhouses in Ireland, +and of making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the +time. Would a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the +Examiner? The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased +to say that if the letters should recommend themselves by their +style and matter, if they were not too long, and if,--every reader +will know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself,--if +this and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland +did not declare that the Government had at last been adequately +defended, nor did the treasurer of the Examiner send me a cheque +in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. +A man who writes a single letter to a newspaper, of course, is not +paid for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal +to himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and +have been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On +this occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not +much disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could +not refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I +said. But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its predecessors, +the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, after all, +that was my proper line. I had never thought of questioning the +justice of the verdict expressed against me. The idea that I was +the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never troubled me. I +did not look at the books after they were published, feeling sure +that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. But still +I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. Then and +therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a play. +I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called The Noble Jilt. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called Can You Forgive Her? I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, +and re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then +sent it to my very old friend, George Bartley, the actor, who had +when I was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, +and who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give +me the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter +which I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. +"When I commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. +I did not think it opened dramatically, but that might have been +remedied." I knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend +warmed to the subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, +till my ears tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the +character of your heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, +but you have done it for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." +Madame Brudo was the heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never +play the jilt again; 'tis a most unbecoming character. Play it +with what skill you will, it meets but little sympathy.' And this, +be assured, would be its effect upon an audience. So that I must +reluctantly add that, had I been still a manager, The Noble Jilt +is not a play I could have recommended for production." This was a +blow that I did feel. The neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact +which grows upon an author by degrees. There is no special moment +of agony,--no stunning violence of condemnation. But a piece of +criticism such as this, from a friend, and from a man undoubtedly +capable of forming an opinion, was a blow in the face! But I +accepted the judgment loyally, and said not a word on the subject +to any one. I merely showed the letter to my wife, declaring my +conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. And as critical gospel +it has since been accepted. In later days I have more than once +read the play, and I know that he was right. The dialogue, however, +I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of the scenes be not +the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, +and for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced +to Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for +Ireland. I explained to him that I knew the country better than +most other people, perhaps better than any other person, and could +do it well. He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send +him a certain number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer +within a fortnight after he should have received my work. I came +back to Ireland, and for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" +the city of Dublin, and the county of Kerry, in which lies the +lake scenery of Killarney, and I "did" the route from Dublin to +Killarney, altogether completing nearly a quarter of the proposed +volume. The roll of MS. was sent to Albemarle Street,--but was never +opened. At the expiration of nine months from the date on which it +reached that time-honoured spot it was returned without a word, in +answer to a very angry letter from myself. I insisted on having +back my property,--and got it. I need hardly say that my property +has never been of the slightest use to me. In all honesty I think +that had he been less dilatory, John Murray would have got a very +good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery +of letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had +been done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier +would be sent in one direction in which there were but few letters +to be delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at +the request of some influential person, while in another direction +there was no letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted +himself. It was intended to set this right throughout England, +Ireland, and Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish +district to which I was attached. I was then invited to do the same +in a portion of England, and I spent two of the happiest years of +my life at the task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think +I may say, every nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, +the greater part of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of +Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, +Monmouthshire, and the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I +had an opportunity of seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, +with a minuteness which few have enjoyed. And I did my business +after a fashion in which no other official man has worked at +least for many years. I went almost everywhere on horseback. I had +two hunters of my own, and here and there, where I could, I hired +a third horse. I had an Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has +now been in my service for thirty-five years; and in this manner I +saw almost every house--I think I may say every house of importance--in +this large district. The object was to create a postal network +which should catch all recipients of letters. In France it was, and +I suppose still is, the practice to deliver every letter. Wherever +the man may live to whom a letter is addressed, it is the duty of +some letter-carrier to take that letter to his house, sooner or +later. But this, of course, must be done slowly. With us a delivery +much delayed was thought to be worse than none at all. In some places +we did establish posts three times a week, and perhaps occasionally +twice a week; but such halting arrangements were considered to +be objectionable, and we were bound down by a salutary law as to +expense, which came from our masters at the Treasury. We were not +allowed to establish any messenger's walk on which a sufficient +number of letters would not be delivered to pay the man's wages, +counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the counting was in our +own hands, and an enterprising official might be sanguine in his +figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare false accounts; +but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who absolutely had the +country to do became aware that I was anxious for good results. +It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a man. During +those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover the country +with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any case a +rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; but I +fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, or +because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short +cuts; and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would +have to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to +them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a +day. I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it +was necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for +my equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have +often surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen +or heard of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the +morning, with a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating +him as to the disposal of every letter which came into his office. +And in the same guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, +or other lone residences about the country, and ask the people how +they got their letters, at what hour, and especially whether they +were delivered free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept +into use, which came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin +for which there was no pardon, in accordance with which these rural +letter-carriers used to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the +house was out of their beat, and that they must be paid for their +extra work. I think that I did stamp out that evil. In all these +visits I was, in truth, a beneficent angel to the public, bringing +everywhere with me an earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery +of letters. But not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission +was imperfectly understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to +get on, and did not allow as much time as was necessary to explain +to the wondering mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, +why it was that a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions +which might be considered impertinent, as applying to his or her +private affairs. "Good-morning, sir. I have just called to ask a +few questions. I am a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get +your letters? As I am a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain +at once." Then I would take out my pencil and notebook, and wait +for information. And in fact there was no other way in which the +truth could be ascertained. Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's +storm upon them, the very people who were robbed by our messengers +would not confess the robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It +was necessary to startle them into the revelations which I required +them to make for their own good. And I did startle them. I became +thoroughly used to it, and soon lost my native bashfulness;--but +sometimes my visits astonished the retiring inhabitants of country +houses. I did, however, do my work, and can look back upon what I +did with thorough satisfaction. I was altogether in earnest; and +I believe that many a farmer now has his letters brought daily to +his house free of charge, who but for me would still have had to +send to the post-town for them twice a week, or to have paid a man +for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting +to make another effort, and often turning over in my head some +fragment of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not +come in which I could sit down with my pen and paper and begin +another novel. For, after all, what could it be but a novel? The +play had failed more absolutely than the novels, for the novels +had attained the honour of print. The cause of this pressure of +official work lay, not in the demands of the General Post Office, +which more than once expressed itself as astonished by my celerity, +but in the necessity which was incumbent on me to travel miles +enough to pay for my horses, and upon the amount of correspondence, +returns, figures, and reports which such an amount of daily travelling +brought with it. I may boast that the work was done very quickly +and very thoroughly,--with no fault but an over-eagerness to extend +postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one mid-summer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of The Warden,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one +at their commencement could have had less reason than myself to +presume himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been +often asked in what period of my early life I had lived so long +in a cathedral city as to have become intimate with the ways of a +Close. I never lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never +knew anything of any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar +intimacy with any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be +life-like, and for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond +affection, was, I think, the simple result of an effort of my moral +consciousness. It was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon +should be,--or, at any rate, would be with such advantages as +an archdeacon might have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who +has been declared by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon +down to the very ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had +not then even spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment +to be very great. The archdeacon came whole from my brain after +this fashion;--but in writing about clergymen generally, I had to +pick up as I went whatever I might know or pretend to know about +them. But my first idea had no reference to clergymen in general. +I had been struck by two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to +be evils,--and with an absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I +thought that I might be able to expose them, or rather to describe +them, both in one and the same tale. The first evil was the +possession by the Church of certain funds and endowments which had +been intended for charitable purposes, but which had been allowed +to become incomes for idle Church dignitaries. There had been more +than one such case brought to public notice at the time, in which +there seemed to have been an egregious malversation of charitable +purposes. The second evil was its very opposite. Though I had been +much struck by the injustice above described, I had also often +been angered by the undeserved severity of the newspapers towards +the recipients of such incomes, who could hardly be considered +to be the chief sinners in the matter. When a man is appointed to +a place, it is natural that he should accept the income allotted +to that place without much inquiry. It is seldom that he will be +the first to find out that his services are overpaid. Though he be +called upon only to look beautiful and to be dignified upon State +occasions, he will think (pounds)2000 a year little enough for such beauty +and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt that there had been +some tearing to pieces which might have been spared. But I was +altogether wrong in supposing that the two things could be combined. +Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after the fashion of +an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. He should take up +one side and cling to that, and then he may be powerful. There should +be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples make a man impotent for +such work. It was open to me to have described a bloated parson, +with a red nose and all other iniquities, openly neglecting every +duty required from him, and living riotously on funds purloined +from the poor,--defying as he did do so the moderate remonstrances +of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a man as good, as sweet, +and as mild as my warden, who should also have been a hard-working, +ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have subjected him to the +rancorous venom of some daily Jupiter, who, without a leg to stand +on, without any true case, might have been induced, by personal +spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with poisonous, anonymous, +and ferocious leading articles. But neither of these programmes +recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though it may exaggerate +the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating it in order that +it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become a slander, and +satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither of the red-nosed +clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous assassin of the +journals. I did believe that through want of care and the natural +tendency of every class to take care of itself, money had slipped +into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have gone +elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which +was cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects +should not have been combined--and I now know myself well enough +to be aware that I was not the man to have carried out either of +them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began The Warden, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion +I did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +(pounds)450 to about (pounds)800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work +to which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other +parts of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly +finished the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have +liked to ride over the whole country, and to have sent a rural +post letter-carrier to every parish, every village, every hamlet, +and every grange in England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town +in the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the +centre of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But +our house there had been given up when it was known that I should +be detained in England; and then we had wandered about in the western +counties, moving our headquarters from one town to another. During +this time we had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, +at Cheltenham, and at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled +ourselves for eighteen months at Belfast. After that we took a +house at Donnybrook, the well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters +and their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my +book at once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, +and it was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was +only one small volume, and in later days would have been completed +in six weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had +pressed. On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published +till 1855. I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, +with William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an +assurance that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked +at," and Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half +profits. I had no reason to love "half profits," but I was very +anxious to have my book published, and I acceded. It was now more +than ten years since I had commenced writing The Macdermots, and +I thought that if any success was to be achieved, the time surely +had come. I had not been impatient; but, if there was to be a time, +surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about The Warden; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, +and after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. +At the end of 1855 I received a cheque for (pounds)9 8s. 8d., which was +the first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that (pounds)20 which +poor Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been +earned at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of (pounds)10 +15s. 1d. The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded +remuneration for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. +A thousand copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or +six years, about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold +as belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form The Warden +never reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in +the purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its +own,--a merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see +wherein lay whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the +bishop, of the archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially +of the warden, are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to +myself a series of portraits, and had been able so to put them on +the canvas that my readers should see that which I meant them to +see. There is no gift which an author can have more useful to him +than this. And the style of the English was good, though from most +unpardonable carelessness the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. +With such results I had no doubt but that I would at once begin +another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the Times newspaper as to The Warden. +In an article-if I remember rightly--on The Warden and Barchester +Towers combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the Times are actuated by higher +motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel are spoken +of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. But there was +added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid condition of the +author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in personalities,--the +personalities in question having reference to some editor or manager +of the Times newspaper. For I had introduced one Tom Towers as being +potent among the contributors to the Jupiter, under which name I +certainly did allude to the Times. But at that time, living away in +Ireland, I had not even heard the name of any gentleman connected +with the Times newspaper, and could not have intended to represent +any individual by Tom Towers. As I had created an archdeacon, so had +I created a journalist, and the one creation was no more personal +or indicative of morbid tendencies than the other. If Tom Towers +was at all like any gentleman connected with the Times, my moral +consciousness must again have been very powerful. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"BARCHESTER TOWERS" AND THE "THREE CLERKS" + +1855-1858 + + + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the +rural posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. +I had read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of +Charles Menvale's History of the Romans under the Empire, and had +got into some correspondence with the author's brother as to the +author's views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to +investigate the character of probably the greatest man who ever +lived, which tendency in after years produced a little book of +which I shall have to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste +generally for Latin literature, which has been one of the chief +delights of my later life. And I may say that I became at this time +as anxious about Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as +to his character, as we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these +latter days. I lived in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly +whether he crossed the Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In +order that I might review Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that +I was dealing unwarrantably with a subject beyond me, I studied the +Commentaries thoroughly, and went through a mass of other reading +which the object of a magazine article hardly justified,--but which +has thoroughly justified itself in the subsequent pursuits of my +life. I did write two articles, the first mainly on Julius Caesar, +and the second on Augustus, which appeared in the Dublin University +Magazine. They were the result of very much labour, but there came +from them no pecuniary product. I had been very modest when I sent +them to the editor, as I had been when I called on John Forster, +not venturing to suggest the subject of money. After a while I did +call upon the proprietor of the magazine in Dublin, and was told +by him that such articles were generally written to oblige friends, +and that articles written to oblige friends were not usually paid +for. The Dean of Ely, as the author of the work in question now +is, was my friend; but I think I was wronged, as I certainly had +no intention of obliging him by my criticism. Afterwards, when I +returned to Ireland, I wrote other articles for the same magazine, +one of which, intended to be very savage in its denunciation, was +on an official blue-book just then brought out, preparatory to the +introduction of competitive examinations for the Civil Service. For +that and some other article, I now forget what, I was paid. Up to +the end of 1857 I had received (pounds)55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on Barchester Towers that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not +any longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very +many hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though +Carlyle has since told me that a man when travelling should not +read, but "sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended +to make a profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same +time, to do my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours +to more account than I could do even by reading. I made for myself +therefore a little tablet, and found after a few days' exercise +that I could write as quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at +my desk. I worked with a pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied +afterwards. In this way was composed the greater part of Barchester +Towers and of the novel which succeeded it, and much also of others +subsequent to them. My only objection to the practice came from +the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself to +be subject when going to work before four or five fellow-passengers. +But I got used to it, as I had done to the amazement of the west +country farmers' wives when asking them after their letters. + +In the writing of Barchester Towers I took great delight. The bishop +and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the troubles +of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was done, +Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his reader; +and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and voluminous +criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was accompanied +by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, with a +payment of (pounds)100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on condition +that I would comply with the suggestions made by his critic. One +of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel down to +two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, rejecting +one and accepting another, almost alternately, but declaring at +last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a third of +my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could have been +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book +on the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn +from a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have +been attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the +attempt. Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's +terms; and the book was published, certainly none the worse, and +I do not think much the better, for the care that had been taken +with it. + +The work succeeded just as The Warden had succeeded. It achieved +no great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel +readers were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon +myself more than I have a right to do in saying now that Barchester +Towers has become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, +which live and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if +that be so, its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of +some of its younger brothers. Barchester Towers would hardly be +so well known as it is had there been no Framley Parsonage and no +Last Chronicle of Barset. + +I received my (pounds)100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, +as may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author +forget the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make +a money return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will +be much offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory +and my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice +of a so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in +my eyes, would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like +clergymen who preach sermons against the love of money, but who +know that the love of money is so distinctive a characteristic +of humanity that such sermons are mere platitudes called for by +customary but unintelligent piety. All material progress has come +from man's desire to do the best he can for himself and those +about him, and civilisation and Christianity itself have been made +possible by such progress. Though we do not all of us argue this +matter out within our breasts, we do all feel it; and we know that +the more a man earns the more useful he is to his fellow-men. The +most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been those who have made the +greatest incomes,--and it is the same with the doctors. It would +be the same in the Church if they who have the choosing of bishops +always chose the best man. And it has in truth been so too in art +and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard their pecuniary +rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always for money, +giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as an actor. +In our own century what literary names stand higher than those of +Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? And I think +I may say that none of those great men neglected the pecuniary result +of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among us who in any +calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious teaching, +in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm utterly +disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man +is a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few +in doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable +to his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent +to his children, and to be himself free from the casking fear which +poverty creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet +authors are told that they should disregard payment for their work, +and be content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of +the public. Brains that are unbought will never serve the public +much. Take away from English authors their copyrights, and you +would very soon take away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what +to me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in +which professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen +what prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature +with industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair +average talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man +does in another profession. The result with me has been comfortable +but not splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the +combination of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be +no more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and +I think beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last +infirmity of noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who +lacks it is either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. +But I confess that my first object in taking to literature as a +profession was that which is common to the barrister when he goes +to the Bar, and to the baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to +make an income on which I and those belonging to me might live in +comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures +badly, because he can make his money faster in that fashion than +by doing them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the +best he can do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he +is dishonest, as is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the +barrister who takes money that he does not earn, or the clergyman +who is content to live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the +author may have a difficulty which will not occur to the seller of +cloth, in settling within himself what is good work and what is +bad,--when labour enough has been given, and when the task has been +scamped. It is a danger as to which he is bound to be severe with +himself--in which he should feel that his conscience should be set +fairly in the balance against the natural bias of his interest. If +he do not do so, sooner or later his dishonesty will be discovered, +and will be estimated accordingly. But in this he is to be governed +only by the plain rules of honesty which should govern us all. +Having said so much, I shall not scruple as I go on to attribute +to the pecuniary result of my labours all the importance which I +felt them to have at the time. + +Barchester Towers, for which I had received (pounds)100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from +the publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am +writing, that book and The Warden together have given me almost +every year some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, +and I find that I have received (pounds)727 11S. 3d. for the two. It is +more than I got for the three or four works that came afterwards, +but the payments have been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, The Three Clerks, +in my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum +down was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to +buy it from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, +and I argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into +a position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than +I gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. +"It is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your +title-page are not worth more to you than the increased payment." +This seemed to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the +contempt of money which I have never admired. I did think much +of Messrs. Longman's name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a +cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by +a remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply +that they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a +fertile writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- +(naming the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) +three novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard +to a man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I +did not know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that +I had better go elsewhere. + +I had then written The Three Clerks, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. +Hurst & Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had +made an appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that +gentleman was unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, +and had but one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. +I sat for an hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return +of the peccant publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about +to depart with my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the +house came to me. He seemed to think it a pity that I should go, +and wished me to leave my work with him. This, however, I would not +do, unless he would undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he +lacked authority. Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. +But while we debated the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope +it's not historical, Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, +don't be historical; your historical novel is not worth a damn." +Thence I took The Three Clerks to Mr. Bentley; and on the same +afternoon succeeded in selling it to him for (pounds)250. His son still +possesses it, and the firm has, I believe, done very well with the +purchase. It was certainly the best novel I had as yet written. +The plot is not so good as that of the Macdermots; nor are there +any characters in the book equal to those of Mrs. Proudie and the +Warden; but the work has a more continued interest, and contains +the first well-described love-scene that I ever wrote. The passage +in which Kate Woodward, thinking that she will die, tries to take +leave of the lad she loves, still brings tears to my eyes when I +read it. I had not the heart to kill her. I never could do that. +And I do not doubt but that they are living happily together to +this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, +and I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this +novel now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I +introduced a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by +which I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme +of competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles +Trevelyan was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended +for Sir Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who +had taken an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him +Sir Gregory," Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came +to know her and her husband. I never learned to love competitive +examination; but I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. +Sir Stafford Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, +was then leagued with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears +in The Three Clerks under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick +West End. + +But for all that The Three Clerks was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, +paying a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in +1857, and she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in +which she had not written, and she expressed to me her delight that +her labours should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning +in the same field. In truth they had already been continued for +a dozen years, but a man's career will generally be held to date +itself from the commencement of his success. On those foreign +tours I always encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon +them now, tempt me almost to write a little book of my long past +Continental travels. On this occasion, as we made our way slowly +through Switzerland and over the Alps, we encountered again and +again a poor forlorn Englishman, who had no friend and no aptitude +for travelling. He was always losing his way, and finding himself +with no seat in the coaches and no bed at the inns. On one occasion +I found him at Coire seated at 5 A. M. in the coupe of a diligence +which was intended to start at noon for the Engadine, while it was +his purpose to go over the Alps in another which was to leave at +5.30, and which was already crowded with passengers. "Ah!" he said, +"I am in time now, and nobody shall turn me out of this seat," +alluding to former little misfortunes of which I had been a witness. +When I explained to him his position, he was as one to whom life +was too bitter to be borne. But he made his way into Italy, and +encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in Florence. "Can you +tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, having touched my +shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't like to ask them. +Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent him to the Uffizzi, +but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, +and on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. +Thence we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. +The misery is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of +another case in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to +get out of the conveyance into the middle of the street because the +horse could not be made to go any further. Such was our condition. +I induced the driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was +nearest to him, and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the +porter to get the master to come down to me; and, though my French +is ordinarily very defective, I spoke with such eloquence to +that German innkeeper that he, throwing his arms round my neck in +a transport of compassion, swore that he would never leave me nor +my wife till he had put us to bed. And he did so; but, ah! there +were so many in those beds! It is such an experience as this which +teaches a travelling foreigner how different on the Continent is +the accommodation provided for him, from that which is supplied +for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that +we had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that +night. There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and +we asked some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering +supper and beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but +we persisted, and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves +charged twenty zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at +Milan, and the prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We +paid our twenty zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the +thought of our ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached +Verona, there arose a great cry along the platform for Signor +Trollope. I put out my head and declared my identity, when I +was waited upon by a glorious personage dressed like a beau for a +ball, with half-a-dozen others almost as glorious behind him, who +informed me, with his hat in his hand, that he was the landlord of +the "Due Torre." It was a heating moment, but it became more hot +when he asked after my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, +and point to my wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." +There were three carriages provided for us, each with a pair of +grey horses. When we reached the house it was all lit up. We were +not allowed to move without an attendant with a lighted candle. It +was only gradually that the mistake came to be understood. On us +there was still the horror of the bill, the extent of which could +not be known till the hour of departure had come. The landlord, +however, had acknowledged to himself that his inductions had been +ill-founded, and he treated us with clemency. He had never before +received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished The Three Clerks just before +I left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for +a new plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a +plot, and he drew out that of my next novel, called Doctor Thorne. +I mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in +which I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains +for the thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted +incidents from what I have read,--either from history or from works +of imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not +been aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's +work, and deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from +censuring this practice in others. Our greatest masters in works +of imagination have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare +dug out of such quarries whenever he could find them. Ben Jonson, +with heavier hand, built up his structures on his studies of +the classics, not thinking it beneath him to give, without direct +acknowledgment, whole pieces translated both from poets and +historians. But in those days no such acknowledgment was usual. +Plagiary existed, and was very common, but was not known as a sin. +It is different now; and I think that an author, when he uses either +the words or the plot of another, should own as much, demanding to +be credited with no more of the work than he has himself produced. +I may say also that I have never printed as my own a word that has +been written by others. [Footnote: I must make one exception to +this declaration. The legal opinion as to heirlooms in The Eustace +Diamonds was written for me by Charles Merewether, the present +Member for Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling +authority on the subject.] It might probably have been better for +my readers had I done so, as I am informed that Doctor Thorne, the +novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger sale than any other +book of mine. + +Early in 1858, while I was writing Doctor Thorne, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded (pounds)400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures +after I had left him, and had found that (pounds)300 would be the outside +value of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman +& Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward +Chapman in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great +many words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. +Looking at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had +stopped him on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might +as well do as I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it +was a sale. I remember that he held the poker in his hand all the +time that I was with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined +to buy the book, there would have been no danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"DOCTOR THORNE"--"THE BERTRAMS"--"THE WEST INDIES" AND "THE SPANISH +MAIN" + + + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper +on the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my +state room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but +still I did my work. Labor omnia vincit improbus. I do not say that +to all men has been given physical strength sufficient for such +exertion as this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable +most men to work at almost any season. I had previously to this +arranged a system of task-work for myself, which I would strongly +recommend to those who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not +made absolutely obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should +never be allowed to become spasmodic. There was no day on which +it was my positive duty to write for the publishers, as it was my +duty to write reports for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if +I pleased. But as I had made up my mind to undertake this second +profession, I found it to be expedient to bind myself by certain +self-imposed laws. When I have commenced a new book, I have always +prepared a diary, divided into weeks, and carried it on for the +period which I have allowed myself for the completion of the work. +In this I have entered, day by day, the number of pages I have +written, so that if at any time I have slipped into idleness for +a day or two, the record of that idleness has been there, staring +me in the face, and demanding of me increased labour, so that the +deficiency might be supplied. According to the circumstances of the +time,--whether my other business might be then heavy or light, or +whether the book which I was writing was or was not wanted with +speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. The average +number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as 20, and has +risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page has been +made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, will have +a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as I went. In +the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of course, +with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always to +supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that +the excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing +my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided +myself especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and +I have always done so. There has ever been the record before me, +and a week passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a +blister to my eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow +to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not +be disobeyed. It has the force of the water drop that hollows the +stone. A small daily task, If it be really daily, will beat the +labours of a spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always +catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in +glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise +to make half his journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They +have ever been as boys struggling to learn their lessons as they +entered the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they +have failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger +of being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." +The needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always +been in the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates +and ruled spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly +demand upon my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to +such a taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his +imagination should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves +him. When I have heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been +able to repress my scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the +shoemaker were to wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for +the divine moment of melting. If the man whose business it is to +write has eaten too many good things, or has drunk too much, or +smoked too many cigars,--as men who write sometimes will do,--then +his condition may be unfavourable for work; but so will be the +condition of a shoemaker who has been similarly imprudent. I have +sometimes thought that the inspiration wanted has been the remedy +which time will give to the evil results of such imprudence.--Mens +sana in corpore sano. The author wants that as does every other +workman,--that and a habit of industry. I was once told that the +surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler's wax on +my chair. I certainly believe in the cobbler's wax much more than +the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready +to admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by +the products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own +very high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do +the work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the +habit of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I +therefore venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship +as the business of their lives, even when they propose that that +authorship be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic +rushes with their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day +by day as though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit +until the allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished Doctor Thorne, and on the following +day began The Bertrams. I was moved now by a determination to excel, +if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. An ignoble ambition +for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But not, I think, +altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to look at his +work as does any other workman. This had become my task, this +was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing the +doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to work +at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good +as I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between +each they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I +finished Doctor Thorne on one day, and began The Bertrams on the +next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last +succeeded in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty +years have passed since that time, and other years may yet run on +before these pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official +sin by describing here the nature of the difficulty which met me. +I found, on my arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer +of the Pasha, who was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have +been the gentleman who has lately dealt with our Government as to +the Suez Canal shares, and who is now well known to the political +world as Nubar Pasha. I found him a most courteous gentlemen, an +Armenian. I never went to his office, nor do I know that he had an +office. Every other day he would come to me at my hotel, and bring +with him servants, and pipes, and coffee. I enjoyed his coming +greatly; but there was one point on which we could not agree. As +to money and other details, it seemed as though he could hardly +accede fast enough to the wishes of the Postmaster-General; but +on one point he was firmly opposed to me. I was desirous that the +mails should be carried through Egypt in twenty-four hours, and he +thought that forty-eight hours should be allowed. I was obstinate, +and he was obstinate; and for a long time we could come to +no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity seemed to desert +him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with almost more than +British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick transit, a terrible +responsibility would rest on my head. I made this mistake, he +said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which would be +easy and secure in England could be attained with safety in Egypt. +"The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede to +any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no +longer any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and +he assured me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his +care to see that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually +kept, and, I believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my +persistency was not the result of any courage specially personal to +myself. While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered +to me that the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had +conceived that forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their +traffic better than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great +paymasters on the railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, +who managed the railway, might probably wish to accommodate them. +I often wondered who originated that frightful picture of blood +and desolation. That it came from an English heart and an English +hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the +Post Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with +true tales of my adventures. The Tales of All Countries have, most +of them, some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called +John Bull on the Guadalquivir, the chief incident in which occurred +to me and a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We +both of us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to +be a bull-fighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, +too, who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet +how thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received (pounds)400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall for +Doctor Thorne, and agreed to sell them The Bertrams for the same sum. +This latter novel was written under very vagrant circumstances,--at +Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at sea, and at last +finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West Indies I will say +a few words presently, but I may as well speak of these two novels +here. Doctor Thorne has, I believe, been the most popular book that +I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof of comparative +popularity. The Bertrams has had quite an opposite fortune. I do not +know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even by my friends, +and I cannot remember that there is any character in it that has +dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that they are +of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. They fall +away very much from The Three Clerks, both in pathos and humour. +There is no personage in either of them comparable to Chaffanbrass the +lawyer. The plot of Doctor Thorne is good, and I am led therefore +to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own feeling, is the +most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which will most raise +it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The plots of Tom Jones +and of Ivanhoe are almost perfect, and they are probably the most +popular novels of the schools of the last and of this century; but +to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged strength of Burley +and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those great novelists +than the gift of construction shown in the two works I have named. +A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour +and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, +the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals +known to the world or to the author, but of created personages +impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, +the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the +vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the +agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, +however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. That +of The Bertrams was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book was +relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of Doctor +Thorne. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add (pounds)600 a year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a week, on (pounds)1400 +a year. If more should come, it would be well;--but (pounds)600 a year I +was prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but +was very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and +then I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to The Bertrams, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated +for residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous +for want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the +stables had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in +some of the islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to +the island Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I +was then to go on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish +authorities, and to Panama for the same purpose with the Government +of New Grenada. All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and +I hope to that of my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, +as having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard +as the best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I +think I may venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as +I had learned from the secretary at the General Post Office that +this journey would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, demanding (pounds)250 for a single volume. The contract +was made without any difficulty, and when I returned home the work +was complete in my desk. I began it on board the ship in which I +left Kingston, Jamaica, for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried +it on as I went. From Cuba I made my way to St. Thomas, and through +the island down to Demerara, then back to St. Thomas,--which is +the starting-point for all places in that part of the globe,--to +Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, over the Isthmus to Panama, up +the Pacific to a little harbour on the coast of Costa Rica, thence +across Central America, through Costa Rica, and down the Nicaragua +river to the Mosquito coast, and after that home by Bermuda and New +York. Should any one want further details of the voyage, are they +not written in my book? The fact memorable to me now is that I +never made a single note while writing or preparing it. Preparation, +indeed, there was none. The descriptions and opinions came hot +on to the paper from their causes. I will not say that this is the +best way of writing a book intended to give accurate information. +But it is the best way of producing to the eye of the reader, and +to his ear, that which the eye of the writer has seen and his ear +heard. There are two kinds of confidence which a reader may have +in his author,--which two kinds the reader who wishes to use his +reading well should carefully discriminate. There is a confidence +in facts and a confidence in vision. The one man tells you accurately +what has been. The other suggests to you what may, or perhaps what +must have been, or what ought to have been. The former require simple +faith. The latter calls upon you to judge for yourself, and form +your own conclusions. The former does not intend to be prescient, +nor the latter accurate. Research is the weapon used by the former; +observation by the latter. Either may be false,--wilfully false; as +also may either be steadfastly true. As to that, the reader must +judge for himself. But the man who writes currente calamo, who +works with a rapidity which will not admit of accuracy, may be as +true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who bases every word +upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I have, travelled +about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have always +written the exact truth as I saw it ;--and I have, I think, drawn +my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies +of black men and white men was the view of the Times newspaper at +that period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for +it even by the Times newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position +as an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad +for literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future +chapter. But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to +Chapman & Hall and successfully demanded (pounds)600 for my next novel. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "CORNHILL MAGAZINE" AND "FRAMLEY PARSONAGE" + + + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my +own district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and +there my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return +to England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all +with whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable +home, and I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great +delight to me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a +house in the neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be +abandoned. [Footnote: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years +had passed away.] Nevertheless I thought that a man who could +write books ought not to live in Ireland,--ought to live within +the reach of the publishers, the clubs, and the dinner-parties of +the metropolis. So I made my request at headquarters, and with some +little difficulty got myself appointed to the Eastern District of +England,--which comprised Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, +Huntingdonshire, and the greater part of Hertfordshire. + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest +at the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had +been, some time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by +Mr. Rowland Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never +had any sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most +accurate, but I never came across any one who so little understood +the ways of men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two +brothers the servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to +have formed a large army in old days,--were so many machines who +could be counted on for their exact work without deviation, as +wheels may be counted on, which are kept going always at the same +pace and always by the same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious +public servant, anxious for the good of his country; but he was +a hard taskmaster, and one who would, I think, have put the great +department with which he was concerned altogether out of gear by +his hardness, had he not been at last controlled. He was the Chief +Secretary, my brother-in-law--who afterwards succeeded him--came +next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother was the Junior Secretary. In +the natural course of things, I had not, from my position, anything +to do with the management of affairs;--but from time to time I found +myself more or less mixed up in it. I was known to be a thoroughly +efficient public servant; I am sure I may say so much of myself +without fear of contradiction from any one who has known the Post +Office;--I was very fond of the department, and when matters came +to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my own. I have +no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I know that I +sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because I knew +my business and was useful. I had given official offence by the +publication of The Three Clerks. I afterwards gave greater offence +by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of the +large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On this +occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether +he was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was +no threat to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in +that fashion. The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed +no order. In the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing +to bring me to shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil +servant is only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he +is beyond that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in +his general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in +open professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted +now, but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one +in the Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style +of official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands +of reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them +dealing with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; +some few in which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos +might find an entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these +reports, habituating myself always to write them in the form in +which they should be sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus +that a man can throw on to his paper the exact feeling with which +his mind is impressed at the moment. A rough copy, or that which +is called a draft, is written in order that it may be touched and +altered and put upon stilts. The waste of time, moreover, in such +an operation, is terrible. If a man knows his craft with his pen, +he will have learned to write without the necessity of changing +his words or the form of his sentences. I had learned so to write +my reports that they who read them should know what it was that I +meant them to understand. But I do not think that they were regarded +with favour. I have heard horror expressed because the old forms +were disregarded and language used which had no savour of red-tape. +During the whole of this work in the Post Office it was my principle +always to obey authority in everything instantly, but never to allow +my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my opinion. They who +had the ordering of me very often did not know the work as I knew +it,--could not tell as I could what would be the effect of this +or that change. When carrying out instructions which I knew should +not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the fatuity of +the improper order in the strongest language that I could decently +employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, and look +back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. But I am +not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which +could hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our +residence towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing Castle +Richmond, the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for (pounds)600. But there arose at this time a certain literary project +which probably had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling +on postal service abroad or riding over the rural districts +in England, or arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the +last eighteen years had now been my life,--I had no opportunity +of becoming acquainted with the literary life in London. It was +probably some feeling of this which had made me anxious to move +my penates back to England. But even in Ireland, where I was still +living in October, 1859, I had heard of the Cornhill Magazine, which +was to come out on the 1st of January, 1860, under the editorship +of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of Tales of All Countries. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the Cornhill, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + "36 ONSLOW SQUARE, S. W. + October 28th. + +"MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their proposals; +and the business part done, let me come to the pleasure, and say +how very glad indeed I shall be to have you as a co-operator in +our new magazine. And looking over the annexed programme, you will +see whether you can't help us in many other ways besides tale-telling. +Whatever a man knows about life and its doings, that let us hear +about. You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and have +countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. Please +to think if you can furbish up any of these besides a novel. When +events occur, and you have a good lively tale, bear us in mind. One +of our chief objects in this magazine is the getting out of novel +spinning, and back into the world. Don't understand me to disparage +our craft, especially YOUR wares. I often say I am like the +pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread and cheese; +but the public love the tarts (luckily for us), and we must bake and +sell them. There was quite an excitement in my family one evening +when Paterfamilias (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always +when he tries it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room +wide awake and calling for the second volume of The Three Clerks. +I hope the Cornhill Magazine will have as pleasant a story. And +the Chapmans, if they are the honest men I take them to be, I've no +doubt have told you with what sincere liking your works have been +read by yours very faithfully, + + "W. M. THACKERAY." + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me (pounds)1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to +come out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion +of it should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in +all this that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which +was more than double what I had yet received, and nearly double +that which I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. +Then there was the suddenness of the call. It was already the end +of October, and a portion of the work was required to be in the +printer's hands within six weeks. Castle Richmond was indeed half +written, but that was sold to Chapman. And it had already been +a principle with me in my art, that no part of a novel should +be published till the entire story was completed. I knew, from +what I read from month to month, that this hurried publication of +incompleted work was frequently, I might perhaps say always, adopted +by the leading novelists of the day. That such has been the case, +is proved by the fact that Dickens, Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell +died with unfinished novels, of which portions had been already +published. I had not yet entered upon the system of publishing +novels in parts, and therefore had never been tempted. But I was +aware that an artist should keep in his hand the power of fitting +the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is his first +duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour to do +so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of remedying +any defect in this respect. + + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, +be "impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he +is, will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should +be always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his +pigs to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path +which he has intended for them. When some young lady at the end +of a story cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid +description of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines +of her portrait should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the +rushing mode of publication to which the system of serial stories +had given rise, and by which small parts as they were written were +sent hot to the press, was injurious to the work done. If I now +complied with the proposition made to me, I must act against my +own principle. But such a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot +be superseded on a just occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the +principle should for the occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as +judge, and decreed that the present reason was "tanti." On this my +first attempt at a serial story, I thought it fit to break my own +rule. I can say, however, that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day +this new Cornhill Magazine should be in want of a novel. Perhaps +some of my future readers will he able to remember the great +expectations which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's +was a good name with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. +Smith & Elder, were most liberal in their manner of initiating the +work, and were able to make an expectant world of readers believe +that something was to be given them for a shilling very much in +excess of anything they had ever received for that or double the +money. Whether these hopes were or were not fulfilled it is not for +me to say, as, for the first few years of the magazine's existence, +I wrote for it more than any other one person. But such was certainly +the prospect;--and how had it come to pass that, with such promises +made, the editor and the proprietors were, at the end of October, +without anything fixed as to what must be regarded as the chief +dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. +He had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed +its commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. +There was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. +I think there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, +I had the Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his +own energy, that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was +but four years my senior in life but he was at the top of the tree, +while I was still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d +of November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime +I had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit +the Cornhill, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the Cornhill, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that Castle Richmond was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that Castle Richmond would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must +call the plot of Framley Parsonage. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of +what I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English +clergyman who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation +by his own youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of +those around him. The love of his sister for the young lord was +an adjunct necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And +then by placing Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to +fall back upon my old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out +of these slight elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the +real plot consisted at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the +man she loved till the man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. +Nothing could be less efficient or artistic. But the characters +were so well handled, that the work from the first to the last +was popular,--and was received as it went on with still increasing +favour by both editor and proprietor of the magazine. The story was +thoroughly English. There was a little fox-hunting and a little +tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some Christian cant. There +was no heroism and no villainy. There was much Church, but more +love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in which there was +no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too ethereal to +be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the part of the +man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. Each of +them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say so. +Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked Framley Parsonage. I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in The Three +Clerks, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed +I doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than +Lucy Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak part,--no +long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in serial +form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not allow +himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a +fault that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he +embarks in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have +many pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's +eye at the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first +volume of Waverley coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised +this when I was writing Framley Parsonage; and working on the +conviction which had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos +of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written +on me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than +myself, and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him +to a kind of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel +Hawthorne, the American, whom I did not then know, but whose works +I knew. Though it praises myself highly, I will insert it here, +because it certainly is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he +says, "that my own individual taste is for quite another class of +works than those which I myself am able to write. If I were to meet +with such books as mine by another writer, I don't believe I should +be able to get through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony +Trollope? They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, +written on the strength of beef and through the inspiration of +ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of +the earth and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants +going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they +were being made a show of. And these books are just as English as +a beef-steak. Have they ever been tried in America? It needs an +English residence to make them thoroughly comprehensible; but still +I should think that human nature would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +Framley Parsonage; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed +in impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that +honesty is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood +fails; that a girl will be loved as she is pure; and sweet, and +unselfish; that a man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, +and brave of heart; that things meanly done are ugly and odious, +and things nobly done beautiful and gracious. I do not say that +lessons such as these may not be more grandly taught by higher +flights than mine. Such lessons come to us from our greatest poets. +But there are so many who will read novels and understand them, who +either do not read the works of our great poets, or reading them +miss the lesson! And even in prose fiction the character whom +the fervid imagination of the writer has lifted somewhat into the +clouds, will hardly give so plain an example to the hasty normal +reader as the humbler personage whom that reader unconsciously feels +to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a girl would more +probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than after Flora +Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard +the reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be +simply an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as +among the tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a +wicked world. I have regarded my art from so different a point of +view that I have ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, +and my pulpit as one which I could make both salutary and agreeable +to my audience. I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading +of my pages less modest than she was before, and that some may have +learned from them that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I +think that no youth has been taught that in falseness and flashness +is to be found the road to manliness; but some may perhaps have +learned from me that it is to be found in truth and a high but +gentle spirit. Such are the lessons I have striven to teach; and +I have thought it might best be done by representing to my readers +characters like themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. + +Framley Parsonage--or, rather, my connection with the Cornhill--was +the means of introducing me very quickly to that literary world +from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of my residence +in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very hard at work +on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern District, +and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from London, +in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and Middlesex,--which +was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This I took on +lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about (pounds)1000 on +improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent both +in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity came, +among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the Cornhill Magazine but the Pall Mall Gazette--gave +a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a memorable banquet +in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that occasion I first +met many men who afterwards became my most intimate associates. +It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be the first +starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that table, and +on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor (Sir)--than +whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert Bell, G. H. +Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men I afterwards +lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak specially of +the last, because from that time he was joined with me in so much +of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate Framley Parsonage, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's Unspoken +Dialogue. The first drawing he did for Framley Parsonage did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When +I did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated +Orley Farm, The Small House of Allington, Rachel Ray, and Phineas +Finn. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to +have learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of +which may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To +which class Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good +artist, it was open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to +study the work of the author from whose writing he was bound to take +his subject. I have too often found that the former alternative +has been thought to be the better, as it certainly is the easier +method. An artist will frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas +to those of an author, and will sometimes be too idle to find out +what those ideas are. But this artist was neither proud nor idle. +In every figure that he drew it was his object to promote the +views of the writer whose work he had undertaken to illustrate, and +he never spared himself any pains in studying that work, so as to +enable him to do so. I have carried on some of those characters from +book to book, and have had my own early ideas impressed indelibly +on my memory by the excellence of his delineations. Those illustrations +were commenced fifteen years ago, and from that time up to this +day my affection for the man of whom I am speaking has increased. +To see him has always been a pleasure. His voice has been a sweet +sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never heard him praised +without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a word spoken +against him without opposing the censurer. These words, should he +ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will tell him +of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that +evening, and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very +close, was born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the +necessities of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But +he lived much with those who did so,--and could have done it himself +had want or ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick +Club, to which, however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best +dinners of my time, and was,--happily I may say is, [Footnote: +Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went from us.]--the +best giver of dinners. A man rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, +odious to those who dislike him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he +is the prince of friends, honest as the sun, and as openhanded as +Charity itself. + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back +over the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd +to me that we should have known each other for no more than six +years. He was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; +and was so far successful that I do not think that want ever came +near him. But he never made that mark which his industry and talents +would have seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary +men, but not known to readers. As a journalist he was useful +and conscientious, but his plays and novels never made themselves +popular. He wrote a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated +edition of the British poets; but he achieved no great success. +I have known no man better read in English literature. Hence his +conversation had a peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy +with his pen. He will long be remembered at the Literary Fund +Committees, of which he was a staunch and most trusted supporter. +I think it was he who first introduced me to that board. It has +often been said that literary men are peculiarly apt to think that +they are slighted and unappreciated. Robert Bell certainly never +achieved the position in literature which he once aspired to fill, +and which he was justified in thinking that he could earn for +himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects with him, but +I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to his own +literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, and he +loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no sound +ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. +He is, I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His +severity, however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when +honesty may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has +not required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged +himself to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. +I am not speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in +another, but of that confidence in literary excellence, which is, +I think, necessary for the full enjoyment of literature. In one +modern writer he did believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming +than the unstinted admiration which he has accorded to everything +that comes from the pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has +been united. To her name I shall recur again when speaking of the +novelists of the present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say +that I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the +more astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a +little the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But +"Billy" also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, +or at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the Times, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would +have risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer +in his day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, +a man of very different calibre, who had not yet culminated, but +who, no doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many +others;--but I cannot now recall their various names as identified +with those banquets. + +Of Framley Parsonage I need only further say, that as I wrote it I +became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of Parliament, +and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all the great +lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the rectors +and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had placed +the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of the +dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name given +to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of which I +know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered there. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"CASTLE RICHMOND;" "BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON;" "NORTH AMERICA;" +"ORLEY FARM" + + + + +When I had half-finished Framley Parsonage, I went back to my other +story, Castle Richmond, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion +on which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same +time. This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. +Many of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all +his belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family +history; and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we +rode so unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, +once a gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary +Cann, whose marriage with the wheelwright we did something to +expedite;--though we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our +brain the club gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or +any incident of our London intimacies. In our lives we are always +weaving novels, and we manage to keep the different tales distinct. +A man does, in truth, remember that which it interests him to +remember; and when we hear that memory has gone as age has come on, +we should understand that the capacity for interest in the matter +concerned has perished. A man will be generally very old and feeble +before he forgets how much money he has in the funds. There is +a good deal to be learned by any one who wishes to write a novel +well; but when the art has been acquired, I do not see why two or +three should not be well written at the same time. I have never +found myself thinking much about the work that I had to do till +I was doing it. I have indeed for many years almost abandoned the +effort to think, trusting myself, with the narrowest thread of +a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand. But my +mind is constantly employing itself on the work I have done. Had +I left either Framley Parsonage or Castle Richmond half-finished +fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales now with very +little trouble. I have not looked at Castle Richmond since it was +published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the incidents. + +Castle Richmond certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of +itself a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. +The heroine has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other +a prig. As regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. +Rivalry of the same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray +in his Esmond; but there the mother's love seems to be justified +by the girl's indifference. In Castle Richmond the mother strives +to rob her daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no +character; and the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. +The dialogue is often lively, and some of the incidents are well +told; but the story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, +however, that it was roughly handled by the critics when it came +out; and I much doubt whether anything so hard was said of it then +as that which I have said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages +and strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with +which institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged +to it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited +to fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that +august body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little +among men, having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as +a boy been banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at +first the gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine +there--which I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play +a rubber in the little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking +now of the old club in King Street. This playing of whist before +dinner has since that become a habit with me, so that unless there +be something else special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am +wanted to ride in the park by the young tyrant of my household--it +is "my custom always in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore +with myself for this persistency, feeling that I was making myself +a slave to an amusement which has not after all very much to +recommend it. I have often thought that I would break myself away +from it, and "swear off," as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing +off has been like that of Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of +it coolly, I do not know but that I have been right to cling to it. +As a man grows old he wants amusement, more even than when he is +young; and then it becomes so difficult to find amusement. Reading +should, no doubt, be the delight of men's leisure hours. Had I to +choose between books and cards, I should no doubt take the books. +But I find that I can seldom read with pleasure for above an hour +and a half at a time, or more than three hours a day. As I write +this I am aware that hunting must soon be abandoned. After sixty +it is given but to few men to ride straight across country, and I +cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of riding. I think that +without cards I should now be much at a loss. When I began to play +at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked the society of the +men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. +I have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, +which I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be +liked by those around me,--a wish that during the first half of +my life was never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my +misery came from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of +popular boys. They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while +the desolation of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, +when I was in London as a young man, I had but few friends. Among +the clerks in the Post Office I held my own fairly for the first +two or three years; but even then I regarded myself as something of +a pariah. My Irish life had been much better. I had had my wife and +children, and had been sustained by a feeling of general respect. +But even in Ireland I had in truth lived but little in society. +Our means had been sufficient for our wants, but insufficient for +entertaining others. It was not till we had settled ourselves at +Waltham that I really began to live much with others. The Garrick +Club was the first assemblage of men at which I felt myself to be +popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. +Then I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not +from judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left +for the same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected +by the Committee at the Athenaeum. For this I was indebted to the +kindness of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when +I was informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member +of the Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in +Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, +and its members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! +The gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met +Jacob Omnium, Monckton Mimes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry +Reeve, Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally +a strong political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain +spirit to the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, +Lord Enfield, Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, +Bromley Davenport, Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to +whisper the secrets of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I +became a member of the Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or +the reverse--only for the playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the Cornhill Magazine. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called +The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In this I attempted a +style for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never +had again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, +and was intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think +that there is some good fun it it, but I have heard no one else +express such an opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion +expressed on it, except by the publisher, who kindly remarked +that he did not think it was equal to my usual work. Though he had +purchased the copyright, he did not republish the story in a book +form till 1870, and then it passed into the world of letters sub +silentio. I do not know that it was ever criticised or ever read. +I received (pounds)600 for it. From that time to this I have been paid at +about that rate for my work--(pounds)600 for the quantity contained in +an ordinary novel volume, or (pounds)3000 for a long tale published in +twenty parts, which is equal in length to five such volumes. I have +occasionally, I think, received something more than this, never +I think less for any tale, except when I have published my work +anonymously. [Footnote: Since the date at which this was written +I have encountered a diminution in price.] Having said so much, I +need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that Brown, Jones and Robinson was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from +the first I interested myself much in the question. My mother +had thirty years previously written a very popular, but, as I had +thought, a somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. +She had seen what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, +but had hardly recognised their energy. I had entertained for +many years an ambition to follow her footsteps there, and to write +another book. I had already paid a short visit to New York City and +State on my way home from the West Indies, but had not seen enough +then to justify me in the expression of any opinion. The breaking +out of the war did not make me think that the time was peculiarly +fit for such inquiry as I wished to make, but it did represent itself +as an occasion on which a book might be popular. I consequently +consulted the two great powers with whom I was concerned. Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, the publishers, were one power, and I had no difficulty +in arranging my affairs with them. They agreed to publish the book +on my terms, and bade me God-speed on my journey. The other power +was the Postmaster-General and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of +the Post Office. I wanted leave of absence for the unusual period +of nine months, and fearing that I should not get it by the ordinary +process of asking the Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. +"Is it on the plea of ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, +which was then that of a very robust man. His lordship knew the +Civil Service as well as any one living, and must have seen much +of falseness and fraudulent pretence, or he could not have asked +that question. I told him that I was very well, but that I wanted +to write a book. "Had I any special ground to go upon in asking for +such indulgence?" I had, I said, done my duty well by the service. +There was a good deal of demurring, but I got my leave for nine +months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. Hill attached to +the minute granting me the leave an intimation that it was to be +considered as a full equivalent for the special services rendered +by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the grace +with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions of +the Postmaster-General. [Footnote: During the period of my service +in the Post Office I did very much special work for which I never +asked any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments +for special services were common in the department at that time. +But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did not +choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon it by +Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected +because new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, +is that we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances +around us. Though three parts of London were in flames I should +no doubt expect to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the +quarter which was free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it +was not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, +I think, be of future value to those who wish to make themselves +acquainted with the United States. It was published about the +middle of the war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those +who loved the South were I most buoyant, and the fears of those who +stood by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, +and on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, +and that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was +right in my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which +they were made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked +the quarrel because its political supremacy was checked by the election +of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man +against a big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a +feeling based on a misconception as to American character that the +Southerners are better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did +create great sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too +just to be led into political action by a spirit of romance, and +I was warranted in that belief. There was a moment in which the +Northern cause was in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the +prospect of British interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two +men insignificant in themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the +Southern party, and had managed to get on board the British mail +steamer called "The Trent," at the Havannah. A most undue importance +was attached to this mission by Mr. Lincoln's government, and +efforts were made to stop them. A certain Commodore Wilkes, doing +duty as policeman on the seas, did stop the "Trent," and took the +men out. They were carried, one to Boston and one to New York, +and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph of the nation. Commodore +Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a brave man could take glory, +was made a hero and received a prize sword. England of course +demanded her passengers back, and the States for a while refused +to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that time the Secretary +of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political faults, was a wise +man. I was at Washington at the time, and it was known there that +the contest among the leading Northerners was very sharp on the +matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under Mr. Lincoln, the two +chiefs of the party. It was understood that Mr. Sumner was opposed +to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward in favour of it. Mr. +Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the President, and England's +declaration of war was prevented. I dined with Mr. Seward on the +day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at his house, and was told +as I left the dining-room what the decision had been. During the +afternoon I and others had received intimation through the embassy +that we might probably have to leave Washington at an hour's +notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the Northern +cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It +served its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public +and by the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed Orley Farm, a novel which +appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which Pickwick, +Nicholas Nickleby, and many others had been published. Most of +those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, and are +competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is the +best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify +me in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of Orley Farm +is probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of +declaring itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. +When Lady Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the +will, the plot of Orley Farm has unravelled itself;--and this she +does in the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the +novel is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, +Mr. Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, +are all good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. +Moulder carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his +tables and chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull +page in the book. I am fond of Orley Farm;--and am especially fond +of its illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in +any novel in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the Macdermots in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured +to myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged (pounds)4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps +to have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but +I have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has +come easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used +to cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing +myself to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride +in having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to +reach the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters +should be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is +generally done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as +a great blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much +of shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned +too quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred +by the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps +foolishly, to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to +the comfort of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost +say the last twenty years, though no man in his youth had less +prospect of doing so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five +to have had such luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, and +the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty +boots and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling +myself that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but +that the mud and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me +mud and solitude and poverty through my life. Those lads about me +would go into Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires +of parishes, or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not +live with me now,--but neither should I be able to live with them +in after years. Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the +age in which others go to the universities, I became a clerk in +the Post Office, I felt that my old visions were being realised. I +did not think it a high calling. I did not know then how very much +good work may be done by a member of the Civil Service who will show +himself capable of doing it. The Post Office at last grew upon me +and forced itself into my affections. I became intensely anxious +that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually. +But my hope to rise had always been built on the writing of novels, +and at last by the writing of novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education +is to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son +of a peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed +men than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the +wife of him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her +whose husband has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think +it. The discerning man will recognise the information and the graces +when they are achieved without such assistance, and will honour +the owners of them the more because of the difficulties they have +overcome;--but the fact remains that the society of the well-born +and of the wealthy will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this +now, because these are the rules by which I have lived, and these +are the causes which have instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? +If a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his +intimacy, am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close +acquaintance or his high rank? I have always said that where the +difference in position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy +should always come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be +ever fixed, then that rank should be held of no account. It seems +to me that intimate friendship admits of no standing but that +of equality. I cannot be the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the +friend of many very much beneath the Sovereign, because such equality +is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than +in Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was +too light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the +money came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First +one horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home +I have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, +and gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had +been an Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more +closely than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding +capacities of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me +by Essex men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my +delight in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my +own satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little +about hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the +field. I am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore +tell whether the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the +notice I take of hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so +constituted that I can never see the nature of a fence. I either +follow some one, or ride at it with the full conviction that I +may be going into a horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into +both one and the other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden +expensive horses. I am also now old for such work, being so stiff +that I cannot get on to my horse without the aid of a block or a +bank. But I ride still after the same fashion, with a boy's energy, +determined to get ahead if it may possibly be done, hating the +roads, despising young men who ride them, and with a feeling that +life can not, with all her riches, have given me anything better +than when I have gone through a long run to the finish, keeping a +place, not of glory, but of credit, among my juniors. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON," "CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?" "RACHEL +RAY," AND THE "FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW" + + + + +During the early months of 1862 Orley Farm was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time Brown, Jones and Robinson was +appearing in the Cornhill Magazine. In September, 1862, the Small +House at Allington began its career in the same periodical. The +work on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, +the first number of Can You Forgive Her? was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called Rachel Ray. In addition +to these I published during the time two volumes of stories called +The Tales of all Countries. In the early spring of 1865 Miss Mackenzie +was issued in the same form as Rachel Ray; and in May of the same +year The Belton Estate was commenced with the commencement of the +Fortnightly Review, of which periodical I will say a few words in +this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers +and readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. +Of publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins +were, I think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received +from them individually. What I wrote for the Cornhill Magazine, I +always wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were +published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts +made by me with them, and always made with their good-will. Could +I have been two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom +one might have been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests +of the firm in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as +I preserved my identity in both places, I myself became aware that +my name was too frequent on titlepages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too +great rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving +to the subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of +my own work as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I +believe that the work which has been done quickest has been done +the best. I have composed better stories--that is, have created +better plots--than those of The Small House at Allington and Can +You Forgive Her? and I have portrayed two or three better characters +than are to be found in the pages of either of them; but taking +these books all through, I do not think that I have ever done better +work. Nor would these have been improved by any effort in the art +of story telling, had each of these been the isolated labour of a +couple of years. How short is the time devoted to the manipulation +of a plot can be known only to those who have written plays and +novels; I may say also, how very little time the brain is able +to devote to such wearing work. There are usually some hours of +agonising doubt, almost of despair,--so at least it has been with +me,--or perhaps some days. And then, with nothing settled in my +brain as to the final development of events, with no capability +of settling anything, but with a most distinct conception of some +character or characters, I have rushed at the work as a rider rushes +at a fence which he does not see. Sometimes I have encountered +what, in hunting language, we call a cropper. I had such a fall in +two novels of mine, of which I have already spoken--The Bertrams +and Castle Richmond. I shall have to speak of other such troubles. +But these failures have not arisen from over-hurried work. When my +work has been quicker done,--and it has sometimes been done very +quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by hot pressure, not in +the conception, but in the telling of the story. Instead of writing +eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead of working five +days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my usual average, +and have done so in circumstances which have enabled me to give +up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been writing. +This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, +no ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done +has had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have +been able to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself +thoroughly with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered +alone among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to +the rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far +from well in reference to the style in which that work has been +given to the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for +conveying his thoughts to the public should not be less important +to him than the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to +be popular unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; +but then comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, +I may say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire +a mode of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible +to the reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he +can be neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him +to obey those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have +been taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does +obey them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will +achieve such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has +learned that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has +learned with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not +while he is writing that which shall please, but long before. His +language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of +the great performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the +indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained +compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form +themselves to the ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of +his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work +that smells of oil. I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry +we know what care is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. +A singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because +other pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into +plural tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in +demanding fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has +been already expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, +which must have been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the +long sentences of Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity +of divisions, has done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer +will hardly avoid these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I +am ready to declare that, with much training, I have been unable to +avoid them. But the writer for the press is rarely called upon--a +writer of books should never be called upon--to send his manuscript +hot from his hand to the printer. It has been my practice to read +everything four times at least--thrice in manuscript and once in +print. Very much of my work I have read twice in print. In spite +of this I know that inaccuracies have crept through,--not single +spies, but in battalions. From this I gather that the supervision +has been insufficient, not that the work itself has been done too +fast. I am quite sure that those passages which have been written +with the greatest stress of labour, and consequently with the +greatest haste, have been the most effective and by no means the +most inaccurate. + +The Small House at Allington redeemed my reputation with the spirited +proprietor of the Cornhill, which must, I should think, have been +damaged by Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In it appeared Lily Dale, +one of the characters which readers of my novels have liked the +best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have hardly +joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a +French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, The Small House at Allington is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. +I have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have +taken the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, +whose life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, +I think, well described. + +Of Can you Forgive Her? I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase +my reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that +of the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, +the circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The +play had been called The Noble Jilt; but I was afraid of the name +for a novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. +There was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. +The character of the girl is carried through with considerable +strength, but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are +also taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open +chooses the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is +the better looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain +Bellfield and Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun +of novels is. But that which endears the book to me is the first +presentation which I made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his +wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in +making any reader understand how much these characters with their +belongings have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently +I have used them for the expression of my political or social +convictions. They have been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. +Cobden, or the dominion of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have +not been able to speak from the benches of the House of Commons, +or to thunder from platforms, or to be efficacious as a lecturer, +they have served me as safety-valves by which to deliver my soul. +Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared in The Small House at Allington, +but his birth had not been accompanied by many hopes. In the last +pages of that novel he is made to seek a remedy for a foolish +false step in life by marrying the grand heiress of the day;--but +the personage of the great heiress does not appear till she comes +on the scene as a married woman in Can You Forgive Her? He is +the nephew and heir to a duke--the Duke of Omnium--who was first +introduced in Doctor Thorne, and afterwards in Framley Parsonage, +and who is one of the belongings of whom I have spoken. In these +personages and their friends, political and social, I have endeavoured +to depict the faults and frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, +the graces, and the strength of our highest classes; and if I have +not made the strength and virtues predominant over the faults and +vices, I have not painted the picture as I intended. Plantagenet +Palliser I think to be a very noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies +to the nation the seeming anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of +primogeniture. His wife is in all respects very inferior to him; +but she, too, has, or has been intended to have, beneath the thin +stratum of her follies a basis of good principle, which enabled her +to live down the conviction of the original wrong which was done +to her, and taught her to endeavour to do her duty in the position +to which she was called. She had received a great wrong,--having +been made, when little more than a child, to marry a man for whom +she cared nothing;--when, however, though she was little more than +a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She had very heavy +troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in vindication +of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. In the pages of +Can You Forgive Her? the girl's first love is introduced,--beautiful, +well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a girl from wasting +herself, and an heiress from wasting her property on such a scamp, +was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But it must ever +be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she does not +love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom she does +love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected the young +wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to whom her +heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish ground, +leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one +of the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my +novels read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book +which caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to +vicious sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, +he did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should +it not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made +known nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, +and ought not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no +attraction to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full +of grace, and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation +without abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much +too long for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with +him in the country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, +however, has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then of +political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after his thorough +nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is imperfectly true +to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been maintained +by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to nature,--but also +of those changes which time always produces. There, are, perhaps, +but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will be found to +have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man will still +be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of showing or +of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also our power +of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my study that +these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the changes +which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. The +Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime Minister's +wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost longs to +go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will never do +so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and sore +spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place when +they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the changes +which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. To do +all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I do +not know that the game has been worth the candle. + +To carry out my scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide +a canvas that I cannot expect that any lover of such art should +trouble himself to look at it as a whole. Who will read Can You +Forgive Her? Phineas Finn, Phineas Redux, and The Prime Minister +consecutively, in order that they may understand the characters of +the Duke of Omnium, of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? +Who will ever know that they should be so read? But in the performance +of the work I had much gratification, and was enabled from time to +time to have in this way that fling at the political doings of the +day which every man likes to take, if not in one fashion then in +another. I look upon this string of characters,--carried sometimes +into other novels than those just named,--as the best work of +my life. Taking him altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser +stands more firmly on the ground than any other personage I have +created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +Cornhill Magazine,--a position for which he was hardly fitted either +by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in writing +for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had grown +into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys +and troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in +early life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an +afflicted wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before +his children were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much +upon clubs, and taught him to dislike general society. But it never +affected his heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel +in the pangs and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as +he did to the very last--the duty of showing to his readers the +evil consequences of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault +as a writer that he could never abstain from that dash of satire +which he felt to be demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around +him. The satirist who writes nothing but satire should write but +little,--or it will seem that his satire springs rather from his +own caustic nature than from the sins of the world in which he +lives. I myself regard Esmond as the greatest novel in the English +language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its language, +on the clear individuality of the characters, on the truth of +its delineations in regard to the tine selected, and on its great +pathos. There are also in it a few scenes so told that even Scott +has never equalled the telling. Let any one who doubts this read +the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the Duke of Hamilton to +think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be honoured if Colonel +Esmond will give away the bride. When he went from us he left behind +living novelists with great names; but I think that they who best +understood the matter felt that the greatest master of fiction of +this age had gone. + +Rachel Ray underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called Good Words +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he +was wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel +to the readers of Good Words, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with +any specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for Good Words. He persisted in his request, and I came +to terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it +to him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable +portion having been printed--with an intimation that it would not +do. A letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. +It was, he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. +He should have known better. But the story, such as it was, he +could not give to his readers in the pages of Good Words. Would I +forgive him? Any pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject +me the owner of the publication would willingly make good. There +was some loss--or rather would have been--and that money I exacted, +feeling that the fault had in truth been with the editor. There is +the tale now to speak for itself. It is not brilliant nor in any +way very excellent; but it certainly is not very wicked. There is +some dancing in one of the early chapters, described, no doubt, +with that approval of the amusement which I have always entertained; +and it was this to which my friend demurred. It is more true of +novels than perhaps of anything else, that one man's food is another +man's poison. + +Miss Mackenzie was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who +was overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before +the end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. +There is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made +with a violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such +attempts at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg +to say that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. +Miss Mackenzie was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our +trust or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, +and have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but +we would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say +it, speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility +of his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity of +Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a publication +as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one or two who had +proposed to join us. But we went on, and our company--limited--was +formed. We subscribed, I think, (pounds)1250 each. I at least subscribed +that amount, and--having agreed to bring out our publication every +fortnight, after the manner of the well-known French publication,--we +called it The Fortnightly. We secured the services of G. H. Lewes +as our editor. We agreed to manage our finances by a Board, which +was to meet once a fortnight, and of which I was the Chairman. +And we determined that the payments for our literature should be +made on a liberal and strictly ready-money system. We carried out +our principles till our money was all gone, and then we sold the +copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a trifle. But before we +parted with our property we found that a fortnightly issue was not +popular with the trade through whose hands the work must reach the +public; and, as our periodical had not become sufficiently popular +itself to bear down such opposition, we succumbed, and brought +it out once a month. Still it was The Fortnightly, and still it +is The Fortnightly. Of all the serial publications of the day, it +probably is the most serious, the most earnest, the least devoted +to amusement, the least flippant, the least jocose,--and yet it +has the face to show itself month after month to the world, with +so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know the laws of modern +literature are aware, a very serious thing to change the name of +a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether new enterprise. +Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas this was very +ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined +to support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, freethinking, and open inquiry will never object to appear +in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit to +think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result +has been good; and though there is much in the now established +principles of The Fortnightly with which I do not myself agree, I +may safely say that the publication has assured an individuality, +and asserted for itself a position in our periodical literature, +which is well understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving after +some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still desirable but +which is hardly to be attained by the means which then recommended +themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a paper +advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of +my case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether +the reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of +political writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other +subjects. Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very +bad indeed;--. so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty +and incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are +criticised by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism +of the incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, +editors would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that +we should get but little criticism, and that the public would put +but little trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care +to have his books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation +of the great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the Times, +the Spectator, or the Saturday. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In The +Fortnightly everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals +have become much more common since The Fortnightly was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that +the work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss +in him was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in +finding a successor. I must say that the present proprietor has +been fortunate in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done +the work with admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course +he has got around him a set of contributors whose modes of thought +are what we may call much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, +would not work with other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone +of its own; but it holds its own with ability, and though there +are many who perhaps hate it, there are none who despise it. When +the company sold it, having spent about (pounds)9000 on it, it was worth +little or nothing. Now I believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter, of fox-hunting. +[Footnote: I have written various articles for it since, especially +two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] There came out in +it an article from the pen of Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning +the amusement, which I love, on the grounds of cruelty and general +brutality. Was it possible, asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, +that any educated man should find delight in so coarse a pursuit? +Always bearing in mind my own connection with The Fortnightly, I +regarded this almost as a rising of a child against the father. I +felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. Freeman in the same columns, +and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission to do so. I wrote my defence +of fox-hunting, and there it is. In regard to the charge of cruelty, +Mr. Freeman seems to assert that nothing unpleasant should be +done to any of God's creatures except f or a useful purpose. The +protection of a lady's shoulders from the cold is a useful purpose; +and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals may be snared in the +snow and left to starve to death in the wires, in order that the +lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of wool would serve +the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the congregation and +healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, on whose behalf +a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a useful purpose. I +think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that amusement is as +needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. The absurdity +of the further charge as to the general brutality of the pursuit, +and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is to be attributed +to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done and said in the +hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of Cicero's words. +There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked for space for +further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, if I much wished +it; but he preferred that the subject should be closed. Of course +I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. Freeman,--and +against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would cease to exist +in England. And I felt that The Fortnighty was hardly the place for +the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman kindly suggested +to me that he would be glad to publish my article in a little book +to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting generally. He was +to have the last word and the first word, and that power of picking +to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a manner, without +any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If he would give +me the last word, as be would have the first, then, I told him, I +should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did not however +meet his views. + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in opposition +to my own ideas on the subject, that the Fortnightly Review should +always contain a novel. It was of course natural that I should write +the first novel, and I wrote The Belton Estate. It is similar in +its attributes to Rachel Ray and to Miss Mackenzie. It is readable, +and contains scenes which are true to life; but it has no peculiar +merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a novelist. I have +not looked at it since it was published; and now turning back to +it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it than of any +book that I have written. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"THE CLAVERINGS," THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE," "NINA BALATKA," AND +"LINDA TRESSEL" + + + + +The Claverings, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the Cornhill; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the +same length as Framley Parsonage, and the price was (pounds)2800. Whether +much or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, +and was paid in a single cheque. + +In The Claverings I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar +to myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had +appeared before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider +the story as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the +public has ever corroborated that verdict. The chief character +is that of a young woman who has married manifestly for money and +rank,--so manifestly that she does not herself pretend, even while +she is making the marriage, that she has any other reason. The +man is old, disreputable, and a wornout debauchee. Then comes the +punishment natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom +she had loved, and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. +He vacillates and is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the +book, as he plays the part of hero. But she is strong--strong in +her purpose, strong in her desires, and strong in her consciousness +that the punishment which comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of The Clarverings is in the genuine fun of +some of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined +to think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, +and Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of +Sophie, is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference +in a somewhat masterly manner. In The Claverings, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her +sorrow is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is +well told. But I doubt now whether any one reads The Claverings. +When I remember how many novels I have written, I have no right +to expect that above a few of them shall endure even to the second +year beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +Cornhill Magazine;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate +form, and who about this time established the Pall Mall Gazette, +to which paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the Pall Mall Gazette was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means +of his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him +a society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at one under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the Pall Mall +Gazette owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met +at a Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the +House of Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even +on important occasions. There are many who now remember--and no +doubt when this is published there will be left some to remember--the +great stroke of business which was done by the revelations of a +visitor to one of the casual wards in London. A person had to be +selected who would undergo the misery of a night among the usual +occupants of a casual ward in a London poorhouse, and who should at +the same time be able to record what he felt and saw. The choice +fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, who certainly possessed the +courage and the powers of endurance. The description, which was +very well given, was, I think, chiefly written by the brother of +the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which was increased by +secrecy as to the person who encountered all the horrors of that +night. I was more than once assured that Lard Houghton was the man. +I heard it asserted also that I myself had been the hero. At last +the unknown one could no longer endure that his honours should be +hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, I fear, to promises +to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction that if known he +could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, however, that +record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more to establish +the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of Stephen, or the +polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of Lewes. + +My work was various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed +also some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had +a considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description of +the different classes of people who are to be met in the hunting-field. +There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was considered to +be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my head the critical +wrath of a great dean of that period. The most ill-natured review +that was ever written upon any work of mine appeared in the +Contemporary Review with reference to these Clerical Sketches. The +critic told me that I did not understand Greek. That charge has +been made not unfrequently by those who have felt themselves strong +in that pride-producing language. It is much to read Greek with +ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do so. To pretend +to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. The critic, +however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that Deans of the +Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the metropolitan +moon. + +I also did some critical work for the Pall Mall,--as I did also for +The Fortnightly. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, and +said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter time +altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. In +doing this for the Pall Mall, I fell into great sorrow. A gentleman, +whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister; was in +some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had been +blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a pamphlet. +This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and express my +opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I thought the +request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. He met me +again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very hard. I +promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself able +I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I +then went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was +one requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the +conduct of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that +charges made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. +This I said, emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the +opinion which I had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often +be the case when a man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club +or sledge-hammer,--in using which, either for defence or attack, +a man can hardly measure the strength of the blows he gives. Of +course there was offence,--and a breaking off of intercourse between +loving friends,--and a sense of wrong received, and I must own, +too, of wrong done. It certainly was not open to me to whitewash +with honesty him whom I did not find to be white; but there was no +duty incumbent on me to declare what was his colour in my eyes,--no +duty even to ascertain. But I had been ruffled by the persistency +of the gentleman's request,--which should not have been made,--and +I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing a wrong myself. I must +add, that before he died his wife succeeded in bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until +human nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during +an entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give +a graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. +I did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called A Zulu in Search of a Religion. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the Pall Mall Gazette, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of +such martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on +a newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn +its ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any work was +altered in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of +course, was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my +own subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of +the staff I was of no use, and after two or three years I dropped +out of the work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date +from the beginning of the Cornhill Magazine, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me +that a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed +had never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter +of course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom +the critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when +they wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner +would not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope +no one will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy +of others. Though I never reached that height, still I had so +far progressed that that which I wrote was received with too much +favour. The injustice which struck me did not consist in that which +was withheld from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt +that aspirants coming up below me might do work as good as mine, +and probably much better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. +In order to test this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, +and to begin a course of novels anonymously, in order that I might +see whether I could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made +one mark by such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed +in doing so again. In 1865 I began a short tale called Nina Balatka, +which in 1866 was published anonymously in Blackwood's Magazine. +In 1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called +Linda Tressel. I will speak of them together, as they are of the +same nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself +read the MS. of Nina Balatka, expressed an opinion that it would +not from its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but +it was discovered by Mr. Hutton of the Spectator, who found the +repeated use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear +too frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other +works of mine. He declared in his paper that Nina Balatka was by +me, showing I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, +however, to complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he +has been the most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. +Nina Balatka never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make +its detection a matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the +story mentioned by readers who did not know me to be the author, +and always with praise; but it had no real success. The same may +be said of Linda Tressel. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, +was willing to publish them, trusting that works by an experienced +writer would make their way, even without the writer's name, and he +was willing to pay me for them, perhaps half what they would have +fetched with my name. But he did not find the speculation answer, +and declined a third attempt, though a third such tale was written +for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They +were both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of +labour; and both were written immediately after visits to the towns +in which the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of +course I had endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, +but my manner of story-telling also; and in this, pace Mr. Hutton, +I think that I was successful. English life in them there was none. +There was more of romance proper than had been usual with me. And +I made an attempt at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes +and places, which has not been usual with me. In all this I am +confident that I was in a measure successful. In the loves, and +fears, and hatreds, both of Nina and of Linda, there is much that +is pathetic. Prague is Prague, and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know +that the stories are good, but they missed the object with which +they had been written. Of course there is not in this any evidence +that I might not have succeeded a second time as I succeeded before, +had I gone on with the same dogged perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, +had I still further reduced my price, would probably have continued +the experiment. Another ten years of unpaid unflagging labour might +have built up a second reputation. But this at any rate did seem +clear to me, that with all the increased advantages which practice +in my art must have given me, I could not induce English readers +to read what I gave to them, unless I gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with public +judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course that +in all things the public should trust to established reputation. It +is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to a +library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a lady +when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the Times would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human and +has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts on the +matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much consideration +is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to +aspire, because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their +reach. "My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn +your stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, +I can only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be +better suited to your abilities." What old-established successful +author has not said such words as these to humble aspirants for +critical advice, till they have become almost formulas? No doubt +there is cruelty in such answers; but the man who makes them has +considered the matter within himself, and has resolved that such +cruelty is the best mercy. No doubt the chances against literary +aspirants are very great. It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! +A man cannot make a watch or a shoe without a variety of tools and +many materials. He must also have learned much. But any young lady +can write a book who has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can +be done anywhere; in any clothes--which is a great thing; at any +hours--to which happy accident in literature I owe my success. +And the success, when achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of +course, are very many; and the experienced councillor, when asked +for his candid judgment as to this or that effort, knows that among +every hundred efforts there will be ninety-nine failures. Then the +answer is so ready: "My dear young lady, do darn your stockings; +it will be for the best." Or perhaps, less tenderly, to the male +aspirant: "You must earn some money, you say. Don't you think +that a stool in a counting-house might be better?" The advice will +probably be good advice,--probably, no doubt, as may be proved by +the terrible majority of failures. But who is to be sure that he +is not expelling an angel from the heaven to which, if less roughly +treated, he would soar,--that he is not dooming some Milton to be +mute and inglorious, who, but for such cruel ill-judgment, would +become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who +consents to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in +this matter no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the +matter subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an +assured answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your +vocation;" or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But +cases as to which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The +critic who wrote the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which +produced the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, was justified in +his criticism by the merits of the Hours of Idleness. The lines had +nevertheless been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. +In a little satire called The Biliad, which, I think, nobody knows, +are the following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's Taste was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--THE LINES WERE PINDAR'S!" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we +are so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to +desist. + +There is perhaps no career or life so charming as that of a successful +man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which I just +now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, live in +the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, choose +the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, +hardly even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those +which bind other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? +The judge must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making +his (pounds)20,000 a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister +must be in his place on that weary front bench shortly after +prayers, and must sit there, either asleep or awake, even though +---- or ---- should be addressing the House. During all that Sunday +which he maintains should be a day of rest, the active clergyman +toils like a galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, +is bound to his footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there +from ten till four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve +to six is just as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five +in the morning when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the +morning before he goes there. And the author wants no capital, and +encounters no risks. When once he is afloat, the publisher finds +all that;--and indeed, unless he be rash, finds it whether he be +afloat or not. But it is in the consideration which he enjoys that +the successful author finds his richest reward. He is, if not of +equal rank, yet of equal standing with the highest; and if he be +open to the amenities of society, may choose his own circles. He +without money can enter doors which are closed against almost all +but him and the wealthy. I have often heard it said that in this +country the man of letters is not recognised. I believe the meaning +of this to be that men of letters are not often invited to be +knights and baronets. I do not think that they wish it;--and if +they had it they would, as a body, lose much more than they would +gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put after my name, or +to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom Hughes and Charles +Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not know how I might +feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left unbedecked. As +it is, the man of letters who would be selected for titular honour, +if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives from the general +respect of those around him a much more pleasant recognition of +his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not +he has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He +makes an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! +So many have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or +twice! Who will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to +find out that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple +to that office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much +merit in his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also +to foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may +be said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel +given, that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not +begin by trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as +recommended to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours +as may belong to you, let the praise which has come from the lips +of that soft man induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. +Should you fail, then your failure will not be fatal,--and what +better could you have done with the leisure hours had you not so +failed? Such double toil, you will say, is severe. Yes, but if +you want this thing, you must submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed +for the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and +in that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. +I may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which +I regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should +be glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it +now, because the experience I have acquired in being active in its +cause forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly +on a literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I +should have failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere +while I was making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I +commenced with some aid from the fact that others of my family were +in the same profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, +ink, and paper which I was using; and then when, with all my +experience in my art, I began again as from a new springing point, +I should have failed again unless again I could have given years +to the task. Of course there have been many who have done better +than I,--many whose powers have been infinitely greater. But then, +too, I have seen the failure of many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with +my well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, +cannot earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in +a little room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The +very charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him +than to others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that +gives it to him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding +with a sense of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM + + + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write +a history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary +to read an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so +to read them as to point out the excellences of those which are +most excellent, and to explain the defects of those which, though +defective, had still reached sufficient reputation to make them +worthy of notice. I did read many after this fashion,--and here +and there I have the criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, +they were written on some blank page within the book; I have not, +however, even a list of the books so criticised. I think that the +Arcadia was the first, and Ivanhoe the last. My plan, as I settled +it at last, had been to begin with Robinson Crusoe, which is the +earliest really popular novel which we have in our language, and +to continue the review so as to include the works of all English +novelists of reputation, except those who might still be living +when my task should be completed. But when Dickens and Bulwer died, +my spirit flagged, and that which I had already found to be very +difficult had become almost impossible to me at my then period of +life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +Robinson Crusoe, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the Arcadia, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present +day have become what they are, to point out the effects which they +have produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on +the whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still +think that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as +a novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature +which has created and nourished the profession which I follow. +And I was stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that +there still exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect +to novels which might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This +prejudice is not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their +general acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference +to the appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it +robs them of much of that high character which they may claim to +have earned by their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much, whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to +good. I have written many novels, and have known many writers of +novels, and I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with +them and with myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have +received from the public a full measure of credit for such genius, +ingenuity, or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that +there is still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence +of their calling, and a general understanding of the high nature +of the work which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes +the highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and +all but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before +she can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed +it is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in +truth achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above +the earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. +He who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, +nor does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but +his teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to +the same end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false +notions of humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, +false worship may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue +may be taught. But by each, equally, may true honour, true love; +true worship, and true humanity be inculcated; and that will be +the greatest teacher who will spread such truth the widest. But +at present, much as novels, as novels, are bought and read, there +exists still an idea, a feeling which is very prevalent, that novels +at their best are but innocent. Young men and women,--and old men +and women too,--read more of them than of poetry, because such reading +is easier than the reading of poetry; but they read them,--as men +eat pastry after dinner,--not without some inward conviction that +the taste is vain if not vicious. I take upon myself to say that +it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily +labour and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted +and then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them +to be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what +had been the nature of English novels since they first became common +in our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they +had done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young +days, they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms +which they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they +were not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in +the preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, Peregrine +Pickle was hidden beneath the bolster, and Lord Ainsworth put away +under the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission +was given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many +they were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct +morality of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men +and women understand that lessons which were good in poetry could +not be bad in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was +laid upon novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist +a much heavier tax than that want of full appreciation of which I +now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own +hands to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right +and left, above stairs and below, in town houses and in country +parsonages, by young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old +lawyers and by young students. It has not only come to pass that +a special provision of them has to be made for the godly, but that +the provision so made must now include books which a few years since +the godly would have thought to be profane. It was this necessity +which, a few years since, induced the editor of Good Words to apply +to me for a novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but +which now, probably, owing to further change in the same direction, +would have been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little +of their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right +in saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, +when the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently +assaulted by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the +easiest road to greatness; when the temptations to which men are +subjected dull their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; +when it is so hard for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, +which so many are handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's +conduct will be actuated much by that which is from day to day +depicted to them as leading to glorious or inglorious results. The +woman who is described as having obtained all that the world holds +to be precious, by lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily +and heartlessly, will induce other women to do the same with +theirs,--as will she who is made interesting by exhibitions of +bold passion teach others to be spuriously passionate. The young +man who in a novel becomes a hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, +and almost a Prime Minister, by trickery, falsehood, and flash +cleverness, will have many followers, whose attempts to rise in +the world ought to lie heavily on the conscience of the novelists +who create fictitious Cagliostros. There are Jack Sheppards other +than those who break into houses and out of prisons,--Macheaths, +who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, +for which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or +drawn would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and +odious. The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and +the nose, is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there +are outskirts on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers +seem to grow; and grass to be green. It is in these border-lands +that the danger lies. The novelist may not be dull. If he commit +that fault he can do neither harm nor good. He must please, and the +flowers and the grass in these neutral territories sometimes seem +to give him so easy an opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And +he must teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach +lessons of virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to +his readers? That sermons are not in themselves often thought to +be agreeable we all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy +supposed to be pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, +if he have a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same +purpose as the clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. +If he can do this efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and +vice ugly, while he charms his readers instead of wearying them, +then I think Mr. Carlyle need not call him distressed, nor talk +of that long ear of fiction, nor question whether he be or not the +most foolish of existing mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists +may boast as a class that has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such +to have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George +Eliot. Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, +with that absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I +will boast that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any +one by search through the works of the six great English novelists +I have named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach +a girl to be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their +pages have been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have +they not ever been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, +baldly and simply: "Because you lied here, or were heartless there, +because you Lydia Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, +or you Earl Leicester were false through your ambition, or you +Beatrix loved too well the glitter of the world, therefore you shall +be scourged with scourges either in this world or in the next;" but +it is for him to show, as he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, +or his Leicester, or his Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation +of all readers by his or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, +beautiful, attractive,--so as to make men love her, and women +almost envy her,--and let her be made also heartless, unfeminine, +and ambitious of evil grandeur, as was Beatrix, what a danger is +there not in such a character! To the novelist who shall handle it, +what peril of doing harm! But if at last it have been so handled +that every girl who reads of Beatrix shall say: "Oh! not like +that;--let me not be like that!" and that every youth shall say: +"Let me not have such a one as that to press my bosom, anything +rather than that!"--then will not the novelist have preached his +sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel +can hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few +might be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the +softness of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. +Pickwick has been named as an exception to the rule, but even +in Pickwick there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little +amatory longings give a softness to the work. I tried it once with +Miss Mackenzie, but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this +frequent allusion to the passion which most stirs the imagination +of the young, there must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction +is probably well aware. Then the question has to be asked, whether +the danger may not be so averted that good may be the result,--and +to be answered. + + + +respect the necessity of dealing with love is advantageous,--advantageous +from the very circumstance which has made love necessary to +all novelists. It is necessary because the passion is one which +interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has felt it, +or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness which +still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, can +so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will +be very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their +business better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; +but it is done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make +young men and women believe that truth in love will make them +happy, then, if my writings be popular, I shall have a very large +class of pupils. No doubt the cause for that fear which did exist +as to novels arose from an idea that the matter of love would be +treated in an inflammatory and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," +says Sir Anthony in the play, "a circulating library in a town is +an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the +year; and depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of +handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony +was no doubt right. But he takes it for granted that the longing +for the fruit is an evil. The novelist who writes of love thinks +differently, and thinks that the honest love of an honest man is +a treasure which a good girl may fairly hope to win,--and that if +she can be taught to wish only for that, she will have been taught +to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love +by reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in +truth a very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but +the girl's love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became +a wife so womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, +so wifely, so worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told +that they ought to worship their husband,--that I cannot believe +that any girl can be injured, or even not benefited, by reading of +Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still +are some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear +nothing of love till the time come in which she is to be married. +That, no doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. +Malaprop. But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system +was more favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia +Languish, though she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide +the book, yet had Peregrine Pickle in her collection. While human +nature talks of love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn +to be silent on the subject. "Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque +recurret." There are countries in which it has been in accordance +with the manners of the upper classes that the girl should be brought +to marry the man almost out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out +of the convent--without having enjoyed that freedom of thought +which the reading of novels and of poetry will certainly produce; +but I do not know that the marriages so made have been thought to +be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English +novelists, a great division is made. There are sensational novels +and anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed +to be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to +take delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by +the other are charmed by the continuation and gradual development +of a plot. All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises +from the inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time +realistic and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in +the highest degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure +in art. Let those readers who believe that they do not like +sensational scenes in novels think of some of those passages from +our great novelists which have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in +the castle with Ivanhoe; of Burley in the cave with Morton; of the +mad lady tearing the veil of the expectant bride, in Jane Eyre; of +Lady Castlewood as, in her indignation, she explains to the Duke +of Hamilton Henry Esmond's right to be present at the marriage of +his Grace with Beatrix;--may I add of Lady Mason, as she makes her +confession at the feet of Sir Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that +the authors of these passages have sinned in being over-sensational? No +doubt, a string of horrible incidents, bound together without truth +in detail, and told as affecting personages without character,--wooden +blocks, who cannot make themselves known to the reader as men +and women, does not instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with +awe. Horrors heaped upon horrors, and which are horrors only in +themselves, and not as touching any recognised and known person, +are not tragic, and soon cease even to horrify. And such would-be +tragic elements of a story may be increased without end, and +without difficulty. I may tell you of a woman murdered,--murdered +in the same street with you, in the next house,--that she was a +wife murdered by her husband,--a bride not yet a week a wife. I may +add to it for ever. I may say that the murderer roasted her alive. +There is no end to it. I may declare that a former wife was treated +with equal barbarity; and may assert that, as the murderer was led +away to execution, he declared his only sorrow, his only regret +to be, that he could not live to treat a third wife after the same +fashion. There is nothing so easy as the creation and the cumulation +of fearful incidents after this fashion. If such creation and cumulation +be the beginning and the end of the novelist's work,--and novels have +been written which seem to be without other attractions,--nothing +can be more dull or more useless. But not on that account are we +averse to tragedy in prose fiction. As in poetry, so in prose, he +who can deal adequately with tragic elements is a greater artist +and reaches a higher aim than the writer whose efforts never carry +him above the mild walks of everyday life. The Bride of Lammermoor +is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its comic elements. The life +of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, is a tragedy. Rochester's +wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in Jane Eyre, is a tragedy. +But these stories charm us not simply because they are tragic, but +because we feel that men and women with flesh and blood, creatures +with whom we can sympathise, are struggling amidst their woes. It +all lies in that. No novel is anything, for the purposes either +of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can sympathise with the +characters whose names he finds upon the pages. Let an author so +tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and draw his tears, +and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let there be,--truth +of description, truth of character, human truth as to men and +women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel can be +too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on +the art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage +of the experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, +be too long for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet +got the rules quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say +a few words on one or two points which my own practice has pointed +out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down +to commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell +a story, but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first +novel will generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series +of events, or some development of character, will have presented +itself to his imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he +thinks he can present his picture in strong and agreeable language +to others. He sits down and tells his story because he has a story +to tell; as you, my friend, when you have heard something which +has at once tickled your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry +to tell it to the first person you meet. But when that first novel +has been received graciously by the public and has made for itself +a success, then the writer naturally feeling that the writing of +novels is within his grasp, looks about for something to tell in +another. He cudgels his brains, not always successfully, and sits +down to write, not because he has something which he burns to +tell, but because be feels it to be incumbent on him to be telling +something. As you, my friend, if you are very successful in +the telling of that first story, will become ambitious of further +storytelling, and will look out for anecdotes,--in the narration +of which you will not improbably sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that +it would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the +art of British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of +that portion of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential +to success. That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of +writing to be a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing +has become a habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the +weary novelist refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of +observation and reception from which has come his power, without +which work his power cannot be continued,--which work should +be going on not only when he is at his desk, but in all his walks +abroad, in all his movements through the world, in all his intercourse +with his fellow-creatures. He has become a novelist, as another has +become a poet, because he has in those walks abroad, unconsciously +for the most part, been drawing in matter from all that he has seen +and heard. But this has not been done without labour, even when +the labour has been unconscious. Then there comes a time when he +shuts his eyes and shuts his ears. When we talk of memory fading +as age comes on, it is such shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. +The things around cease to interest us, and we cannot exercise +our minds upon them. To the novelist thus wearied there comes the +demand for further novels. He does not know his own defect, and +even if he did he does not wish to abandon his own profession. He +still writes; but he writes because he has to tell a story, not +because he has a story to tell. What reader of novels has not felt +the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? The characters do not +live and move, but are cut out of blocks and are propped against the +wall. The incidents are arranged in certain lines--the arrangement +being as palpable to the reader as it has been to the writer--but +do not follow each other as results naturally demanded by previous +action. The reader can never feel--as he ought to feel--that only +for that flame of the eye, only for that angry word, only for that +moment of weakness, all might have been different. The course of +the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in which there is no room +for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, +but can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That +they are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that +they apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last +because we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to +himself, + + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories +when they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather +than from innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at +work when the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently +at work as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much +about the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially +on thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been +very thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected +plot has been at any period within my power. But the novelist has +other aims than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make +his readers so intimately acquainted with his characters that the +creatures of his brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, +human creatures. This he can never do unless he know those fictitious +personages himself, and he can never know them unless he can live +with them in the full reality of established intimacy. They must +be with him as he lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his +dreams. He must learn to hate them and to love them. He must argue +with them, quarrel with them, forgive them, and even submit to them. +He must know of them whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, +whether true or false, and how far true, and how far false. The +depth and the breadth, and the narrowness and the shallowness of +each should be clear to him. And, as here, in our outer world, we +know that men and women change,--become worse or better as temptation +or conscience may guide them,--so should these creations of his +change, and every change should be noted by him. On the last day +of each month recorded, every person in his novel should be a month +older than on the first. If the would-be novelist have aptitudes +that way, all this will come to him without much struggling;--but +if it do not come, I think he can only make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and +of all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, +and the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very +clothes they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have +said these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would +then have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this +intimacy ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be +turned out to grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, +I will by no means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than +Gil Blas' canon; but I do know that the power indicated is one without +which the teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject his +work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity of his +position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, much more is +necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed be pleasant without +being correct,--as I think can be proved by the works of more than +one distinguished novelist. But he must be intelligible,--intelligible +without trouble; and he must be harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by +the word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning +that may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language +should be so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without +an effort of the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, +but the very sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended +to put into his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by +all writers: "How little the all-important art of making meaning +pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself +thinks of it." The language used should be as ready and as efficient +a conductor of the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader +as is the electric spark which passes from one battery to another +battery. In all written matter the spark should carry everything; +but in matters recondite the recipient will search to see that +he misses nothing, and that he takes nothing away too much. The +novelist cannot expect that any such search will be made. A young +writer, who will acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will +often feel himself tempted by the difficulties of language to +tell himself that some one little doubtful passage, some single +collocation of words, which is not quite what it ought to be, will +not matter. I know well what a stumbling-block such a passage may +be. But he should leave none such behind him as he goes on. The +habit of writing clearly soon comes to the writer who is a severe +critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel written +in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a novelist +who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony which +is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are few +ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to them, +decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. And +the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza +be or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, +well instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such +a stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion CANENDO LAPIDES, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with +none of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, +become familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover +the fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is +harmonious in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him +in his business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able +to weigh the rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, +when it has been done for a time, even for a short time, will become +so habitual to him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration +of every syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon +paper. The art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how +each sound which he is about to utter will affect the force of his +climax. If a writer will do so he will charm his readers, though +his readers will probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden +of many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should +cover a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels +are not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of +the ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they +are subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks +to novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this +burden of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden +to the end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have +by their practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to +preach;--but they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault +and by dint of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a +novel. Every sentence, every word, through all those pages, should +tend to the telling of the story. Such episodes distract the +attention of the reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not +felt this to be the case even with The Curious Impertinent and with +the History of the Man of the Hill. And if it be so with Cervantes +and Fielding, who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you +have to write must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion +of episodes should be carried down into the smallest details. +Every sentence and every word used should tend to the telling of +the story. "But," the young novelist will say, "with so many pages +before me to be filled, how shall I succeed if I thus confine +myself;--how am I to know beforehand what space this story of mine +will require? There must be the three volumes, or the certain number +of magazine pages which I have contracted to supply. If I may not +be discursive should occasion require, how shall I complete my task? +The painter suits the size of his canvas to his subject, and must +I in my art stretch my subject to my canas?" This undoubtedly must +be done by the novelist; and if he will learn his business, may +be done without injury to his effect. He may not paint different +pictures on the same canvas, which he will do if he allow himself +to wander away to matters outside his own story; but by studying +proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to tell his story +that it shall naturally fall into the required length. Though his +story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. Though the +plot itself may require but few characters, it may be so enlarged +as to find its full development in many. There may be subsidiary +plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main story, +and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make +any two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer +presumes himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, +or sport, may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and +the writer, while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt +to think that he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no +greater mistake. The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part +of a novel; but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to +the telling of the main story. It need not seem to be confined to +that, but it should always have a tendency in that direction. The +unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe. +When a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind, he at +once feels that he is being cheated into taking something which he +did not bargain to accept when he took up that novel. He does not +at that moment require politics or philosophy, but he wants his +story. He will not perhaps be able to say in so many words that at +some certain point the dialogue has deviated from the story; but +when it does so he will feel it, and the feeling will be unpleasant. +Let the intending novel-writer, if he doubt this, read one of +Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much to charm,--and then +ask himself whether he has not been offended by devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into +the mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably +use. He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short, sharp, expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people +is often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue +must so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would +give to his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly +inaccuracy of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would +offend by an appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of +his readers a sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem +to attempt to be funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to +be unreal. And above all, let the speeches be short. No character +should utter much above a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer +can justify to himself a longer flood of speech by the specialty +of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been +set at defiance. I might name Caleb Williams as one and Adam Blair +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove +the rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does +so with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate +human nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this +or that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to +print his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by +constant and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to +listen and to observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners +of people in his memory as to be able to say to himself with assurance +that these words might have been said in a given position, and that +those other words could not have been said,--I do not think that +in these days he can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, +in paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be +said with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his reader. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY + + + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists +of my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour +to point whence their success has come, and why they have failed +when there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of +human nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human +beings, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been +within the reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know +no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the +reader becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. +How great a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we +admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there +any one of whom we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel +Newcombe? It is not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman +that we think Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but +because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force +us to love him, a weak and silly old man, on account of this grace +of character. It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he +lived with the characters he was creating. He had always a story +to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was +so, not by the interest which be had in his own plots,--for I doubt +whether his plots did occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing +us that his characters were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, +with Lady Castlewood and her daughter, and with Esmond, with +Warrington, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and +with Barry Lynon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse. +Therefore he has made these personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, +he deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining +his work minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of +every scene, adds something to the clearness with which the story +is told. Among all his stories there is not one which does not +leave on the mind a feeling of distress that women should ever +be immodest or men dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so +devoted and men so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of +Pendennis, the worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how +we love the honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, +and the devoted affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil +and love of good can hardly have come upon so many readers without +doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used; I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in The Virginians and in Philip the reader +is introduced to no character with which he makes a close and undying +acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because Thackeray +himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary of +that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She +is best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, +and not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will +come from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far +removed indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. +Her imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather +than in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled +to pieces so that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if +possible by her readers as clearly as by herself. This searching +analysis is carried so far that, in studying her latter writings, +one feels oneself to be in company with some philosopher rather +than with a novelist. I doubt whether any young person can read +with pleasure either Felix Holt, Middlemarch, or Daniel Deronda. +I know that they are very difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and +Tom Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in Romola, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to +have been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever +of that weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces +him to declare that the author has written himself out. It is not +from decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because +the author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly +the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour +of affectation. In Daniel Deronda, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to +take home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I +may be permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my +dearest and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, +I will not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, +in criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a +novelist is to please; and this man's novels have been found more +pleasant than those of any other writer. It might of course be +objected to this, that though the books have pleased they have been +injurious, that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching +vicious; but it is almost needless to say that no such charge has +ever been made against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. +From all which, there arises to the critic a question whether, with +such evidence against him as to the excellence of this writer, he +should not subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of +the world of readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong +to place Dickens after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do +that so great a majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any +of the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been +the peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has +invested, his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense +with human nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, +very much below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the +intellect of all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect +of many. Nor is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and +melodramatic. But it is so expressed that it touches every heart +a little. There is no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, +his devotion for Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and +incompatible with each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. +Every reader can find a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like +Boucicault's plays. He has known how to draw his lines broadly, so +that all should see the colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and +he, too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, +ceased to charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember +Mrs. Gamp and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, +dwell in the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such +a one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result +has been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from +Bulwer's novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result +rather of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than +of mere intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their +way. It is perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as +he wrote in varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as +Pelham and Ernest Maltravers, pictures of a fictitious life, and +afterwards pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in My Novel +and The Caxtons. But from all of them there comes the same flavour +of an effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it +would have been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, +with the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking +always of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not +think he ever knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do +we know them. Even Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to +us, as are Pickwick, and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and successful. +The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie Collins, +that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there is no plot. +The story comes naturally without calling for too much attention, +and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's intellect. His +language is clear, good, intelligible English, but it is defaced +by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and +his rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did +a sense of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from +man's voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and +whether in sickness or in health, I have never come across him +without finding him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the +men I have encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have +known many witty men, many who could say good things, many who +would sometimes be ready to say them when wanted, though they would +sometimes fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of +the night, and wit would come from him before he was half awake. +And yet he never monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would +take no more than his own share of the words spoken, and would yet +seem to brighten all that was said during the night. His earlier +novels--the later I have not read--are just like his conversation. +The fun never flags, and to me, when I read them, they were never +tedious. As to character he can hardly be said to have produced +it. Corney Delaney, the old manservant, may perhaps be named as an +exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to +be alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I +do not know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and +that he never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was +seated with a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Bronte was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be +right to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of +one novel, and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as +strong as he shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, +I should be inclined to put Miss Bronte very high indeed. I know +no interest more thrilling than that which she has been able to +throw into the characters of Rochester and the governess, in the +second volume of Jane Eyre. She lived with those characters, and +felt every fibre of the heart, the longings of the one and the +sufferings of the other. And therefore, though the end of the book +is weak, and the beginning not very good, I venture to predict that +Jane Eyre will be read among English novels when many whose names +are now better known shall have been forgotten. Jane Eyre, and +Esmond, and Adam Bede will be in the hands of our grandchildren, +when Pickwick, and Pelham, and Harry Lorrequer are forgotten; +because the men and women depicted are human in their aspirations, +human in their sympathies, and human in their actions. + +In Vilette, too, and in Shirley, there is to be found human life as +natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of interest +as those told in Jane Eyre. The character of Paul in the former of +the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in love +with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined to +prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled +me by his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as +Charles Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but +as one who has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of +reasoning. He can see what is grandly noble and admire it with +all his heart. He can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate +it with equal ardour. But in the common affairs of life he cannot +see what is right or wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be +guided by the opinion of others, he is constantly making mistakes +in his literary career, and subjecting himself to reproach which he +hardly deserves. He means to be honest. He means to be especially +honest,--more honest than other people. He has written a book +called The Eighth Commandment on behalf of honesty in literary +transactions,--a wonderful work, which has I believe been read by +a very few. I never saw a copy except that in my own library, or +heard of any one who knew the book. Nevertheless it is a volume +that must have taken very great labour, and have been written,--as +indeed he declares that it was written,--without the hope of +pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal to the British Parliament and +British people on behalf of literary honesty, declaring that should +he fail--"I shall have to go on blushing for the people I was born +among." And yet of all the writers of my day he has seemed to me +to understand literary honesty the least. On one occasion, as he +tells us in this book, he bought for a certain sum from a French +author the right of using a plot taken from a play,--which he +probably might have used without such purchase, and also without +infringing any international copyright act. The French author not +unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling him that he +is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in a novel; and +a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his discovery to +the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called his critic +a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact of his +own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we all mean +when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. The sin +of which the author is accused is not that of taking another man's +property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had +found the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which +there was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, +had he given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness +of purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so +strong a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, +that I have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has +accused. So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist +ever before had combined! In storytelling he has occasionally been +almost great. Among his novels I would especially recommend The +Cloister and the Hearth. I do not know that in this work, or in any, +that he has left a character that will remain; but he has written +some of his scenes so brightly that to read them would always be +a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in +a certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch +which I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural +that his work should be very much lost upon me individually. When +I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very +much care, how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct +his that he not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to +the minutest detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots +it all back again, to see that there is no piece of necessary +dove-tailing which does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The +construction is most minute and most wonderful. But I can never +lose the taste of the construction. The author seems always to be +warning me to remember that something happened at exactly half-past +two o'clock on Tuesday morning; or that a woman disappeared from +the road just fifteen yards beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is +constrained by mysteries and hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, +however, that the mysteries will be made clear, and the difficulties +overcome at the end of the third volume. Such work gives me no +pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared to acknowledge that the +want of pleasure comes from fault of my intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare how +much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and Rhoda +Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former almost +as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that +good produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which +she need be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be +proud. But she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, +and who allows her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though +she too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, +does take the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the +ground. And she has the gift of making them speak as men and women +do speak. "You beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man +who was to be her husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her +brother. Now Nancy, whether right or wrong, was just the girl who +would, as circumstances then were, have called her brother a beast. +There is nothing wooden about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and +in these days so many novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured +as are those by Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to +nature. In Miss Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and +missish, she has made her ladies do and say things which ladies +would not do and say. They throw themselves at men's heads, and +when they are not accepted only think how they may throw themselves +again. Miss Broughton is still so young that I hope she may live +to overcome her fault in this direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing Vivian Grey when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written +by a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his Sketches +by Boz, and as young when he was writing the Pickwick Papers. It +was hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought +out Lothair, and between the two there were eight or ten others. +To me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. +In whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment +and aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, +more rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the +glory has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been +a wealth of tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and +the enterprise has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious +conjurer has generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful +cleverness, can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to +his hand. Through it all there is a feeling of stage properties, +a smell of hair-oil, an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, +and that pricking of the conscience which must be the general +accompaniment of paste diamonds. I can understand that Mr. Disraeli +should by his novels have instigated many a young man and many a +young woman on their way in life, but I cannot understand that he +should have instigated any one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably +as many followers as Jack Sheppard, and has led his followers in +the same direction. + +Lothair, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended Vivian Grey. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, +that flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes +out stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than +Vivian Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more +inane and unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the +very bathos of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as +often excused to myself, that lack of public judgment which enables +readers to put up with bad work because it comes from good or from +lofty hands. I never felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little +able to excuse it, as when a portion of the reading public received +Lothair with satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON CRITICISM + + + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is +bad, in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. +English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as +this. It attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether +a book be or be not worth public attention; and, in the second +place, so to describe the purport of the work as to enable those +who have not time or inclination for reading it to feel that by a +short cut they can become acquainted with its contents. Both these +objects, if fairly well carried out, are salutary. Though the +critic may not be a profound judge himself; though not unfrequently +he be a young man making his first literary attempts, with tastes +and judgment still unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the +matter, and would not have been selected for that work had he not +shown some aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible +guide to the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. +Real substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and +that which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is +given to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without +it would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner +in which the work is done generally, so are others open to very +severe censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are +chiefly due on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is +not critical ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence +that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we +pay is not attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, +and when displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that +critics should be honest we have a right to demand, and critical +dishonesty we are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what +he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, +we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does not think, +actuated either by friendship or by animosity, then there should +be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English criticism +of which there is most reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It +has become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse +so many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling +author learns that so much has been done for A by the Barsetshire +Gazette, so much for B by the Dillsborough Herald, and, again, so +much for C by that powerful metropolitan organ the Evening Pulpit, +and is told also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal +interest, he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' +wives,--or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their +wives' first or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon +an editor or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced +by other considerations than the duty h owes to the public, all +sense of critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. +Facilis descensus Averni. In a very short time that editorial +honesty becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that +he wields the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what +should be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him +to be quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last +twenty years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out +now with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty +begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice +to be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself +a continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both +in the giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should +neither have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated +with scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by +his contract with certain employers to review such books as were +sent to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present +for praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever +noticed at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence +of honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar +with the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the +forms which their struggles will take:--how little presents will +be sent to men who write little articles; how much flattery may +be expended even on the keeper of a circulating library; with what +profuse and distant genuflexions approaches are made to the outside +railing of the temple which contains within it the great thunderer +of some metropolitan periodical publication! The evil here is not +only that done to the public when interested counsel is given to +them, but extends to the debasement of those who have at any rate +considered themselves fit to provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the conscience +and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling could be +produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for praise,--and +demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every walk of +life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only of +the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very disagreeable. +He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or she. It +may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an author +successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, +as coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author +try to obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if +possible, by care and industry. But when they come, let him take +them as coming from some source which he cannot influence, and with +which be should not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken +of the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing +can be gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book +which he has disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by +the praise of others; if bad, his judgment will he confirmed by +others. Or if, unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil +a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, +the author may be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own +book will not set matters right. If injustice be done him, let him +bear it. To do so is consonant with the dignity of the position +which he ought to assume. To shriek, and scream, and sputter, +to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that he has been +belied and defamed in that he has been accused of bad grammar or a +false metaphor, of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine, +will leave on the minds of the public nothing but a sense of +irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or +he will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than +he went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a +right to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will +be again, though the circumstances of English literature do not +tend to produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to +speak with authority. These great men have declared, tanquam ex +cathedra, that such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or +that it has been altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world +has believed them. When making such assertions they have given +their reasons, explained their causes, and have carried conviction. +Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics, but not +without infinite study and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. +In the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young +writer, who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever +book is sent to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through +for the purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the +amount of labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure +his work by his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this +must far the most part be, the general reader has no right to expect +philosophical analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence +may be placed. But he probably may believe that the books praised +will be better than the books censured, and that those which are +praised by periodicals which never censure are better worth his +attention than those which are not noticed. And readers will also +find that by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms +of the week, they will enable themselves to have an opinion about +the books of the day. The knowledge so acquired will not be great, +nor will that little be lasting; but it adds something to the +pleasure of life to be able to talk on subjects of which others are +speaking; and the man who has sedulously gone through the literary +notices in the Spectator and the Saturday may perhaps be justified +in thinking himself as well able to talk about the new book as +his friend who has bought that new book on the tapis, and who, not +improbably, obtained his information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which +have been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know +where I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only +greasy adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the +delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find +an equal mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much +judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its +staff. Among it all there is much chaff, which I have learned bow +to throw to the winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or +blames;--but I have also found some corn, on which I have fed and +nourished myself, and for which I have been thankful. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET"--"LEAVING THE POST OFFICE"--"ST. +PAUL'S MAGAZINE" + + + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weathertight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve +miles from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse +with the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country +for hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it +had to be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to +the Essex meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much +or more than I had a right to expect. It was within my own postal +district, and had, upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work that I did during the twelve years that I remained there, +from 1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that +in amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department +no slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least +twice a week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I +lived much in society in London, and was made happy by the presence +of many friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always +spent six weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived +a fuller life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether +to the virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table +every morning at 5.30 A. M.; and it was also my practice to allow +myself no mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, +and to whom I paid (pounds)5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no +mercy. During all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once +late with the coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not +know that I ought not to feel that I owe more to him than to any +one else for the success I have had. By beginning at that hour I +could complete my literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily +as literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day +will produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should +so have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously +during those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall +not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the +wall before him, till he shall have found the words with which he +wants to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and +it still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient +to myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from +myself 250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 +words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my +three hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began +my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which +would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing +with my ear the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly +recommend this practice to all tyros in writing. That their work +should be read after it has been written is a matter of course,--that +it should be read twice at least before it goes to the printers, +I take to be a matter of course. But by reading what he has last +written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch +the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the +fault of seeming to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed +me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, +and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results +three novels of three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount +which so greatly acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which +must at any rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers +of the world can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or +two or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I +to die now there are three such besides The Prime Minister, half +of which has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years +finished, and has never seen the light since it was first tied up +in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, +and to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of +a period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed +from me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 The Last Chronicle of Barset was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without +other accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might +be had for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was +always included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel +alone. Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference +to novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined +to make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me (pounds)3000 +for the use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If +I remember right the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have +written. I was never quite satisfied with the development of the +plot, which consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made +against a clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty +on the part of the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the +cheque had found its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself +believe that even such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten +how he got it, nor would the generous friend who was anxious to +supply his wants have supplied them by tendering the cheque of a +third person. Such fault I acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same +time that I have never been capable of constructing with complete +success the intricacies of a plot that required to be unravelled. +But while confessing so much, I claim to have portrayed the mind +of the unfortunate man with great accuracy and great delicacy. The +pride, the humility, the manliness, the weakness, the conscientious +rectitude and bitter prejudices of Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true +to nature and well described. The surroundings too are good. Mrs. +Proudie at the palace is a real woman; and the poor old dean dying +at the deanery is also real. The archdeacon in his victory is very +real. There is a true savour of English country life all through +the book. It was with many misgivings that I killed my old friend +Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I think, have done it, but for a resolution +taken and declared under circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenaeum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on +the other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were +reading, and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The +gravamen of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced +the same characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon +whom we have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," +said the other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till +everybody is tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I +would not write novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. +Proudie. It was impossible for me not to hear their words, and +almost impossible to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing +between them, I acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. +Proudie," I said, "I will go home and kill her before the week is +over." And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, +and one of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all the +shades of her character. It was not only that she was a tyrant, +a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one who +would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means +a hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; +but I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still +live much in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote Can You Forgive Her? +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called The Noble Jilt. Some year or two after the completion +of The Last Chronicle, I was asked by the manager of a theatre to +prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy Did He Steal It? But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was +less attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley +nearly crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason +given. I have little doubt but that the manager was right. That +he intended to express a true opinion, and would have been glad to +have taken the piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be The Warden, Barchester +Towers, Doctor Thorne, Framley Parsonage, and The Last Chronicle +of Barset. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are in the +hands of four different persons, including myself, and with one of +the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert with the +others. [Footnote: Since this was written I have made arrangements +for doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will +now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was +the resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described +how it was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties +with my other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but +even this did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which +no scruple of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I +was driven to work at night. In the winter when hunting was going +on, I had to keep myself very much on the alert. And during the +London season, when I was generally two or three days of the week +in town, I found the official work to be a burden. I had determined +some years previously, after due consideration with my wife, to +abandon the Post Office when I had put by an income equal to the +pension to which I should be entitled if I remained in the department +till I was sixty. That I had now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and +my brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I +applied for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained +this I should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my +literary work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and +would have returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the +General Post Office. There was very much against such a change in +life. The increase of salary would not have amounted to above (pounds)400 +a year, and I should have lost much more than that in literary +remuneration. I should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance +at an office, from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty +years. I should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. +But I was attached to the department, had imbued myself with a +thorough love of letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by +the post,--and was anxious for their welfare as though they were +all my own. In short, I wished to continue the connection. I did +not wish, moreover, that any younger officer should again pass over +my head. I believed that I bad been a valuable public servant, +and I will own to a feeling existing at that time that I had not +altogether been well treated. I was probably wrong in this. I had +been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I pleased, and to say what +I liked, and had in that way received my reward. I applied for +the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to it. He no doubt +was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He understood +the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was a great +accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in regard +to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed by +the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A man +shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a pension,--unless +his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to one-sixtieth of +his salary for every year he has served up to forty years. If his +health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work before the +age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to one-sixtieth +for every year he has served. I could not say that my health had +failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I have since +felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left the Post +Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to my +literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still +a little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined +after my death that I had slighted the public service to which I +belonged, I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to +the letter containing my resignation. + + + "GENERAL POST OFFICE, + October 9th, 1867. + +"Sir,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in which you +tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post Office service, and +state as your reason for this step that you have adopted another +profession, the exigencies of which are so great as to make you +feel you cannot give to the duties of the Post Office that amount +of attention which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right +to expect. + +"You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous members +of the Post Office, which, on several occasions when you have been +employed on large and difficult matters, has reaped much benefit +from the great abilities which you have been able to place at its +disposal; and in mentioning this, I have been especially glad to +record that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you +have never permitted your other avocations to interfere with your +Post Office work, which has been faithfully and indeed energetically +performed." (There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," +but still it did not displease me.) + +"In accepting your resignation, which he does with much regret, +the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you his own sense of +the value of your services, and to state how alive he is to the +loss which will be sustained by the department in which you have +long been an ornament, and where your place will with difficulty +be replaced. + + (Signed) "J. TILLEY." + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, +and some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy +me more than to think that I should even be supposed to have been +among the number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which +I had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not +say devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have +their letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar +letter-boxes should be put up for them (of which accommodation +in the streets and ways of England I was the originator, having, +however, got the authority for the erection of the first at St. +Heliers in Jersey); that the letter-carriers and sorters should not +be overworked; that they should be adequately paid, and have some +hours to themselves, especially on Sundays; above all, that they +should be made to earn their wages and latterly that they should +not be crushed by what I thought to be the damnable system of +so-called merit;--these were the matters by which I was stirred to +what the secretary was pleased to call energetic performance of my +duties. How I loved, when I was contradicted,--as I was very often +and, no doubt, very properly,--to do instantly as I was bid, and then +to prove that what I was doing was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, +and impracticable! And then there were feuds--such delicious feuds! +I was always an anti-Hillite, acknowledging, indeed, the great thing +which Sir Rowland Hill had done for the country, but believing him +to be entirely unfit to manage men or to arrange labour. It was a +pleasure to me to differ from him on all occasions;--and, looking +back now, I think that in all such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything +to improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to +do so gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own +reports unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant +to be read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing +myself to re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but +sending them up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots +and erasures there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a +man should search after a fine neatness at the expense of so much +waste labour; or that he should not be able to exact from himself +the necessity of writing words in the form in which they should be +read. If a copy be required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand +or by machine, as may be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his +words to prevail with the reader, should send them out as written +by himself, by his own hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, +correct or incorrect, with the evidence upon them that they have +come out from his own mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the +world where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for +him, and had offered me a salary of (pounds)1000 a year for the work over +and above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had +known something of magazines, and did not believe that they were +generally very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some +publishers as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business +was chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, +this consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I +very strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to +him that a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine +In accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it +on any other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate +return to him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, +listened to my arguments with great patience, and the told me that +if I would not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should, from month to month, give +in to him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that +he should pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and, thirdly, +that the arrangement should remain in force, at any rate, for two +years. To all this he made no objection; and during the time that +he and I were thus bound together he not only complied with these +stipulations, but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine +that I made to him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide +liberality and absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, +and perpetual good humour, would have produced success, our magazine +certainly would have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. The Liberal may cease to be liberal, or The +Fortnightly, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But The Cornhill +and The Argosy are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or, possibly, the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. Blackwood's has, indeed, always +remained Blackwood's, and Fraser's, though it has been bought and +sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called Anthony Trollope's. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town,--still are about the town,--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would +have driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we +settled on St. Paul's as the name for our bantling--not as being +in any way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks +with many others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, +it was not by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. +Lynn Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles +Lever, E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. +H. Lewes, C. Mackay, Hardman (of the Times), George Macdonald, W. +R. Greg, Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton +Cook--and others, whose names would make the list too long. It +might have been thought that with such aid the St. Paul's would have +succeeded. I do not think that the failure,--for it did fail,--arose +from bad editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the +fault. I was too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of +what might be lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two occasions +may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set on foot +on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything short of +a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set a magazine +afloat, though, when afloat, it will sustain it. Time is wanted--or +the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by ubiquitous +sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may be +effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time +and intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done +better than Blackwood's. The Cornhill, too, after Thackeray had +left it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in +quite efficient hands--those hands being the hands of proprietor +and publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and +what he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into +that worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for +the sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so +sin very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My +dear friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn +in his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know +that I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work +did not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did +so, I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that +such editors as Thackeray and myself,--if I may, for the moment, be +allowed to couple men so unequal,--will always be liable to commit +such faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors +will be less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to +be open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, +or why the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that +may be sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce +a periodical that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably +best do by securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BEVERLEY + + + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning +to fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who +was himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should +like best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether +I wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far a he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to +look for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one +by leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could +get a seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that +bourne from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there +feel that he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to +every educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that +every educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in +Parliament as a probable or even a possible career; but that the man +in Parliament has reached a higher position than the man out,--that +to serve one's country without pay is the grandest work that a man +can do,--that of all studies the study of politics is the one in +which a man may make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and +that of all lives, public political lives are capable of the highest +efforts. So thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too +late an age at which to commence a new career,--I resolved with +much hesitation that I would make the attempt. Writing now at an +age beyond sixty, I can say that my political feelings and convictions +have never undergone any change. They are now what they became when +I first began to have political feelings and convictions. Nor do I +find in myself any tendency to modify them as I have found generally +in men as they grow old. I consider myself to be an advanced, but +still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard not only as a possible, +but as a rational and consistent phase of political existence. +I can, I believe, in a very few words, make known my political +theory; and, as I am anxious that any who know aught of me should +know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It should, +I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel superiority, +unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do not +understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are, therefore, +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that +we see--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from +a full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but +still we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of +our brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for, +in this matter, I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tossed-bound life of those who cannot even +feed themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling +of injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck +by apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. +Make all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they +shall be all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the +conscientious, philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being +surely convinced that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells +himself that it is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the +preservation of the welfare of the world depends on the maintenance +of those distances between the prince and the peasant by which he +finds himself to be surrounded; and, perhaps, I may add, that the +duty is not unpleasant, as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it +is apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his +duty to retard. He cannot prevent it; and, therefore, the society +to which he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, +at times, assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, +under the gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and +holdfasts which he may add, the movement would be slower than it +would become if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. +Such, I think, are Conservatives; and I speak of men who, with the +fear of God before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm +in their hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their +ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best understood, +I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious Liberal +is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that these +distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness; but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of +steps towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even +willing to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he +knows, as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. +What is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the +word is offensive, and presents to the imagination of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and, therefore, he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any +political doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition +of his fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, +and a conjurer--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be stilted, +overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. Many +will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active +part in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals +or Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings +as to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is +so; and in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further +and further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and Members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are +the intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply +such a game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater +results. To the minds that create and lead and sway political +opinion, some such theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. +But I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about +myself in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, +must be able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied +with doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must +patiently get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, +and then be satisfied with himself when at last he has induced +a Chancellor of the Exchequer to say that he will consider the +impost at the first opportunity. He must be content to be beaten +six times in order that, on a seventh, his work may be found to +be of assistance to some one else. He must remember that he is one +out of 650, and be content with 1-650th part of the attention of +the nation. If he have grand ideas, he must keep them to himself, +unless by chance, he can work his way up to the top of the tree. +In short, he must be a practical man. Now I knew that in politics +I could never become a practical man. I should never be satisfied +with a soft word from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but would +always be flinging my overtaxed ketchup in his face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a +good speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied +the art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I +had found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else +all impromptu,--which was very bad, indeed, unless I had something +special on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by +going into Parliament--that the time for it, if there could have +been a time, had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire +to sit there, and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn +had not been deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a dissolution, +I should stand for one division of the County of Essex; and I had +promised that I would do so, though the promise at that time was +as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this by the +late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very +anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex +was portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, +one of which,--that adjacent to London,--would, it was thought, +be altogether Liberal. After the promise which I had given, +the performance of which would have cost me a large sum of money +absolutely in vain, it was felt by some that I should be selected +as one of the candidates for the new division--and as such I was +proposed by Mr. Charles Buxton. But another gentleman, who would +have been bound by previous pledges to support me, was put forward +by what I believe to have been the defeating interest, and I had +to give way. At the election this gentleman, with another Liberal, +who had often stood for the county, was returned without a contest. +Alas! alas! They were both unseated at the next election, when the +great Conservative reaction took place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or, at least, the +East Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly +better than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of +canvassing, and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the +prospect of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they +who knew Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," +said he, "you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely +that I was thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he +said. Again I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but, +nevertheless, I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh, no!" +continued he, with good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I +don't suppose you really expect it. But there is a fine career open +to you. You will spend (pounds)1000, and lose the election. Then you will +petition, and spend another (pounds)1000. You will throw out the elected +members. There will be a commission, and the borough will be +disfranchised. For a beginner such as you are, that will be a great +success." And yet, in the teeth of this, from a man who knew all +about it, I persisted in going to Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented +by Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying +that he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of +the seat. There had been many contests, many petitions, many void +elections, many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept +his seat, if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next +door to permanence. I fancy that with a little management between +the parties the borough might at this time have returned a member +of each colour quietly; but there were spirits there who did not +love political quietude, and it was at last decided that there +should be two Liberal and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry +was joined by a young man of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was +grouped with Mr. Maxwell, the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch +Roman Catholic peer, who lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure +me a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands, at any +rate, the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. +Maxwell and I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves +but the one holiday during this period of intense labour; but I +was assured, as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, +that if we committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert +us. From morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes +and by-ways of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, +exposed to the rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable +to assume that air of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful +candidate should he invested. At night, every night I had to +speak somewhere,--which was bad; and to listen to the speaking of +others,--which was much worse. When, on one Sunday, I proposed to +go to the Minster Church, I was told that was quite useless, as +the Church party were all certain to support Sir Henry! "Indeed," +said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes there in a kind of official +profession, and you had better not allow yourself to be seen in the +same place." So I stayed away and omitted my prayers. No Church of +England church in Beverley would on such an occasion have welcomed +a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a kind of pariah in the +borough, to whom was opposed all that was pretty, and all that was +nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the conviction +that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to the men +whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my doctrines, +and could not be made to understand that I should have any. I had +been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry Edwards,--which, +however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or to cause him +the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, and expense. +There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my wished-for +supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two points +I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious for +the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extending electoral divisions and by +an increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parlimentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so +utterly unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into +Yorkshire merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not +have said more than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of +course I was not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became +members for Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid +(pounds)400 for my expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the +cost. He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque +for (pounds)400, and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. +How it came to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never +knew, but such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from +me, but from the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen +were unseated, the borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards +was put on his trial for some kind of Parliamentary offence and +was acquitted. In this way Beverley's privilege as a borough and +my Parliamentary ambition were brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should +do, I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed +to me that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing +more absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, +than the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had +come to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. +There was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal +there turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should +be no bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. +It was a matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were +appreciated because they might subserve electoral purposes, and +how little it was understood that electoral purposes, which are in +themselves a nuisance, should be endured in order that they may +subserve politics. And then the time, the money, the mental energy, +which had been expended in making the borough a secure seat for +a gentleman who had realised the idea that it would become him to +be a member of Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be +realised and approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants +had taught themselves to think that it was for such purposes that +boroughs were intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, +even in one town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION 0F COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS + + + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, +as being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has +been brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go +over to the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. +This, as I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and +of course I went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made +two since. As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was +very far from being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, +a place I do not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by +incompetence, and opposed by what I felt to be personal and not +national views. I had to deal with two men,--with one who was a +working officer of the American Post Office, than whom I have never +met a more zealous, or, as far as I could judge, a more honest +public servant. He had his views and I had mine, each of us having +at heart the welfare of the service in regard to his own country,--each +of us also having certain orders which we were bound to obey. But +the other gentleman, who was in rank the superior,--whose executive +position was dependent on his official status, as is the case with +our own Ministers,--did not recommend himself to me equally. He +would make appointments with me and then not keep them, which at +last offended me so grievously, that I declared at the Washington +Post Office that if this treatment were continued, I would write +home to say that any further action on my part was impossible. I +think I should have done so had it not occurred to me that I might +in this way serve his purpose rather than my own, or the purposes +of those who had sent me. The treaty, however, was at last made,--the +purport of which was, that everything possible should be done, at +a heavy expenditure on the part of England, to expedite the mails +from England to America, and that nothing should be done by America +to expedite the mails from thence to us. The expedition I believe +to be now equal both ways; but it could not be maintained as it is +without the payment of a heavy subsidy from Great Britain, whereas +no subsidy is paid by the States. [Footnote: This was a state of +things which may probably have appeared to American politicians +to be exactly that which they should try to obtain. The whole +arrangement has again been altered since the time of which I have +spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands +in the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have +never had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my +work; but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found +many years ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, +being then in the States, the details of which are sufficiently +amusing [Footnote: In answer to a question from myself, a certain +American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised me +that IF ANY OTHER AMERICAN PUBLISHER REPUBLISHED MY WORK ON AMERICA +BEFORE HE HAD DONE SO, he would not bring out a competing edition, +though there would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an +agreement with another American publisher, stipulating to supply +him with early sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain +royalty on his sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly. +I sent the sheets with energetic punctuality, and the work was +brought out with equal energy and precision--by my old American +publishers. The gentleman who made the promise had not broken his +word. No other American edition had come out before his. I never +got any account, and, of course, never received a dollar.]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though +I do not know that I have raised my price against them on that +score, I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from +the American market. But I do know that what the publishers have +received here is very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, my present publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States +as much as 5 per cent. on the price they pay me for my manuscript. +But the American readers are more numerous than the English, and +taking them all through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get +(pounds)1000 for a book here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be +able to get as much there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes +in place of 300, there is no question as to such result. Why not, +then, if I can supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having +a certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers, [Footnote: I might also say +American publishers, if I might count them by the number of heads, +and not by the amount of work done by the firms.] that an assent +to an international copyright would be the result. The state of +things as it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers +will not pay them a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply +their customers with modern English literature without paying for +it. The English amount of production so much exceeds the American, +that the rate at which the former can be published rules the +market. it is equally injurious to American booksellers,--except +to two or three of the greatest houses. No small man can now acquire +the exclusive right of printing and selling an English book. If +such a one attempt it, the work is printed instantly by one of the +leviathans,--who alone are the gainers. The argument of course is, +that the American readers are the gainers,--that as they can get +for nothing the use of certain property, they would be cutting their +own throats were they to pass a law debarring themselves from the +power of such appropriation. In this argument all idea of honesty +is thrown to the winds. It is not that they do not approve of +a system of copyright,--as many great men have disapproved,--for +their own law of copyright is as stringent as is ours. A bold +assertion is made that they like to appropriate the goods of other +people; and that, as in this case, they can do so with impunity, +they will continue to do so. But the argument, as far as I have been +able to judge, comes not from the people, but from the bookselling +leviathans, and from those politicians whom the leviathans are able +to attach to their interests. The ordinary American purchaser is +not much affected by slight variations in price. He is at any rate +too high-hearted to be affected by the prospect of such variation. +It is the man who wants to make money, not he who fears that he may +be called upon to spend it, who controls such matters as this in +the United States. It is the large speculator who becomes powerful +in the lobbies of the House, and understands how wise it may +be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation of a great +business, or in protecting that which he has created from competition. +Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done since (up to +1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is now about to +sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a member; and +the question must then be handled, though nothing done by a Royal +Commission here can effect American legislators. But I do believe +that if the measure be consistently and judiciously urged, the +enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. Some years +since we had some quasi private meetings, under the presidency of +Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the subject of +international copyright. At one of these I discussed this matter of +American international copyright with Charles Dickens, who strongly +declared his conviction that nothing would induce an American to +give up the power he possesses of pirating British literature. But +he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, would not +realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this matter +the American decision had been, according to his thinking, dishonest, +therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be expected from +Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now protest. American +dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among a few. It +is the great misfortune of the community that those few have been +able to dominate so large a portion of the population among which +all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has +sat and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and +could serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which +are discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that (pounds)20 was paid to my publisher in England for the +use of the early sheets of a novel for which I received (pounds)1600 in +England. When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that +the firm with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to +another firm?" I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because +no other firm would care to run counter to that great firm which +had assumed to itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after +received a copy of my own novel in the American form, and found +that it was published for 7 1/2d. That a great sale was expected +can be argued from the fact that without a great sale the paper and +printing necessary for the republication of a three-volume novel +could not be supplied. Many thousand copies must have been sold. +But from these the author received not one shilling. I need hardly +point out that the sum of (pounds)20 would not do more than compensate +the publisher for his trouble in making the bargain. The publisher +here no doubt might have refused to supply the early sheets, but +he had no means of exacting a higher price than that offered. I +mention the circumstance here because it has been boasted, on behalf +of the American publishers, that though there is no international +copyright, they deal so liberally with English authors as to make +it unnecessary that the English author should be so protected. +With the fact of the (pounds)20 just brought to my knowledge, and with the +copy of my book published at 7 1/2d. now in my hands, I feel that +an international copyright is very necessary for my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love +of education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions +in the minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk +upright, fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for +his own actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by +private munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where +can the English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than +the normal American, when once the American shall have found the +Englishman to be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is +so much an object of heart-felt admiration of the American man and +the American woman as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman +or Englishman? These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost +in the minds of the unprejudiced English traveller as he makes +acquaintance with these near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant +of their official doings, of their politics, of their municipal +scandals, of their great ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and +briberies, and the infinite baseness of their public life. There +at the top of everything he finds the very men who are the least +fit to occupy high places. American public dishonesty is so glaring +that the very friends he has made in the country are not slow +to acknowledge it,--speaking of public life as a thing apart from +their own existence, as a state of dirt in which it would be an +insult to suppose that they are concerned! In the midst of it all +the stranger, who sees so much that he hates and so much that he +loves, hardly knows how to express himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with +what energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the +clean outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight +outnumber the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead +you. It is not by the private lives of the millions that the outside +world will judge you, but by the public career of those units whose +venality is allowed to debase the name of your country. There never +was plainer proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of +every honest citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond +of pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which +makes no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen +high in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two +old gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high +in public estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned +the occasion into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious +at first, and fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of +manners which with us has become a habit from our childhood. But +they are never fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be +a memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of +the chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last +fifteen years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. +She is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark +by thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do +any good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages +would amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of +myself without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. +I trust she may live to read the words I have now written, and to +wipe away a tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and +on my return I went back with energy to my work at the St. Paul's +Magazine. The first novel in it from my own pen was called Phineas +Finn, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, +I took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my +seat on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon +by the Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a +seat in the gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with +the ways and doings of the House in which some of my scenes were +to be placed. The Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running +order for, I think, a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, +to enable me often to be very tired,--and, as I have been assured +by members, to talk of the proceedings almost as well as though +Fortune had enabled me to fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing Phineas Finn, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my +own sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with +perhaps a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this +way I think I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly +a blunder to take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the +circumstance that I created the scheme of the book during a visit +to Ireland. There was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and +there was an added difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection +for a politician belonging to a nationality whose politics are not +respected in England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It +was not a brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant +with political matters could not care much for a hero who spent +so much of his time either in the House of Commons or in a public +office. But the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the +book, and the women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish +read it also. As this was what I had intended, I was contented. It +is all fairly good except the ending,--as to which till I got to +it I made no provision. As I fully intended to bring my hero again +into the world, I was wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish +girl, who could only be felt as an encumbrance on such return. When +he did return I had no alternative but to kill the simple pretty +Irish girl, which was an unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing Phineas Finn I had constantly before me the necessity +of progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and +women which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In +most novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +Ivanhoe, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as +they become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this +in Tom Jones, which is one of the greatest novels in the English +language, for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature +may fall away under temptation and be again strengthened and made +to stand upright. But I do not think that novelists have often +set before themselves the state of progressive change,--nor should +I have done it, had I not found myself so frequently allured back +to my old friends. So much of my inner life was passed in their +company, that I was continually asking myself how this woman would +act when this or that event had passed over her head, or how that +man would carry himself when his youth had become manhood, or +his manhood declined to old age. It was in regard to the old Duke +of Omnium, of his nephew and heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady +Glencora, that I was anxious to carry out this idea; but others added +themselves to my mind as I went on, and I got round me a circle of +persons as to whom I knew not only their present characters, but +how those characters were to be affected by years and circumstances. +The happy motherly life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the +girl's honest but long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady +Laura, which was equally due to the sale she made of herself in her +wretched marriage; and the long suffering but final success of the +hero, of which he had deserved the first by his vanity, and the +last by his constant honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from +the first. As to the incidents of the story, the circumstances by +which these personages were to be affected, I knew nothing. They +were created for the most part as they were described. I never +could arrange a set of events before me. But the evil and the good +of my puppets, and how the evil would always lead to evil, and the +good produce good,--that was clear to me as the stars on a summer +night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in Phineas Finn and its +sequel Phineas Redux,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the St. Paul's Magazine in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the Graphic in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, +or that any little interest which might have been taken in the +career of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that +such interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the +same popularity as the former part, and among the same class of +readers. Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet +had become--and the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the +new duke, and the young duchess, either kept their old friends or +made new friends for themselves. Phineas Finn, I certainly think, +was successful from first to last. I am aware, however, that there +was nothing in it to touch the heart like the abasement of Lady +Mason when confessing her guilt to her old lover, or any approach +in delicacy of delineation to the character of Mr. Crawley. + +Phineas Finn, the first part of the story, was completed in +May, 1867. In June and July I wrote Linda Tressel for Blackwood's +Magazine, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called The Golden Lion of Granpere, which +was intended also for Blackwood,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in Good Words. It +was written on the model of Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, but +is very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, +1867, I began a very long novel, which I called He Knew He Was +Right, and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of +the St. Paul's Magazine, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not +know that in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short +of my own intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create +sympathy for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do +his duty to all around him, should be led constantly astray by his +unwillingness to submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. +The man is made to be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he +does is apparent. So far I did not fail, but the sympathy has not +been created yet. I look upon the story as being nearly altogether +bad. It is in part redeemed by certain scenes in the house and +vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. But a novel which in its main +parts is bad cannot, in truth, be redeemed by the vitality of +subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced The Vicar of +Bullhampton, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by +it during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the +St. Paul's Magazine, in reference to which I had read an enormous +amount of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I +had written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and +had made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had +hunted three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy +I was with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered +as a part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained +my experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched +American Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able +to escape from that capital till July; but all that had added to +the activity of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; +but I had read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a +part of my duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my +novels I had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation +and scorn produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I +was nevertheless proud of having done so much. I always had a pen +in my hand. Whether crossing the seas, or fighting with American +officials, or tramping about the streets of Beverley, I could do a +little, and generally more than a little. I had long since convinced +myself that in such work as mine the great secret consisted +in acknowledging myself to be bound to rules of labour similar to +those which an artisan or a mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker +when he has finished one pair of shoes does not sit down and +contemplate his work in idle satisfaction. "There is my pair of +shoes finished at last! What a pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker +who so indulged himself would be without wages half his time. It +is the same with a professional writer of books. An author may of +course want time to study a new subject. He will at any rate assure +himself that there is some such good reason why he should pause. +He does pause, and will be idle for a month or two while he tells +himself how beautiful is that last pair of shoes which he has +finished! Having thought much of all this, and having made up my +mind that I could be really happy only when I was at work, I had +now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as soon as the +first was out of my hands. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON"--"SIR HARRY HOTSPUR"--"AN EDITOR'S +TALES"--"CAESAR" + + + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then +the sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the +firm. He remained there three years and a half; but he did not like +it, nor do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he +left the business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might +have been expected from the short period of his labours, and has +since taken himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will +work at it so hard as his father, and write as many books, may be +doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone to Australia, +having resolved on a colonial career when he found that boys who did +not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This departure +was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted on the +understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, and +then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, +and in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I +have since that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which +at any rate I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the +Australasian Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word +or two further on of him and his doings. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written in 1868 for publication in Once +a Week, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont had made +my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my terms +and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before it +was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was the +first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have +I ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I +had stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled +to suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to +console myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of +virtue. The industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple +will always be the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, +who keep none waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for +the unpunctual. But these earthly sufferers know that they are making +their way heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. +If the former reflection does not suffice for consolation, the +deficiency is made up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on +the matter of the publication of my new Vicar, and had to think +very much of the ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. +About the end of March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the +editor. All the Once a Week people were in a terrible trouble. They +had bought the right of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern +novels, L'Homme Qui Rit; they bad fixed a date, relying on positive +pledges from the French publishers; and now the great French author +had postponed his work from week to week and from month to month, +and it had so come to pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would +have to appear exactly at the same time as my clergyman. Was it +not quite apparent to me, the editor asked, that Once a Week could +not hold the two? Would I allow my clergyman to make his appearance +in the Gentleman's Magazine instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by +the stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he +had put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches +on his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +Gentleman's Magazine, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, by novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no +doubt are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is +irregular. He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till +three months after the time named." In these emergencies I have +given perhaps half what was wanted, and have refused to give the +other half. I have endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and +at the same time not to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But +the circumstances have impressed on my mind the great need there is +that men engaged in literature should feel themselves to be bound +to their industry as men know that they are bound in other callings. +There does exist, I fear, a feeling that authors, because they are +authors, are relieved from the necessity of paying attention to +everyday rules. A writer, if he be making (pounds)800 a year, does not think +himself bound to live modestly on (pounds)600, and put by the remainder +for his wife and children. He does not understand that he should +sit down at his desk at a certain hour. He imagines that publishers +and booksellers should keep all their engagements with him to +the letter;--but that he, as a brain-worker, and conscious of the +subtle nature of the brain, should be able to exempt himself from +bonds when it suits him. He has his own theory about inspiration +which will not always come,--especially will not come if wine-cups +overnight have been too deep. All this has ever been odious to +me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in health, and therefore +unable to do as he has contracted in whatever grade of life. He who +has been blessed with physical strength to work day by day, year +by year--as has been my case--should pardon deficiencies caused +by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect have been a little +hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my repentance. But +I think that no allowance should be given to claims for exemption +from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score still with +the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for fallen woman, and of raising +a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other women. I +could not venture to make this female the heroine of my story. To +have made her a heroine at all would have been directly opposed +to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should be +a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference to +her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the heroine with +their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I affixed a +preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my old-established +principle. I do not know that any one read it; but as I wish to +have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + +"I have introduced in the Vicar of Bullhampton the character of a +girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall not in +its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured to endow +her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I have brought +her back at last from degradation, at least to decency. I have not +married her to a wealthy lover, and I have endeavoured to explain +that though there was possible to her a way out of perdition, still +things could not be with her as they would have been had she not +fallen. + +"There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who +professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, +should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as +that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within the +memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a condition +of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our sisters and +daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of them. Whether that +ignorance was good may be questioned; but that it exists no longer +is beyond question. Then arises the further question,--how far the +conditions of such unfortunates should be made a matter of concern +to the sweet young hearts of those whose delicacy and cleanliness +of thought is a matter of pride to so many of us. Cannot women, +who are good, pity the sufferings of the vicious, and do something +perhaps to mitigate and shorten them without contamination from the +vice? It will be admitted probably by most men who have thought +upon the subject that no fault among us is punished so heavily +as that fault, often so light in itself but so terrible in its +consequences to the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a +woman falls. All of her own sex is against her, and all those of +the other sex in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought +to have contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were +her trouble any other than it is. + +"She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, +unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has placed +her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It may be said, +no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts as a protection +to female virtue,--deterring, as all known punishments do deter, from +vice. But this punishment, which is horrible beyond the conception +of those who have not regarded it closely, is not known beforehand. +Instead of the punishment, there is seen a false glitter of gaudy +life,--a glitter which is damnably false,--and which, alas I has +been more often portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of +young girls, than have those horrors which ought to deter, with +the dark shadowings which belong to them. + +"To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, +as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life +is, happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice +and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter be +handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been thoughtless, +may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may be softened." + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that +feeling I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her +family. I have not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I +presented her to the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of +those fallacious luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more +seductive to evil than love itself. She is introduced as a poor +abased creature, who hardly knows how false were her dreams, with +very little of the Magdalene about her--because though there may +be Magdalenes they are not often found--but with an intense horror +of the sufferings of her position. Such being her condition, will +they who naturally are her friends protect her? The vicar who has +taken her by the hand endeavours to excite them to charity; but +father, and brother, and sister are alike hard-hearted. It had +been my purpose at first that the hand of every Brattle should be +against her; but my own heart was too soft to enable me to make +the mother cruel,--or the unmarried sister who had been the early +companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. +The characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping +with human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. +It is not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have +myself forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she +tumbles into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should +remember her. But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said +by any of the Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out +of ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is +of such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is +the woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? +Then comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone +that we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument +used in favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse +given for their severity by women who will relax nothing of their +harshness. But in truth the severity of the punishment is not known +beforehand; it is not in the least understood by women in general, +except by those who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, +the contumely of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all +good things, the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed +round with lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the +weary pavement, the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then +the quick depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted +paint, garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still +can hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the +life to which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their +error we close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find +pardon easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope +to recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at +all, must be induced to obey the summons before they have reached +the last stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. +To me the mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that +the girl who has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if +possible, at any rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, +and that this ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, put +in part also from a dread of the taint which the sin brings with +it. Very low as is the degradation to which a girl is brought when +she falls through love or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for +luxurious ease, still much lower is that to which she must descend +perforce when, through the hardness of the world around her, +she converts that sin into a trade. Mothers and sisters, when the +misfortune comes upon them of a fallen female from among their +number, should remember this, and not fear contamination so strongly +as did Carry Brattle's married sister and sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of +the three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had +nothing to do with it except to write it. These were Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, An Editor's Tales, and a little volume +on Julius Caesar. Sir Harry Hotspur was written on the same plan as +Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. Nina and Linda Tressel and The Golden Lion +had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English story. +In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I think, +by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love of +the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in Macmillan's Magazine, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it +should have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of +a good many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, +the subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. +Macmillan, and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them +as a novel in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel +in one volume, and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that +the public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is +the object of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they +can, and that the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, +however, did not overcome me, and I stood to my guns. Sir Harry +was published in one volume, containing something over the normal +300 pages, with an average of 220 words to a page,--which I +had settled with my conscience to be the proper length of a novel +volume. I may here mention that on one occasion, and one occasion +only, a publisher got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He +had a two-volume novel of mine running through a certain magazine, +and had it printed complete in three volumes before I knew where I +was,--before I had seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for +a while, but I had not the heart to make him break up the type. + +The Editor's Tales was a volume republished from the St. Paul's +Magazine, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned +the memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it +the outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance +of some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation +with me, I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed +his little article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with +a becoming pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how +I was appealed to by the dearest of little women whom here I have +called Mary Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle +over an abortive periodical which was intended to be the best +thing ever done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, +who with infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort +to reclaim himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly +how a poor weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened +litigation from a rejected contributor. Of these stories, The Spotted +Dog, with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I +know now, however, that when the things were good they came out +too quick one upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, +luckily, when they were bad. + +The Caesar was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had set +on foot a series of small volumes called Ancient Classics for English +Readers, and had placed the editing of them, and the compiling of +many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, a clergyman +who, from my connection with the series, became a most intimate +friend. The Iliad and the Odyssey had already come out when I was +at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing my very strong +admiration for those two little volumes,--which I here recommend +to all young ladies as the most charming tales they can read,--he +asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. Herodotus was +in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine should be next. +Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the readers of +English on The Commentaries of Julius Caesar. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation +or English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has +since become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an +hour with some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After +the reading what my author had left behind him, I fell into the +reading of what others had written about him, in Latin, in English, +and even in French,--for I went through much of that most futile +book by the late Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a +short period I ever worked harder. The amount I had to write was +nothing. Three weeks would have done it easily. But I was most +anxious, in this soaring out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace +myself. I do not think that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was +anxious for something more. If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by all, old +and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an account of +Caesar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary intention,--and +the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. A well-educated +girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps know as much +about Caesar and his writings as she need know. Beyond the consolation +of thinking as I do about it, I got very little gratification from +the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very learned friend +to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Caesar," but said no +more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into me. +Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There +was, however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that +of others, a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing +English novels could not be fit to write about Caesar. It was as +when an amateur gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. +What business had I there? Ne sutor ultra crepidam. In the press it +was most faintly damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having +read the book again within the last month or two, I make bold to say +that it is a good book. The series, I believe, has done very well. +I am sure that it ought to do well in years to come, for, putting +aside Caesar, the work has been done with infinite scholarship, and +very generally with a light hand. With the leave of my sententious +and sonorous friend, who had not endured that subjects which had +been grave to him should be treated irreverently, I will say that +such a work, unless it be light, cannot answer the purpose for which +it is intended. It was not exactly a schoolbook that was wanted, +but something that would carry the purposes of the schoolroom even +into the leisure hours of adult pupils. Nothing was ever better +suited for such a purpose than the Iliad and the Odyssey, as done +by Mr. Collins. The Virgil, also done by him, is very good; and so +is the Aristophanes by the same hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +"RALPH THE HEIR"--"THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS"--"LADY ANNA"--"AUSTRALIA" + + + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we +would go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before +doing so I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the +Colonies. For such a work as this I had always been aware that +I could not fairly demand more than half the price that would be +given for the same amount of fiction; and as such books have an +indomitable tendency to stretch themselves, so that more is given +than what is sold, and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the +writing of them is not remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes +not, I think, generally from the ambition of the writer, but from +his inability to comprise the different parts in their allotted +spaces. If you have to deal with a country, a colony, a city, a +trade, or a political opinion, it is so much easier to deal with +it in twenty than in twelve pages! I also made an engagement with +the editor of a London daily paper to supply him with a series of +articles,--which were duly written, duly published, and duly paid +for. But with all this, travelling with the object of writing is +not a good trade. If the travelling author can pay his bills, he +must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London +be cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, +and was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, +away, and the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of +my friends told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up +the fabrication of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon +go, and I would not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. +And then, why should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that +I had fixed on that place in reference to the Post Office? It was +therefore determined that we would flit, and as we were to be away +for eighteen months, we determined also to sell our furniture. So +there was a packing up, with many tears, and consultations as to +what should be saved out of the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. +I lost by the transaction about (pounds)800. As I continually hear that +other men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am +not well adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made +money by selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of +horseflesh I am so inefficient that I have generally given away +horses that I have not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May, 1871, Ralph the Heir was +running through the St. Paul's. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should +not write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and +that part which appertains to politics, and which recounts the +electioneering experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well +enough. Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same +place. Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good +in their way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only +lover, but also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But +the main thread of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the +young gentlemen and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is +not good. Ralph the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph +who is not the heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has +none. The same may be said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she +who was meant to be the chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, +without leaving a trace of remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of The Fortnightly, ready for +production on the 1st of July following, a story called The Eustace +Diamonds. In that I think that my friend's dictum was disproved. +There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. The +character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine and +as well told as that of Lucy Robarts of Lily Dale. + +But The Eustace Diamonds achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a +series of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant +to the reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented +itself to me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but +in planning the character I had not thought of this, and I believe +that Lizzie would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had +never been described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, +well arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. +I had no idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got +my heroine to bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment +of the thieves, till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with +the news that her door had been broken open. All these things, and +many more, Wilkie Collins would have arranged before with infinite +labour, preparing things present so that they should fit in with +things to come. I have gone on the very much easier plan of making +everything as it comes fit in with what has gone before. At any +rate, the book was a success, and did much to repair the injury +which I felt had come to my reputation in the novel-market by the +works of the last few years. I doubt whether I had written anything +so successful as The Eustace Diamonds. since The Small House at +Allington. I had written what was much better,--as, for instance, +Phineas Finn and Nina Balatka; but that is by no means the same +thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of Phineas Redux, +a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I subsequently +sold to the proprietors of the Graphic newspaper. The editor of +that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that the public +would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was dissatisfied +with me when I replied that I had no objection to them doing +so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any other +language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, +I could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +An Eye for an Eye, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. +When making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting +a desk put up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the +Great Britain, so that I could go to work the day after we left +Liverpool. This I did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished +a story called Lady Anna. Every word of this was written at sea, +during the two months required for our voyage, and was done day by +day--with the intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, +at the rate of 66 pages of manuscript in each week, every page of +manuscript containing 250 words. Every word was counted. I have +seen work come back to an author from the press with terrible +deficiencies as to the amount supplied. Thirty-two pages have +perhaps been wanted for a number, and the printers with all their +art could not stretch the matter to more than twenty-eight or -nine! +The work of filling up must be very dreadful. I have sometimes been +ridiculed for the methodical details of my business. But by these +contrivances I have been preserved from many troubles; and I have +saved others with whom I have worked--editors, publishers, and +printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, Lady Anna appeared in The +Fortnightly, following The Eustace Diamonds. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for +her, and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown +in her way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. +And the charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that +she is bound by her troth to the man who had always been true to +her overcomes everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my +wish of course to justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers +along with me in my sympathy with her. But everybody found fault +with me for marrying her to the tailor. What would they have said +if I had allowed her to jilt the tailor and marry the good-looking +young lord? How much louder, then, would have been the censure! +The book was read, and I was satisfied. If I had not told my story +well, there would have been no feeling in favour of the young lord. +The horror which was expressed to me at the evil thing I had done, +in giving the girl to the tailor, was the strongest testimony I +could receive of the merits of the story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say +that this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew +a man work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has +done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might +be enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them +all. Making my headquarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New +South Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of +Western Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was +absent in all eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in +learning much of the political, social, and material condition of +these countries. I wrote my book as I was travelling and brought +it back with me to England all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much +more to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much +more is said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter +than from the former book. I am sure that any one who will take +the trouble to read the book on Australia, will learn much from +it. But the West Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that +either of the other works are, in the proper sense of that word. +When I go back to them I find that the pages drag with me;--and if +so with me, how must it be with others who have none of that love +which a father feels even for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all +the needs a book has the chief need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like +to pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had +heard so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to +enter, and inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him +that I was not a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I +told him I did. "I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured +him that I was not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him +I did so by writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then +he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the +door. I was properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive +that he would have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made +to the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No +real resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four +horses I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the +two summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival +I bought another, and settled myself down to hunting from London +three days a week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, +but finding that to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton +Buzzard, and became one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode +with the "Baron" and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer +was alive, and the riding with his hounds was very good. I did not +care so much for Mr. Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and +1875, I had my horses back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, +always trying to resolve that I would give it up. But still I +bought fresh horses, and, as I did not give it up, I hunted more +than ever. Three times a week the cab has been at my door in London +very punctually, and not unfrequently before seven in the morning. +In order to secure this attendance, the man has always been invited +to have his breakfast in the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern +Railway,--ah! so often with the fear that frost would make all my +exertions useless, and so often too with that result! And then, +from one station or another station, have travelled on wheels at +least a dozen miles. After the day's sport, the same toil has been +necessary to bring me home to dinner at eight. This has been work +for a young man and a rich man, but I have done it as an old man +and comparatively a poor man. Now at last, in April, 1876, I do +think that my resolution has been taken. I am giving away my old +horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles and horse-furniture. + + + "Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ladum; + Tendunt extorquere poemata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + + +This Is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport, + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"THE WAY WE LIVE NOW" AND "THE PRIME MINISTER"--CONCLUSION + + + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I +had arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and +early in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope +to live and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to +place upon new shelves the books which I had collected round myself +at Waltham. And this work, which was in itself great, entailed +also the labour of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, +a catalogue is nothing unless it show the spot on which every +book is to be found,--information which every volume also ought to +give as to itself. Only those who have done it know how great is +the labour of moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the +present moment I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to +me even than the horses which are going, or than the wine in the +cellar, which is very apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I +began a novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I +conceived to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the +world does or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a +question which probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since +the world began to think. That men have become less cruel, less +violent, less selfish, less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but +have they become less honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from +day to day in honesty, be considered to be in a state of progress? +We know the opinion on this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. +If he be right, we are all going straight away to darkness and the +dogs. But then we do not put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor +in Mr. Ruskin and his other followers. The loudness and extravagance +of their lamentations, the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes +from them, over a world which is supposed to have gone altogether +shoddy-wards, are so contrary to the convictions of men who cannot +but see how comfort has been increased, how health has been improved, +and education extended,--that the general effect of their teaching +is the opposite of what they have intended. It is regarded simply +as Carlylism to say that the English-speaking world is growing +worse from day to day. And it is Carlylism to opine that the general +grand result of increased intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all +its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory +in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into +Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, +and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. +Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down +in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured +to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the +iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an +onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want +to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain +single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to +cheat the public into buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can +so moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects The Way We Live Now +was, as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers +is weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to +have two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them +both with interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be +no more than padding to the other. And so it was in The Way We Live +Now. The interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish +people,--with Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, +with the American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the +girl of his heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta +Carbury are uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon +the book as one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by +the public or the press. + +While I was writing The Way We Live Now, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the Graphic for a Christmas story. I feel, with regard +to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and undertaker +feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has to supply +it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and he will +starve if he neglects it. So have I felt that, when anything in the +shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. Nothing +can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish of +Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be +the ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire +for Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, +better still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens +when he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the +things written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas +like children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour +of Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! +at this very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to +supply within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always +require a long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling +my brain for the last month. I can't send away the order to another +shop, but I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not +loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, +by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no +worse success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When Harry Heathcote was over, I returned with a full heart to +Lady Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed +picture of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The +personages with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps +even the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in +a wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would +be destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst +of human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as +a rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box +into the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves +into one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to +set aside his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal +contact of men who must often be personally disagreeable, having +been thoroughly taught that in no other way can they serve either +their country or their own ambition. These are the men who are +publicly useful, and whom the necessities of the age supply,--as +to whom I have never ceased to wonder that stones of such strong +calibre should be so quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness +of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But had I also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of +a party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but +also even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a +very little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. +The time may come, the glorious time when some great self action +shall be possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave +up the Corn Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, +should not allow himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, +smooth, hard, useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he +must harden his skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and +again we see the attempt, made by men who cannot get their skins to +be hard--who after a little while generally fall out of the ranks. +The statesman of whom I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was +one who did not fall out of the ranks, even though his skin would +not become hard. He should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary +habits, by which to bind him to the service of his country; and he +should also have unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love +of country. That virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. +They who are without it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should +have it as the ruling principle of his life; and it should so rule +him that all other things should be made to give way to it. But he +should be scrupulous, and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to +the highest place in the council of his Sovereign, he should feel +with true modesty his own insufficiency; but not the less should +the greed of power grow upon him when he had once allowed himself +to taste and enjoy it. Such was the character I endeavoured to +depict in describing the triumph, the troubles, and the failure +of my Prime Minister. And I think that I have succeeded. What the +public may think, or what the press may say, I do not yet know, +the work having as yet run but half its course. [Footnote: Writing +this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly three years, I am obliged +to say that, as regards the public, The Prime Minister was a failure. +It was worse spoken of by the press than any novel I had written. +I was specially hurt by a criticism on it in the Spectator. The +critic who wrote the article I know to be a good critic, inclined +to be more than fair to me; but in this case I could not agree with +him, so much do I love the man whose character I had endeavoured +to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand +it--or that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been +a matter of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing +that the operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, +which might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who +commenced it. It has been carried on through three or four, each +of which will be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost +as soon as read. In The Prime Minister, my Prime Minister will not +allow his wife to take office among, or even over, those ladies who +are attached by office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," +he says to her, "that my wife should have any duties unconnected +with our joint family and home." Who will remember in reading +those words that, in a former story, published some years before, +he tells his wife, when she has twitted him with his willingness +to clean the Premier's shoes, that he would even allow her to clean +them if it were for the good of the country? And yet it is by such +details as these that I have, for many years past, been manufacturing +within my own mind the characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over +a woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think +it probable that my name will remain among those who in the next +century will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but +if it does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the +character of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. +Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I +have an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my +political hero as the mainstay of another story. When The Prime +Minister was finished, I at once began another novel, which is now +completed in three volumes, and which is called Is He Popenjoy? +There are two Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title +held by the other; but as they are both babies, and do not in the +course of the story progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, +should the tale ever be published, will not be much interested in +them. Nevertheless the story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. +Since that I have written still another three-volume novel, to +which, very much in opposition to my publisher, I have given the +name of The American Senator. [Footnote: The American Senator and +Popenjoy have appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has +encountered that reproach which, in regard to The Prime Minister, +seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should be brought to +a close. And yet I feel assured that they are very inferior to The +Prime Minister.] It is to appear in Temple Bar, and is to commence +its appearance on the first of next month. Such being its +circumstances, I do not know that I can say anything else about it +here. + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I +think are more in amount than the works of any other living English +author. If any English authors not living have written more--as +may probably have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find +that, taking the books which have appeared under our names, I have +published much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also +published considerably more than Voltaire, even including his +letters. We are told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written +480 volumes, and that he went on writing for eight years longer. +I wish I knew what was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort +myself by reflecting that the amount of manuscript described as a +book in Varro's time was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; +whereas I am still living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates +given are the years in which the works were published as a whole, +most of them having appeared before in some serial form. + + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + +The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 (pounds)48 6 9 +The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 +La Vendee, 1850 20 0 0 +The Warden, 1855 \ 727 11 3 +Barchester Towers, 1857 / +The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 +Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 +The West Indies and the +Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 +The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + + Carried forward, (pounds)2219 16 17 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought Forward, (pounds)2219 16 17 +Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 +Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 +Tales of All +Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + " " 2d 1863 > 1830 0 0 + " " 3d 1870 / +Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 +North America, 1862 1250 0 0 +Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 +The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 +Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 +Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 +The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 +The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 +The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 +Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 +Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 +Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 +He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 +Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 +The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 +An Editor's Tales, 1870 378 0 0 +Caesar (Ancient Classics), 1870 0 0 0 +[Footnote: This was given by me as a present to +my friend John Blackwood] + +Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 +Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 +The Golden Lion of Granpere, 1872 550 0 0 +The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 +Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 +Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 +Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + + Carry forward, (pounds)48,389 17 5 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought forward, (pounds)48,389 17 5 +Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 +The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 +The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 +The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 +Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 +South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 +John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 +Sundries, 7800 0 0 + ____________ + (pounds)68,939 17 5 + ------------ + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as +to the quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary +excellence. That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is +a vice and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave +a doubt on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit +should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. +And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for +the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may +intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine linea. Let that +be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work +to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. +He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours +at his desk without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they +have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done +in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed +another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving +due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. +But I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer +all difficulties. Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo. + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near (pounds)70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but +not splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed +in much the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his +life? If the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my +blood; if a cup of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought +tobacco at midnight in pleasant company to be one of the elements +of an earthly paradise; if now and again I have somewhat recklessly +fluttered a (pounds)5 note over a card-table;--of what matter is that to +any reader? I have betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no +sorrow. It has been the companionship of smoking that I have loved, +rather than the habit. I have never desired to win money, and I +have lost none. To enjoy the excitement of pleasure, but to be free +from its vices and ill effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the +bitter untasted,--that has been my study. The preachers tell us that +this is impossible. It seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded +fairly well. I will not say that I have never scorched a finger,--but +I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still +chiefly to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with +me, God may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according +to my view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who +love me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while +I am reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men +do, what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is +so with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found +my greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want +of truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but +from curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. +If I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies +of these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + +This file should be named 7auto10.txt or 7auto10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7auto11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7auto10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5978] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 4, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + + + + +This etext was produced by Jesse Chandler (lots_of_nature@yahoo.co.uk) + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + +By Anthony Trollope + + + + + +PREFACE + + + + +It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In +the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir +of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said +that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his +death, containing instructions for publication. + +This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much +of it as concerns the public: "I wish you to accept as a gift from +me, given you now, the accompanying pages which contain a memoir +of my life. My intention is that they shall be published after +my death, and be edited by you. But I leave it altogether to your +discretion whether to publish or to suppress the work;--and also +to your discretion whether any part or what part shall be omitted. +But I would not wish that anything should be added to the memoir. +If you wish to say any word as from yourself, let it be done in +the shape of a preface or introductory chapter." At the end there +is a postscript: "The publication, if made at all, should be effected +as soon as possible after my death." My father died on the 6th of +December, 1882. + +It will be seen, therefore, that my duty has been merely to pass +the book through the press conformably to the above instructions. +I have placed headings to the right-hand pages throughout the book, +and I do not conceive that I was precluded from so doing. Additions +of any other sort there have been none; the few footnotes are my +father's own additions or corrections. And I have made no alterations. +I have suppressed some few passages, but not more than would amount +to two printed pages has been omitted. My father has not given any +of his own letters, nor was it his wish that any should be published. + +So much I would say by way of preface. And I think I may also give +in a few words the main incidents in my father's life after he +completed his autobiography. + +He has said that he had given up hunting; but he still kept two +horses for such riding as may be had in or about the immediate +neighborhood of London. He continued to ride to the end of his +life: he liked the exercise, and I think it would have distressed +him not to have had a horse in his stable. But he never spoke +willingly on hunting matters. He had at last resolved to give up +his favourite amusement, and that as far as he was concerned there +should be an end of it. In the spring of 1877 he went to South +Africa, and returned early in the following year with a book on +the colony already written. In the summer of 1878, he was one of +a party of ladies and gentlemen who made an expedition to Iceland +in the "Mastiff," one of Mr. John Burns' steam-ships. The journey +lasted altogether sixteen days, and during that time Mr. and Mrs. +Burns were the hospitable entertainers. When my father returned, +he wrote a short account of How the "Mastiffs" went to Iceland. +The book was printed, but was intended only for private circulation. + +Every day, until his last illness, my father continued his work. +He would not otherwise have been happy. He demanded from himself +less than he had done ten years previously, but his daily task was +always done. I will mention now the titles of his books that were +published after the last included in the list which he himself has +given at the end of the second volume:-- + +An Eye for an Eye, . . . . 1879 +Cousin Henry, . . . . . . 1879 +Thackeray, . . . . . . . 1879 +The Duke's Children, . . . . 1880 +Life of Cicero, . . . . . 1880 +Ayala's Angel, . . . . . 1881 +Doctor Wortle's School, . . . 1881 +Frau Frohmann and other Stories, . 1882 +Lord Palmerston, . . . . . 1882 +The Fixed Period, . . . . . 1882 +Kept in the Dark, . . . . . 1882 +Marion Fay, . . . . . . 1882 +Mr. Scarborough's Family, . . . 1883 + +At the time of his death he had written four-fifths of an Irish +story, called The Landleaguers, shortly about to be published; and +he left in manuscript a completed novel, called An Old Man's Love, +which will be published by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons in 1884. + +In the summer of 1880 my father left London, and went to live at +Harting, a village in Sussex, but on the confines of Hampshire. I +think he chose that spot because he found there a house that suited +him, and because of the prettiness of the neighborhood. His last +long journey was a trip to Italy in the late winter and spring of +1881; but he went to Ireland twice in 1882. He went there in May +of that year, and was then absent nearly a month. This journey did +him much good, for he found that the softer atmosphere relieved +his asthma, from which he had been suffering for nearly eighteen +months. In August following he made another trip to Ireland, but +from this journey he derived less benefit. He was much interested +in, and was very much distressed by, the unhappy condition of the +country. Few men know Ireland better than he did. He had lived +there for sixteen years, and his Post Office word had taken him +into every part of the island. In the summer of 1882 he began his +last novel, The Landleaguers, which, as stated above, was unfinished +when he died. This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not +rid his mind of the fact that he had a story already in the course +of publication, but which he had not yet completed. In no other +case, except Framley Parsonage, did my father publish even the +first number of any novel before he had fully completed the whole +tale. + +On the evening of the 3rd of November, 1882, he was seized with +paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His +mind had also failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return +to him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became +rarer, but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind +was sound or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of +December following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack. + +I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire +to supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the +main incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In +what I have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions. + +Henry M. Trollope. +September, 1883. + + + + + +Autobiography of Anthony Trollope + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY EDUCATION + +1815-1834 + + + + +In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall +be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as +myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little +details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round +me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as +they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary +career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And +yet the garrulity of old age, and the aptitude of a man's mind to +recur to the passages of his own life, will, I know, tempt me to say +something of myself;--nor, without doing so, should I know how to +throw my matter into any recognised and intelligible form. That I, +or any man, should tell everything of himself, I hold to be impossible. +Who could endure to own the doing of a mean thing? Who is there +that has done none? But this I protest:--that nothing that I say +shall be untrue. I will set down naught in malice; nor will I give +to myself, or others, honour which I do not believe to have been +fairly won. My boyhood was, I think, as unhappy as that of a young +gentleman could well be, my misfortunes arising from a mixture of +poverty and gentle standing on the part of my father, and from an +utter want on my part of the juvenile manhood which enables some +boys to hold up their heads even among the distresses which such +a position is sure to produce. + +I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a +baby, was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house +on a large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from +Lord Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, +ambition, and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and +of those of her children, and perhaps the director of her destiny +and of ours. My father had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New +College, and Winchester was the destination of my brothers and +myself; but as he had friends among the masters at Harrow, and as +the school offered an education almost gratuitous to children living +in the parish, he, with a certain aptitude to do things differently +from others, which accompanied him throughout his life, determined +to use that august seminary as "t'other school" for Winchester, and +sent three of us there, one after the other, at the age of seven. +My father at this time was a Chancery barrister practising in +London, occupying dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at No. 23 Old +Square, Lincoln's Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy occasion +did become absolutely suicidal. [Footnote: A pupil of his destroyed +himself in the rooms.] He was, as I have been informed by those +quite competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious lawyer, +but plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys from +him. In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of +higher hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that +he was felt to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that +in Keppel Street; and in order that he might build such a residence, +he took the farm. This place he called Julians, and the land runs +up to the foot of the hill on which the school and the church +stand,--on the side towards London. Things there went much against +him; the farm was ruinous, and I remember that we all regarded the +Lord Northwick of those days as a cormorant who was eating us up. +My father's clients deserted him. He purchased various dark gloomy +chambers in and about Chancery Lane, and his purchases always went +wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow, and old uncle, whose heir he +was to have been, married and had a family! The house in London was +let; and also the house he built at Harrow, from which he descended +to a farmhouse on the land, which I have endeavoured to make known +to some readers under the name of Orley Farm. This place, just as it +was when we lived there, is to be seen in the frontispiece to the +first edition of that novel, having the good fortune to be delineated +by no less a pencil than that of John Millais. + +My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow +School from the bigger house, and may probably have been received +among the aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a +day-boarder at Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at +any rate as other day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well +treated, but I doubt whether they were subjected to the ignominy +which I endured. I was only seven, and I think that boys at seven +are now spared among their more considerate seniors. I was never +spared; and was not even allowed to run to and fro between our house +and the school without a daily purgatory. No doubt my appearance +was against me. I remember well, when I was still the junior boy +in the school, Dr. Butler, the head-master, stopping me in the +street, and asking me, with all the clouds of Jove upon his brow +and the thunder in his voice, whether it was possible that Harrow +School was disgraced by so disreputably dirty a boy as I! Oh, what +I felt at that moment! But I could not look my feelings. I do not +doubt that I was dirty;--but I think that he was cruel. He must +have known me had he seen me as he was wont to see me, for he was +in the habit of flogging me constantly. Perhaps he did not recognise +me by my face. + +At this time I was three years at Harrow; and, as far as I can +remember, I was the junior boy in the school when I left it. + +Then I was sent to a private school at Sunbury, kept by Arthur +Drury. This, I think, must have been done in accordance with the +advice of Henry Drury, who was my tutor at Harrow School, and my +father's friend, and who may probably have expressed an opinion that +my juvenile career was not proceeding in a satisfactory manner at +Harrow. To Sunbury I went, and during the two years I was there, +though I never had any pocket-money, and seldom had much in the +way of clothes, I lived more nearly on terms of equality with other +boys than at any other period during my very prolonged school-days. +Even here, I was always in disgrace. I remember well how, on one +occasion, four boys were selected as having been the perpetrators +of some nameless horror. What it was, to this day I cannot even +guess; but I was one of the four, innocent as a babe, but adjudged +to have been the guiltiest of the guilty. We each had to write out +a sermon, and my sermon was the longest of the four. During the +whole of one term-time we were helped last at every meal. We were +not allowed to visit the playground till the sermon was finished. +Mine was only done a day or two before the holidays. Mrs. Drury, +when she saw us, shook her head with pitying horror. There were +ever so many other punishments accumulated on our heads. It broke +my heart, knowing myself to be innocent, and suffering also under +the almost equally painful feeling that the other three--no doubt +wicked boys--were the curled darlings of the school, who would never +have selected me to share their wickedness with them. I contrived +to learn, from words that fell from Mr. Drury, that he condemned +me because I, having come from a public school, might be supposed +to be the leader of wickedness! On the first day of the next term +he whispered to me half a word that perhaps he had been wrong. +With all a stupid boy's slowness, I said nothing; and he had not +the courage to carry reparation further. All that was fifty years +ago, and it burns me now as though it were yesterday. What lily-livered +curs those boys must have been not to have told the truth!--at any +rate as far as I was concerned. I remember their names well, and +almost wish to write them here. + +When I was twelve there came the vacancy at Winchester College which +I was destined to fill. My two elder brothers had gone there, and +the younger had been taken away, being already supposed to have lost +his chance of New College. It had been one of the great ambitions +of my father's life that his three sons, who lived to go to Winchester, +should all become fellows of New College. But that suffering man +was never destined to have an ambition gratified. We all lost the +prize which he struggled with infinite labour to put within our +reach. My eldest brother all but achieved it, and afterwards went +to Oxford, taking three exhibitions from the school, though he +lost the great glory of a Wykamist. He has since made himself well +known to the public as a writer in connection with all Italian +subjects. He is still living as I now write. But my other brother +died early. + +While I was at Winchester my father's affairs went from bad to worse. +He gave up his practice at the bar, and, unfortunate that he was, +took another farm. It is odd that a man should conceive,--and in +this case a highly educated and a very clever man,--that farming +should be a business in which he might make money without any +special education or apprenticeship. Perhaps of all trades it is +the one in which an accurate knowledge of what things should be +done, and the best manner of doing them, is most necessary. And it is +one also for success in which a sufficient capital is indispensable. +He had no knowledge, and, when he took this second farm, no capital. +This was the last step preparatory to his final ruin. + +Soon after I had been sent to Winchester my mother went to America, +taking with her my brother Henry and my two sisters, who were then +no more than children. This was, I think, in 1827. I have no clear +knowledge of her object, or of my father's; but I believe that +he had an idea that money might be made by sending goods,--little +goods, such as pin-cushions, pepper-boxes, and pocket-knives,--out +to the still unfurnished States; and that she conceived that an +opening might be made for my brother Henry by erecting some bazaar +or extended shop in one of the Western cities. Whence the money +came I do not know, but the pocket-knives and the pepper-boxes were +bought and the bazaar built. I have seen it since in the town of +Cincinnati,--a sorry building! But I have been told that in those +days it was an imposing edifice. My mother went first, with my +sisters and second brother. Then my father followed them, taking my +elder brother before he went to Oxford. But there was an interval +of some year and a half during which he and I were in Winchester +together. + +Over a period of forty years, since I began my manhood at a desk +in the Post Office, I and my brother, Thomas Adolphus, have been +fast friends. There have been hot words between us, for perfect +friendship bears and allows hot words. Few brothers have had more +of brotherhood. But in those schooldays he was, of all my foes, +the worst. In accordance with the practice of the college, which +submits, or did then submit, much of the tuition of the younger +boys from the elder, he was my tutor; and in his capacity of teacher +and ruler, he had studied the theories of Draco. I remember well +how he used to exact obedience after the manner of that lawgiver. +Hang a little boy for stealing apples, he used to say, and other +little boys will not steal apples. The doctrine was already exploded +elsewhere, but he stuck to it with conservative energy. The result +was that, as a part of his daily exercise, he thrashed me with a big +stick. That such thrashings should have been possible at a school +as a continual part of one's daily life, seems to me to argue a +very ill condition of school discipline. + +At this period I remember to have passed one set of holidays--the +midsummer holidays--in my father's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. There +was often a difficulty about the holidays,--as to what should be +done with me. On this occasion my amusement consisted in wandering +about among those old deserted buildings, and in reading Shakespeare +out of a bi-columned edition, which is still among my books. It +was not that I had chosen Shakespeare, but that there was nothing +else to read. + +After a while my brother left Winchester and accompanied my father +to America. Then another and a different horror fell to my fate. +My college bills had not been paid, and the school tradesmen who +administered to the wants of the boys were told not to extend their +credit to me. Boots, waistcoats, and pocket-handkerchiefs, which, +with some slight superveillance, were at the command of other +scholars, were closed luxuries to me. My schoolfellows of course +knew that it was so, and I became a Pariah. It is the nature of +boys to be cruel. I have sometimes doubted whether among each other +they do usually suffer much, one from the other's cruelty; but I +suffered horribly! I could make no stand against it. I had no friend +to whom I could pour out my sorrows. I was big, and awkward, and +ugly, and, I have no doubt, sulked about in a most unattractive +manner. Of course I was ill-dressed and dirty. But ah! how well +I remember all the agonies of my young heart; how I considered +whether I should always be alone; whether I could not find my way +up to the top of that college tower, and from thence put an end to +everything? And a worse thing came than the stoppage of the supplies +from the shopkeepers. Every boy had a shilling a week pocket-money, +which we called battels, and which was advanced to us out of the +pocket of the second master. On one awful day the second master +announced to me that my battels would be stopped. He told me the +reason,--the battels for the last half-year had not been repaid; and +he urged his own unwillingness to advance the money. The loss of a +shilling a week would not have been much,--even though pocket-money +from other sources never reached me,--but that the other boys all +knew it! Every now and again, perhaps three or four times in a +half-year, these weekly shillings were given to certain servants +of the college, in payment, it may be presumed, for some extra +services. And now, when it came to the turn of any servant, he +received sixty-nine shillings instead of seventy, and the cause +of the defalcation was explained to him. I never saw one of those +servants without feeling I had picked his pocket. + +When I had been at Winchester something over three years, my father +returned to England and took me away. Whether this was done because +of the expense, or because my chance of New College was supposed +to have passed away, I do not know. As a fact, I should, I believe, +have gained the prize, as there occurred in my year an exceptional +number of vacancies. But it would have served me nothing, as there +would have been no funds for my maintenance at the University +till I should have entered in upon the fruition of the founder's +endowment, and my career at Oxford must have been unfortunate. + +When I left Winchester, I had three more years of school before me, +having as yet endured nine. My father at this time having left my +mother and sisters with my younger brother in America, took himself +to live at a wretched tumble-down farmhouse on the second farm +he had hired! And I was taken there with him. It was nearly three +miles from Harrow, at Harrow Weald, but in the parish; and from +this house I was again sent to that school as a day-boarder. Let +those who know what is the usual appearance and what the usual +appurtenances of a boy at such a school, consider what must have +been my condition among them, with a daily walk of twelve miles +through the lanes, added to the other little troubles and labours +of a school life! + +Perhaps the eighteen months which I passed in this condition, +walking to and fro on those miserably dirty lanes, was the worst +period of my life. I was now over fifteen, and had come to an age +at which I could appreciate at its full the misery of expulsion +from all social intercourse. I had not only no friends, but was +despised by all my companions. The farmhouse was not only no more +than a farmhouse, but was one of those farmhouses which seem always +to be in danger of falling into the neighbouring horse-pond. As it +crept downwards from house to stables, from stables to barns, from +barns to cowsheds, and from cowsheds to dungheaps, one could hardly +tell where one began and the other ended! There was a parlour in +which my father lived, shut up among big books; but I passed my most +jocund hours in the kitchen, making innocent love to the bailiff's +daughter. The farm kitchen might be very well through the evening, +when the horrors of the school were over; but it all added to the +cruelty of the days. A sizar at a Cambridge college, or a Bible-clerk +at Oxford, has not pleasant days, or used not to have them half a +century ago; but his position was recognised, and the misery was +measured. I was a sizar at a fashionable school, a condition never +premeditated. What right had a wretched farmer's boy, reeking from +a dunghill, to sit next to the sons of peers,--or much worse still, +next to the sons of big tradesmen who made their ten thousand a +year? The indignities I endured are not to be described. As I look +back it seems to me that all hands were turned against me,--those +of masters as well as boys. I was allowed to join in no plays. Nor +did I learn anything,--for I was taught nothing. The only expense, +except that of books, to which a house-boarder was then subject, +was the fee to a tutor, amounting, I think, to ten guineas. My +tutor took me without the fee; but when I heard him declare the fact +in the pupil-room before the boys, I hardly felt grateful for the +charity. I was never a coward, and cared for a thrashing as little +as any boy, but one cannot make a stand against the acerbities of +three hundred tyrants without a moral courage of which at that time +I possessed none. I know that I skulked, and was odious to the eyes +of those I admired and envied. At last I was driven to rebellion, +and there came a great fight,--at the end of which my opponent +had to be taken home for a while. If these words be ever printed, +I trust that some schoolfellow of those days may still be left alive +who will be able to say that, in claiming this solitary glory of +my school-days, I am not making a false boast. + +I wish I could give some adequate picture of the gloom of that +farmhouse. My elder brother--Tom as I must call him in my narrative, +though the world, I think, knows him best as Adolphus--was at Oxford. +My father and I lived together, he having no means of living except +what came from the farm. My memory tells me that he was always +in debt to his landlord and to the tradesmen he employed. Of +self-indulgence no one could accuse him. Our table was poorer, I +think, than that of the bailiff who still hung on to our shattered +fortunes. The furniture was mean and scanty. There was a large +rambling kitchen-garden, but no gardener; and many times verbal +incentives were made to me,--generally, I fear, in vain,--to +get me to lend a hand at digging and planting. Into the hayfields +on holidays I was often compelled to go,--not, I fear, with much +profit. My father's health was very bad. During the last ten years +of his life, he spent nearly the half of his time in bed, suffering +agony from sick headaches. But he was never idle unless when +suffering. He had at this time commenced a work,--an Encyclopedia +Ecclesiastica, as he called it,--on which he laboured to the moment +of his death. It was his ambition to describe all ecclesiastical +terms, including the denominations of every fraternity of monks +and every convent of nuns, with all their orders and subdivisions. +Under crushing disadvantages, with few or no books of reference, +with immediate access to no library, he worked at his most ungrateful +task with unflagging industry. When he died, three numbers out +of eight had been published by subscription; and are now, I fear, +unknown, and buried in the midst of that huge pile of futile +literature, the building up of which has broken so many hearts. + +And my father, though he would try, as it were by a side wind, to +get a useful spurt of work out of me, either in the garden or in +the hay-field, had constantly an eye to my scholastic improvement. +From my very babyhood, before those first days at Harrow, I had to +take my place alongside of him as he shaved at six o'clock in the +morning, and say my early rules from the Latin Grammar, or repeat +the Greek alphabet; and was obliged at these early lessons to hold +my head inclined towards him, so that in the event of guilty fault, +he might be able to pull my hair without stopping his razor or +dropping his shaving-brush. No father was ever more anxious for +the education of his children, though I think none ever knew less +how to go about the work. Of amusement, as far as I can remember, +he never recognised the need. He allowed himself no distraction, +and did not seem to think it was necessary to a child. I cannot +bethink me of aught that he ever did for my gratification; but for +my welfare,--for the welfare of us all,--he was willing to make +any sacrifice. At this time, in the farmhouse at Harrow Weald, +he could not give his time to teach me, for every hour that he was +not in the fields was devoted to his monks and nuns; but he would +require me to sit at a table with Lexicon and Gradus before me. +As I look back on my resolute idleness and fixed determination to +make no use whatever of the books thus thrust upon me, or of the +hours, and as I bear in mind the consciousness of great energy in +after-life, I am in doubt whether my nature is wholly altered, or +whether his plan was wholly bad. In those days he never punished +me, though I think I grieved him much by my idleness; but in passion +he knew not what he did, and he has knocked me down with the great +folio Bible which he always used. In the old house were the two first +volumes of Cooper's novel, called The Prairie, a relic--probably a +dishonest relic--of some subscription to Hookham's library. Other +books of the kind there was none. I wonder how many dozen times I +read those two first volumes. + +It was the horror of those dreadful walks backwards and forwards +which made my life so bad. What so pleasant, what so sweet, as a +walk along an English lane, when the air is sweet and the weather +fine, and when there is a charm in walking? But here were the same +lanes four times a day, in wet and dry, in heat and summer, with +all the accompanying mud and dust, and with disordered clothes. I +might have been known among all the boys at a hundred yards' distance +by my boots and trousers,--and was conscious at all times that I +was so known. I remembered constantly that address from Dr. Butler +when I was a little boy. Dr. Longley might with equal justice have +said the same thing any day,--only that Dr. Longley never in his +life was able to say an ill-natured word. Dr. Butler only became +Dean of Peterborough, but his successor lived to be Archbishop of +Canterbury. + +I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest +of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the +farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a +book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary +success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to +the house at Harrow,--not to the first house, which would still have +been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called +Orley Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at +Harrow Weald. Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved +circumstances. The three miles became half a mile, and probably +some salutary changes were made in my wardrobe. My mother and +my sisters, too, were there. And a great element of happiness was +added to us all in the affectionate and life-enduring friendship +of the family of our close neighbour Colonel Grant. But I was never +able to overcome--or even to attempt to overcome--the absolute +isolation of my school position. Of the cricket-ground or racket-court +I was allowed to know nothing. And yet I longed for these things +with an exceeding longing. I coveted popularity with a covetousness +that was almost mean. It seemed to me that there would be an +Elysium in the intimacy of those very boys whom I was bound to hate +because they hated me. Something of the disgrace of my school-days +has clung to me all through life. Not that I have ever shunned to +speak of them as openly as I am writing now, but that when I have +been claimed as schoolfellow by some of those many hundreds who +were with me either at Harrow or at Winchester, I have felt that +I had no right to talk of things from most of which I was kept in +estrangement. + +Through all my father's troubles he still desired to send me either +to Oxford or Cambridge. My elder brother went to Oxford, and Henry +to Cambridge. It all depended on my ability to get some scholarship +that would help me to live at the University. I had many chances. +There were exhibitions from Harrow--which I never got. Twice I tried +for a sizarship at Clare Hall,--but in vain. Once I made a futile +attempt for a scholarship at Trinity, Oxford,--but failed again. Then +the idea of a university career was abandoned. And very fortunate +it was that I did not succeed, for my career with such assistance +only as a scholarship would have given me, would have ended in debt +and ignominy. + +When I left Harrow I was all but nineteen, and I had at first gone +there at seven. During the whole of those twelve years no attempt +had been made to teach me anything but Latin and Greek, and very +little attempt to teach me those languages. I do not remember +any lessons either in writing or arithmetic. French and German I +certainly was not taught. The assertion will scarcely be credited, +but I do assert that I have no recollection of other tuition +except that in the dead languages. At the school at Sunbury there +was certainly a writing master and a French master. The latter was +an extra, and I never had extras. I suppose I must have been in +the writing master's class, but though I can call to mind the man, +I cannot call to mind his ferule. It was by their ferules that I +always knew them, and they me. I feel convinced in my mind that I +have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just +possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and +I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over +half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true; but +if I did not, nobody ever did. + +And yet when I think how little I knew of Latin or Greek on leaving +Harrow at nineteen, I am astonished at the possibility of such +waste of time. I am now a fair Latin scholar,--that is to say, I +read and enjoy the Latin classics, and could probably make myself +understood in Latin prose. But the knowledge which I have, I have +acquired since I left school,--no doubt aided much by that groundwork +of the language which will in the process of years make its way +slowly, even through the skin. There were twelve years of tuition +in which I do not remember that I ever knew a lesson! When I left +Harrow I was nearly at the top of the school, being a monitor, and, +I think, the seventh boy. This position I achieved by gravitation +upwards. I bear in mind well with how prodigal a hand prizes used +to be showered about; but I never got a prize. From the first to +the last there was nothing satisfactory in my school career,--except +the way in which I licked the boy who had to be taken home to be +cured. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +MY MOTHER + + + + +Though I do not wish in these pages to go back to the origin of +all the Trollopes, I must say a few words of my mother,--partly +because filial duty will not allow me to be silent as to a parent +who made for herself a considerable name in the literature of her +day, and partly because there were circumstances in her career +well worthy of notice. She was the daughter of the Rev. William +Milton, vicar of Heckfield, who, as well as my father, had been +a fellow of New College. She was nearly thirty when, in 1809, she +married my father. Six or seven years ago a bundle of love-letters +from her to him fell into my hand in a very singular way, having +been found in the house of a stranger, who, with much courtesy, +sent them to me. They were then about sixty years old, and had been +written some before and some after her marriage, over the space of +perhaps a year. In no novel of Richardson's or Miss Burney's have +I seen a correspondence at the same time so sweet, so graceful, +and so well expressed. But the marvel of these letters was in the +strange difference they bore to the love-letters of the present +day. They are, all of them, on square paper, folded and sealed, +and addressed to my father on circuit; but the language in each, +though it almost borders on the romantic, is beautifully chosen, +and fit, without change of a syllable, for the most critical eye. +What girl now studies the words with which she shall address her +lover, or seeks to charm him with grace of diction? She dearly likes +a little slang, and revels in the luxury of entire familiarity with +a new and strange being. There is something in that, too, pleasant +to our thoughts, but I fear that this phase of life does not conduce +to a taste for poetry among our girls. Though my mother was a writer +of prose, and revelled in satire, the poetic feeling clung to her +to the last. + +In the first ten years of her married life she became the mother of +six children, four of whom died of consumption at different ages. +My elder sister married, and had children, of whom one still lives; +but she was one of the four who followed each other at intervals +during my mother's lifetime. Then my brother Tom and I were left to +her,--with the destiny before us three of writing more books than +were probably ever before produced by a single family. [Footnote: +The family of Estienne, the great French printers of the fifteenth +and sixteenth centuries, of whom there were at least nine or ten, +did more perhaps for the production of literature than any other +family. But they, though they edited, and not unfrequently translated +the works which they published, were not authors in the ordinary +sense.] My married sister added to the number by one little anonymous +high church story, called Chollerton. + +From the date of their marriage up to 1827, when my mother went +to America, my father's affairs had always been going down in the +world. She had loved society, affecting a somewhat liberal role +and professing an emotional dislike to tyrants, which sprung from +the wrongs of would-be regicides and the poverty of patriot exiles. +An Italian marquis who had escaped with only a second shirt from +the clutches of some archduke whom he had wished to exterminate, +or a French proletaire with distant ideas of sacrificing himself to +the cause of liberty, were always welcome to the modest hospitality +of her house. In after years, when marquises of another caste had +been gracious to her, she became a strong Tory, and thought that +archduchesses were sweet. But with her politics were always an affair +of the heart,--as, indeed, were all her convictions. Of reasoning +from causes, I think that she knew nothing. Her heart was in +every way so perfect, her desire to do good to all around her so +thorough, and her power of self-sacrifice so complete, that she +generally got herself right in spite of her want of logic; but it +must be acknowledged that she was emotional. I can remember now her +books, and can see her at her pursuits. The poets she loved best +were Dante and Spenser. But she raved also of him of whom all such +ladies were raving then, and rejoiced in the popularity and wept +over the persecution of Lord Byron. She was among those who seized +with avidity on the novels, as they came out, of the then unknown +Scott, and who could still talk of the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth. +With the literature of the day she was familiar, and with the poets +of the past. Of other reading I do not think she had mastered much. +Her life, I take it, though latterly clouded by many troubles, was +easy, luxurious, and idle, till my father's affairs and her own +aspirations sent her to America. She had dear friends among literary +people, of whom I remember Mathias, Henry Milman, and Miss Landon; +but till long after middle life she never herself wrote a line for +publication. + +In 1827 she went to America, having been partly instigated by the +social and communistic ideas of a lady whom I well remember,--a +certain Miss Wright,--who was, I think, the first of the American +female lecturers. Her chief desire, however, was to establish +my brother Henry; and perhaps joined with that was the additional +object of breaking up her English home without pleading broken +fortunes to all the world. At Cincinnati, in the State of Ohio, +she built a bazaar, and I fancy lost all the money which may have +been embarked in that speculation. It could not have been much, and +I think that others also must have suffered. But she looked about +her, at her American cousins, and resolved to write a book about +them. This book she brought back with her in 1831, and published +it early in 1832. When she did this she was already fifty. When +doing this she was aware that unless she could so succeed in making +money, there was no money for any of the family. She had never before +earned a shilling. She almost immediately received a considerable +sum from the publishers,--if I remember rightly, amounting to two +sums of œ400 each within a few months; and from that moment till +nearly the time of her death, at any rate for more than twenty +years, she was in the receipt of a considerable income from her +writings. It was a late age at which to begin such a career. + +The Domestic Manners of the Americans was the first of a series +of books of travels, of which it was probably the best, and was +certainly the best known. It will not be too much to say of it that +it had a material effect upon the manners of the Americans of the +day, and that that effect has been fully appreciated by them. No +observer was certainly ever less qualified to judge of the prospects +or even of the happiness of a young people. No one could have been +worse adapted by nature for the task of learning whether a nation +was in a way to thrive. Whatever she saw she judged, as most women +do, from her own standing-point. If a thing were ugly to her eyes, +it ought to be ugly to all eyes,--and if ugly, it must be bad. +What though people had plenty to eat and clothes to wear, if they +put their feet upon the tables and did not reverence their betters? +The Americans were to her rough, uncouth, and vulgar,--and she +told them so. Those communistic and social ideas, which had been so +pretty in a drawing-room, were scattered to the winds. Her volumes +were very bitter; but they were very clever, and they saved the +family from ruin. + +Book followed book immediately,--first two novels, and then a book +on Belgium and Western Germany. She refurnished the house which +I have called Orley Farm, and surrounded us again with moderate +comforts. Of the mixture of joviality and industry which formed +her character, it is almost impossible to speak with exaggeration. +The industry was a thing apart, kept to herself. It was not necessary +that any one who lived with her should see it. She was at her table +at four in the morning, and had finished her work before the world +had begun to be aroused. But the joviality was all for others. +She could dance with other people's legs, eat and drink with other +people's palates, be proud with the lustre of other people's finery. +Every mother can do that for her own daughters; but she could do it +for any girl whose look, and voice, and manners pleased her. Even +when she was at work, the laughter of those she loved was a pleasure +to her. She had much, very much, to suffer. Work sometimes came +hard to her, so much being required,--for she was extravagant, and +liked to have money to spend; but of all people I have known she +was the most joyous, or, at any rate, the most capable of joy. + +We continued this renewed life at Harrow for nearly two years, +during which I was still at the school, and at the end of which +I was nearly nineteen. Then there came a great catastrophe. My +father, who, when he was well, lived a sad life among his monks and +nuns, still kept a horse and gig. One day in March, 1834, just as +it had been decided that I should leave the school then, instead +of remaining, as had been intended, till midsummer, I was summoned +very early in the morning, to drive him up to London. He had been +ill, and must still have been very ill indeed when he submitted to +be driven by any one. It was not till we had started that he told +me that I was to put him on board the Ostend boat. This I did, +driving him through the city down to the docks. It was not within +his nature to be communicative, and to the last he never told me +why he was going to Ostend. Something of a general flitting abroad +I had heard before, but why he should have flown first, and flown +so suddenly, I did not in the least know till I returned. When I got +back with the gig, the house and furniture were all in the charge +of the sheriff's officers. + +The gardener who had been with us in former days stopped me as I +drove up the road, and with gestures, signs, and whispered words, +gave me to understand that the whole affair--horse, gig, and +barness--would be made prize of if I went but a few yards farther. +Why they should not have been made prize of I do not know. The +little piece of dishonest business which I at once took in hand +and carried through successfully was of no special service to any +of us. I drove the gig into the village, and sold the entire equipage +to the ironmonger for œ17, the exact sum which he claimed as being +due to himself. I was much complimented by the gardener, who seemed +to think that so much had been rescued out of the fire. I fancy +that the ironmonger was the only gainer by my smartness. + +When I got back to the house a scene of devastation was in progress, +which still was not without its amusement. My mother, through +her various troubles, had contrived to keep a certain number of +pretty-pretties which were dear to her heart. They were not much, +for in those days the ornamentation of houses was not lavish as it +is now; but there was some china, and a little glass, a few books, +and a very moderate supply of household silver. These things, and +things like them, were being carried down surreptitiously, through +a gap between the two gardens, on to the premises of our friend +Colonel Grant. My two sisters, then sixteen and seventeen, and the +Grant girls, who were just younger, were the chief marauders. To +such forces I was happy to add myself for any enterprise, and +between us we cheated the creditors to the extent of our powers, +amidst the anathemas, but good-humoured abstinence from personal +violence, of the men in charge of the property. I still own a few +books that were thus purloined. + +For a few days the whole family bivouacked under the Colonel's +hospitable roof, cared for and comforted by that dearest of all women, +his wife. Then we followed my father to Belgium, and established +ourselves in a large house just outside the walls of Bruges. At +this time, and till my father's death, everything was done with +money earned by my mother. She now again furnished the house,--this +being the third that she had put in order since she came back from +America two years and a half ago. + +There were six of us went into this new banishment. My brother +Henry had left Cambridge and was ill. My younger sister was ill. +And though as yet we hardly told each other that it was so, we began +to feel that that desolating fiend, consumption, was among us. My +father was broken-hearted as well as ill, but whenever he could +sit at his table he still worked at his ecclesiastical records. My +elder sister and I were in good health, but I was an idle, desolate +hanger-on, that most hopeless of human beings, a hobbledehoy +of nineteen, without any idea of a career, or a profession, or +a trade. As well as I can remember I was fairly happy, for there +were pretty girls at Bruges with whom I could fancy that I was in +love; and I had been removed from the real misery of school. But +as to my future life I had not even an aspiration. Now and again +there would arise a feeling that it was hard upon my mother that +she should have to do so much for us, that we should be idle while +she was forced to work so constantly; but we should probably have +thought more of that had she not taken to work as though it were +the recognised condition of life for an old lady of fifty-five. + +Then, by degrees, an established sorrow was at home among us. My +brother was an invalid, and the horrid word, which of all words were +for some years after the most dreadful to us, had been pronounced. +It was no longer a delicate chest, and some temporary necessity +for peculiar care,--but consumption! The Bruges doctor had said +so, and we knew that he was right. From that time forth my mother's +most visible occupation was that of nursing. There were two sick +men in the house, and hers were the hands that tended them. The +novels went on, of course. We had already learned to know that they +would be forthcoming at stated intervals,--and they always were +forthcoming. The doctor's vials and the ink-bottle held equal +places in my mother's rooms. I have written many novels under many +circumstances; but I doubt much whether I could write one when my +whole heart was by the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing +herself into two parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear +from the troubles of the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, +I never saw equalled. I do not think that the writing of a novel +is the most difficult task which a man may be called upon to do; +but it is a task that may be supposed to demand a spirit fairly +at ease. The work of doing it with a troubled spirit killed Sir +Walter Scott. My mother went through it unscathed in strength, +though she performed all the work of day-nurse and night-nurse to +a sick household;--for there were soon three of them dying. + +At this time there came from some quarter an offer to me of a +commission in an Austrian cavalry regiment; and so it was apparently +my destiny to be a soldier. But I must first learn German and +French, of which languages I knew almost nothing. For this a year +was allowed me, and in order that it might be accomplished without +expense, I undertook the duties of a classical usher to a school +then kept by William Drury at Brussels. Mr. Drury had been one of +the masters at Harrow when I went there at seven years old, and is +now, after an interval of fifty-three years, even yet officiating +as clergyman at that place. [Footnote: He died two years after +these words were written.] To Brussels I went, and my heart still +sinks within me as I reflect that any one should have intrusted to +me the tuition of thirty boys. I can only hope that those boys went +there to learn French, and that their parents were not particular +as to their classical acquirements. I remember that on two occasions +I was sent to take the school out for a walk; but that after the +second attempt Mrs. Drury declared that the boys' clothes would not +stand any further experiments of that kind. I cannot call to mind +any learning by me of other languages; but as I only remained in +that position for six weeks, perhaps the return lessons had not +been as yet commenced. At the end of the six weeks a letter reached +me, offering me a clerkship in the General Post Office, and I +accepted it. Among my mother's dearest friends she reckoned Mrs. +Freeling, the wife of Clayton Freeling, whose father, Sir Francis +Freeling, then ruled the Post Office. She had heard of my desolate +position, and had begged from her father-in-law the offer of a +berth in his own office. + +I hurried back from Brussels to Bruges on my way to London, and +found that the number of invalids had been increased. My younger +sister, Emily, who, when I had left the house, was trembling on +the balance,--who had been pronounced to be delicate, but with that +false-tongued hope which knows the truth, but will lie lest the +heart should faint, had been called delicate, but only delicate,--was +now ill. Of course she was doomed. I knew it of both of them, +though I had never heard the word spoken, or had spoken it to any +one. And my father was very ill,--ill to dying, though I did not +know it. And my mother had decreed to send my elder sister away to +England, thinking that the vicinity of so much sickness might be +injurious to her. All this happened late in the autumn of 1834, in +the spring of which year we had come to Bruges; and then my mother +was left alone in a big house outside the town, with two Belgian +women-servants, to nurse these dying patients--the patients being +her husband and children--and to write novels for the sustenance +of the family! It was about this period of her career that her best +novels were written. + +To my own initiation at the Post Office I will return in the next +chapter. Just before Christmas my brother died, and was buried at +Bruges. In the following February my father died, and was buried +alongside of him,--and with him died that tedious task of his, +which I can only hope may have solaced many of his latter hours. I +sometimes look back, meditating for hours together, on his adverse +fate. He was a man, finely educated, of great parts, with immense +capacity for work, physically strong very much beyond the average +of men, addicted to no vices, carried off by no pleasures, affectionate +by nature, most anxious for the welfare of his children, born to +fair fortunes,--who, when he started in the world, may be said to +have had everything at his feet. But everything went wrong with +him. The touch of his hand seemed to create failure. He embarked +in one hopeless enterprise after another, spending on each all the +money he could at the time command. But the worse curse to him of +all was a temper so irritable that even those whom he loved the +best could not endure it. We were all estranged from him, and yet +I believe that he would have given his heart's blood for any of +us. His life as I knew it was one long tragedy. + +After his death my mother moved to England, and took and furnished +a small house at Hadley, near Barnet. I was then a clerk in the +London Post Office, and I remember well how gay she made the place +with little dinners, little dances, and little picnics, while +she herself was at work every morning long before others had left +their beds. But she did not stay at Hadley much above a year. She +went up to London, where she again took and furnished a house, +from which my remaining sister was married and carried away into +Cumberland. My mother soon followed her, and on this occasion did +more than take a house. She bought a bit of land,--a field of three +acres near the town,--and built a residence for herself. This, I +think, was in 1841, and she had thus established and re-established +herself six times in ten years. But in Cumberland she found the +climate too severe, and in 1844 she moved herself to Florence, +where she remained till her death in 1863. She continued writing +up to 1856, when she was seventy-six years old,--and had at that +time produced 114 volumes, of which the first was not written till +she was fifty. Her career offers great encouragement to those who +have not begun early in life, but are still ambitious to do something +before they depart hence. + +She was an unselfish, affectionate, and most industrious woman, +with great capacity for enjoyment and high physical gifts. She was +endowed too, with much creative power, with considerable humour, +and a genuine feeling for romance. But she was neither clear-sighted +nor accurate; and in her attempts to describe morals, manners, and +even facts, was unable to avoid the pitfalls of exaggeration. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GENERAL POST OFFICE + +1834-1841 + + + + +While I was still learning my duty as an usher at Mr. Drury's +school at Brussels, I was summoned to my clerkship in the London +Post Office, and on my way passed through Bruges. I then saw my +father and my brother Henry for the last time. A sadder household +never was held together. They were all dying; except my mother, who +would sit up night after night nursing the dying ones and writing +novels the while,--so that there might be a decent roof for them +to die under. Had she failed to write the novels, I do not know +where the roof would have been found. It is now more that forty +years ago, and looking back over so long a lapse of time I can tell +the story, though it be the story of my own father and mother, of +my own brother and sister, almost as coldly as I have often done +some scene of intended pathos in fiction; but that scene was indeed +full of pathos. I was then becoming alive to the blighted ambition +of my father's life, and becoming alive also to the violence of the +strain which my mother was enduring. But I could do nothing but go +and leave them. There was something that comforted me in the idea +that I need no longer be a burden,--a fallacious idea, as it soon +proved. My salary was to be œ90 a year, and on that I was to live +in œondon, keep up my character as a gentleman, and be happy. +That I should have thought this possible at the age of nineteen, +and should have been delighted at being able to make the attempt, +does not surprise me now; but that others should have thought it +possible, friends who knew something of the world, does astonish +me. A lad might have done so, no doubt, or might do so even in +these days, who was properly looked after and kept under control,--on +whose behalf some law of life had been laid down. Let him pay so +much a week for his board and lodging, so much for his clothes, so +much for his washing, and then let him understand that he has--shall +we say?--sixpence a day left for pocket-money and omnibuses. Any +one making the calculation will find the sixpence far too much. No +such calculation was made for me or by me. It was supposed that a +sufficient income had been secured to me, and that I should live +upon it as other clerks lived. + +But as yet the œ90 a year was not secured to me. On reaching London +I went to my friend Clayton Freeling, who was then secretary at +the Stamp Office, and was taken by him to the scene of my future +labours in St. Martin's le Grand. Sir Francis Freeling was the +secretary, but he was greatly too high an official to be seen at +first by a new junior clerk. I was taken, therefore, to his eldest +son Henry Freeling, who was the assistant secretary, and by him +I was examined as to my fitness. The story of that examination is +given accurately in one of the opening chapters of a novel written +by me, called The Three Clerks. If any reader of this memoir would +refer to that chapter and see how Charley Tudor was supposed to have +been admitted into the Internal Navigation Office, that reader +will learn how Anthony Trollope was actually admitted into the +Secretary's office of the General Post Office in 1834. I was asked +to copy some lines from the Times newspaper with an old quill pen, +and at once made a series of blots and false spellings. "That +won't do, you know," said Henry Freeling to his brother Clayton. +Clayton, who was my friend, urged that I was nervous, and asked +that I might be allowed to do a bit of writing at home and bring +it as a sample on the next day. I was then asked whether I was +a proficient in arithmetic. What could I say? I had never learned +the multiplication table, and had no more idea of the rule of three +than of conic sections. "I know a little of it," I said humbly, +whereupon I was sternly assured that on the morrow, should I succeed +in showing that my handwriting was all that it ought to be, I should +be examined as to that little of arithmetic. If that little should +not be found to comprise a thorough knowledge of all the ordinary +rules, together with practised and quick skill, my career in life +could not be made at the Post Office. Going down the main stairs +of the building,--stairs which have I believe been now pulled down +to make room for sorters and stampers,--Clayton Freeling told me +not to be too down-hearted. I was myself inclined to think that I +had better go back to the school in Brussels. But nevertheless I +went to work, and under the surveillance of my elder brother made +a beautiful transcript of four or five pages of Gibbon. With a +faltering heart I took these on the next day to the office. With +my caligraphy I was contented, but was certain that I should come +to the ground among the figures. But when I got to "The Grand," +as we used to call our office in those days, from its site in +St. Martin's le Grand, I was seated at a desk without any further +reference to my competency. No one condescended even to look at my +beautiful penmanship. + +That was the way in which candidates for the Civil Service were +examined in my young days. It was at any rate the way in which I +was examined. Since that time there has been a very great change +indeed;--and in some respects a great improvement. But in regard +to the absolute fitness of the young men selected for the public +service, I doubt whether more harm has not been done than good. And +I think that good might have been done without the harm. The rule +of the present day is, that every place shall be open to public +competition, and that it shall be given to the best among the +comers. I object to this, that at present there exists no known +mode of learning who is best, and that the method employed has no +tendency to elicit the best. That method pretends only to decide +who among a certain number of lads will best answer a string of +questions, for the answering of which they are prepared by tutors, +who have sprung up for the purpose since this fashion of election +has been adopted. When it is decided in a family that a boy shall +"try the Civil Service," he is made to undergo a certain amount of +cramming. But such treatment has, I maintain, no connection whatever +with education. The lad is no better fitted after it than he was +before for the future work of his life. But his very success fills +him with false ideas of his own educational standing, and so far +unfits him. And, by the plan now in vogue, it has come to pass that +no one is in truth responsible either for the conduct, the manners, +or even for the character of the youth. The responsibility was +perhaps slight before; but existed, and was on the increase. + +There might have been,--in some future time of still increased +wisdom, there yet may be,--a department established to test the +fitness of acolytes without recourse to the dangerous optimism of +competitive choice. I will not say but that there should have been +some one to reject me,--though I will have the hardihood to say +that, had I been so rejected, the Civil Service would have lost +a valuable public servant. This is a statement that will not, I +think, be denied by those who, after I am gone, may remember anything +of my work. Lads, no doubt, should not be admitted who have none of +the small acquirements that are wanted. Our offices should not be +schools in which writing and early lessons in geography, arithmetic, +or French should be learned. But all that could be ascertained +without the perils of competitive examination. + +The desire to insure the efficiency of the young men selected, has +not been the only object--perhaps not the chief object--of those +who have yielded in this matter to the arguments of the reformers. +There had arisen in England a system of patronage, under which it +had become gradually necessary for politicians to use their influence +for the purchase of political support. A member of the House of +Commons, holding office, who might chance to have five clerkships +to give away in a year, found himself compelled to distribute them +among those who sent him to the House. In this there was nothing +pleasant to the distributer of patronage. Do away with the system +altogether, and he would have as much chance of support as another. +He bartered his patronage only because another did so also. The +beggings, the refusings, the jealousies, the correspondence, were +simply troublesome. Gentlemen in office were not therefore indisposed +to rid themselves of the care of patronage. I have no doubt their +hands are the cleaner and their hearts are the lighter; but I do +doubt whether the offices are on the whole better manned. + +As what I now write will certainly never be read till I am dead, I +may dare to say what no one now does dare to say in print,--though +some of us whisper it occasionally into our friends' ears. There +are places in life which can hardly be well filled except by +"Gentlemen." The word is one the use of which almost subjects one +to ignominy. If I say that a judge should be a gentleman, or a +bishop, I am met with a scornful allusion to "Nature's Gentlemen." +Were I to make such an assertion with reference to the House of +Commons, nothing that I ever said again would receive the slightest +attention. A man in public life could not do himself a greater +injury than by saying in public that the commissions in the army or +navy, or berths in the Civil Service, should be given exclusively +to gentlemen. He would be defied to define the term,--and would +fail should he attempt to do so. But he would know what he meant, +and so very probably would they who defied him. It may be that the +son of a butcher of the village shall become as well fitted for +employments requiring gentle culture as the son of the parson. +Such is often the case. When such is the case, no one has been more +prone to give the butcher's son all the welcome he has merited than +I myself; but the chances are greatly in favour of the parson's son. +The gates of the one class should be open to the other; but neither +to the one class nor to the other can good be done by declaring +that there are no gates, no barrier, no difference. The system of +competitive examination is, I think, based on a supposition that +there is no difference. + +I got into my place without any examining. Looking back now, I think +I can see with accuracy what was then the condition of my own mind +and intelligence. Of things to be learned by lessons I knew almost +less than could be supposed possible after the amount of schooling +I had received. I could read neither French, Latin, nor Greek. +I could speak no foreign language,--and I may as well say here as +elsewhere that I never acquired the power of really talking French. +I have been able to order my dinner and take a railway ticket, but +never got much beyond that. Of the merest rudiments of the sciences +I was completely ignorant. My handwriting was in truth wretched. My +spelling was imperfect. There was no subject as to which examination +would have been possible on which I could have gone through an +examination otherwise than disgracefully. And yet I think I knew +more than the average young men of the same rank who began life at +nineteen. I could have given a fuller list of the names of the poets +of all countries, with their subjects and periods,--and probably +of historians,--than many others; and had, perhaps, a more accurate +idea of the manner in which my own country was governed. I knew the +names of all the Bishops, all the Judges, all the Heads of Colleges, +and all the Cabinet Ministers,--not a very useful knowledge indeed, +but one that had not been acquired without other matter which was +more useful. I had read Shakespeare and Byron and Scott, and could +talk about them. The music of the Miltonic line was familiar to +me. I had already made up my mind that Pride and Prejudice was the +best novel in the English language,--a palm which I only partially +withdrew after a second reading of Ivanhoe, and did not completely +bestow elsewhere till Esmond was written. And though I would +occasionally break down in my spelling, I could write a letter. If +I had a thing to say, I could so say it in written words that the +readers should know what I meant,--a power which is by no means +at the command of all those who come out from these competitive +examinations with triumph. Early in life, at the age of fifteen, +I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal, and this +I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession +unregarded--never looked at--till 1870, when I examined them, and, +with many blushes, destroyed them. They convicted me of folly, +ignorance, indiscretion, idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But +they had habituated me to the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught +me how to express myself with faculty. + +I will mention here another habit which had grown upon me from +still earlier years,--which I myself often regarded with dismay +when I thought of the hours devoted to it, but which, I suppose, +must have tended to make me what I have been. As a boy, even as a +child, I was thrown much upon myself. I have explained, when speaking +of my school-days, how it came to pass that other boys would not +play with me. I was therefore alone, and had to form my plays +within myself. Play of some kind was necessary to me then, as it +always has been. Study was not my bent, and I could not please +myself by being all idle. Thus it came to pass that I was always +going about with some castle in the air firmly build within my +mind. Nor were these efforts in architecture spasmodic, or subject +to constant change from day to day. For weeks, for months, if +I remember rightly, from year to year, I would carry on the same +tale, binding myself down to certain laws, to certain proportions, +and proprieties, and unities. Nothing impossible was ever +introduced,--nor even anything which, from outward circumstances, +would seem to be violently improbable. I myself was of course my own +hero. Such is a necessity of castle-building. But I never became a +king, or a duke,--much less when my height and personal appearance +were fixed could I be an Antinous, or six feet high. I never was +a learned man, nor even a philosopher. But I was a very clever +person, and beautiful young women used to be fond of me. And I +strove to be kind of heart, and open of hand, and noble in thought, +despising mean things; and altogether I was a very much better +fellow than I have ever succeeded in being since. This had been +the occupation of my life for six or seven years before I went to +the Post Office, and was by no means abandoned when I commenced +my work. There can, I imagine, hardly be a more dangerous mental +practice; but I have often doubted whether, had it not been my +practice, I should ever have written a novel. I learned in this way +to maintain an interest in a fictitious story, to dwell on a work +created by my own imagination, and to live in a world altogether +outside the world of my own material life. In after years I have +done the same,--with this difference, that I have discarded the +hero of my early dreams, and have been able to lay my own identity +aside. + +I must certainly acknowledge that the first seven years of my +official life were neither creditable to myself nor useful to the +public service. These seven years were passed in London, and during +this period of my life it was my duty to be present every morning +at the office punctually at 10 A.M. I think I commenced my quarrels +with the authorities there by having in my possession a watch +which was always ten minutes late. I know that I very soon achieved +a character for irregularity, and came to be regarded as a black +sheep by men around me who were not themselves, I think, very +good public servants. From time to time rumours reached me that if +I did not take care I should be dismissed; especially one rumour +in my early days, through my dearly beloved friend Mrs. Clayton +Freeling,--who, as I write this, is still living, and who, with +tears in her eyes, besought me to think of my mother. That was during +the life of Sir Francis Freeling, who died,--still in harness,--a +little more than twelve months after I joined the office. And yet +the old man showed me signs of almost affectionate kindness, writing +to me with his own hand more than once from his death-bed. + +Sir Francis Freeling was followed at the Post Office by Colonel +Maberly, who certainly was not my friend. I do not know that I +deserved to find a friend in my new master, but I think that a man +with better judgment would not have formed so low an opinion of +me as he did. Years have gone by, and I can write now, and almost +feel, without anger; but I can remember well the keenness of my +anguish when I was treated as though I were unfit for any useful +work. I did struggle--not to do the work, for there was nothing +which was not easy without any struggling--but to show that I +was willing to do it. My bad character nevertheless stuck to me, +and was not to be got rid of by any efforts within my power. I do +admit that I was irregular. It was not considered to be much in +my favour that I could write letters--which was mainly the work of +our office--rapidly, correctly, and to the purpose. The man who +came at ten, and who was always still at his desk at half-past four, +was preferred before me, though when at his desk he might be less +efficient. Such preference was no doubt proper; but, with a little +encouragement, I also would have been punctual. I got credit for +nothing and was reckless. + +As it was, the conduct of some of us was very bad. There was a +comfortable sitting-room up-stairs, devoted to the use of some one +of our number who in turn was required to remain in the place all +night. Hither one or two of us would adjourn after lunch, and +play ecarte for an hour or two. I do not know whether such ways +are possible now in our public offices. And here we used to have +suppers and card-parties at night--great symposiums, with much +smoking of tobacco; for in our part of the building there lived a +whole bevy of clerks. These were gentlemen whose duty it then was +to make up and receive the foreign mails. I do not remember that +they worked later or earlier than the other sorting-clerks; but +there was supposed to be something special in foreign letters, +which required that the men who handled them should have minds +undistracted by the outer world. Their salaries, too, were higher +than those of their more homely brethren; and they paid nothing +for their lodgings. Consequently there was a somewhat fast set in +those apartments, given to cards and to tobacco, who drank spirits +and water in preference to tea. I was not one of them, but was a +good deal with them. + +I do not know that I should interest my readers by saying much of +my Post Office experiences in those days. I was always on the eve +of being dismissed, and yet was always striving to show how good a +public servant I could become, if only a chance were given me. But +the chance went the wrong way. On one occasion, in the performance +of my duty, I had to put a private letter containing bank-notes on +the secretary's table,--which letter I had duly opened, as it was +not marked private. The letter was seen by the Colonel, but had +not been moved by him when he left the room. On his return it was +gone. In the meantime I had returned to the room, again in the +performance of some duty. When the letter was missed I was sent +for, and there I found the Colonel much moved about his letter, and +a certain chief clerk, who, with a long face, was making suggestions +as to the probable fate of the money. "The letter has been taken," +said the Colonel, turning to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has +been nobody in the room but you and I." As he spoke, he thundered +his fist down upon the table. "Then," said I, "by G----! you have +taken it." And I also thundered my fist down;--but, accidentally, +not upon the table. There was there a standing movable desk, at +which, I presume, it was the Colonel's habit to write, and on this +movable desk was a large bottle full of ink. My fist unfortunately +came on the desk, and the ink at once flew up, covering the Colonel's +face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight to see that senior clerk, +as he seized a quite of blotting-paper, and rushed to the aid of his +superior officer, striving to mop up the ink; and a sight also to +see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out through the blotting-paper +at that senior clerk's unoffending stomach. At that moment there +came in the Colonel's private secretary, with the letter and the +money, and I was desired to go back to my own room. This was an +incident not much in my favour, though I do not know that it did +me special harm. + +I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had +taken it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very +foolish young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish. +I need not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise +than by protesting that no young man in such a position was ever +much less to blame than I had been in this. The invitation had +come from her, and I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided +negative; but I had left the house within half an hour, going away +without my dinner, and had never returned to it. Then there was a +correspondence,--if that can be called a correspondence in which +all the letters came from one side. At last the mother appeared at +the Post Office. My hair almost stands on my head now as I remember +the figure of the woman walking into the big room in which I sat +with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket on her arm and +an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured +to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man +in, and walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud +voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?" +We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I +lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These +little incidents were all against me in the office. + +And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official +view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely +at this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state +of things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I +think, œ12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender. +With that man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square, +I formed a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance. +In cash I once received from him œ4. For that and for the original +amount of the tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated +renewals, I paid ultimately something over œ200. That is so common +a story as to be hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of +this man was that he became so attached to me as to visit me every +day at my office. For a long period he found it to be worth his +while to walk up those stone steps daily, and come and stand behind +my chair, whispering to me always the same words: "Now I wish you +would be punctual. If you only would be punctual, I should like +you to have anything you want." He was a little, clean, old man, +who always wore a high starched white cravat inside of which he +had a habit of twisting his chin as he uttered his caution. When I +remember the constant persistency of his visits, I cannot but feel +that he was paid very badly for his time and trouble. Those visits +were very terrible, and can have hardly been of service to me in +the office. + +Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must +tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always +told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the +presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of +the Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion +when I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty +years old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven +in the evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think +Saxony, but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night +mails sent out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches, +this was a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see +it. But preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit +of the office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion +we were taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore +gave the orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building, +walking backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great +peril as I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite +satisfied with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most +important duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who, +no doubt, were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They +had come and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure +in two glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two +barons consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result +of that conversation one of them handed me a half-a-crown! That +also was a bad moment. + +I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly +life upon œ90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post +Office, and when I left it my income was œ140. During the whole +of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals, +amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with +my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was +overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I +asked her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But +who in such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of +it? The debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now +how I could have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such +a burden of duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny +documents, of which I never understood anything, were common +attendants on me. And yet I do not remember that I was ever locked +up, though I think I was twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some +one paid for me. And now, looking back at it, I have to ask myself +whether my youth was very wicked. I did no good in it; but was there +fair ground for expecting good from me? When I reached London no +mode of life was prepared for me,--no advice even given to me. I +went into lodgings, and then had to dispose of my time. I belonged +to no club, and knew very few friends who would receive me into +their houses. In such a condition of life a young man should no +doubt go home after his work, and spend the long hours of the evening +in reading good books and drinking tea. A lad brought up by strict +parents, and without having had even a view of gayer things, might +perhaps do so. I had passed all my life at public schools, where I +had seen gay things, but had never enjoyed them. Towards the good +books and tea no training had been given me. There was no house in +which I could habitually see a lady's face and hear a lady's voice. +No allurement to decent respectability came in my way. It seems to +me that in such circumstances the temptations of loose life will +almost certainly prevail with a young man. Of course if the mind be +strong enough, and the general stuff knitted together of sufficiently +stern material, the temptations will not prevail. But such minds +and such material are, I think, uncommon. The temptation at any +rate prevailed with me. + +I wonder how many young men fall utterly to pieces from being turned +loose into London after the same fashion. Mine was, I think, of +all phases of such life the most dangerous. The lad who is sent +to mechanical work has longer hours, during which he is kept from +danger, and has not generally been taught in his boyhood to anticipate +pleasure. He looks for hard work and grinding circumstances. +I certainly had enjoyed but little pleasure, but I had been among +those who did enjoy it and were taught to expect it. And I had +filled my mind with the ideas of such joys. + +And now, except during official hours, I was entirely without +control,--without the influences of any decent household around me. +I have said something of the comedy of such life, but it certainly +had its tragic aspect. Turning it all over in my own mind, as I +have constantly done in after years, the tragedy has always been +uppermost. And so it was as the time was passing. Could there be +any escape from such dirt? I would ask myself; and I always answered +that there was no escape. The mode of life was itself wretched. I +hated the office. I hated my work. More than all I hated my idleness. +I had often told myself since I left school that the only career in +life within my reach was that of an author, and the only mode of +authorship open to me that of a writer of novels. In the journal which +I read and destroyed a few years since, I found the matter argued +out before I had been in the Post Office two years. Parliament was +out of the question. I had not means to go to the Bar. In Official +life, such as that to which I had been introduced, there did not +seem to be any opening for real success. Pens and paper I could +command. Poetry I did not believe to be within my grasp. The drama, +too, which I would fain have chosen, I believed to be above me. For +history, biography, or essay writing I had not sufficient erudition. +But I thought it possible that I might write a novel. I had resolved +very early that in that shape must the attempt be made. But the +months and years ran on, and no attempt was made. And yet no day was +passed without thoughts of attempting, and a mental acknowledgment +of the disgrace of postponing it. What reader will not understand +the agony of remorse produced by such a condition of mind? +The gentleman from Mecklenburgh Square was always with me in the +morning,--always angering me by his hateful presence,--but when the +evening came I could make no struggle towards getting rid of him. + +In those days I read a little, and did learn to read French and +Latin. I made myself familiar with Horace, and became acquainted with +the works of our own greatest poets. I had my strong enthusiasms, +and remember throwing out of the window in Northumberland Street, +where I lived, a volume of Johnson's Lives of the Poets, because +he spoke sneeringly of Lycidas. That was Northumberland Street by +the Marylebone Workhouse, on to the back-door of which establishment +my room looked out--a most dreary abode, at which I fancy I must +have almost ruined the good-natured lodging-house keeper by my +constant inability to pay her what I owed. + +How I got my daily bread I can hardly remember. But I do remember +that I was often unable to get myself a dinner. Young men generally +now have their meals provided for them. I kept house, as it were. +Every day I had to find myself with the day's food. For my breakfast +I could get some credit at the lodgings, though that credit would +frequently come to an end. But for all that I had often breakfast +to pay day by day; and at your eating-house credit is not given. I +had no friends on whom I could sponge regularly. Out on the Fulham +Road I had an uncle, but his house was four miles from the Post +Office, and almost as far from my own lodgings. Then came borrowings +of money, sometimes absolute want, and almost constant misery. + +Before I tell how it came about that I left this wretched life, +I must say a word or two of the friendships which lessened its +misfortunes. My earliest friend in life was John Merivale, with whom +I had been at school at Sunbury and Harrow, and who was a nephew +of my tutor, Harry Drury. Herman Merivale, who afterwards became my +friend, was his brother, as is also Charles Merivale, the historian +and Dean of Ely. I knew John when I was ten years old, and am happy +to be able to say that he is going to dine with me one day this +week. I hope I may not injure his character by stating that in those +days I lived very much with him. He, too, was impecunious, but he +had a home in London, and knew but little of the sort of penury +which I endured. For more than fifty years he and I have been close +friends. And then there was one W---- A----, whose misfortunes in +life will not permit me to give his full name, but whom I dearly +loved. He had been at Winchester and at Oxford, and at both places +had fallen into trouble. He then became a schoolmaster,--or perhaps +I had better say usher,--and finally he took orders. But he was +unfortunate in all things, and died some years ago in poverty. He +was most perverse; bashful to very fear of a lady's dress; unable +to restrain himself in anything, but yet with a conscience that +was always stinging him; a loving friend, though very quarrelsome; +and, perhaps, of all men I have known, the most humorous. And he +was entirely unconscious of his own humour. He did not know that +he could so handle all matters as to create infinite amusement out +of them. Poor W---- A----! To him there came no happy turning-point +at which life loomed seriously on him, and then became prosperous. + +W---- A----, Merivale, and I formed a little club, which we called +the Tramp Society, and subjected to certain rules, in obedience to +which we wandered on foot about the counties adjacent to London. +Southampton was the furthest point we ever reached; but Buckinghamshire +and Hertfordshire were more dear to us. These were the happiest +hours of my then life--and perhaps not the least innocent, although +we were frequently in peril from the village authorities whom we +outraged. Not to pay for any conveyance, never to spend above five +shillings a day, to obey all orders from the elected ruler of the +hour (this enforced under heavy fines), were among our statutes. +I would fain tell here some of our adventures:--how A---- enacted +an escaped madman and we his pursuing keepers, and so got ourselves +a lift in a cart, from which we ran away as we approached the +lunatic asylum; how we were turned out of a little town at night, +the townsfolk frightened by the loudness of our mirth; and how we +once crept into a hayloft and were wakened in the dark morning by +a pitchfork,--and how the juvenile owner of that pitchfork fled +through the window when he heard the complaints of the wounded man! +But the fun was the fun of W---- A----, and would cease to be fun +as told by me. + +It was during these years that John Tilley, who has now been for +many years the permanent senior officer of the Post Office, married +my sister, whom he took with him into Cumberland, where he was +stationed as one of our surveyors. He has been my friend for more +than forty years; as has also Peregrine Birch, a clerk in the House +of Lords, who married one of those daughters of Colonel Grant who +assisted us in the raid we made on the goods which had been seized +by the Sheriff's officer at Harrow. These have been the oldest and +dearest friends of my life, and I can thank God that three of them +are still alive. + +When I had been nearly seven years in the Secretary's office of +the Post Office, always hating my position there, and yet always +fearing that I should be dismissed from it, there came a way of +escape. There had latterly been created in the service a new body +of officers called surveyors' clerks. There were at that time +seven surveyors in England, two in Scotland and three in Ireland. +To each of these officers a clerk had been lately attached, whose +duty it was to travel about the country under the surveyor's orders. +There had been much doubt among the young men in the office whether +they should or should not apply for these places. The emoluments +were good and the work alluring; but there was at first supposed +to be something derogatory in the position. There was a rumour that +the first surveyor who got a clerk sent the clerk out to fetch his +beer, and that another had called upon his clerk to send the linen +to the wash. There was, however, a conviction that nothing could be +worse than the berth of a surveyor's clerk in Ireland. The clerks +were all appointed, however. To me it had not occurred to ask for +anything, nor would anything have been given me. But after a while +there came a report from the far west of Ireland that the man sent +there was absurdly incapable. It was probably thought then that +none but a man absurdly incapable would go on such a mission to the +west of Ireland. When the report reached the London office I was +the first to read it. I was at that time in dire trouble, having +debts on my head and quarrels with our Secretary-Colonel, and a +full conviction that my life was taking me downwards to the lowest +pits. So I went to the Colonel boldly, and volunteered for Ireland +if he would send me. He was glad to be so rid of me, and I went. +This happened in August, 1841, when I was twenty-six years old. My +salary in Ireland was to be but œ100 a year; but I was to receive +fifteen shillings a day for every day that I was away from home, +and sixpence for every mile that I travelled. The same allowances +were made in England; but at that time travelling in Ireland was +done at half the English prices. My income in Ireland, after paying +my expenses, became at once œ400. This was the first good fortune +of my life. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IRELAND--MY FIRST TWO NOVELS + +1841-1848 + + + + +In the preceding pages I have given a short record of the first +twenty-six years of my life,--years of suffering, disgrace, and +inward remorse. I fear that my mode of telling will have left an idea +simply of their absurdities; but, in truth, I was wretched,--sometimes +almost unto death, and have often cursed the hour in which I was +born. There had clung to me a feeling that I had been looked upon +always as an evil, an encumbrance, a useless thing,--as a creature +of whom those connected with him had to be ashamed. And I feel +certain now that in my young days I was so regarded. Even my few +friends who had found with me a certain capacity for enjoyment were +half afraid of me. I acknowledge the weakness of a great desire to +be loved,--of a strong wish to be popular with my associates. No +child, no boy, no lad, no young man, had ever been less so. And I +had been so poor, and so little able to bear poverty. But from the +day on which I set my foot in Ireland all these evils went away +from me. Since that time who has had a happier life than mine? +Looking round upon all those I know, I cannot put my hand upon +one. But all is not over yet. And, mindful of that, remembering +how great is the agony of adversity, how crushing the despondency +of degradation, how susceptible I am myself to the misery coming +from contempt,--remembering also how quickly good things may go +and evil things come,--I am often again tempted to hope, almost to +pray, that the end may be near. Things may be going well now-- + + "Sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris; + Nunc, o nunc liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam." + +There is unhappiness so great that the very fear of it is an alloy +to happiness. I had then lost my father, and sister, and brother,--have +since lost another sister and my mother;--but I have never as yet +lost a wife or a child. + +When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland +they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think +it must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life +in London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were +at this time abroad, and were not consulted;--did not even know +my intention in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted +no one, except a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I +borrowed œ200 to help me out of England. He lent me the money, and +looked upon me with pitying eyes--shaking his head. "After all, +you were right to go," he said to me when I paid him the money a +few years afterwards. + +But nobody then thought I was right to go. To become clerk to +an Irish surveyor, in Connaught, with a salary of œ100 a year, at +twenty-six years of age! I did not think it right even myself,--except +that anything was right which would take me away from the General +Post Office and from London. + +My ideas of the duties I was to perform were very vague, as were +also my ideas of Ireland generally. Hitherto I had passed my time, +seated at a desk, either writing letters myself, or copying into +books those which others had written. I had never been called upon +to do anything I was unable or unfitted to do. I now understood that +in Ireland I was to be a deputy-inspector of country post offices, +and that among other things to be inspected would be the postmasters' +accounts! But as no other person asked a question as to my fitness +for this work, it seemed unnecessary for me to do so. + +On the 15th of September, 1841, I landed in Dublin, without an +acquaintance in the country, and with only two or three letters of +introduction from a brother clerk in the Post Office. I had learned +to think that Ireland was a land flowing with fun and whisky, in +which irregularity was the rule of life, and where broken heads were +looked upon as honourable badges. I was to live at a place called +Banagher, on the Shannon, which I had heard of because of its having +once been conquered, though it had heretofore conquered everything, +including the devil. And from Banagher my inspecting tours were to +be made, chiefly into Connaught, but also over a strip of country +eastwards, which would enable me occasionally to run up to Dublin. +I went to a hotel which was very dirty, and after dinner I ordered +some whisky punch. There was an excitement in this, but when the +punch was gone I was very dull. It seemed so strange to be in a +country in which there was not a single individual whom I had ever +spoken to or ever seen. And it was to be my destiny to go down into +Connaught and adjust accounts,--the destiny of me who had never +learned the multiplication table, or done a sum in long division! + +On the next morning I called on the Secretary of the Irish Post +Office, and learned from him that Colonel Maberly had sent a very +bad character with me. He could not have sent a very good one; but +I felt a little hurt when I was informed by this new master that he +had been informed that I was worthless, and must, in all probability, +be dismissed. "But," said the new master, "I shall judge you by your +own merits." From that time to the day on which I left the service, +I never heard a word of censure, nor had many months passed before +I found that my services were valued. Before a year was over, I +had acquired the character of a thoroughly good public servant. + +The time went very pleasantly. Some adventures I had;--two of +which I told in the Tales of All Countries, under the names of The +O'Conors of Castle Conor, and Father Giles of Ballymoy. I will not +swear to every detail in these stories, but the main purport of +each is true. I could tell many others of the same nature, were +this the place for them. I found that the surveyor to whom I had +been sent kept a pack of hounds, and therefore I bought a hunter. +I do not think he liked it, but he could not well complain. He never +rode to hounds himself, but I did; and then and thus began one of +the great joys of my life. I have ever since been constant to the +sport, having learned to love it with an affection which I cannot +myself fathom or understand. Surely no man has laboured at it as I +have done, or hunted under such drawbacks as to distances, money, and +natural disadvantages. I am very heavy, very blind, have been--in +reference to hunting--a poor man, and am now an old man. I have +often had to travel all night outside a mail-coach, in order that +I might hunt the next day. Nor have I ever been in truth a good +horseman. And I have passed the greater part of my hunting life +under the discipline of the Civil Service. But it has been for +more than thirty years a duty to me to ride to hounds; and I have +performed that duty with a persistent energy. Nothing has ever +been allowed to stand in the way of hunting,--neither the writing +of books, nor the work of the Post Office, nor other pleasures. +As regarded the Post Office, it soon seemed to be understood that +I was to hunt; and when my services were re-transferred to England, +no word of difficulty ever reached me about it. I have written on +very many subjects, and on most of them with pleasure, but on no +subject with such delight as that on hunting. I have dragged it +into many novels,--into too many, no doubt,--but I have always felt +myself deprived of a legitimate joy when the nature of the tale has +not allowed me a hunting chapter. Perhaps that which gave me the +greatest delight was the description of a run on a horse accidentally +taken from another sportsman--a circumstance which occurred to my +dear friend Charles Buxton, who will be remembered as one of the +members for Surrey. + +It was altogether a very jolly life that I led in Ireland. I +was always moving about, and soon found myself to be in pecuniary +circumstances which were opulent in comparison with those of my +past life. The Irish people did not murder me, nor did they even +break my head. I soon found them to be good-humoured, clever--the +working classes very much more intelligent than those of +England--economical, and hospitable. We hear much of their spendthrift +nature; but extravagance is not the nature of an Irishman. He +will count the shillings in a pound much more accurately than an +Englishman, and will with much more certainty get twelve pennyworth +from each. But they are perverse, irrational, and but little bound +by the love of truth. I lived for many years among them--not finally +leaving the country until 1859, and I had the means of studying +their character. + +I had not been a fortnight in Ireland before I was sent down to a +little town in the far west of county Galway, to balance a defaulting +postmaster's accounts, find out how much he owed, and report upon +his capacity to pay. In these days such accounts are very simple. +They adjust themselves from day to day, and a Post Office surveyor +has nothing to do with them. At that time, though the sums dealt +with were small, the forms of dealing with them were very intricate. +I went to work, however, and made that defaulting postmaster teach +me the use of those forms. I then succeeded in balancing the account, +and had no difficulty whatever in reporting that he was altogether +unable to pay his debt. Of course, he was dismissed; but he had +been a very useful man to me. I never had any further difficulty +in the matter. + +But my chief work was the investigating of complaints made by the +public as to postal matters. The practice of the office was and +is to send one of its servants to the spot to see the complainant +and to inquire into the facts, when the complainant is sufficiently +energetic or sufficiently big to make himself well heard. A great +expense is often incurred for a very small object; but the system +works well on the whole, as confidence is engendered, and a feeling +is produced in the country that the department has eyes of its own +and does keep them open. This employment was very pleasant, and +to me always easy, as it required at its close no more than the +writing of a report. There were no accounts in this business, no +keeping of books, no necessary manipulation of multitudinous forms. +I must tell of one such complaint and inquiry, because in its result +I think it was emblematic of many. + +A gentleman in county Cavan had complained most bitterly of the +injury done to him by some arrangement of the Post Office. The +nature of his grievance has no present significance; but it was +so unendurable that he had written many letters, couched in the +strongest language. He was most irate, and indulged himself in +that scorn which is easy to an angry mind. The place was not in my +district, but I was borrowed, being young and strong, that I might +remember the edge of his personal wrath. It was mid-winter, and I +drove up to his house, a squire's country seat, in the middle of a +snowstorm, just as it was becoming dark. I was on an open jaunting +car, and was on my way from one little town to another, the cause +of his complaint having reference to some mail conveyance between +the two. I was certainly very cold, and very wet, and very +uncomfortable when I entered his house. I was admitted by a butler, +but the gentleman himself hurried into the hall. I at once began to +explain my business. "God bless me!" he said, "you are wet through. +John, get Mr. Trollope some brandy and water--very hot." I was +beginning my story about the post again when he himself took off my +greatcoat, and suggested that I should go up to my bedroom before +I troubled myself with business. "Bedroom!" I exclaimed. Then +he assured me that he would not turn a dog out on such a night as +that, and into a bedroom I was shown, having first drank the brandy +and water standing at the drawing-room fire. When I came down I was +introduced to his daughter, and the three of us went in to dinner. +I shall never forget his righteous indignation when I again brought +up the postal question on the departure of the young lady. Was I +such a Goth as to contaminate wine with business? So I drank my +wine, and then heard the young lady sing while her father slept +in his armchair. I spent a very pleasant evening, but my host was +too sleepy to hear anything about the Post Office that night. It +was absolutely necessary that I should go away the next morning +after breakfast, and I explained that the matter must be discussed +then. He shook his head and wrung his hands in unmistakable +disgust,--almost in despair. "But what am I to say in my report?" +I asked. "Anything you please," he said. "Don't spare me, if you +want an excuse for yourself. Here I sit all the day--with nothing +to do; and I like writing letters." I did report that Mr.---- was +now quite satisfied with the postal arrangement of his district; +and I felt a soft regret that I should have robbed my friend of his +occupation. Perhaps he was able to take up the Poor Law Board, or +to attack the Excise. At the Post Office nothing more was heard +from him. + +I went on with the hunting surveyor at Banagher for three years, +during which, at Kingstown, the watering place near Dublin, I met +Rose Heseltine, the lady who has since become my wife. The engagement +took place when I had been just one year in Ireland; but there was +still a delay of two years before we could be married. She had no +fortune, nor had I any income beyond that which came from the Post +Office; and there were still a few debts, which would have been +paid off no doubt sooner, but for that purchase of the horse. When +I had been nearly three years in Ireland we were married on the +11th of June, 1844;--and, perhaps, I ought to name that happy day +as the commencement of my better life, rather than the day on which +I first landed in Ireland. + +For though during these three years I had been jolly enough, I +had not been altogether happy. The hunting, the whisky punch, the +rattling Irish life,--of which I could write a volume of stories +were this the place to tell them,--were continually driving from +my mind the still cherished determination to become a writer of +novels. When I reached Ireland I had never put pen to paper; nor +had I done so when I became engaged. And when I was married, being +then twenty-nine, I had only written the first volume of my first +work. This constant putting off of the day of work was a great +sorrow to me. I certainly had not been idle in my new berth. I had +learned my work, so that every one concerned knew that it was safe +in my hands; and I held a position altogether the reverse of that +in which I was always trembling while I remained in London. But +that did not suffice,--did not nearly suffice. I still felt that +there might be a career before me, if I could only bring myself to +begin the work. I do not think I much doubted my own intellectual +sufficiency for the writing of a readable novel. What I did doubt +was my own industry, and the chances of the market. + +The vigour necessary to prosecute two professions at the same time +is not given to every one, and it was only lately that I had found +the vigour necessary for one. There must be early hours, and I +had not as yet learned to love early hours. I was still, indeed, a +young man; but hardly young enough to trust myself to find the power +to alter the habits of my life. And I had heard of the difficulties +of publishing,--a subject of which I shall have to say much should +I ever bring this memoir to a close. I had dealt already with +publishers on my mother's behalf, and knew that many a tyro who +could fill a manuscript lacked the power to put his matter before +the public;--and I knew, too, that when the matter was printed, +how little had then been done towards the winning of the battle! +I had already learned that many a book--many a good book-- + + "is born to blush unseen + And waste its sweetness on the desert air." + +But still the purpose was strong within me, and the first effort +was made after the following fashion. I was located at a little +town called Drumsna, or rather village, in the county Leitrim, +where the postmaster had come to some sorrow about his money; and +my friend John Merivale was staying with me for a day or two. As +we were taking a walk in that most uninteresting country, we turned +up through a deserted gateway, along a weedy, grass-grown avenue, +till we came to the modern ruins of a country house. It was one of +the most melancholy spots I ever visited. I will not describe it +here, because I have done so in the first chapter of my first novel. +We wandered about the place, suggesting to each other causes for +the misery we saw there, and, while I was still among the ruined +walls and decayed beams, I fabricated the plot of The Macdermots +of Ballycloran. As to the plot itself, I do not know that I ever +made one so good,--or, at any rate, one so susceptible of pathos. +I am aware that I broke down in the telling, not having yet studied +the art. Nevertheless, The Macdermots is a good novel, and worth +reading by any one who wishes to understand what Irish life was +before the potato disease, the famine, and the Encumbered Estates +Bill. + +When my friend left me, I set to work and wrote the first chapter +or two. Up to this time I had continued that practice of castle-building +of which I have spoken; but now the castle I built was among the +ruins of that old house. The book, however, hung with me. It was +only now and then that I found either time or energy for a few +pages. I commenced the book in September, 1843, and had only written +a volume when I was married in June, 1844. + +My marriage was like the marriage of other people, and of no +special interest to any one except my wife and me. It took place +at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, where her father was the manager of a +bank. We were not very rich, having about œ400 a year on which to +live. + +Many people would say that we were two fools to encounter such +poverty together. I can only reply that since that day I have never +been without money in my pocket, and that I soon acquired the means +of paying what I owed. Nevertheless, more than twelve years had to +pass over our heads before I received any payment for any literary +work which afforded an appreciable increase to our income. + +Immediately after our marriage, I left the west of Ireland and the +hunting surveyor, and joined another in the south. It was a better +district, and I was enabled to live at Clonmel, a town of some +importance, instead of at Banagher, which is little more than a +village. I had not felt myself to be comfortable in my old residence +as a married man. On my arrival there as a bachelor I had been +received most kindly, but when I brought my English wife I fancied +that there was a feeling that I had behaved badly to Ireland +generally. When a young man has been received hospitably in an +Irish circle, I will not say that it is expected of him that he +should marry some young lady in that society;--but it certainly is +expected of him that he shall not marry any young lady out of it. +I had given offence, and I was made to feel it. + +There has taken place a great change in Ireland since the days in +which I lived at Banagher, and a change so much for the better, +that I have sometimes wondered at the obduracy with which people +have spoken of the permanent ill condition of the country. Wages +are now nearly double what they were then. The Post Office, at any +rate, is paying almost double for its rural labour,--9s. a week +when it used to pay 5s., and 12s. a week when it used to pay 7s. +Banks have sprung up in almost every village. Rents are paid with +more than English punctuality. And the religious enmity between +the classes, though it is not yet dead, is dying out. Soon after I +reached Banagher in 1841, I dined one evening with a Roman Catholic. +I was informed next day by a Protestant gentleman who had been +very hospitable to me that I must choose my party. I could not sit +both at Protestant and Catholic tables. Such a caution would now +be impossible in any part of Ireland. Home-rule, no doubt, is a +nuisance,--and especially a nuisance because the professors of the +doctrine do not at all believe it themselves. There are probably +no other twenty men in England or Ireland who would be so utterly +dumfounded and prostrated were Home-rule to have its way as the +twenty Irish members who profess to support it in the House of +Commons. But it is not to be expected that nuisances such as these +should be abolished at a blow. Home-rule is, at any rate, better +and more easily managed than the rebellion at the close of the +last century; it is better than the treachery of the Union; less +troublesome than O'Connell's monster meetings; less dangerous than +Smith O'Brien and the battle of the cabbage-garden at Ballingary, +and very much less bloody than Fenianism. The descent from O'Connell +to Mr. Butt has been the natural declension of a political disease, +which we had no right to hope would be cured by any one remedy. + +When I had been married a year my first novel was finished. In +July, 1845, I took it with me to the north of England, and intrusted +the MS. to my mother to do with it the best she could among the +publishers in London. No one had read it but my wife; nor, as far +as I am aware, has any other friend of mine ever read a word of +my writing before it was printed. She, I think, has so read almost +everything, to my very great advantage in matters of taste. I am sure +I have never asked a friend to read a line; nor have I ever read a +word of my own writing aloud,--even to her. With one exception,--which +shall be mentioned as I come to it,--I have never consulted a friend +as to a plot, or spoken to any one of the work I have been doing. +My first manuscript I gave up to my mother, agreeing with her that +it would be as well that she should not look at it before she gave +it to a publisher. I knew that she did not give me credit for the +sort of cleverness necessary for such work. I could see in the +faces and hear in the voices of those of my friends who were around +me at the house in Cumberland,--my mother, my sister, my brother-in-law, +and, I think, my brother,--that they had not expected me to come +out as one of the family authors. There were three or four in the +field before me, and it seemed to be almost absurd that another +should wish to add himself to the number. My father had written +much,--those long ecclesiastical descriptions,--quite unsuccessfully. +My mother had become one of the popular authors of the day. My +brother had commenced, and had been fairly well paid for his work. +My sister, Mrs. Tilley, had also written a novel, which was at the +time in manuscript--which was published afterwards without her name, +and was called Chollerton. I could perceive that this attempt of +mine was felt to be an unfortunate aggravation of the disease. + +My mother, however, did the best she could for me, and soon reported +that Mr. Newby, of Mortimer Street, was to publish the book. It +was to be printed at his expense, and he was to give me half the +profits. Half the profits! Many a young author expects much from such +an undertaking. I can, with truth, declare that I expected nothing. +And I got nothing. Nor did I expect fame, or even acknowledgment. +I was sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely. +I never heard of a person reading it in those days. If there was +any notice taken of it by any critic of the day, I did not see it. +I never asked any questions about it, or wrote a single letter on +the subject to the publisher. I have Mr. Newby's agreement with me, +in duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond that I +did not have a word from Mr. Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong +me in that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell +fifty copies of the work;--but of what he did sell he gave me no +account. + +I do not remember that I felt in any way disappointed or hurt. I +am quite sure that no word of complaint passed my lips. I think I +may say that after the publication I never said a word about the +book, even to my wife. The fact that I had written and published +it, and that I was writing another, did not in the least interfere +with my life, or with my determination to make the best I could of +the Post Office. In Ireland, I think that no one knew that I had +written a novel. But I went on writing. The Macdermots was published +in 1847, and The Kellys and the O'Kellys followed in 1848. I +changed my publisher, but did not change my fortune. This second +Irish story was sent into the world by Mr. Colburn, who had +long been my mother's publisher, who reigned in Great Marlborough +Street, and I believe created the business which is now carried on +by Messrs. Hurst & Blackett. He had previously been in partnership +with Mr. Bentley in New Burlington Street. I made the same agreement +as before as to half profits, and with precisely the same results. +The book was not only not read, but was never heard of,--at any +rate, in Ireland. And yet it is a good Irish story, much inferior +to The Macdermots as to plot, but superior in the mode of telling. +Again I held my tongue, and not only said nothing but felt nothing. +Any success would, I think, have carried me off my legs, but I was +altogether prepared for failure. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the +writing of these books, I did not imagine, when the time came for +publishing them, that any one would condescend to read them. + +But in reference to The O'Kellys there arose a circumstance which +set my mind to work on a subject which has exercised it much ever +since. I made my first acquaintance with criticism. A dear friend +of mine to whom the book had been sent,--as have all my books,--wrote +me word to Ireland that he had been dining at some club with a man +high in authority among the gods of the Times newspaper, and that +this special god had almost promised that The O'Kellys should be +noticed in that most influential of "organs." The information moved +me very much; but it set me thinking whether the notice, should it +ever appear, would not have been more valuable, at any rate, more +honest, if it had been produced by other means;--if, for instance, +the writer of the notice had been instigated by the merits or demerits +of the book instead of by the friendship of a friend. And I made +up my mind then that, should I continue this trade of authorship, +I would have no dealings with any critic on my own behalf. I would +neither ask for nor deplore criticism, nor would I ever thank a +critic for praise, or quarrel with him, even in my own heart, for +censure. To this rule I have adhered with absolute strictness, and +this rule I would recommend to all young authors. What can be got +by touting among the critics is never worth the ignominy. The same +may, of course, be said of all things acquired by ignominious means. +But in this matter it is so easy to fall into the dirt. Facilis +descensus Averni. There seems to be but little fault in suggesting +to a friend that a few words in this or that journal would be of +service. But any praise so obtained must be an injustice to the +public, for whose instruction, and not for the sustentation of the +author, such notices are intended. And from such mild suggestion +the descent to crawling at the critic's feet, to the sending of +presents, and at last to a mutual understanding between critics +and criticised, is only too easy. Other evils follow, for the +denouncing of which this is hardly the place;--though I trust I +may find such place before my work is finished. I took no notice +of my friend's letter, but I was not the less careful in watching +The Times. At last the review came,--a real review in The Times. I +learned it by heart, and can now give, if not the words, the exact +purport. "Of The Kellys and the O'Kellys we may say what the master +said to his footman, when the man complained of the constant supply +of legs of mutton on the kitchen table. Well, John, legs of mutton +are good, substantial food;' and we may say also what John replied: +'Substantial, sir,--yes, they are substantial, but a little coarse.'" +That was the review, and even that did not sell the book! + +From Mr. Colburn I did receive an account, showing that 375 copies +of the book had been printed, that 140 had been sold,--to those, +I presume, who liked substantial food though it was coarse,--and +that he had incurred a loss of œ63 19S. 1 1/2d. The truth of the +account I never for a moment doubted; nor did I doubt the wisdom +of the advice given to me in the following letter, though I never +thought of obeying it-- + + "GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, + November 11, 1848. + +"MY DEAR SIR,--I am sorry to say that absence from town and other +circumstances have prevented me from earlier inquiring into the +results of the sale of The Kellys and the O'Kellys, with which the +greatest efforts have been used, but in vain. The sale has been, +I regret to say, so small that the loss upon the publication is +very considerable; and it appears clear to me that, although in +consequence of the great number of novels that are published, the +sale of each, with some few exceptions, must be small, yet it is +evident that readers do not like novels on Irish subjects as well +as on others. Thus, you will perceive, it is impossible for me to +give any encouragement to you to proceed in novel-writing. + +"As, however, I understand you have nearly finished the novel La Vendee, +perhaps you will favour me with a sight of it when convenient.--I +remain, etc., etc., + + "H. COLBURN." + +This, though not strictly logical, was a rational letter, telling +a plain truth plainly. I did not like the assurance that "the +greatest efforts had been used," thinking that any efforts which +might be made for the popularity of a book ought to have come from +the author;--but I took in good part Mr. Colburn's assurance that +he could not encourage me in the career I had commenced. I would +have bet twenty to one against my own success. But by continuing +I could lose only pen and paper; and if the one chance in twenty +did turn up in my favour, then how much might I win! + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY FIRST SUCCESS + +1849-1855 + + + + +I had at once gone to work on a third novel, and had nearly +completed it, when I was informed of the absolute failure of the +former. I find, however, that the agreement for its publication was +not made till 1850, by which time I imagine that Mr. Colburn must +have forgotten the disastrous result of The O'Kellys, as he thereby +agrees to give me œ20 down for my "new historical novel, to be +called La Vendee." He agreed also to pay me œ30 more when he had +sold 350 copies, and œ50 more should he sell 450 within six months. I +got my œ20, and then heard no more of œa Vendee, not even receiving +any account. Perhaps the historical title had appeared more alluring +to him than an Irish subject; though it was not long afterwards that +I received a warning from the very same house of business against +historical novels,--as I will tell at length when the proper time +comes. + +I have no doubt that the result of the sale of this story was +no better than that of the two that had gone before. I asked no +questions, however, and to this day have received no information. +The story is certainly inferior to those which had gone before;--chiefly +because I knew accurately the life of the people in Ireland, and +knew, in truth, nothing of life in the La Vendee country, and also +because the facts of the present time came more within the limits +of my powers of story-telling than those of past years. But I read +the book the other day, and am not ashamed of it. The conception +as to the feeling of the people is, I think, true; the characters +are distinct, and the tale is not dull. As far as I can remember, +this morsel of criticism is the only one that was ever written on +the book. + +I had, however, received œ20. Alas! alas! years were to roll by +before I should earn by my pen another shilling. And, indeed, I +was well aware that I had not earned that; but that the money had +been "talked out of" the worthy publisher by the earnestness of +my brother, who made the bargain for me. I have known very much +of publishers and have been surprised by much in their mode of +business,--by the apparent lavishness and by the apparent hardness +to authors in the same men,--but by nothing so much as by the ease +with which they can occasionally be persuaded to throw away small +sums of money. If you will only make the payment future instead of +present, you may generally twist a few pounds in your own or your +client's favour. "You might as well promise her œ20. This day six +months will do very well." The publisher, though he knows that the +money will never come back to him, thinks it worth his while to +rid himself of your importunity at so cheap a price. + +But while I was writing La Vendee I made a literary attempt in +another direction. In 1847 and 1848 there had come upon Ireland +the desolation and destruction, first of the famine, and then of +the pestilence which succeeded the famine. It was my duty at that +time to be travelling constantly in those parts of Ireland in which +the misery and troubles thence arising were, perhaps, at their +worst. The western parts of Cork, Kerry, and Clare were pre-eminently +unfortunate. The efforts,--I may say, the successful efforts,--made +by the Government to stay the hands of death will still be in the +remembrance of many:--how Sir Robert Peel was instigated to repeal the +Corn Laws; and how, subsequently, Lord John Russell took measures +for employing the people, and supplying the country with Indian +corn. The expediency of these latter measures was questioned by +many. The people themselves wished, of course, to be fed without +working; and the gentry, who were mainly responsible for the rates, +were disposed to think that the management of affairs was taken +too much out of their own hands. My mind at the time was busy with +the matter, and, thinking that the Government was right, I was +inclined to defend them as far as my small powers went. S. G. O. +(Lord Sydney Godolphin Osborne) was at that time denouncing the +Irish scheme of the Administration in the Times, using very strong +language,--as those who remember his style will know. I fancied +then,--as I still think,--that I understood the country much better +than he did; and I was anxious to show that the steps taken for +mitigating the terrible evil of the times were the best which the +Minister of the day could have adopted. In 1848 I was in London, +and, full of my purpose, I presented myself to Mr. John Forster,--who +has since been an intimate and valued friend,--but who was at that +time the editor of the Examiner. I think that that portion of the +literary world which understands the fabrication of newspapers +will admit that neither before his time, nor since, has there been +a more capable editor of a weekly newspaper. As a literary man, he +was not without his faults. That which the cabman is reported to +have said of him before the magistrate is quite true. He was always +"an arbitrary cove." As a critic, he belonged to the school of +Bentley and Gifford,--who would always bray in a literary mortar +all critics who disagreed from them, as though such disagreement +were a personal offence requiring personal castigation. But that +very eagerness made him a good editor. Into whatever he did he put +his very heart and soul. During his time the Examiner was almost +all that a Liberal weekly paper should be. So to John Forster I +went, and was shown into that room in Lincoln's Inn Fields in which, +some three or four years earlier, Dickens had given that reading of +which there is an illustration with portraits in the second volume +of his life. + +At this time I knew no literary men. A few I had met when living +with my mother, but that had been now so long ago that all such +acquaintance had died out. I knew who they were as far as a man +could get such knowledge from the papers of the day, and felt myself +as in part belonging to the guild, through my mother, and in some +degree by my own unsuccessful efforts. But it was not probable that +any one would admit my claim;--nor on this occasion did I make any +claim. I stated my name and official position, and the fact that +opportunities had been given me of seeing the poorhouses in Ireland, +and of making myself acquainted with the circumstances of the +time. Would a series of letters on the subject be accepted by the +Examiner? The great man, who loomed very large to me, was pleased +to say that if the letters should recommend themselves by their +style and matter, if they were not too long, and if,--every reader +will know how on such occasions an editor will guard himself,--if +this and if that, they should be favourably entertained. They were +favourably entertained,--if printing and publication be favourable +entertainment. But I heard no more of them. The world in Ireland +did not declare that the Government had at last been adequately +defended, nor did the treasurer of the Examiner send me a cheque +in return. + +Whether there ought to have been a cheque I do not even yet know. +A man who writes a single letter to a newspaper, of course, is not +paid for it,--nor for any number of letters on some point personal +to himself. I have since written sets of letters to newspapers, and +have been paid for them; but then I have bargained for a price. On +this occasion I had hopes; but they never ran high, and I was not +much disappointed. I have no copy now of those letters, and could +not refer to them without much trouble; nor do I remember what I +said. But I know that I did my best in writing them. + +When my historical novel failed, as completely as had its predecessors, +the two Irish novels, I began to ask myself whether, after all, +that was my proper line. I had never thought of questioning the +justice of the verdict expressed against me. The idea that I was +the unfortunate owner of unappreciated genius never troubled me. I +did not look at the books after they were published, feeling sure +that they had been, as it were, damned with good reason. But still +I was clear in my mind that I would not lay down my pen. Then and +therefore I determined to change my hand, and to attempt a play. +I did attempt the play, and in 1850 I wrote a comedy, partly in +blank verse, and partly in prose, called The Noble Jilt. The plot +I afterwards used in a novel called Can You Forgive Her? I believe +that I did give the best of my intellect to the play, and I must +own that when it was completed it pleased me much. I copied it, +and re-copied it, touching it here and touching it there, and then +sent it to my very old friend, George Bartley, the actor, who had +when I was in London been stage-manager of one of the great theatres, +and who would, I thought, for my own sake and for my mother's, give +me the full benefit of his professional experience. + +I have now before me the letter which he wrote to me,--a letter +which I have read a score of times. It was altogether condemnatory. +"When I commenced," he said, "I had great hopes of your production. +I did not think it opened dramatically, but that might have been +remedied." I knew then that it was all over. But, as my old friend +warmed to the subject, the criticism became stronger and stronger, +till my ears tingled. At last came the fatal blow. "As to the +character of your heroine, I felt at a loss how to describe it, +but you have done it for me in the last speech of Madame Brudo." +Madame Brudo was the heroine's aunt. "'Margaret, my child, never +play the jilt again; 'tis a most unbecoming character. Play it +with what skill you will, it meets but little sympathy.' And this, +be assured, would be its effect upon an audience. So that I must +reluctantly add that, had I been still a manager, The Noble Jilt +is not a play I could have recommended for production." This was a +blow that I did feel. The neglect of a book is a disagreeable fact +which grows upon an author by degrees. There is no special moment +of agony,--no stunning violence of condemnation. But a piece of +criticism such as this, from a friend, and from a man undoubtedly +capable of forming an opinion, was a blow in the face! But I +accepted the judgment loyally, and said not a word on the subject +to any one. I merely showed the letter to my wife, declaring my +conviction, that it must be taken as gospel. And as critical gospel +it has since been accepted. In later days I have more than once +read the play, and I know that he was right. The dialogue, however, +I think to be good, and I doubt whether some of the scenes be not +the brightest and best work I ever did. + +Just at this time another literary project loomed before my eyes, +and for six or eight months had considerable size. I was introduced +to Mr. John Murray, and proposed to him to write a handbook for +Ireland. I explained to him that I knew the country better than +most other people, perhaps better than any other person, and could +do it well. He asked me to make a trial of my skill, and to send +him a certain number of pages, undertaking to give me an answer +within a fortnight after he should have received my work. I came +back to Ireland, and for some weeks I laboured very hard. I "did" +the city of Dublin, and the county of Kerry, in which lies the +lake scenery of Killarney, and I "did" the route from Dublin to +Killarney, altogether completing nearly a quarter of the proposed +volume. The roll of MS. was sent to Albemarle Street,--but was never +opened. At the expiration of nine months from the date on which it +reached that time-honoured spot it was returned without a word, in +answer to a very angry letter from myself. I insisted on having +back my property,--and got it. I need hardly say that my property +has never been of the slightest use to me. In all honesty I think +that had he been less dilatory, John Murray would have got a very +good Irish Guide at a cheap rate. + +Early in 1851 I was sent upon a job of special official work, which +for two years so completely absorbed my time that I was able to +write nothing. A plan was formed for extending the rural delivery +of letters, and for adjusting the work, which up to that time had +been done in a very irregular manner. A country letter-carrier +would be sent in one direction in which there were but few letters +to be delivered, the arrangement having originated probably at +the request of some influential person, while in another direction +there was no letter-carrier because no influential person had exerted +himself. It was intended to set this right throughout England, +Ireland, and Scotland; and I quickly did the work in the Irish +district to which I was attached. I was then invited to do the same +in a portion of England, and I spent two of the happiest years of +my life at the task. I began in Devonshire; and visited, I think +I may say, every nook in that county, in Cornwall, Somersetshire, +the greater part of Dorsetshire, the Channel Islands, part of +Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, Herefordshire, +Monmouthshire, and the six southern Welsh counties. In this way I +had an opportunity of seeing a considerable portion of Great Britain, +with a minuteness which few have enjoyed. And I did my business +after a fashion in which no other official man has worked at +least for many years. I went almost everywhere on horseback. I had +two hunters of my own, and here and there, where I could, I hired +a third horse. I had an Irish groom with me,--an old man, who has +now been in my service for thirty-five years; and in this manner I +saw almost every house--I think I may say every house of importance--in +this large district. The object was to create a postal network +which should catch all recipients of letters. In France it was, and +I suppose still is, the practice to deliver every letter. Wherever +the man may live to whom a letter is addressed, it is the duty of +some letter-carrier to take that letter to his house, sooner or +later. But this, of course, must be done slowly. With us a delivery +much delayed was thought to be worse than none at all. In some places +we did establish posts three times a week, and perhaps occasionally +twice a week; but such halting arrangements were considered to +be objectionable, and we were bound down by a salutary law as to +expense, which came from our masters at the Treasury. We were not +allowed to establish any messenger's walk on which a sufficient +number of letters would not be delivered to pay the man's wages, +counted at a halfpenny a letter. But then the counting was in our +own hands, and an enterprising official might be sanguine in his +figures. I think I was sanguine. I did not prepare false accounts; +but I fear that the postmasters and clerks who absolutely had the +country to do became aware that I was anxious for good results. +It is amusing to watch how a passion will grow upon a man. During +those two years it was the ambition of my life to cover the country +with rural letter-carriers. I do not remember that in any case a +rural post proposed by me was negatived by the authorities; but I +fear that some of them broke down afterwards as being too poor, or +because, in my anxiety to include this house and that, I had sent +the men too far afield. Our law was that a man should not be required +to walk more than sixteen miles a day. Had the work to be done been +all on a measured road, there would have been no need for doubt as +to the distances. But my letter-carriers went here and there across +the fields. It was my special delight to take them by all short +cuts; and as I measured on horseback the short cuts which they would +have to make on foot, perhaps I was sometimes a little unjust to +them. + +All this I did on horseback, riding on an average forty miles a +day. I was paid sixpence a mile for the distance travelled, and it +was necessary that I should at any rate travel enough to pay for +my equipage. This I did, and got my hunting out of it also. I have +often surprised some small country postmaster, who had never seen +or heard of me before, by coming down upon him at nine in the +morning, with a red coat and boots and breeches, and interrogating +him as to the disposal of every letter which came into his office. +And in the same guise I would ride up to farmhouses, or parsonages, +or other lone residences about the country, and ask the people how +they got their letters, at what hour, and especially whether they +were delivered free or at a certain charge. For a habit had crept +into use, which came to be, in my eyes, at that time, the one sin +for which there was no pardon, in accordance with which these rural +letter-carriers used to charge a penny a letter, alleging that the +house was out of their beat, and that they must be paid for their +extra work. I think that I did stamp out that evil. In all these +visits I was, in truth, a beneficent angel to the public, bringing +everywhere with me an earlier, cheaper, and much more regular delivery +of letters. But not unfrequently the angelic nature of my mission +was imperfectly understood. I was perhaps a little in a hurry to +get on, and did not allow as much time as was necessary to explain +to the wondering mistress of the house, or to an open-mouthed farmer, +why it was that a man arrayed for hunting asked so many questions +which might be considered impertinent, as applying to his or her +private affairs. "Good-morning, sir. I have just called to ask a +few questions. I am a surveyor of the Post Office. How do you get +your letters? As I am a little in a hurry, perhaps you can explain +at once." Then I would take out my pencil and notebook, and wait +for information. And in fact there was no other way in which the +truth could be ascertained. Unless I came down suddenly as a summer's +storm upon them, the very people who were robbed by our messengers +would not confess the robbery, fearing the ill-will of the men. It +was necessary to startle them into the revelations which I required +them to make for their own good. And I did startle them. I became +thoroughly used to it, and soon lost my native bashfulness;--but +sometimes my visits astonished the retiring inhabitants of country +houses. I did, however, do my work, and can look back upon what I +did with thorough satisfaction. I was altogether in earnest; and +I believe that many a farmer now has his letters brought daily to +his house free of charge, who but for me would still have had to +send to the post-town for them twice a week, or to have paid a man +for bringing them irregularly to his door. + +This work took up my time so completely, and entailed upon me so +great an amount of writing, that I was in fact unable to do any +literary work. From day to day I thought of it, still purporting +to make another effort, and often turning over in my head some +fragment of a plot which had occurred to me. But the day did not +come in which I could sit down with my pen and paper and begin +another novel. For, after all, what could it be but a novel? The +play had failed more absolutely than the novels, for the novels +had attained the honour of print. The cause of this pressure of +official work lay, not in the demands of the General Post Office, +which more than once expressed itself as astonished by my celerity, +but in the necessity which was incumbent on me to travel miles +enough to pay for my horses, and upon the amount of correspondence, +returns, figures, and reports which such an amount of daily travelling +brought with it. I may boast that the work was done very quickly +and very thoroughly,--with no fault but an over-eagerness to extend +postal arrangements far and wide. + +In the course of the job I visited Salisbury, and whilst wandering +there one mid-summer evening round the purlieus of the cathedral I +conceived the story of The Warden,--from whence came that series of +novels of which Barchester, with its bishops, deans, and archdeacon, +was the central site. I may as well declare at once that no one +at their commencement could have had less reason than myself to +presume himself to be able to write about clergymen. I have been +often asked in what period of my early life I had lived so long +in a cathedral city as to have become intimate with the ways of a +Close. I never lived in any cathedral city,--except London, never +knew anything of any Close, and at that time had enjoyed no peculiar +intimacy with any clergyman. My archdeacon, who has been said to be +life-like, and for whom I confess that I have all a parent's fond +affection, was, I think, the simple result of an effort of my moral +consciousness. It was such as that, in my opinion, that an archdeacon +should be,--or, at any rate, would be with such advantages as +an archdeacon might have; and lo! an archdeacon was produced, who +has been declared by competent authorities to be a real archdeacon +down to the very ground. And yet, as far as I can remember, I had +not then even spoken to an archdeacon. I have felt the compliment +to be very great. The archdeacon came whole from my brain after +this fashion;--but in writing about clergymen generally, I had to +pick up as I went whatever I might know or pretend to know about +them. But my first idea had no reference to clergymen in general. +I had been struck by two opposite evils,--or what seemed to me to +be evils,--and with an absence of all art-judgment in such matters, I +thought that I might be able to expose them, or rather to describe +them, both in one and the same tale. The first evil was the +possession by the Church of certain funds and endowments which had +been intended for charitable purposes, but which had been allowed +to become incomes for idle Church dignitaries. There had been more +than one such case brought to public notice at the time, in which +there seemed to have been an egregious malversation of charitable +purposes. The second evil was its very opposite. Though I had been +much struck by the injustice above described, I had also often +been angered by the undeserved severity of the newspapers towards +the recipients of such incomes, who could hardly be considered +to be the chief sinners in the matter. When a man is appointed to +a place, it is natural that he should accept the income allotted +to that place without much inquiry. It is seldom that he will be +the first to find out that his services are overpaid. Though he be +called upon only to look beautiful and to be dignified upon State +occasions, he will think œ2000 a year little enough for such beauty +and dignity as he brings to the task. I felt that there had been +some tearing to pieces which might have been spared. But I was +altogether wrong in supposing that the two things could be combined. +Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after the fashion of +an advocate,--or his writing will be ineffective. He should take up +one side and cling to that, and then he may be powerful. There should +be no scruples of conscience. Such scruples make a man impotent for +such work. It was open to me to have described a bloated parson, +with a red nose and all other iniquities, openly neglecting every +duty required from him, and living riotously on funds purloined +from the poor,--defying as he did do so the moderate remonstrances +of a virtuous press. Or I might have painted a man as good, as sweet, +and as mild as my warden, who should also have been a hard-working, +ill-paid minister of God's word, and might have subjected him to the +rancorous venom of some daily Jupiter, who, without a leg to stand +on, without any true case, might have been induced, by personal +spite, to tear to rags the poor clergyman with poisonous, anonymous, +and ferocious leading articles. But neither of these programmes +recommended itself to my honesty. Satire, though it may exaggerate +the vice it lashes, is not justified in creating it in order that +it may be lashed. Caricature may too easily become a slander, and +satire a libel. I believed in the existence neither of the red-nosed +clerical cormorant, nor in that of the venomous assassin of the +journals. I did believe that through want of care and the natural +tendency of every class to take care of itself, money had slipped +into the pockets of certain clergymen which should have gone +elsewhere; and I believed also that through the equally natural +propensity of men to be as strong as they know how to be, certain +writers of the press had allowed themselves to use language which +was cruel, though it was in a good cause. But the two objects +should not have been combined--and I now know myself well enough +to be aware that I was not the man to have carried out either of +them. + +Nevertheless I thought much about it, and on the 29th of July, +1853,--having been then two years without having made any literary +effort,--I began The Warden, at Tenbury in Worcestershire. It was +then more than twelve months since I had stood for an hour on the +little bridge in Salisbury, and had made out to my own satisfaction +the spot on which Hiram's hospital should stand. Certainly no work +that I ever did took up so much of my thoughts. On this occasion +I did no more than write the first chapter, even if so much. I had +determined that my official work should be moderated, so as to allow +me some time for writing; but then, just at this time, I was sent +to take the postal charge of the northern counties in Ireland,--of +Ulster, and the counties Meath and Louth. Hitherto in official +language I had been a surveyor's clerk,--now I was to be a surveyor. +The difference consisted mainly in an increase of income from about +œ450 to about œ800;--for at that time the sum netted still depended +on the number of miles travelled. Of course that English work +to which I had become so warmly wedded had to be abandoned. Other +parts of England were being done by other men, and I had nearly +finished the area which had been entrusted to me. I should have +liked to ride over the whole country, and to have sent a rural +post letter-carrier to every parish, every village, every hamlet, +and every grange in England. + +We were at this time very much unsettled as regards any residence. +While we were living at Clonmel two sons had been born, who certainly +were important enough to have been mentioned sooner. At Clonmel we +had lived in lodgings, and from there had moved to Mallow, a town +in the county Cork, where we had taken a house. Mallow was in the +centre of a hunting country, and had been very pleasant to me. But +our house there had been given up when it was known that I should +be detained in England; and then we had wandered about in the western +counties, moving our headquarters from one town to another. During +this time we had lived at Exeter, at Bristol, at Caermarthen, +at Cheltenham, and at Worcester. Now we again moved, and settled +ourselves for eighteen months at Belfast. After that we took a +house at Donnybrook, the well-known suburb of Dublin. + +The work of taking up a new district, which requires not only that +the man doing it should know the nature of the postal arrangements, +but also the characters and the peculiarities of the postmasters +and their clerks, was too heavy to allow of my going on with my +book at once. It was not till the end of 1852 that I recommenced it, +and it was in the autumn of 1853 that I finished the work. It was +only one small volume, and in later days would have been completed +in six weeks,--or in two months at the longest, if other work had +pressed. On looking at the title-page, I find it was not published +till 1855. I had made acquaintance, through my friend John Merivale, +with William Longman the publisher, and had received from him an +assurance that the manuscript should be "looked at." It was "looked +at," and Messrs. Longman made me an offer to publish it at half +profits. I had no reason to love "half profits," but I was very +anxious to have my book published, and I acceded. It was now more +than ten years since I had commenced writing The Macdermots, and +I thought that if any success was to be achieved, the time surely +had come. I had not been impatient; but, if there was to be a time, +surely it had come. + +The novel-reading world did not go mad about The Warden; but I soon +felt that it had not failed as the others had failed. There were +notices of it in the press, and I could discover that people around +me knew that I had written a book. Mr. Longman was complimentary, +and after a while informed me that there would be profits to divide. +At the end of 1855 I received a cheque for œ9 8s. 8d., which was +the first money I had ever earned by literary work;--that œ20 which +poor Mr. Colburn had been made to pay certainly never having been +earned at all. At the end of 1856 I received another sum of œ10 +15s. 1d. The pecuniary success was not great. Indeed, as regarded +remuneration for the time, stone-breaking would have done better. +A thousand copies were printed, of which, after a lapse of five or +six years, about 300 had to be converted into another form, and sold +as belonging to a cheap edition. In its original form The Warden +never reached the essential honour of a second edition. + +I have already said of the work that it failed altogether in +the purport for which it was intended. But it has a merit of its +own,--a merit by my own perception of which I was enabled to see +wherein lay whatever strength I did possess. The characters of the +bishop, of the archdeacon, of the archdeacon's wife, and especially +of the warden, are all well and clearly drawn. I had realised to +myself a series of portraits, and had been able so to put them on +the canvas that my readers should see that which I meant them to +see. There is no gift which an author can have more useful to him +than this. And the style of the English was good, though from most +unpardonable carelessness the grammar was not unfrequently faulty. +With such results I had no doubt but that I would at once begin +another novel. + +I will here say one word as a long-deferred answer to an item of +criticism which appeared in the Times newspaper as to The Warden. +In an article-if I remember rightly--on The Warden and Barchester +Towers combined--which I would call good-natured, but that I take +it for granted that the critics of the Times are actuated by higher +motives than good-nature, that little book and its sequel are spoken +of in terms which were very pleasant to the author. But there was +added to this a gentle word of rebuke at the morbid condition of the +author's mind which had prompted him to indulge in personalities,--the +personalities in question having reference to some editor or manager +of the Times newspaper. For I had introduced one Tom Towers as being +potent among the contributors to the Jupiter, under which name I +certainly did allude to the Times. But at that time, living away in +Ireland, I had not even heard the name of any gentleman connected +with the Times newspaper, and could not have intended to represent +any individual by Tom Towers. As I had created an archdeacon, so had +I created a journalist, and the one creation was no more personal +or indicative of morbid tendencies than the other. If Tom Towers +was at all like any gentleman connected with the Times, my moral +consciousness must again have been very powerful. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"BARCHESTER TOWERS" AND THE "THREE CLERKS" + +1855-1858 + + + + +It was, I think, before I started on my English tours among the +rural posts that I made my first attempt at writing for a magazine. +I had read, soon after they came out, the two first volumes of +Charles Menvale's History of the Romans under the Empire, and had +got into some correspondence with the author's brother as to the +author's views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to +investigate the character of probably the greatest man who ever +lived, which tendency in after years produced a little book of +which I shall have to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste +generally for Latin literature, which has been one of the chief +delights of my later life. And I may say that I became at this time +as anxious about Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as +to his character, as we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these +latter days. I lived in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly +whether he crossed the Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In +order that I might review Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that +I was dealing unwarrantably with a subject beyond me, I studied the +Commentaries thoroughly, and went through a mass of other reading +which the object of a magazine article hardly justified,--but which +has thoroughly justified itself in the subsequent pursuits of my +life. I did write two articles, the first mainly on Julius Caesar, +and the second on Augustus, which appeared in the Dublin University +Magazine. They were the result of very much labour, but there came +from them no pecuniary product. I had been very modest when I sent +them to the editor, as I had been when I called on John Forster, +not venturing to suggest the subject of money. After a while I did +call upon the proprietor of the magazine in Dublin, and was told +by him that such articles were generally written to oblige friends, +and that articles written to oblige friends were not usually paid +for. The Dean of Ely, as the author of the work in question now +is, was my friend; but I think I was wronged, as I certainly had +no intention of obliging him by my criticism. Afterwards, when I +returned to Ireland, I wrote other articles for the same magazine, +one of which, intended to be very savage in its denunciation, was +on an official blue-book just then brought out, preparatory to the +introduction of competitive examinations for the Civil Service. For +that and some other article, I now forget what, I was paid. Up to +the end of 1857 I had received œ55 for the hard work of ten years. + +It was while I was engaged on Barchester Towers that I adopted a +system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be +very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling, +and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not +any longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of +conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very +many hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though +Carlyle has since told me that a man when travelling should not +read, but "sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended +to make a profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same +time, to do my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours +to more account than I could do even by reading. I made for myself +therefore a little tablet, and found after a few days' exercise +that I could write as quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at +my desk. I worked with a pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied +afterwards. In this way was composed the greater part of Barchester +Towers and of the novel which succeeded it, and much also of others +subsequent to them. My only objection to the practice came from +the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself to +be subject when going to work before four or five fellow-passengers. +But I got used to it, as I had done to the amazement of the west +country farmers' wives when asking them after their letters. + +In the writing of Barchester Towers I took great delight. The bishop +and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the troubles +of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was done, +Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his reader; +and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and voluminous +criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was accompanied +by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, with a +payment of œ100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on condition +that I would comply with the suggestions made by his critic. One +of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel down to +two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, rejecting +one and accepting another, almost alternately, but declaring at +last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a third of +my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could have been +performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book +on the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn +from a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have +been attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the +attempt. Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's +terms; and the book was published, certainly none the worse, and +I do not think much the better, for the care that had been taken +with it. + +The work succeeded just as The Warden had succeeded. It achieved +no great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel +readers were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon +myself more than I have a right to do in saying now that Barchester +Towers has become one of those novels which do not die quite at once, +which live and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if +that be so, its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of +some of its younger brothers. Barchester Towers would hardly be +so well known as it is had there been no Framley Parsonage and no +Last Chronicle of Barset. + +I received my œ100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a +positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably +be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success. +I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his +authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or +composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural sacrifice +is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a +doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without +disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill +their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives +and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their +abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic, +as may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author +forget the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make +a money return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will +be much offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory +and my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice +of a so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in +my eyes, would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like +clergymen who preach sermons against the love of money, but who +know that the love of money is so distinctive a characteristic +of humanity that such sermons are mere platitudes called for by +customary but unintelligent piety. All material progress has come +from man's desire to do the best he can for himself and those +about him, and civilisation and Christianity itself have been made +possible by such progress. Though we do not all of us argue this +matter out within our breasts, we do all feel it; and we know that +the more a man earns the more useful he is to his fellow-men. The +most useful lawyers, as a rule, have been those who have made the +greatest incomes,--and it is the same with the doctors. It would +be the same in the Church if they who have the choosing of bishops +always chose the best man. And it has in truth been so too in art +and authorship. Did Titian or Rubens disregard their pecuniary +rewards? As far as we know, Shakespeare worked always for money, +giving the best of his intellect to support his trade as an actor. +In our own century what literary names stand higher than those of +Byron, Tennyson, Scott, Dickens, Macaulay, and Carlyle? And I think +I may say that none of those great men neglected the pecuniary result +of their labours. Now and then a man may arise among us who in any +calling, whether it be in law, in physic, in religious teaching, +in art, or literature, may in his professional enthusiasm utterly +disregard money. All will honour his enthusiasm, and if he be +wifeless and childless, his disregard of the great object of men's +work will be blameless. But it is a mistake to suppose that a man +is a better man because he despises money. Few do so, and those few +in doing so suffer a defeat. Who does not desire to be hospitable +to his friends, generous to the poor, liberal to all, munificent +to his children, and to be himself free from the casking fear which +poverty creates? The subject will not stand an argument;--and yet +authors are told that they should disregard payment for their work, +and be content to devote their unbought brains to the welfare of +the public. Brains that are unbought will never serve the public +much. Take away from English authors their copyrights, and you +would very soon take away from England her authors. + +I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what +to me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in +which professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen +what prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature +with industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair +average talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man +does in another profession. The result with me has been comfortable +but not splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the +combination of such gifts. + +I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of +reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished +from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post +Office. To be known as somebody,--to be Anthony Trollope if it be +no more,--is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and +I think beneficent. It is that which has been called the "last +infirmity of noble mind." The infirmity is so human that the man who +lacks it is either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. +But I confess that my first object in taking to literature as a +profession was that which is common to the barrister when he goes +to the Bar, and to the baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to +make an income on which I and those belonging to me might live in +comfort. + +If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures +badly, because he can make his money faster in that fashion than +by doing them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the +best he can do,--if in fact he sells shoddy for broadcloth,--he +is dishonest, as is any other fraudulent dealer. So may be the +barrister who takes money that he does not earn, or the clergyman +who is content to live on a sinecure. No doubt the artist or the +author may have a difficulty which will not occur to the seller of +cloth, in settling within himself what is good work and what is +bad,--when labour enough has been given, and when the task has been +scamped. It is a danger as to which he is bound to be severe with +himself--in which he should feel that his conscience should be set +fairly in the balance against the natural bias of his interest. If +he do not do so, sooner or later his dishonesty will be discovered, +and will be estimated accordingly. But in this he is to be governed +only by the plain rules of honesty which should govern us all. +Having said so much, I shall not scruple as I go on to attribute +to the pecuniary result of my labours all the importance which I +felt them to have at the time. + +Barchester Towers, for which I had received œ100 in advance, sold +well enough to bring me further payments--moderate payments--from +the publishers. From that day up to this very time in which I am +writing, that book and The Warden together have given me almost +every year some small income. I get the accounts very regularly, +and I find that I have received œ727 11S. 3d. for the two. It is +more than I got for the three or four works that came afterwards, +but the payments have been spread over twenty years. + +When I went to Mr. Longman with my next novel, The Three Clerks, +in my hand, I could not induce him to understand that a lump sum +down was more pleasant than a deferred annuity. I wished him to +buy it from me at a price which he might think to be a fair value, +and I argued with him that as soon as an author has put himself into +a position which insures a sufficient sale of his works to give a +profit, the publisher is not entitled to expect the half of such +proceeds. While there is a pecuniary risk, the whole of which must +be borne by the publisher, such division is fair enough; but such +a demand on the part of the publisher is monstrous as soon as the +article produced is known to be a marketable commodity. I thought +that I had now reached that point, but Mr. Longman did not agree with +me. And he endeavoured to convince me that I might lose more than +I gained, even though I should get more money by going elsewhere. +"It is for you," said he, "to think whether our names on your +title-page are not worth more to you than the increased payment." +This seemed to me to savour of that high-flown doctrine of the +contempt of money which I have never admired. I did think much +of Messrs. Longman's name, but I liked it best at the bottom of a +cheque. + +I was also scared from the august columns of Paternoster Row by +a remark made to myself by one of the firm, which seemed to imply +that they did not much care for works of fiction. Speaking of a +fertile writer of tales who was not then dead, he declared that ---- +(naming the author in question) had spawned upon them (the publishers) +three novels a year! Such language is perhaps justifiable in regard +to a man who shows so much of the fecundity of the herring; but I +did not know how fruitful might be my own muse, and I thought that +I had better go elsewhere. + +I had then written The Three Clerks, which, when I could not sell +it to Messrs. Longman, I took in the first instance to Messrs. +Hurst & Blackett, who had become successors to Mr. Colburn. I had +made an appointment with one of the firm, which, however, that +gentleman was unable to keep. I was on my way from Ireland to Italy, +and had but one day in London in which to dispose of my manuscript. +I sat for an hour in Great Marlborough Street, expecting the return +of the peccant publisher who had broken his tryst, and I was about +to depart with my bundle under my arm when the foreman of the +house came to me. He seemed to think it a pity that I should go, +and wished me to leave my work with him. This, however, I would not +do, unless he would undertake to buy it then and there. Perhaps he +lacked authority. Perhaps his judgment was against such purchase. +But while we debated the matter, he gave me some advice. "I hope +it's not historical, Mr. Trollope?" he said. "Whatever you do, +don't be historical; your historical novel is not worth a damn." +Thence I took The Three Clerks to Mr. Bentley; and on the same +afternoon succeeded in selling it to him for œ250. His son still +possesses it, and the firm has, I believe, done very well with the +purchase. It was certainly the best novel I had as yet written. +The plot is not so good as that of the Macdermots; nor are there +any characters in the book equal to those of Mrs. Proudie and the +Warden; but the work has a more continued interest, and contains +the first well-described love-scene that I ever wrote. The passage +in which Kate Woodward, thinking that she will die, tries to take +leave of the lad she loves, still brings tears to my eyes when I +read it. I had not the heart to kill her. I never could do that. +And I do not doubt but that they are living happily together to +this day. + +The lawyer Chaffanbrass made his first appearance in this novel, +and I do not think that I have cause to be ashamed of him. But this +novel now is chiefly noticeable to me from the fact that in it I +introduced a character under the name of Sir Gregory Hardlines, by +which I intended to lean very heavily on that much loathed scheme +of competitive examination, of which at that time Sir Charles +Trevelyan was the great apostle. Sir Gregory Hardlines was intended +for Sir Charles Trevelyan,--as any one at the time would know who +had taken an interest in the Civil Service. "We always call him +Sir Gregory," Lady Trevelyan said to me afterwards, when I came +to know her and her husband. I never learned to love competitive +examination; but I became, and am, very fond of Sir Charles Trevelyan. +Sir Stafford Northcote, who is now Chancellor of the Exchequer, +was then leagued with his friend Sir Charles, and he too appears +in The Three Clerks under the feebly facetious name of Sir Warwick +West End. + +But for all that The Three Clerks was a good novel. + +When that sale was made I was on my way to Italy with my wife, +paying a third visit there to my mother and brother. This was in +1857, and she had then given up her pen. It was the first year in +which she had not written, and she expressed to me her delight that +her labours should be at an end, and that mine should be beginning +in the same field. In truth they had already been continued for +a dozen years, but a man's career will generally be held to date +itself from the commencement of his success. On those foreign +tours I always encountered adventures, which, as I look back upon +them now, tempt me almost to write a little book of my long past +Continental travels. On this occasion, as we made our way slowly +through Switzerland and over the Alps, we encountered again and +again a poor forlorn Englishman, who had no friend and no aptitude +for travelling. He was always losing his way, and finding himself +with no seat in the coaches and no bed at the inns. On one occasion +I found him at Coire seated at 5 A. M. in the coupe of a diligence +which was intended to start at noon for the Engadine, while it was +his purpose to go over the Alps in another which was to leave at +5.30, and which was already crowded with passengers. "Ah!" he said, +"I am in time now, and nobody shall turn me out of this seat," +alluding to former little misfortunes of which I had been a witness. +When I explained to him his position, he was as one to whom life +was too bitter to be borne. But he made his way into Italy, and +encountered me again at the Pitti Palace in Florence. "Can you +tell me something?" he said to me in a whisper, having touched my +shoulder. "The people are so ill-natured I don't like to ask them. +Where is it they keep the Medical Venus?" I sent him to the Uffizzi, +but I fear he was disappointed. + +We ourselves, however, on entering Milan had been in quite as much +distress as any that he suffered. We had not written for beds, +and on driving up to a hotel at ten in the evening found it full. +Thence we went from one hotel to another, finding them all full. +The misery is one well known to travellers, but I never heard of +another case in which a man and his wife were told at midnight to +get out of the conveyance into the middle of the street because the +horse could not be made to go any further. Such was our condition. +I induced the driver, however, to go again to the hotel which was +nearest to him, and which was kept by a German. Then I bribed the +porter to get the master to come down to me; and, though my French +is ordinarily very defective, I spoke with such eloquence to +that German innkeeper that he, throwing his arms round my neck in +a transport of compassion, swore that he would never leave me nor +my wife till he had put us to bed. And he did so; but, ah! there +were so many in those beds! It is such an experience as this which +teaches a travelling foreigner how different on the Continent is +the accommodation provided for him, from that which is supplied +for the inhabitants of the country. + +It was on a previous visit to Milan, when the telegraph-wires were +only just opened to the public by the Austrian authorities, that +we had decided one day at dinner that we would go to Verona that +night. There was a train at six, reaching Verona at midnight, and +we asked some servant of the hotel to telegraph for us, ordering +supper and beds. The demand seemed to create some surprise; but +we persisted, and were only mildly grieved when we found ourselves +charged twenty zwanzigers for the message. Telegraphy was new at +Milan, and the prices were intended to be almost prohibitory. We +paid our twenty zwanzigers and went on, consoling ourselves with the +thought of our ready supper and our assured beds. When we reached +Verona, there arose a great cry along the platform for Signor +Trollope. I put out my head and declared my identity, when I +was waited upon by a glorious personage dressed like a beau for a +ball, with half-a-dozen others almost as glorious behind him, who +informed me, with his hat in his hand, that he was the landlord of +the "Due Torre." It was a heating moment, but it became more hot +when he asked after my people,--"mes gens." I could only turn round, +and point to my wife and brother-in-law. I had no other "people." +There were three carriages provided for us, each with a pair of +grey horses. When we reached the house it was all lit up. We were +not allowed to move without an attendant with a lighted candle. It +was only gradually that the mistake came to be understood. On us +there was still the horror of the bill, the extent of which could +not be known till the hour of departure had come. The landlord, +however, had acknowledged to himself that his inductions had been +ill-founded, and he treated us with clemency. He had never before +received a telegram. + +I apologise for these tales, which are certainly outside my purpose, +and will endeavour to tell no more that shall not have a closer +relation to my story. I had finished The Three Clerks just before +I left England, and when in Florence was cudgelling my brain for +a new plot. Being then with my brother, I asked him to sketch me a +plot, and he drew out that of my next novel, called Doctor Thorne. +I mention this particularly, because it was the only occasion in +which I have had recourse to some other source than my own brains +for the thread of a story. How far I may unconsciously have adopted +incidents from what I have read,--either from history or from works +of imagination,--I do not know. It is beyond question that a man +employed as I have been must do so. But when doing it I have not +been aware that I have done it. I have never taken another man's +work, and deliberately framed my work upon it. I am far from +censuring this practice in others. Our greatest masters in works +of imagination have obtained such aid for themselves. Shakespeare +dug out of such quarries whenever he could find them. Ben Jonson, +with heavier hand, built up his structures on his studies of +the classics, not thinking it beneath him to give, without direct +acknowledgment, whole pieces translated both from poets and +historians. But in those days no such acknowledgment was usual. +Plagiary existed, and was very common, but was not known as a sin. +It is different now; and I think that an author, when he uses either +the words or the plot of another, should own as much, demanding to +be credited with no more of the work than he has himself produced. +I may say also that I have never printed as my own a word that has +been written by others. [Footnote: I must make one exception to +this declaration. The legal opinion as to heirlooms in The Eustace +Diamonds was written for me by Charles Merewether, the present +Member for Northampton. I am told that it has become the ruling +authority on the subject.] It might probably have been better for +my readers had I done so, as I am informed that Doctor Thorne, the +novel of which I am now speaking, has a larger sale than any other +book of mine. + +Early in 1858, while I was writing Doctor Thorne, I was asked by +the great men at the General Post Office to go to Egypt to make a +treaty with the Pasha for the conveyance of our mails through that +country by railway. There was a treaty in existence, but that had +reference to the carriage of bags and boxes by camels from Alexandria +to Suez. Since its date the railway had grown, and was now nearly +completed, and a new treaty was wanted. So I came over from Dublin +to London, on my road, and again went to work among the publishers. +The other novel was not finished; but I thought I had now progressed +far enough to arrange a sale while the work was still on the stocks. +I went to Mr. Bentley and demanded œ400,--for the copyright. He +acceded, but came to me the next morning at the General Post Office +to say that it could not be. He had gone to work at his figures +after I had left him, and had found that œ300 would be the outside +value of the novel. I was intent upon the larger sum; and in furious +haste,--for I had but an hour at my disposal,--I rushed to Chapman +& Hall in Piccadilly, and said what I had to say to Mr. Edward +Chapman in a quick torrent of words. They were the first of a great +many words which have since been spoken by me in that back-shop. +Looking at me as he might have done at a highway robber who had +stopped him on Hounslow Heath, he said that he supposed he might +as well do as I desired. I considered this to be a sale, and it +was a sale. I remember that he held the poker in his hand all the +time that I was with him;--but in truth, even though he had declined +to buy the book, there would have been no danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"DOCTOR THORNE"--"THE BERTRAMS"--"THE WEST INDIES" AND "THE SPANISH +MAIN" + + + + +As I journeyed across France to Marseilles, and made thence a +terribly rough voyage to Alexandria, I wrote my allotted number of +pages every day. On this occasion more than once I left my paper +on the cabin table, rushing away to be sick in the privacy of my +state room. It was February, and the weather was miserable; but +still I did my work. Labor omnia vincit improbus. I do not say that +to all men has been given physical strength sufficient for such +exertion as this, but I do believe that real exertion will enable +most men to work at almost any season. I had previously to this +arranged a system of task-work for myself, which I would strongly +recommend to those who feel as I have felt, that labour, when not +made absolutely obligatory by the circumstances of the hour, should +never be allowed to become spasmodic. There was no day on which +it was my positive duty to write for the publishers, as it was my +duty to write reports for the Post Office. I was free to be idle if +I pleased. But as I had made up my mind to undertake this second +profession, I found it to be expedient to bind myself by certain +self-imposed laws. When I have commenced a new book, I have always +prepared a diary, divided into weeks, and carried it on for the +period which I have allowed myself for the completion of the work. +In this I have entered, day by day, the number of pages I have +written, so that if at any time I have slipped into idleness for +a day or two, the record of that idleness has been there, staring +me in the face, and demanding of me increased labour, so that the +deficiency might be supplied. According to the circumstances of the +time,--whether my other business might be then heavy or light, or +whether the book which I was writing was or was not wanted with +speed,--I have allotted myself so many pages a week. The average +number has been about 40. It has been placed as low as 20, and has +risen to 112. And as a page is an ambiguous term, my page has been +made to contain 250 words; and as words, if not watched, will have +a tendency to straggle, I have had every word counted as I went. In +the bargains I have made with publishers I have,--not, of course, +with their knowledge, but in my own mind,--undertaken always to +supply them with so many words, and I have never put a book out +of hand short of the number by a single word. I may also say that +the excess has been very small. I have prided myself on completing +my work exactly within the proposed dimensions. But I have prided +myself especially in completing it within the proposed time,--and +I have always done so. There has ever been the record before me, +and a week passed with an insufficient number of pages has been a +blister to my eye, and a month so disgraced would have been a sorrow +to my heart. + +I have been told that such appliances are beneath the notice of a +man of genius. I have never fancied myself to be a man of genius, +but had I been so I think I might well have subjected myself to +these trammels. Nothing surely is so potent as a law that may not +be disobeyed. It has the force of the water drop that hollows the +stone. A small daily task, If it be really daily, will beat the +labours of a spasmodic Hercules. It is the tortoise which always +catches the hare. The hare has no chance. He loses more time in +glorifying himself for a quick spurt than suffices for the tortoise +to make half his journey. + +I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and +painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They +have ever been as boys struggling to learn their lessons as they +entered the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they +have failed to write their best because they have seldom written at +ease. I have done double their work--though burdened with another +profession,--and have done it almost without an effort. I have not +once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger +of being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to "copy." +The needed pages far ahead--very far ahead--have almost always +been in the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates +and ruled spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly +demand upon my industry, has done all that for me. + +There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to +such a taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his +imagination should allow himself to wait till--inspiration moves +him. When I have heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been +able to repress my scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the +shoemaker were to wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for +the divine moment of melting. If the man whose business it is to +write has eaten too many good things, or has drunk too much, or +smoked too many cigars,--as men who write sometimes will do,--then +his condition may be unfavourable for work; but so will be the +condition of a shoemaker who has been similarly imprudent. I have +sometimes thought that the inspiration wanted has been the remedy +which time will give to the evil results of such imprudence.--Mens +sana in corpore sano. The author wants that as does every other +workman,--that and a habit of industry. I was once told that the +surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler's wax on +my chair. I certainly believe in the cobbler's wax much more than +the inspiration. + +It will be said, perhaps, that a man whose work has risen to no +higher pitch than mine has attained, has no right to speak of the +strains and impulses to which real genius is exposed. I am ready +to admit the great variations in brain power which are exhibited by +the products of different men, and am not disposed to rank my own +very high; but my own experience tells me that a man can always do +the work for which his brain is fitted if he will give himself the +habit of regarding his work as a normal condition of his life. I +therefore venture to advise young men who look forward to authorship +as the business of their lives, even when they propose that that +authorship be of the highest class known, to avoid enthusiastic +rushes with their pens, and to seat themselves at their desks day +by day as though they were lawyers' clerks;--and so let them sit +until the allotted task shall be accomplished. + +While I was in Egypt, I finished Doctor Thorne, and on the following +day began The Bertrams. I was moved now by a determination to excel, +if not in quality, at any rate in quantity. An ignoble ambition +for an author, my readers will no doubt say. But not, I think, +altogether ignoble, if an author can bring himself to look at his +work as does any other workman. This had become my task, this +was the furrow in which my plough was set, this was the thing the +doing of which had fallen into my hands, and I was minded to work +at it with a will. It is not on my conscience that I have ever +scamped my work. My novels, whether good or bad, have been as good +as I could make them. Had I taken three months of idleness between +each they would have been no better. Feeling convinced of that, I +finished Doctor Thorne on one day, and began The Bertrams on the +next. + +I had then been nearly two months in Egypt, and had at last +succeeded in settling the terms of a postal treaty. Nearly twenty +years have passed since that time, and other years may yet run on +before these pages are printed. I trust I may commit no official +sin by describing here the nature of the difficulty which met me. +I found, on my arrival, that I was to communicate with an officer +of the Pasha, who was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have +been the gentleman who has lately dealt with our Government as to +the Suez Canal shares, and who is now well known to the political +world as Nubar Pasha. I found him a most courteous gentlemen, an +Armenian. I never went to his office, nor do I know that he had an +office. Every other day he would come to me at my hotel, and bring +with him servants, and pipes, and coffee. I enjoyed his coming +greatly; but there was one point on which we could not agree. As +to money and other details, it seemed as though he could hardly +accede fast enough to the wishes of the Postmaster-General; but +on one point he was firmly opposed to me. I was desirous that the +mails should be carried through Egypt in twenty-four hours, and he +thought that forty-eight hours should be allowed. I was obstinate, +and he was obstinate; and for a long time we could come to +no agreement. At last his oriental tranquillity seemed to desert +him, and he took upon himself to assure me, with almost more than +British energy, that, if I insisted on the quick transit, a terrible +responsibility would rest on my head. I made this mistake, he +said,--that I supposed that a rate of travelling which would be +easy and secure in England could be attained with safety in Egypt. +"The Pasha, his master, would," he said, "no doubt accede to +any terms demanded by the British Post Office, so great was his +reverence for everything British. In that case he, Nubar, would at +once resign his position, and retire into obscurity. He would be +ruined; but the loss of life and bloodshed which would certainly +follow so rash an attempt should not be on his head." I smoked my +pipe, or rather his, and drank his coffee, with oriental quiescence +but British firmness. Every now and again, through three or four +visits, I renewed the expression of my opinion that the transit +could easily be made in twenty-four hours. At last he gave way,--and +astonished me by the cordiality of his greeting. There was no +longer any question of bloodshed or of resignation of office, and +he assured me, with energetic complaisance, that it should be his +care to see that the time was punctually kept. It was punctually +kept, and, I believe, is so still. I must confess, however, that my +persistency was not the result of any courage specially personal to +myself. While the matter was being debated, it had been whispered +to me that the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company had +conceived that forty-eight hours would suit the purposes of their +traffic better than twenty-four, and that, as they were the great +paymasters on the railway, the Minister of the Egyptian State, +who managed the railway, might probably wish to accommodate them. +I often wondered who originated that frightful picture of blood +and desolation. That it came from an English heart and an English +hand I was always sure. + +From Egypt I visited the Holy Land, and on my way inspected the +Post Offices at Malta and Gibraltar. I could fill a volume with +true tales of my adventures. The Tales of All Countries have, most +of them, some foundation in such occurrences. There is one called +John Bull on the Guadalquivir, the chief incident in which occurred +to me and a friend of mine on our way up that river to Seville. We +both of us handled the gold ornaments of a man whom we believed to +be a bull-fighter, but who turned out to be a duke,--and a duke, +too, who could speak English! How gracious he was to us, and yet +how thoroughly he covered us with ridicule! + +On my return home I received œ400 from Messrs. Chapman & Hall for +Doctor Thorne, and agreed to sell them The Bertrams for the same sum. +This latter novel was written under very vagrant circumstances,--at +Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Glasgow, then at sea, and at last +finished in Jamaica. Of my journey to the West Indies I will say +a few words presently, but I may as well speak of these two novels +here. Doctor Thorne has, I believe, been the most popular book that +I have written,--if I may take the sale as a proof of comparative +popularity. The Bertrams has had quite an opposite fortune. I do not +know that I have ever heard it well spoken of even by my friends, +and I cannot remember that there is any character in it that has +dwelt in the minds of novel-readers. I myself think that they are +of about equal merit, but that neither of them is good. They fall +away very much from The Three Clerks, both in pathos and humour. +There is no personage in either of them comparable to Chaffanbrass the +lawyer. The plot of Doctor Thorne is good, and I am led therefore +to suppose that a good plot,--which, to my own feeling, is the +most insignificant part of a tale,--is that which will most raise +it or most condemn it in the public judgment. The plots of Tom Jones +and of Ivanhoe are almost perfect, and they are probably the most +popular novels of the schools of the last and of this century; but +to me the delicacy of Amelia, and the rugged strength of Burley +and Meg Merrilies, say more for the power of those great novelists +than the gift of construction shown in the two works I have named. +A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humour +and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, +the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals +known to the world or to the author, but of created personages +impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, +the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the +vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the +agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, +however, be a story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort. That +of The Bertrams was more than ordinarily bad; and as the book was +relieved by no special character, it failed. Its failure never +surprised me; but I have been surprised by the success of Doctor +Thorne. + +At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the +failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, +and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which +had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all +made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, +I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two +years,--confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible +author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to +me,--I might add œ600 a year to my official income. I was still +living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure +my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a week, on œ1400 +a year. If more should come, it would be well;--but œ600 a year I +was prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but +was very pleasant when it came. + +On my return from Egypt I was sent down to Scotland to revise the +Glasgow Post Office. I almost forget now what it was that I had +to do there, but I know that I walked all over the city with the +letter-carriers, going up to the top flats of the houses, as the +men would have declared me incompetent to judge the extent of their +labours had I not trudged every step with them. It was midsummer, +and wearier work I never performed. The men would grumble, and +then I would think how it would be with them if they had to go home +afterwards and write a love-scene. But the love-scenes written in +Glasgow, all belonging to The Bertrams, are not good. + +Then in the autumn of that year, 1858, I was asked to go to the West +Indies, and cleanse the Augean stables of our Post Office system +there. Up to that time, and at that time, our Colonial Post Offices +generally were managed from home, and were subject to the British +Postmaster-General. Gentlemen were sent out from England to be +postmasters, surveyors, and what not; and as our West Indian islands +have never been regarded as being of themselves happily situated +for residence, the gentlemen so sent were sometimes more conspicuous +for want of income than for official zeal and ability. Hence the +stables had become Augean. I was also instructed to carry out in +some of the islands a plan for giving up this postal authority to +the island Governor, and in others to propose some such plan. I +was then to go on to Cuba, to make a postal treaty with the Spanish +authorities, and to Panama for the same purpose with the Government +of New Grenada. All this work I performed to my satisfaction, and +I hope to that of my masters in St. Martin's le Grand. + +But the trip is at the present moment of importance to my subject, +as having enabled me to write that which, on the whole, I regard +as the best book that has come from my pen. It is short, and, I +think I may venture to say, amusing, useful, and true. As soon as +I had learned from the secretary at the General Post Office that +this journey would be required, I proposed the book to Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, demanding œ250 for a single volume. The contract +was made without any difficulty, and when I returned home the work +was complete in my desk. I began it on board the ship in which I +left Kingston, Jamaica, for Cuba,--and from week to week I carried +it on as I went. From Cuba I made my way to St. Thomas, and through +the island down to Demerara, then back to St. Thomas,--which is +the starting-point for all places in that part of the globe,--to +Santa Martha, Carthagena, Aspinwall, over the Isthmus to Panama, up +the Pacific to a little harbour on the coast of Costa Rica, thence +across Central America, through Costa Rica, and down the Nicaragua +river to the Mosquito coast, and after that home by Bermuda and New +York. Should any one want further details of the voyage, are they +not written in my book? The fact memorable to me now is that I +never made a single note while writing or preparing it. Preparation, +indeed, there was none. The descriptions and opinions came hot +on to the paper from their causes. I will not say that this is the +best way of writing a book intended to give accurate information. +But it is the best way of producing to the eye of the reader, and +to his ear, that which the eye of the writer has seen and his ear +heard. There are two kinds of confidence which a reader may have +in his author,--which two kinds the reader who wishes to use his +reading well should carefully discriminate. There is a confidence +in facts and a confidence in vision. The one man tells you accurately +what has been. The other suggests to you what may, or perhaps what +must have been, or what ought to have been. The former require simple +faith. The latter calls upon you to judge for yourself, and form +your own conclusions. The former does not intend to be prescient, +nor the latter accurate. Research is the weapon used by the former; +observation by the latter. Either may be false,--wilfully false; as +also may either be steadfastly true. As to that, the reader must +judge for himself. But the man who writes currente calamo, who +works with a rapidity which will not admit of accuracy, may be as +true, and in one sense as trustworthy, as he who bases every word +upon a rock of facts. I have written very much as I have, travelled +about; and though I have been very inaccurate, I have always +written the exact truth as I saw it ;--and I have, I think, drawn +my pictures correctly. + +The view I took of the relative position in the West Indies +of black men and white men was the view of the Times newspaper at +that period; and there appeared three articles in that journal, one +closely after another, which made the fortune of the book. Had it +been very bad, I suppose its fortune could not have been made for +it even by the Times newspaper. I afterwards became acquainted with +the writer of those articles, the contributor himself informing me +that he had written them. I told him that he had done me a greater +service than can often be done by one man to another, but that I was +under no obligation to him. I do not think that he saw the matter +quite in the same light. + +I am aware that by that criticism I was much raised in my position +as an author. Whether such lifting up by such means is good or bad +for literature is a question which I hope to discuss in a future +chapter. But the result was immediate to me, for I at once went to +Chapman & Hall and successfully demanded œ600 for my next novel. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "CORNHILL MAGAZINE" AND "FRAMLEY PARSONAGE" + + + + +Soon after my return from the West Indies I was enabled to change +my district in Ireland for one in England. For some time past my +official work had been of a special nature, taking me out of my +own district; but through all that, Dublin had been my home, and +there my wife and children had lived. I had often sighed to return +to England,--with a silly longing. My life in England for twenty-six +years from the time of my birth to the day on which I left it, had +been wretched. I had been poor, friendless, and joyless. In Ireland +it had constantly been happy. I had achieved the respect of all +with whom I was concerned, I had made for myself a comfortable +home, and I had enjoyed many pleasures. Hunting itself was a great +delight to me; and now, as I contemplated a move to England, and a +house in the neighbourhood of London, I felt that hunting must be +abandoned. [Footnote: It was not abandoned till sixteen more years +had passed away.] Nevertheless I thought that a man who could +write books ought not to live in Ireland,--ought to live within +the reach of the publishers, the clubs, and the dinner-parties of +the metropolis. So I made my request at headquarters, and with some +little difficulty got myself appointed to the Eastern District of +England,--which comprised Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, +Huntingdonshire, and the greater part of Hertfordshire. + +At this time I did not stand very well with the dominant interest +at the General Post Office. My old friend Colonel Maberly had +been, some time since, squeezed into, and his place was filled by +Mr. Rowland Hill, the originator of the penny post. With him I never +had any sympathy, nor he with me. In figures and facts he was most +accurate, but I never came across any one who so little understood +the ways of men,--unless it was his brother Frederic. To the two +brothers the servants of the Post Office,--men numerous enough to +have formed a large army in old days,--were so many machines who +could be counted on for their exact work without deviation, as +wheels may be counted on, which are kept going always at the same +pace and always by the same power. Rowland Hill was an industrious +public servant, anxious for the good of his country; but he was +a hard taskmaster, and one who would, I think, have put the great +department with which he was concerned altogether out of gear by +his hardness, had he not been at last controlled. He was the Chief +Secretary, my brother-in-law--who afterwards succeeded him--came +next to him, and Mr. Hill's brother was the Junior Secretary. In +the natural course of things, I had not, from my position, anything +to do with the management of affairs;--but from time to time I found +myself more or less mixed up in it. I was known to be a thoroughly +efficient public servant; I am sure I may say so much of myself +without fear of contradiction from any one who has known the Post +Office;--I was very fond of the department, and when matters came +to be considered, I generally had an opinion of my own. I have +no doubt that I often made myself very disagreeable. I know that I +sometimes tried to do so. But I could hold my own because I knew +my business and was useful. I had given official offence by the +publication of The Three Clerks. I afterwards gave greater offence +by a lecture on The Civil Service which I delivered in one of the +large rooms at the General Post Office to the clerks there. On this +occasion, the Postmaster-General, with whom personally I enjoyed +friendly terms, sent for me and told me that Mr. Hill had told him +that I ought to be dismissed. When I asked his lordship whether +he was prepared to dismiss me, he only laughed. The threat was +no threat to me, as I knew myself to be too good to be treated in +that fashion. The lecture had been permitted, and I had disobeyed +no order. In the lecture which I delivered, there was nothing +to bring me to shame,--but it advocated the doctrine that a civil +servant is only a servant as far as his contract goes, and that he +is beyond that entitled to be as free a man in politics, as free in +his general pursuits, and as free in opinion, as those who are in +open professions and open trades. All this is very nearly admitted +now, but it certainly was not admitted then. At that time no one +in the Post Office could even vote for a Member of Parliament. + +Through my whole official life I did my best to improve the style +of official writing. I have written, I should think, some thousands +of reports,--many of them necessarily very long; some of them +dealing with subjects so absurd as to allow a touch of burlesque; +some few in which a spark of indignation or a slight glow of pathos +might find an entrance. I have taken infinite pains with these +reports, habituating myself always to write them in the form in +which they should be sent,--without a copy. It is by writing thus +that a man can throw on to his paper the exact feeling with which +his mind is impressed at the moment. A rough copy, or that which +is called a draft, is written in order that it may be touched and +altered and put upon stilts. The waste of time, moreover, in such +an operation, is terrible. If a man knows his craft with his pen, +he will have learned to write without the necessity of changing +his words or the form of his sentences. I had learned so to write +my reports that they who read them should know what it was that I +meant them to understand. But I do not think that they were regarded +with favour. I have heard horror expressed because the old forms +were disregarded and language used which had no savour of red-tape. +During the whole of this work in the Post Office it was my principle +always to obey authority in everything instantly, but never to allow +my mouth to be closed as to the expression of my opinion. They who +had the ordering of me very often did not know the work as I knew +it,--could not tell as I could what would be the effect of this +or that change. When carrying out instructions which I knew should +not have been given, I never scrupled to point out the fatuity of +the improper order in the strongest language that I could decently +employ. I have revelled in these official correspondences, and look +back to some of them as the greatest delights of my life. But I am +not sure that they were so delightful to others. + +I succeeded, however, in getting the English district,--which +could hardly have been refused to me,--and prepared to change our +residence towards the end of 1859. At the time I was writing Castle +Richmond, the novel which I had sold to Messrs. Chapman & Hall +for œ600. But there arose at this time a certain literary project +which probably had a great effect upon my career. Whilst travelling +on postal service abroad or riding over the rural districts +in England, or arranging the mails in Ireland,--and such for the +last eighteen years had now been my life,--I had no opportunity +of becoming acquainted with the literary life in London. It was +probably some feeling of this which had made me anxious to move +my penates back to England. But even in Ireland, where I was still +living in October, 1859, I had heard of the Cornhill Magazine, which +was to come out on the 1st of January, 1860, under the editorship +of Thackeray. + +I had at this time written from time to time certain short stories, +which had been published in different periodicals, and which in due +time were republished under the name of Tales of All Countries. On +the 23d of October, 1859, I wrote to Thackeray, whom I had, I think, +never then seen, offering to send him for the magazine certain of +these stories. In reply to this I received two letters,--one from +Messrs. Smith & Elder, the proprietors of the Cornhill, dated 26th +of October, and the other from the editor, written two days later. +That from Mr. Thackeray was as follows:-- + + "36 ONSLOW SQUARE, S. W. + October 28th. + +"MY DEAR MR. TROLLOPE,--Smith & Elder have sent you their proposals; +and the business part done, let me come to the pleasure, and say +how very glad indeed I shall be to have you as a co-operator in +our new magazine. And looking over the annexed programme, you will +see whether you can't help us in many other ways besides tale-telling. +Whatever a man knows about life and its doings, that let us hear +about. You must have tossed a good deal about the world, and have +countless sketches in your memory and your portfolio. Please +to think if you can furbish up any of these besides a novel. When +events occur, and you have a good lively tale, bear us in mind. One +of our chief objects in this magazine is the getting out of novel +spinning, and back into the world. Don't understand me to disparage +our craft, especially YOUR wares. I often say I am like the +pastrycook, and don't care for tarts, but prefer bread and cheese; +but the public love the tarts (luckily for us), and we must bake and +sell them. There was quite an excitement in my family one evening +when Paterfamilias (who goes to sleep on a novel almost always +when he tries it after dinner) came up-stairs into the drawing-room +wide awake and calling for the second volume of The Three Clerks. +I hope the Cornhill Magazine will have as pleasant a story. And +the Chapmans, if they are the honest men I take them to be, I've no +doubt have told you with what sincere liking your works have been +read by yours very faithfully, + + "W. M. THACKERAY." + +This was very pleasant, and so was the letter from Smith & Elder +offering me œ1000 for the copyright of a three-volume novel, to +come out in the new magazine,--on condition that the first portion +of it should be in their hands by December 12th. There was much in +all this that astonished me;--in the first place the price, which +was more than double what I had yet received, and nearly double +that which I was about to receive from Messrs. Chapman & Hall. +Then there was the suddenness of the call. It was already the end +of October, and a portion of the work was required to be in the +printer's hands within six weeks. Castle Richmond was indeed half +written, but that was sold to Chapman. And it had already been +a principle with me in my art, that no part of a novel should +be published till the entire story was completed. I knew, from +what I read from month to month, that this hurried publication of +incompleted work was frequently, I might perhaps say always, adopted +by the leading novelists of the day. That such has been the case, +is proved by the fact that Dickens, Thackeray, and Mrs. Gaskell +died with unfinished novels, of which portions had been already +published. I had not yet entered upon the system of publishing +novels in parts, and therefore had never been tempted. But I was +aware that an artist should keep in his hand the power of fitting +the beginning of his work to the end. No doubt it is his first +duty to fit the end to the beginning, and he will endeavour to do +so. But he should still keep in his hands the power of remedying +any defect in this respect. + + + "Servetur ad imum + Qualis ab incepto processerit," + + +should be kept in view as to every character and every string of +action. Your Achilles should all through, from beginning to end, +be "impatient, fiery, ruthless, keen." Your Achilles, such as he +is, will probably keep up his character. But your Davus also should +be always Davus, and that is more difficult. The rustic driving his +pigs to market cannot always make them travel by the exact path +which he has intended for them. When some young lady at the end +of a story cannot be made quite perfect in her conduct, that vivid +description of angelic purity with which you laid the first lines +of her portrait should be slightly toned down. I had felt that the +rushing mode of publication to which the system of serial stories +had given rise, and by which small parts as they were written were +sent hot to the press, was injurious to the work done. If I now +complied with the proposition made to me, I must act against my +own principle. But such a principle becomes a tyrant if it cannot +be superseded on a just occasion. If the reason be "tanti," the +principle should for the occasion be put in abeyance. I sat as +judge, and decreed that the present reason was "tanti." On this my +first attempt at a serial story, I thought it fit to break my own +rule. I can say, however, that I have never broken it since. + +But what astonished me most was the fact that at so late a day +this new Cornhill Magazine should be in want of a novel. Perhaps +some of my future readers will he able to remember the great +expectations which were raised as to this periodical. Thackeray's +was a good name with which to conjure. The proprietors, Messrs. +Smith & Elder, were most liberal in their manner of initiating the +work, and were able to make an expectant world of readers believe +that something was to be given them for a shilling very much in +excess of anything they had ever received for that or double the +money. Whether these hopes were or were not fulfilled it is not for +me to say, as, for the first few years of the magazine's existence, +I wrote for it more than any other one person. But such was certainly +the prospect;--and how had it come to pass that, with such promises +made, the editor and the proprietors were, at the end of October, +without anything fixed as to what must be regarded as the chief +dish in the banquet to be provided? + +I fear that the answer to this question must be found in the habits +of procrastination which had at that time grown upon the editor. +He had, I imagine, undertaken the work himself, and had postponed +its commencement till there was left to him no time for commencing. +There was still, it may be said, as much time for him as for me. +I think there was,--for though he had his magazine to look after, +I had the Post Office. But he thought, when unable to trust his +own energy, that he might rely upon that of a new recruit. He was +but four years my senior in life but he was at the top of the tree, +while I was still at the bottom. + +Having made up my mind to break my principle, I started at once from +Dublin to London. I arrived there on the morning of Thursday, 3d +of November, and left it on the evening of Friday. In the meantime +I had made my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder, and had arranged +my plot. But when in London, I first went to Edward Chapman, at 193 +Piccadilly. If the novel I was then writing for him would suit +the Cornhill, might I consider my arrangement with him to be at an +end? Yes; I might. But if that story would not suit the Cornhill, +was I to consider my arrangement with him as still standing,--that +agreement requiring that my MS. should be in his hands in the +following March? As to that, I might do as I pleased. In our dealings +together Mr. Edward Chapman always acceded to every suggestion made +to him. He never refused a book, and never haggled at a price. Then +I hurried into the City, and had my first interview with Mr. George +Smith. When he heard that Castle Richmond was an Irish story, he +begged that I would endeavour to frame some other for his magazine. +He was sure that an Irish story would not do for a commencement;--and +he suggested the Church, as though it were my peculiar subject. I +told him that Castle Richmond would have to "come out" while any +other novel that I might write for him would be running through the +magazine;--but to that he expressed himself altogether indifferent. +He wanted an English tale, on English life, with a clerical flavour. +On these orders I went to work, and framed what I suppose I must +call the plot of Framley Parsonage. + +On my journey back to Ireland, in the railway carriage, I wrote the +first few pages of that story. I had got into my head an idea of +what I meant to write,--a morsel of the biography of an English +clergyman who should not be a bad man, but one led into temptation +by his own youth and by the unclerical accidents of the life of +those around him. The love of his sister for the young lord was +an adjunct necessary, because there must be love in a novel. And +then by placing Framley Parsonage near Barchester, I was able to +fall back upon my old friends Mrs. Proudie and the archdeacon. Out +of these slight elements I fabricated a hodge-podge in which the +real plot consisted at last simply of a girl refusing to marry the +man she loved till the man's friends agreed to accept her lovingly. +Nothing could be less efficient or artistic. But the characters +were so well handled, that the work from the first to the last +was popular,--and was received as it went on with still increasing +favour by both editor and proprietor of the magazine. The story was +thoroughly English. There was a little fox-hunting and a little +tuft-hunting, some Christian virtue and some Christian cant. There +was no heroism and no villainy. There was much Church, but more +love-making. And it was downright honest love,--in which there was +no pretence on the part of the lady that she was too ethereal to +be fond of a man, no half-and-half inclination on the part of the +man to pay a certain price and no more for a pretty toy. Each of +them longed for the other, and they were not ashamed to say so. +Consequently they in England who were living, or had lived, the +same sort of life, liked Framley Parsonage. I think myself that +Lucy Robarts is perhaps the most natural English girl that I ever +drew,--the most natural, at any rate, of those who have been good +girls. She was not as dear to me as Kate Woodward in The Three +Clerks, but I think she is more like real human life. Indeed +I doubt whether such a character could be made more lifelike than +Lucy Robarts. + +And I will say also that in this novel there is no very weak part,--no +long succession of dull pages. The production of novels in serial +form forces upon the author the conviction that he should not allow +himself to be tedious in any single part. I hope no reader will +misunderstand me. In spite of that conviction, the writer of stories +in parts will often be tedious. That I have been so myself is a +fault that will lie heavy on my tombstone. But the writer when he +embarks in such a business should feel that he cannot afford to have +many pages skipped out of the few which are to meet the reader's +eye at the same time. Who can imagine the first half of the first +volume of Waverley coming out in shilling numbers? I had realised +this when I was writing Framley Parsonage; and working on the +conviction which had thus come home to me, I fell into no bathos +of dulness. + +I subsequently came across a piece of criticism which was written +on me as a novelist by a brother novelist very much greater than +myself, and whose brilliant intellect and warm imagination led him +to a kind of work the very opposite of mine. This was Nathaniel +Hawthorne, the American, whom I did not then know, but whose works +I knew. Though it praises myself highly, I will insert it here, +because it certainly is true in its nature: "It is odd enough," he +says, "that my own individual taste is for quite another class of +works than those which I myself am able to write. If I were to meet +with such books as mine by another writer, I don't believe I should +be able to get through them. Have you ever read the novels of Anthony +Trollope? They precisely suit my taste,--solid and substantial, +written on the strength of beef and through the inspiration of +ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of +the earth and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants +going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they +were being made a show of. And these books are just as English as +a beef-steak. Have they ever been tried in America? It needs an +English residence to make them thoroughly comprehensible; but still +I should think that human nature would give them success anywhere." + +This was dated early in 1860, and could have had no reference to +Framley Parsonage; but it was as true of that work as of any that +I have written. And the criticism, whether just or unjust, describes +with wonderful accuracy the purport that I have ever had in view +in my writing. I have always desired to "hew out some lump of the +earth," and to make men and women walk upon it just as they do walk +here among us,--with not more of excellence, nor with exaggerated +baseness,--so that my readers might recognise human beings like to +themselves, and not feel themselves to be carried away among gods +or demons. If I could do this, then I thought I might succeed +in impregnating the mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that +honesty is the best policy; that truth prevails while falsehood +fails; that a girl will be loved as she is pure; and sweet, and +unselfish; that a man will be honoured as he is true, and honest, +and brave of heart; that things meanly done are ugly and odious, +and things nobly done beautiful and gracious. I do not say that +lessons such as these may not be more grandly taught by higher +flights than mine. Such lessons come to us from our greatest poets. +But there are so many who will read novels and understand them, who +either do not read the works of our great poets, or reading them +miss the lesson! And even in prose fiction the character whom +the fervid imagination of the writer has lifted somewhat into the +clouds, will hardly give so plain an example to the hasty normal +reader as the humbler personage whom that reader unconsciously feels +to resemble himself or herself. I do think that a girl would more +probably dress her own mind after Lucy Robarts than after Flora +Macdonald. + +There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching +either virtue or nobility,--those, for instance, who regard +the reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be +simply an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as +among the tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a +wicked world. I have regarded my art from so different a point of +view that I have ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, +and my pulpit as one which I could make both salutary and agreeable +to my audience. I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading +of my pages less modest than she was before, and that some may have +learned from them that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I +think that no youth has been taught that in falseness and flashness +is to be found the road to manliness; but some may perhaps have +learned from me that it is to be found in truth and a high but +gentle spirit. Such are the lessons I have striven to teach; and +I have thought it might best be done by representing to my readers +characters like themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. + +Framley Parsonage--or, rather, my connection with the Cornhill--was +the means of introducing me very quickly to that literary world +from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of my residence +in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very hard at work +on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern District, +and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from London, +in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and Middlesex,--which +was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This I took on +lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about œ1000 on +improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent both +in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity came, +among men of my own pursuit. + +It was in January, 1860, that Mr. George Smith--to whose enterprise +we owe not only the Cornhill Magazine but the Pall Mall Gazette--gave +a sumptuous dinner to his contributors. It was a memorable banquet +in many ways, but chiefly so to me because on that occasion I first +met many men who afterwards became my most intimate associates. +It can rarely happen that one such occasion can be the first +starting-point of so many friendships. It was at that table, and +on that day, that I first saw Thackeray, Charles Taylor (Sir)--than +whom in latter life I have loved no man better,--Robert Bell, G. H. +Lewes, and John Everett Millais. With all these men I afterwards +lived on affectionate terms;--but I will here speak specially of +the last, because from that time he was joined with me in so much +of the work that I did. + +Mr. Millais was engaged to illustrate Framley Parsonage, but this +was not the first work he did for the magazine. In the second number +there is a picture of his accompanying Monckton Milne's Unspoken +Dialogue. The first drawing he did for Framley Parsonage did not +appear till after the dinner of which I have spoken, and I do not +think that I knew at the time that he was engaged on my novel. When +I did know it, it made me very proud. He afterwards illustrated +Orley Farm, The Small House of Allington, Rachel Ray, and Phineas +Finn. Altogether he drew from my tales eighty-seven drawings, and +I do not think that more conscientious work was ever done by man. +Writers of novels know well--and so ought readers of novels to +have learned--that there are two modes of illustrating, either of +which may be adopted equally by a bad and by a good artist. To +which class Mr. Millais belongs I need not say; but, as a good +artist, it was open to him simply to make a pretty picture, or to +study the work of the author from whose writing he was bound to take +his subject. I have too often found that the former alternative +has been thought to be the better, as it certainly is the easier +method. An artist will frequently dislike to subordinate his ideas +to those of an author, and will sometimes be too idle to find out +what those ideas are. But this artist was neither proud nor idle. +In every figure that he drew it was his object to promote the +views of the writer whose work he had undertaken to illustrate, and +he never spared himself any pains in studying that work, so as to +enable him to do so. I have carried on some of those characters from +book to book, and have had my own early ideas impressed indelibly +on my memory by the excellence of his delineations. Those illustrations +were commenced fifteen years ago, and from that time up to this +day my affection for the man of whom I am speaking has increased. +To see him has always been a pleasure. His voice has been a sweet +sound in my ears. Behind his back I have never heard him praised +without joining the eulogist; I have never heard a word spoken +against him without opposing the censurer. These words, should he +ever see them, will come to him from the grave, and will tell him +of my regard,--as one living man never tells another. + +Sir Charles Taylor, who carried me home in his brougham that +evening, and thus commenced an intimacy which has since been very +close, was born to wealth, and was therefore not compelled by the +necessities of a profession to enter the lists as an author. But +he lived much with those who did so,--and could have done it himself +had want or ambition stirred him. He was our king at the Garrick +Club, to which, however, I did not yet belong. He gave the best +dinners of my time, and was,--happily I may say is, [Footnote: +Alas! within a year of the writing of this he went from us.]--the +best giver of dinners. A man rough of tongue, brusque in his manners, +odious to those who dislike him, somewhat inclined to tyranny, he +is the prince of friends, honest as the sun, and as openhanded as +Charity itself. + +Robert Bell has now been dead nearly ten years. As I look back +over the interval and remember how intimate we were, it seems odd +to me that we should have known each other for no more than six +years. He was a man who had lived by his pen from his very youth; +and was so far successful that I do not think that want ever came +near him. But he never made that mark which his industry and talents +would have seemed to ensure. He was a man well known to literary +men, but not known to readers. As a journalist he was useful +and conscientious, but his plays and novels never made themselves +popular. He wrote a life of Canning, and he brought out an annotated +edition of the British poets; but he achieved no great success. +I have known no man better read in English literature. Hence his +conversation had a peculiar charm, but he was not equally happy +with his pen. He will long be remembered at the Literary Fund +Committees, of which he was a staunch and most trusted supporter. +I think it was he who first introduced me to that board. It has +often been said that literary men are peculiarly apt to think that +they are slighted and unappreciated. Robert Bell certainly never +achieved the position in literature which he once aspired to fill, +and which he was justified in thinking that he could earn for +himself. I have frequently discussed these subjects with him, but +I never heard from his mouth a word of complaint as to his own +literary fate. He liked to hear the chimes go at midnight, and he +loved to have ginger hot in his mouth. On such occasions no sound +ever came out of a man's lips sweeter than his wit and gentle +revelry. + +George Lewes,--with his wife, whom all the world knows as George +Eliot,--has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. +He is, I think, the acutest critic I know,--and the severest. His +severity, however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when +honesty may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has +not required it. He is essentially a doubter, and has encouraged +himself to doubt till the faculty of trusting has almost left him. +I am not speaking of the personal trust which one man feels in +another, but of that confidence in literary excellence, which is, +I think, necessary for the full enjoyment of literature. In one +modern writer he did believe thoroughly. Nothing can be more charming +than the unstinted admiration which he has accorded to everything +that comes from the pen of the wonderful woman to whom his lot has +been united. To her name I shall recur again when speaking of the +novelists of the present day. + +Of "Billy Russell," as we always used to call him, I may say +that I never knew but one man equal to him in the quickness and +continuance of witty speech. That one man was Charles Lever--also +an Irishman--whom I had known from an earlier date, and also with +close intimacy. Of the two, I think that Lever was perhaps the +more astounding producer of good things. His manner was perhaps a +little the happier, and his turns more sharp and unexpected. But +"Billy" also was marvellous. Whether abroad as special correspondent, +or at home amidst the flurry of his newspaper work, he was a charming +companion; his ready wit always gave him the last word. + +Of Thackeray I will speak again when I record his death. + +There were many others whom I met for the first time at George +Smith's table. Albert Smith, for the first, and indeed for the last +time, as he died soon after; Higgins, whom all the world knew as +Jacob Omnium, a man I greatly regarded; Dallas, who for a time was +literary critic to the Times, and who certainly in that capacity +did better work than has appeared since in the same department; +George Augustus Sala, who, had he given himself fair play, would +have risen to higher eminence than that of being the best writer +in his day of sensational leading articles; and Fitz-James Stephen, +a man of very different calibre, who had not yet culminated, but +who, no doubt, will culminate among our judges. There were many +others;--but I cannot now recall their various names as identified +with those banquets. + +Of Framley Parsonage I need only further say, that as I wrote it I +became more closely than ever acquainted with the new shire which +I had added to the English counties. I had it all in my mind,--its +roads and railroads, its towns and parishes, its members of Parliament, +and the different hunts which rode over it. I knew all the great +lords and their castles, the squires and their parks, the rectors +and their churches. This was the fourth novel of which I had placed +the scene in Barsetshire, and as I wrote it I made a map of the +dear county. Throughout these stories there has been no name given +to a fictitious site which does not represent to me a spot of which I +know all the accessories, as though I had lived and wandered there. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"CASTLE RICHMOND;" "BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON;" "NORTH AMERICA;" +"ORLEY FARM" + + + + +When I had half-finished Framley Parsonage, I went back to my other +story, Castle Richmond, which I was writing for Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, and completed that. I think that this was the only occasion +on which I have had two different novels in my mind at the same +time. This, however, did not create either difficulty or confusion. +Many of us live in different circles; and when we go from our friends +in the town to our friends in the country, we do not usually fail +to remember the little details of the one life or the other. The +parson at Rusticum, with his wife and his wife's mother, and all +his belongings; and our old friend, the Squire, with his family +history; and Farmer Mudge, who has been cross with us, because we +rode so unnecessarily over his barley; and that rascally poacher, +once a gamekeeper, who now traps all the foxes; and pretty Mary +Cann, whose marriage with the wheelwright we did something to +expedite;--though we are alive to them all, do not drive out of our +brain the club gossip, or the memories of last season's dinners, or +any incident of our London intimacies. In our lives we are always +weaving novels, and we manage to keep the different tales distinct. +A man does, in truth, remember that which it interests him to +remember; and when we hear that memory has gone as age has come on, +we should understand that the capacity for interest in the matter +concerned has perished. A man will be generally very old and feeble +before he forgets how much money he has in the funds. There is +a good deal to be learned by any one who wishes to write a novel +well; but when the art has been acquired, I do not see why two or +three should not be well written at the same time. I have never +found myself thinking much about the work that I had to do till +I was doing it. I have indeed for many years almost abandoned the +effort to think, trusting myself, with the narrowest thread of +a plot, to work the matter out when the pen is in my hand. But my +mind is constantly employing itself on the work I have done. Had +I left either Framley Parsonage or Castle Richmond half-finished +fifteen years ago, I think I could complete the tales now with very +little trouble. I have not looked at Castle Richmond since it was +published; and poor as the work is, I remember all the incidents. + +Castle Richmond certainly was not a success,--though the plot is a +fairly good plot, and is much more of a plot than I have generally +been able to find. The scene is laid in Ireland, during the famine; +and I am well aware now that English readers no longer like Irish +stories. I cannot understand why it should be so, as the Irish +character is peculiarly well fitted for romance. But Irish subjects +generally have become distasteful. This novel, however, is of +itself a weak production. The characters do not excite sympathy. +The heroine has two lovers, one of whom is a scamp and the other +a prig. As regards the scamp, the girl's mother is her own rival. +Rivalry of the same nature has been admirably depicted by Thackeray +in his Esmond; but there the mother's love seems to be justified +by the girl's indifference. In Castle Richmond the mother strives +to rob her daughter of the man's love. The girl herself has no +character; and the mother, who is strong enough, is almost revolting. +The dialogue is often lively, and some of the incidents are well +told; but the story as a whole was a failure. I cannot remember, +however, that it was roughly handled by the critics when it came +out; and I much doubt whether anything so hard was said of it then +as that which I have said here. + +I was now settled at Waltham Cross, in a house in which I could +entertain a few friends modestly, where we grew our cabbages +and strawberries, made our own butter, and killed our own pigs. I +occupied it for twelve years, and they were years to me of great +prosperity. In 1861 I became a member of the Garrick Club, with +which institution I have since been much identified. I had belonged +to it about two years, when, on Thackeray's death, I was invited +to fill his place on the Committee, and I have been one of that +august body ever since. Having up to that time lived very little +among men, having known hitherto nothing of clubs, having even as +a boy been banished from social gatherings, I enjoyed infinitely at +first the gaiety of the Garrick. It was a festival to me to dine +there--which I did indeed but seldom; and a great delight to play +a rubber in the little room up-stairs of an afternoon. I am speaking +now of the old club in King Street. This playing of whist before +dinner has since that become a habit with me, so that unless there +be something else special to do--unless there be hunting, or I am +wanted to ride in the park by the young tyrant of my household--it +is "my custom always in the afternoon." I have sometimes felt sore +with myself for this persistency, feeling that I was making myself +a slave to an amusement which has not after all very much to +recommend it. I have often thought that I would break myself away +from it, and "swear off," as Rip Van Winkle says. But my swearing +off has been like that of Rip Van Winkle. And now, as I think of +it coolly, I do not know but that I have been right to cling to it. +As a man grows old he wants amusement, more even than when he is +young; and then it becomes so difficult to find amusement. Reading +should, no doubt, be the delight of men's leisure hours. Had I to +choose between books and cards, I should no doubt take the books. +But I find that I can seldom read with pleasure for above an hour +and a half at a time, or more than three hours a day. As I write +this I am aware that hunting must soon be abandoned. After sixty +it is given but to few men to ride straight across country, and I +cannot bring myself to adopt any other mode of riding. I think that +without cards I should now be much at a loss. When I began to play +at the Garrick, I did so simply because I liked the society of the +men who played. + +I think that I became popular among those with whom I associated. +I have long been aware of a certain weakness in my own character, +which I may call a craving for love. I have ever had a wish to be +liked by those around me,--a wish that during the first half of +my life was never gratified. In my school-days no small part of my +misery came from the envy with which I regarded the popularity of +popular boys. They seemed to me to live in a social paradise, while +the desolation of my pandemonium was complete. And afterwards, +when I was in London as a young man, I had but few friends. Among +the clerks in the Post Office I held my own fairly for the first +two or three years; but even then I regarded myself as something of +a pariah. My Irish life had been much better. I had had my wife and +children, and had been sustained by a feeling of general respect. +But even in Ireland I had in truth lived but little in society. +Our means had been sufficient for our wants, but insufficient for +entertaining others. It was not till we had settled ourselves at +Waltham that I really began to live much with others. The Garrick +Club was the first assemblage of men at which I felt myself to be +popular. + +I soon became a member of other clubs. There was the Arts Club in +Hanover Square, of which I saw the opening, but from which, after +three or four years, I withdrew my name, having found that during +these three or four years I had not once entered the building. +Then I was one of the originators of the Civil Service Club--not +from judgment, but instigated to do so by others. That also I left +for the same reason. In 1864 I received the honour of being elected +by the Committee at the Athenaeum. For this I was indebted to the +kindness of Lord Stanhope; and I never was more surprised than when +I was informed of the fact. About the same time I became a member +of the Cosmopolitan, a little club that meets twice a week in +Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and supplies to all its members, +and its members' friends, tea and brandy and water without charge! +The gatherings there I used to think very delightful. One met +Jacob Omnium, Monckton Mimes, Tom Hughes, William Stirling, Henry +Reeve, Arthur Russell, Tom Taylor, and such like; and generally +a strong political element, thoroughly well mixed, gave a certain +spirit to the place. Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, William Forster, +Lord Enfield, Lord Kimberley, George Bentinck, Vernon Harcourt, +Bromley Davenport, Knatchbull Huguessen, with many others, used to +whisper the secrets of Parliament with free tongues. Afterwards I +became a member of the Turf, which I found to be serviceable--or +the reverse--only for the playing of whist at high points. + +In August, 1861, I wrote another novel for the Cornhill Magazine. +It was a short story, about one volume in length, and was called +The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In this I attempted a +style for which I certainly was not qualified, and to which I never +had again recourse. It was meant to be funny, was full of slang, +and was intended as a satire on the ways of trade. Still I think +that there is some good fun it it, but I have heard no one else +express such an opinion. I do not know that I ever heard any opinion +expressed on it, except by the publisher, who kindly remarked +that he did not think it was equal to my usual work. Though he had +purchased the copyright, he did not republish the story in a book +form till 1870, and then it passed into the world of letters sub +silentio. I do not know that it was ever criticised or ever read. +I received œ600 for it. From that time to this I have been paid at +about that rate for my work--œ600 for the quantity contained in +an ordinary novel volume, or œ3000 for a long tale published in +twenty parts, which is equal in length to five such volumes. I have +occasionally, I think, received something more than this, never +I think less for any tale, except when I have published my work +anonymously. [Footnote: Since the date at which this was written +I have encountered a diminution in price.] Having said so much, I +need not further specify the prices as I mention the books as they +were written. I will, however, when I am completing this memoir, +give a list of all the sums I have received for my literary labours. +I think that Brown, Jones and Robinson was the hardest bargain I +ever sold to a publisher. + +In 1861 the War of Secession had broken out in America, and from +the first I interested myself much in the question. My mother +had thirty years previously written a very popular, but, as I had +thought, a somewhat unjust book about our cousins over the water. +She had seen what was distasteful in the manners of a young people, +but had hardly recognised their energy. I had entertained for +many years an ambition to follow her footsteps there, and to write +another book. I had already paid a short visit to New York City and +State on my way home from the West Indies, but had not seen enough +then to justify me in the expression of any opinion. The breaking +out of the war did not make me think that the time was peculiarly +fit for such inquiry as I wished to make, but it did represent itself +as an occasion on which a book might be popular. I consequently +consulted the two great powers with whom I was concerned. Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, the publishers, were one power, and I had no difficulty +in arranging my affairs with them. They agreed to publish the book +on my terms, and bade me God-speed on my journey. The other power +was the Postmaster-General and Mr. Rowland Hill, the Secretary of +the Post Office. I wanted leave of absence for the unusual period +of nine months, and fearing that I should not get it by the ordinary +process of asking the Secretary, I went direct to his lordship. +"Is it on the plea of ill-health?" he asked, looking into my face, +which was then that of a very robust man. His lordship knew the +Civil Service as well as any one living, and must have seen much +of falseness and fraudulent pretence, or he could not have asked +that question. I told him that I was very well, but that I wanted +to write a book. "Had I any special ground to go upon in asking for +such indulgence?" I had, I said, done my duty well by the service. +There was a good deal of demurring, but I got my leave for nine +months,--and I knew that I had earned it. Mr. Hill attached to +the minute granting me the leave an intimation that it was to be +considered as a full equivalent for the special services rendered +by me to the department. I declined, however, to accept the grace +with such a stipulation, and it was withdrawn by the directions of +the Postmaster-General. [Footnote: During the period of my service +in the Post Office I did very much special work for which I never +asked any remuneration,--and never received any, though payments +for special services were common in the department at that time. +But if there was to be a question of such remuneration, I did not +choose that my work should be valued at the price put upon it by +Mr. Hill.] + +I started for the States in August and returned in the following +May. The war was raging during the time that I was there, and the +country was full of soldiers. A part of the time I spent in Virginia, +Kentucky, and Missouri, among the troops, along the line of attack. +I visited all the States (excepting California) which had not then +seceded,--failing to make my way into the seceding States unless I +was prepared to visit them with an amount of discomfort I did not +choose to endure. I worked very hard at the task I had assigned to +myself, and did, I think, see much of the manners and institutions +of the people. Nothing struck me more than their persistence in +the ordinary pursuits of life in spite of the war which was around +them. Neither industry nor amusement seemed to meet with any check. +Schools, hospitals, and institutes were by no means neglected +because new regiments were daily required. The truth, I take it, +is that we, all of us, soon adapt ourselves to the circumstances +around us. Though three parts of London were in flames I should +no doubt expect to have my dinner served to me if I lived in the +quarter which was free from fire. + +The book I wrote was very much longer than that on the West Indies, +but was also written almost without a note. It contained much +information, and, with many inaccuracies, was a true book. But it +was not well done. It is tedious and confused, and will hardly, +I think, be of future value to those who wish to make themselves +acquainted with the United States. It was published about the +middle of the war,--just at the time in which the hopes of those +who loved the South were I most buoyant, and the fears of those who +stood by the North were the strongest. But it expressed an assured +confidence--which never quavered in a page or in a line--that the +North would win. This assurance was based on the merits of the +Northern cause, on the superior strength of the Northern party, +and on a conviction that England would never recognise the South, +and that France would be guided in her policy by England. I was +right in my prophecies, and right, I think, on the grounds on which +they were made. The Southern cause was bad. The South had provoked +the quarrel because its political supremacy was checked by the election +of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. It had to fight as a little man +against a big man, and fought gallantly. That gallantry,--and a +feeling based on a misconception as to American character that the +Southerners are better gentlemen than their Northern brethren,--did +create great sympathy here; but I believe that the country was too +just to be led into political action by a spirit of romance, and +I was warranted in that belief. There was a moment in which the +Northern cause was in danger, and the danger lay certainly in the +prospect of British interference. Messrs. Slidell and Mason,--two +men insignificant in themselves,--had been sent to Europe by the +Southern party, and had managed to get on board the British mail +steamer called "The Trent," at the Havannah. A most undue importance +was attached to this mission by Mr. Lincoln's government, and +efforts were made to stop them. A certain Commodore Wilkes, doing +duty as policeman on the seas, did stop the "Trent," and took the +men out. They were carried, one to Boston and one to New York, +and were incarcerated, amidst the triumph of the nation. Commodore +Wilkes, who had done nothing in which a brave man could take glory, +was made a hero and received a prize sword. England of course +demanded her passengers back, and the States for a while refused +to surrender them. But Mr. Seward was at that time the Secretary +of State, and Mr. Seward, with many political faults, was a wise +man. I was at Washington at the time, and it was known there that +the contest among the leading Northerners was very sharp on the +matter. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Seward were, under Mr. Lincoln, the two +chiefs of the party. It was understood that Mr. Sumner was opposed +to the rendition of the men, and Mr. Seward in favour of it. Mr. +Seward's counsels at last prevailed with the President, and England's +declaration of war was prevented. I dined with Mr. Seward on the +day of the decision, meeting Mr. Sumner at his house, and was told +as I left the dining-room what the decision had been. During the +afternoon I and others had received intimation through the embassy +that we might probably have to leave Washington at an hour's +notice. This, I think, was the severest danger that the Northern +cause encountered during the war. + +But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject,--and +wrong in none other as far as I know,--was not a good book. I can +recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either +instructed or amused,--as I can do that on the West Indies. It +served its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public +and by the critics. + +Before starting to America I had completed Orley Farm, a novel which +appeared in shilling numbers,--after the manner in which Pickwick, +Nicholas Nickleby, and many others had been published. Most of +those among my friends who talk to me now about my novels, and are +competent to form an opinion on the subject, say that this is the +best I have written. In this opinion I do not coincide. I think +that the highest merit which a novel can have consists in perfect +delineation of character, rather than in plot, or humour, or pathos, +and I shall before long mention a subsequent work in which I think +the main character of the story is so well developed as to justify +me in asserting its claim above the others. The plot of Orley Farm +is probably the best I have ever made; but it has the fault of +declaring itself, and thus coming to an end too early in the book. +When Lady Mason tells her ancient lover that she did forge the +will, the plot of Orley Farm has unravelled itself;--and this she +does in the middle of the tale. Independently, however, of this the +novel is good. Sir Peregrine Orme, his grandson, Madeline Stavely, +Mr. Furnival, Mr. Chaffanbrass, and the commercial gentlemen, +are all good. The hunting is good. The lawyer's talk is good. Mr. +Moulder carves his turkey admirably, and Mr. Kantwise sells his +tables and chairs with spirit. I do not know that there is a dull +page in the book. I am fond of Orley Farm;--and am especially fond +of its illustrations by Millais, which are the best I have seen in +any novel in any language. + +I now felt that I had gained my object. In 1862 I had achieved that +which I contemplated when I went to London in 1834, and towards which +I made my first attempt when I began the Macdermots in 1843. I had +created for myself a position among literary men, and had secured +to myself an income on which I might live in ease and comfort,--which +ease and comfort have been made to include many luxuries. From this +time for a period of twelve years my income averaged œ4500 a year. +Of this I spent about two-thirds, and put by one. I ought perhaps +to have done better,--to have spent one-third, and put by two; but +I have ever been too well inclined to spend freely that which has +come easily. + +This, however, has been so exactly the life which my thoughts and +aspirations had marked out,--thoughts and aspirations which used +to cause me to blush with shame because I was so slow in forcing +myself to the work which they demanded,--that I have felt some pride +in having attained it. I have before said how entirely I fail to +reach the altitude of those who think that a man devoted to letters +should be indifferent to the pecuniary results for which work is +generally done. An easy income has always been regarded by me as +a great blessing. Not to have to think of sixpences, or very much +of shillings; not to be unhappy because the coals have been burned +too quickly, and the house linen wants renewing; not to be debarred +by the rigour of necessity from opening one's hands, perhaps +foolishly, to one's friends;--all this to me has been essential to +the comfort of life. I have enjoyed the comfort for I may almost +say the last twenty years, though no man in his youth had less +prospect of doing so, or would have been less likely at twenty-five +to have had such luxuries foretold to him by his friends. + +But though the money has been sweet, the respect, the friendships, and +the mode of life which has been achieved, have been much sweeter. +In my boyhood, when I would be crawling up to school with dirty +boots and trousers through the muddy lanes, I was always telling +myself that the misery of the hour was not the worst of it, but +that the mud and solitude and poverty of the time would insure me +mud and solitude and poverty through my life. Those lads about me +would go into Parliament, or become rectors and deans, or squires +of parishes, or advocates thundering at the Bar. They would not +live with me now,--but neither should I be able to live with them +in after years. Nevertheless I have lived with them. When, at the +age in which others go to the universities, I became a clerk in +the Post Office, I felt that my old visions were being realised. I +did not think it a high calling. I did not know then how very much +good work may be done by a member of the Civil Service who will show +himself capable of doing it. The Post Office at last grew upon me +and forced itself into my affections. I became intensely anxious +that people should have their letters delivered to them punctually. +But my hope to rise had always been built on the writing of novels, +and at last by the writing of novels I had risen. + +I do not think that I ever toadied any one, or that I have acquired +the character of a tuft-hunter. But here I do not scruple to say +that I prefer the society of distinguished people, and that even the +distinction of wealth confers many advantages. The best education +is to be had at a price as well as the best broadcloth. The son +of a peer is more likely to rub his shoulders against well-informed +men than the son of a tradesman. The graces come easier to the +wife of him who has had great-grandfathers than they do to her +whose husband has been less,--or more fortunate, as he may think +it. The discerning man will recognise the information and the graces +when they are achieved without such assistance, and will honour +the owners of them the more because of the difficulties they have +overcome;--but the fact remains that the society of the well-born +and of the wealthy will as a rule be worth seeking. I say this +now, because these are the rules by which I have lived, and these +are the causes which have instigated me to work. + +I have heard the question argued--On what terms should a man of +inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? +If a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his +intimacy, am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close +acquaintance or his high rank? I have always said that where the +difference in position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy +should always come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be +ever fixed, then that rank should be held of no account. It seems +to me that intimate friendship admits of no standing but that +of equality. I cannot be the Sovereign's friend, nor probably the +friend of many very much beneath the Sovereign, because such equality +is impossible. + +When I first came to Waltham Cross in the winter of 1859-1860, I had +almost made up my mind that my hunting was over. I could not then +count upon an income which would enable me to carry on an amusement +which I should doubtless find much more expensive in England than +in Ireland. I brought with me out of Ireland one mare, but she was +too light for me to ride in the hunting-field. As, however, the +money came in, I very quickly fell back into my old habits. First +one horse was bought, then another, and then a third, till it became +established as a fixed rule that I should not have less than four +hunters in the stable. Sometimes when my boys have been at home +I have had as many as six. Essex was the chief scene of my sport, +and gradually I became known there almost as well as though I had +been an Essex squire, to the manner born. Few have investigated more +closely than I have done the depth, and breadth, and water-holding +capacities of an Essex ditch. It will, I think, be accorded to me +by Essex men generally that I have ridden hard. The cause of my +delight in the amusement I have never been able to analyse to my +own satisfaction. In the first place, even now, I know very little +about hunting,--though I know very much of the accessories of the +field. I am too blind to see hounds turning, and cannot therefore +tell whether the fox has gone this way or that. Indeed all the +notice I take of hounds is not to ride over them. My eyes are so +constituted that I can never see the nature of a fence. I either +follow some one, or ride at it with the full conviction that I +may be going into a horse-pond or a gravel-pit. I have jumped into +both one and the other. I am very heavy, and have never ridden +expensive horses. I am also now old for such work, being so stiff +that I cannot get on to my horse without the aid of a block or a +bank. But I ride still after the same fashion, with a boy's energy, +determined to get ahead if it may possibly be done, hating the +roads, despising young men who ride them, and with a feeling that +life can not, with all her riches, have given me anything better +than when I have gone through a long run to the finish, keeping a +place, not of glory, but of credit, among my juniors. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON," "CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?" "RACHEL +RAY," AND THE "FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW" + + + + +During the early months of 1862 Orley Farm was still being brought +out in numbers, and at the same time Brown, Jones and Robinson was +appearing in the Cornhill Magazine. In September, 1862, the Small +House at Allington began its career in the same periodical. The +work on North America had also come out in 1862. In August, 1863, +the first number of Can You Forgive Her? was published as a separate +serial, and was continued through 1864. In 1863 a short novel was +produced in the ordinary volume form, called Rachel Ray. In addition +to these I published during the time two volumes of stories called +The Tales of all Countries. In the early spring of 1865 Miss Mackenzie +was issued in the same form as Rachel Ray; and in May of the same +year The Belton Estate was commenced with the commencement of the +Fortnightly Review, of which periodical I will say a few words in +this chapter. + +I quite admit that I crowded my wares into the market too +quickly,--because the reading world could not want such a quantity +of matter from the hands of one author in so short a space of +time. I had not been quite so fertile as the unfortunate gentleman +who disgusted the publisher in Paternoster Row,--in the story of +whose productiveness I have always thought there was a touch of +romance,--but I had probably done enough to make both publishers +and readers think that I was coming too often beneath their notice. +Of publishers, however, I must speak collectively, as my sins +were, I think, chiefly due to the encouragement which I received +from them individually. What I wrote for the Cornhill Magazine, I +always wrote at the instigation of Mr. Smith. My other works were +published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, in compliance with contracts +made by me with them, and always made with their good-will. Could +I have been two separate persons at one and the same time, of whom +one might have been devoted to Cornhill and the other to the interests +of the firm in Piccadilly, it might have been very well;--but as +I preserved my identity in both places, I myself became aware that +my name was too frequent on titlepages. + +Critics, if they ever trouble themselves with these pages, will, of +course, say that in what I have now said I have ignored altogether +the one great evil of rapid production,--namely, that of inferior +work. And of course if the work was inferior because of the too +great rapidity of production, the critics would be right. Giving +to the subject the best of my critical abilities, and judging of +my own work as nearly as possible as I would that of another, I +believe that the work which has been done quickest has been done +the best. I have composed better stories--that is, have created +better plots--than those of The Small House at Allington and Can +You Forgive Her? and I have portrayed two or three better characters +than are to be found in the pages of either of them; but taking +these books all through, I do not think that I have ever done better +work. Nor would these have been improved by any effort in the art +of story telling, had each of these been the isolated labour of a +couple of years. How short is the time devoted to the manipulation +of a plot can be known only to those who have written plays and +novels; I may say also, how very little time the brain is able +to devote to such wearing work. There are usually some hours of +agonising doubt, almost of despair,--so at least it has been with +me,--or perhaps some days. And then, with nothing settled in my +brain as to the final development of events, with no capability +of settling anything, but with a most distinct conception of some +character or characters, I have rushed at the work as a rider rushes +at a fence which he does not see. Sometimes I have encountered +what, in hunting language, we call a cropper. I had such a fall in +two novels of mine, of which I have already spoken--The Bertrams +and Castle Richmond. I shall have to speak of other such troubles. +But these failures have not arisen from over-hurried work. When my +work has been quicker done,--and it has sometimes been done very +quickly--the rapidity has been achieved by hot pressure, not in +the conception, but in the telling of the story. Instead of writing +eight pages a day, I have written sixteen; instead of working five +days a week, I have worked seven. I have trebled my usual average, +and have done so in circumstances which have enabled me to give +up all my thoughts for the time to the book I have been writing. +This has generally been done at some quiet spot among the +mountains,--where there has been no society, no hunting, no whist, +no ordinary household duties. And I am sure that the work so done +has had in it the best truth and the highest spirit that I have +been able to produce. At such times I have been able to imbue myself +thoroughly with the characters I have had in hand. I have wandered +alone among the rocks and woods, crying at their grief, laughing at +their absurdities, and thoroughly enjoying their joy. I have been +impregnated with my own creations till it has been my only excitement +to sit with the pen in my hand, and drive my team before me at as +quick a pace as I could make them travel. + +The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to +the rough work of the author's own brain, but it will be very far +from well in reference to the style in which that work has been +given to the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for +conveying his thoughts to the public should not be less important +to him than the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to +be popular unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; +but then comes the question of achieving a popular--in other words, +I may say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire +a mode of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible +to the reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he +can be neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him +to obey those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have +been taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does +obey them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will +achieve such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has +learned that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has +learned with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired,--not +while he is writing that which shall please, but long before. His +language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of +the great performer's fingers; as words come from the mouth of the +indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained +compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form +themselves to the ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of +his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work +that smells of oil. I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry +we know what care is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly. + +Rapid writing will no doubt give rise to inaccuracy,--chiefly because +the ear, quick and true as may be its operation, will occasionally +break down under pressure, and, before a sentence be closed, will +forget the nature of the composition with which it was commenced. +A singular nominative will be disgraced by a plural verb, because +other pluralities have intervened and have tempted the ear into +plural tendencies. Tautologies will occur, because the ear, in +demanding fresh emphasis, has forgotten that the desired force has +been already expressed. I need not multiply these causes of error, +which must have been stumbling-blocks indeed when men wrote in the +long sentences of Gibbon, but which Macaulay, with his multiplicity +of divisions, has done so much to enable us to avoid. A rapid writer +will hardly avoid these errors altogether. Speaking of myself, I +am ready to declare that, with much training, I have been unable to +avoid them. But the writer for the press is rarely called upon--a +writer of books should never be called upon--to send his manuscript +hot from his hand to the printer. It has been my practice to read +everything four times at least--thrice in manuscript and once in +print. Very much of my work I have read twice in print. In spite +of this I know that inaccuracies have crept through,--not single +spies, but in battalions. From this I gather that the supervision +has been insufficient, not that the work itself has been done too +fast. I am quite sure that those passages which have been written +with the greatest stress of labour, and consequently with the +greatest haste, have been the most effective and by no means the +most inaccurate. + +The Small House at Allington redeemed my reputation with the spirited +proprietor of the Cornhill, which must, I should think, have been +damaged by Brown, Jones, and Robinson. In it appeared Lily Dale, +one of the characters which readers of my novels have liked the +best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have hardly +joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a +French prig. She became first engaged to a snob, who jilted her; +and then, though in truth she loved another man who was hardly +good enough, she could not extricate herself sufficiently from the +collapse of her first great misfortune to be able to make up her +mind to be the wife of one whom, though she loved him, she did not +altogether reverence. Prig as she was, she made her way into the +hearts of many readers, both young and old; so that, from that time +to this, I have been continually honoured with letters, the purport +of which has always been to beg me to marry Lily Dale to Johnny +Eames. Had I done so, however, Lily would never have so endeared +herself to these people as to induce them to write letters to the +author concerning her fate. It was because she could not get over +her troubles that they loved her. Outside Lily Dale and the chief +interest of the novel, The Small House at Allington is, I think, +good. The De Courcy family are alive, as is also Sir Raffle Buffle, +who is a hero of the Civil Service. Sir Raffle was intended to +represent a type, not a man; but the man for the picture was soon +chosen, and I was often assured that the portrait was very like. +I have never seen the gentleman with whom I am supposed to have +taken the liberty. There is also an old squire down at Allington, +whose life as a country gentleman with rather straitened means is, +I think, well described. + +Of Can you Forgive Her? I cannot speak with too great affection, +though I do not know that of itself it did very much to increase +my reputation. As regards the story, it was formed chiefly on that +of the play which my friend Mr. Bartley had rejected long since, +the circumstances of which the reader may perhaps remember. The +play had been called The Noble Jilt; but I was afraid of the name +for a novel, lest the critics might throw a doubt on the nobility. +There was more of tentative humility in that which I at last adopted. +The character of the girl is carried through with considerable +strength, but is not attractive. The humorous characters, which are +also taken from the play,--a buxom widow who with her eyes open +chooses the most scampish of two selfish suitors because he is +the better looking,--are well done. Mrs. Greenow, between Captain +Bellfield and Mr. Cheeseacre, is very good fun--as far as the fun +of novels is. But that which endears the book to me is the first +presentation which I made in it of Plantagenet Palliser, with his +wife, Lady Glencora. + +By no amount of description or asseveration could I succeed in +making any reader understand how much these characters with their +belongings have been to me in my latter life; or how frequently +I have used them for the expression of my political or social +convictions. They have been as real to me as free trade was to Mr. +Cobden, or the dominion of a party to Mr. Disraeli; and as I have +not been able to speak from the benches of the House of Commons, +or to thunder from platforms, or to be efficacious as a lecturer, +they have served me as safety-valves by which to deliver my soul. +Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had appeared in The Small House at Allington, +but his birth had not been accompanied by many hopes. In the last +pages of that novel he is made to seek a remedy for a foolish +false step in life by marrying the grand heiress of the day;--but +the personage of the great heiress does not appear till she comes +on the scene as a married woman in Can You Forgive Her? He is +the nephew and heir to a duke--the Duke of Omnium--who was first +introduced in Doctor Thorne, and afterwards in Framley Parsonage, +and who is one of the belongings of whom I have spoken. In these +personages and their friends, political and social, I have endeavoured +to depict the faults and frailties and vices,--as also the virtues, +the graces, and the strength of our highest classes; and if I have +not made the strength and virtues predominant over the faults and +vices, I have not painted the picture as I intended. Plantagenet +Palliser I think to be a very noble gentleman,--such a one as justifies +to the nation the seeming anomaly of an hereditary peerage and of +primogeniture. His wife is in all respects very inferior to him; +but she, too, has, or has been intended to have, beneath the thin +stratum of her follies a basis of good principle, which enabled her +to live down the conviction of the original wrong which was done +to her, and taught her to endeavour to do her duty in the position +to which she was called. She had received a great wrong,--having +been made, when little more than a child, to marry a man for whom +she cared nothing;--when, however, though she was little more than +a child, her love had been given elsewhere. She had very heavy +troubles, but they did not overcome her. + +As to the heaviest of these troubles, I will say a word in vindication +of myself and of the way I handled it in my work. In the pages of +Can You Forgive Her? the girl's first love is introduced,--beautiful, +well-born, and utterly worthless. To save a girl from wasting +herself, and an heiress from wasting her property on such a scamp, +was certainly the duty of the girl's friends. But it must ever +be wrong to force a girl into a marriage with a man she does not +love,--and certainly the more so when there is another whom she does +love. In my endeavour to teach this lesson I subjected the young +wife to the terrible danger of overtures from the man to whom her +heart had been given. I was walking no doubt on ticklish ground, +leaving for a while a doubt on the question whether the lover +might or might not succeed. Then there came to me a letter from a +distinguished dignitary of our Church, a man whom all men honoured, +treating me with severity for what I was doing. It had been one +of the innocent joys of his life, said the clergyman, to have my +novels read to him by his daughters. But now I was writing a book +which caused him to bid them close it! Must I also turn away to +vicious sensation such as this? Did I think that a wife contemplating +adultery was a character fit for my pages? I asked him in return, +whether from his pulpit, or at any rate from his communion-table, +he did not denounce adultery to his audience; and if so, why should +it not be open to me to preach the same doctrine to mine. I made +known nothing which the purest girl could not but have learned, +and ought not to have learned, elsewhere, and I certainly lent no +attraction to the sin which I indicated. His rejoinder was full +of grace, and enabled him to avoid the annoyance of argumentation +without abandoning his cause. He said that the subject was so much +too long for letters; that he hoped I would go and stay a week with +him in the country,--so that we might have it out. That opportunity, +however, has never yet arrived. + +Lady Glencora overcomes that trouble, and is brought, partly by her +own sense of right and wrong, and partly by the genuine nobility +of her husband's conduct, to attach herself to him after a certain +fashion. The romance of her life is gone, but there remains a +rich reality of which she is fully able to taste the flavour. She +loves her rank and becomes ambitious, first of social, and then of +political ascendancy. He is thoroughly true to her, after his thorough +nature, and she, after her less perfect nature, is imperfectly true +to him. + +In conducting these characters from one story to another I realised +the necessity, not only of consistency,--which, had it been maintained +by a hard exactitude, would have been untrue to nature,--but also +of those changes which time always produces. There, are, perhaps, +but few of us who, after the lapse of ten years, will be found to +have changed our chief characteristics. The selfish man will still +be selfish, and the false man false. But our manner of showing or +of hiding these characteristics will be changed,--as also our power +of adding to or diminishing their intensity. It was my study that +these people, as they grew in years, should encounter the changes +which come upon us all; and I think that I have succeeded. The +Duchess of Omnium, when she is playing the part of Prime Minister's +wife, is the same woman as that Lady Glencora who almost longs to +go off with Burgo Fitzgerald, but yet knows that she will never do +so; and the Prime Minister Duke, with his wounded pride and sore +spirit, is he who, for his wife's sake, left power and place when +they were first offered to him;--but they have undergone the changes +which a life so stirring as theirs would naturally produce. To do +all this thoroughly was in my heart from first to last; but I do +not know that the game has been worth the candle. + +To carry out my scheme I have had to spread my picture over so wide +a canvas that I cannot expect that any lover of such art should +trouble himself to look at it as a whole. Who will read Can You +Forgive Her? Phineas Finn, Phineas Redux, and The Prime Minister +consecutively, in order that they may understand the characters of +the Duke of Omnium, of Plantagenet Palliser, and of Lady Glencora? +Who will ever know that they should be so read? But in the performance +of the work I had much gratification, and was enabled from time to +time to have in this way that fling at the political doings of the +day which every man likes to take, if not in one fashion then in +another. I look upon this string of characters,--carried sometimes +into other novels than those just named,--as the best work of +my life. Taking him altogether, I think that Plantagenet Palliser +stands more firmly on the ground than any other personage I have +created. + +On Christmas day, 1863, we were startled by the news of Thackeray's +death. He had then for many months given up the editorship of the +Cornhill Magazine,--a position for which he was hardly fitted either +by his habits or temperament,--but was still employed in writing +for its pages. I had known him only for four years, but had grown +into much intimacy with him and his family. I regard him as one +of the most tender-hearted human beings I ever knew, who, with an +exaggerated contempt for the foibles of the world at large, would +entertain an almost equally exaggerated sympathy with the joys +and troubles of individuals around him. He had been unfortunate in +early life--unfortunate in regard to money--unfortunate with an +afflicted wife--unfortunate in having his home broken up before +his children were fit to be his companions. This threw him too much +upon clubs, and taught him to dislike general society. But it never +affected his heart, or clouded his imagination. He could still revel +in the pangs and joys of fictitious life, and could still feel--as +he did to the very last--the duty of showing to his readers the +evil consequences of evil conduct. It was perhaps his chief fault +as a writer that he could never abstain from that dash of satire +which he felt to be demanded by the weaknesses which he saw around +him. The satirist who writes nothing but satire should write but +little,--or it will seem that his satire springs rather from his +own caustic nature than from the sins of the world in which he +lives. I myself regard Esmond as the greatest novel in the English +language, basing that judgment upon the excellence of its language, +on the clear individuality of the characters, on the truth of +its delineations in regard to the tine selected, and on its great +pathos. There are also in it a few scenes so told that even Scott +has never equalled the telling. Let any one who doubts this read +the passage in which Lady Castlewood induces the Duke of Hamilton to +think that his nuptials with Beatrice will be honoured if Colonel +Esmond will give away the bride. When he went from us he left behind +living novelists with great names; but I think that they who best +understood the matter felt that the greatest master of fiction of +this age had gone. + +Rachel Ray underwent a fate which no other novel of mine has +encountered. Some years before this a periodical called Good Words +had been established under the editorship of my friend Dr. Norman +Macleod, a well-known Presbyterian pastor in Glasgow. In 1863 he +asked me to write a novel for his magazine, explaining to me that +his principles did not teach him to confine his matter to religious +subjects, and paying me the compliment of saying that he would feel +himself quite safe in my hands. In reply I told him I thought he +was wrong in his choice; that though he might wish to give a novel +to the readers of Good Words, a novel from me would hardly be what +he wanted, and that I could not undertake to write either with +any specially religious tendency, or in any fashion different from +that which was usual to me. As worldly and--if any one thought me +wicked--as wicked as I had heretofore been, I must still be, should +I write for Good Words. He persisted in his request, and I came +to terms as to a story for the periodical. I wrote it and sent it +to him, and shortly afterwards received it back--a considerable +portion having been printed--with an intimation that it would not +do. A letter more full of wailing and repentance no man ever wrote. +It was, he said, all his own fault. He should have taken my advice. +He should have known better. But the story, such as it was, he +could not give to his readers in the pages of Good Words. Would I +forgive him? Any pecuniary loss to which his decision might subject +me the owner of the publication would willingly make good. There +was some loss--or rather would have been--and that money I exacted, +feeling that the fault had in truth been with the editor. There is +the tale now to speak for itself. It is not brilliant nor in any +way very excellent; but it certainly is not very wicked. There is +some dancing in one of the early chapters, described, no doubt, +with that approval of the amusement which I have always entertained; +and it was this to which my friend demurred. It is more true of +novels than perhaps of anything else, that one man's food is another +man's poison. + +Miss Mackenzie was written with a desire to prove that a novel may +be produced without any love; but even in this attempt it breaks +down before the conclusion. In order that I might be strong in my +purpose, I took for my heroine a very unattractive old maid, who +was overwhelmed with money troubles; but even she was in love before +the end of the book, and made a romantic marriage with an old man. +There is in this story an attack upon charitable bazaars, made +with a violence which will, I think, convince any reader that such +attempts at raising money were at the time very odious to me. I beg +to say that since that I have had no occasion to alter my opinion. +Miss Mackenzie was published in the early spring of 1865. + +At the same time I was engaged with others in establishing a +periodical Review, in which some of us trusted much, and from which +we expected great things. There was, however, in truth so little +combination of idea among us, that we were not justified in our +trust or in our expectations. And yet we were honest in our purpose, +and have, I think, done some good by our honesty. The matter on which +we were all agreed was freedom of speech, combined with personal +responsibility. We would be neither conservative nor liberal, neither +religious nor free-thinking, neither popular nor exclusive;--but +we would let any man who had a thing to say, and knew how to say +it, speak freely. But he should always speak with the responsibility +of his name attached. In the very beginning I militated against this +impossible negation of principles,--and did so most irrationally, +seeing that I had agreed to the negation of principles,--by declaring +that nothing should appear denying or questioning the divinity of +Christ. It was a most preposterous claim to make for such a publication +as we proposed, and it at once drove from us one or two who had +proposed to join us. But we went on, and our company--limited--was +formed. We subscribed, I think, œ1250 each. I at least subscribed +that amount, and--having agreed to bring out our publication every +fortnight, after the manner of the well-known French publication,--we +called it The Fortnightly. We secured the services of G. H. Lewes +as our editor. We agreed to manage our finances by a Board, which +was to meet once a fortnight, and of which I was the Chairman. +And we determined that the payments for our literature should be +made on a liberal and strictly ready-money system. We carried out +our principles till our money was all gone, and then we sold the +copyright to Messrs. Chapman & Hall for a trifle. But before we +parted with our property we found that a fortnightly issue was not +popular with the trade through whose hands the work must reach the +public; and, as our periodical had not become sufficiently popular +itself to bear down such opposition, we succumbed, and brought +it out once a month. Still it was The Fortnightly, and still it +is The Fortnightly. Of all the serial publications of the day, it +probably is the most serious, the most earnest, the least devoted +to amusement, the least flippant, the least jocose,--and yet it +has the face to show itself month after month to the world, with +so absurd a misnomer! It is, as all who know the laws of modern +literature are aware, a very serious thing to change the name of +a periodical. By doing so you begin an altogether new enterprise. +Therefore should the name be well chosen;--whereas this was very +ill chosen, a fault for which I alone was responsible. + +That theory of eclecticism was altogether impracticable. It was as +though a gentleman should go into the House of Commons determined +to support no party, but to serve his country by individual utterances. +Such gentlemen have gone into the House of Commons, but they have +not served their country much. Of course the project broke down. +Liberalism, freethinking, and open inquiry will never object to appear +in company with their opposites, because they have the conceit to +think that they can quell those opposites; but the opposites will +not appear in conjunction with liberalism, free-thinking, and open +inquiry. As a natural consequence, our new publication became an +organ of liberalism, free-thinking, and open inquiry. The result +has been good; and though there is much in the now established +principles of The Fortnightly with which I do not myself agree, I +may safely say that the publication has assured an individuality, +and asserted for itself a position in our periodical literature, +which is well understood and highly respected. + +As to myself and my own hopes in the matter,--I was craving after +some increase in literary honesty, which I think is still desirable but +which is hardly to be attained by the means which then recommended +themselves to me. In one of the early numbers I wrote a paper +advocating the signature of the authors to periodical writing, +admitting that the system should not be extended to journalistic +articles on political subjects. I think that I made the best of +my case; but further consideration has caused me to doubt whether +the reasons which induced me to make an exception in favour of +political writing do not extend themselves also to writing on other +subjects. Much of the literary criticism which we now have is very +bad indeed;--. so bad as to be open to the charge both of dishonesty +and incapacity. Books are criticised without being read,--are +criticised by favour,--and are trusted by editors to the criticism +of the incompetent. If the names of the critics were demanded, +editors would be more careful. But I fear the effect would be that +we should get but little criticism, and that the public would put +but little trust in that little. An ordinary reader would not care +to have his books recommended to him by Jones; but the recommendation +of the great unknown comes to him with all the weight of the Times, +the Spectator, or the Saturday. + +Though I admit so much, I am not a recreant from the doctrine I then +preached. I think that the name of the author does tend to honesty, +and that the knowledge that it will be inserted adds much to the +author's industry and care. It debars him also from illegitimate +license and dishonest assertions. A man should never be ashamed +to acknowledge that which he is not ashamed to publish. In The +Fortnightly everything has been signed, and in this way good has, +I think, been done. Signatures to articles in other periodicals +have become much more common since The Fortnightly was commenced. + +After a time Mr. Lewes retired from the editorship, feeling that +the work pressed too severely on his moderate strength. Our loss +in him was very great, and there was considerable difficulty in +finding a successor. I must say that the present proprietor has +been fortunate in the choice he did make. Mr. John Morley has done +the work with admirable patience, zeal, and capacity. Of course +he has got around him a set of contributors whose modes of thought +are what we may call much advanced; he being "much advanced" himself, +would not work with other aids. The periodical has a peculiar tone +of its own; but it holds its own with ability, and though there +are many who perhaps hate it, there are none who despise it. When +the company sold it, having spent about œ9000 on it, it was worth +little or nothing. Now I believe it to be a good property. + +My own last personal concern with it was on a matter, of fox-hunting. +[Footnote: I have written various articles for it since, especially +two on Cicero, to which I devoted great labour.] There came out in +it an article from the pen of Mr. Freeman the historian, condemning +the amusement, which I love, on the grounds of cruelty and general +brutality. Was it possible, asked Mr. Freeman, quoting from Cicero, +that any educated man should find delight in so coarse a pursuit? +Always bearing in mind my own connection with The Fortnightly, I +regarded this almost as a rising of a child against the father. I +felt at any rate bound to answer Mr. Freeman in the same columns, +and I obtained Mr. Morley's permission to do so. I wrote my defence +of fox-hunting, and there it is. In regard to the charge of cruelty, +Mr. Freeman seems to assert that nothing unpleasant should be +done to any of God's creatures except f or a useful purpose. The +protection of a lady's shoulders from the cold is a useful purpose; +and therefore a dozen fur-bearing animals may be snared in the +snow and left to starve to death in the wires, in order that the +lady may have the tippet,--though a tippet of wool would serve +the purpose as well as a tippet of fur. But the congregation and +healthful amusement of one or two hundred persons, on whose behalf +a single fox may or may not be killed, is not a useful purpose. I +think that Mr. Freeman has failed to perceive that amusement is as +needful and almost as necessary as food and raiment. The absurdity +of the further charge as to the general brutality of the pursuit, +and its consequent unfitness for an educated man, is to be attributed +to Mr. Freeman's ignorance of what is really done and said in the +hunting-field,--perhaps to his misunderstanding of Cicero's words. +There was a rejoinder to my answer, and I asked for space for +further remarks. I could have it, the editor said, if I much wished +it; but he preferred that the subject should be closed. Of course +I was silent. His sympathies were all with Mr. Freeman,--and +against the foxes, who, but for fox-hunting, would cease to exist +in England. And I felt that The Fortnighty was hardly the place for +the defence of the sport. Afterwards Mr. Freeman kindly suggested +to me that he would be glad to publish my article in a little book +to be put out by him condemnatory of fox-hunting generally. He was +to have the last word and the first word, and that power of picking +to pieces which he is known to use in so masterly a manner, without +any reply from me! This I was obliged to decline. If he would give +me the last word, as be would have the first, then, I told him, I +should be proud to join him in the book. This offer did not however +meet his views. + +It had been decided by the Board of Management, somewhat in opposition +to my own ideas on the subject, that the Fortnightly Review should +always contain a novel. It was of course natural that I should write +the first novel, and I wrote The Belton Estate. It is similar in +its attributes to Rachel Ray and to Miss Mackenzie. It is readable, +and contains scenes which are true to life; but it has no peculiar +merits, and will add nothing to my reputation as a novelist. I have +not looked at it since it was published; and now turning back to +it in my memory, I seem to remember almost less of it than of any +book that I have written. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"THE CLAVERINGS," THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE," "NINA BALATKA," AND +"LINDA TRESSEL" + + + + +The Claverings, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was the last novel +which I wrote for the Cornhill; and it was for this that I received +the highest rate of pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the +same length as Framley Parsonage, and the price was œ2800. Whether +much or little, it was offered by the proprietor of the magazine, +and was paid in a single cheque. + +In The Claverings I did not follow the habit which had now become +very common to me, of introducing personages whose names are already +known to the readers of novels, and whose characters were familiar +to myself. If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had +appeared before or who has been allowed to appear since. I consider +the story as a whole to be good, though I am not aware that the +public has ever corroborated that verdict. The chief character +is that of a young woman who has married manifestly for money and +rank,--so manifestly that she does not herself pretend, even while +she is making the marriage, that she has any other reason. The +man is old, disreputable, and a wornout debauchee. Then comes the +punishment natural to the offence. When she is free, the man whom +she had loved, and who had loved her, is engaged to another woman. +He vacillates and is weak,--in which weakness is the fault of the +book, as he plays the part of hero. But she is strong--strong in +her purpose, strong in her desires, and strong in her consciousness +that the punishment which comes upon her has been deserved. + +But the chief merit of The Clarverings is in the genuine fun of +some of the scenes. Humour has not been my forte, but I am inclined +to think that the characters of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, +and Sophie Gordeloup are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of +Sophie, is also good, and disposes of the young hero's interference +in a somewhat masterly manner. In The Claverings, too, there is a +wife whose husband is a brute to her, who loses an only child--his +heir--and who is rebuked by her lord because the boy dies. Her +sorrow is, I think, pathetic. From beginning to end the story is +well told. But I doubt now whether any one reads The Claverings. +When I remember how many novels I have written, I have no right +to expect that above a few of them shall endure even to the second +year beyond publication. This story closed my connection with the +Cornhill Magazine;--but not with its owner, Mr. George Smith, who +subsequently brought out a further novel of mine in a separate +form, and who about this time established the Pall Mall Gazette, +to which paper I was for some years a contributor. + +It was in 1865 that the Pall Mall Gazette was commenced, the +name having been taken from a fictitious periodical, which was the +offspring of Thackeray's brain. It was set on foot by the unassisted +energy and resources of George Smith, who had succeeded by means +of his magazine and his publishing connection in getting around him +a society of literary men who sufficed, as far as literary ability +went, to float the paper at one under favourable auspices. His two +strongest staffs probably were "Jacob Omnium," whom I regard as the +most forcible newspaper writer of my days, and Fitz-James Stephen, +the most conscientious and industrious. To them the Pall Mall +Gazette owed very much of its early success,--and to the untiring +energy and general ability of its proprietor. Among its other +contributors were George Lewes, Hannay,--who, I think, came up +from Edinburgh for employment on its columns,--Lord Houghton, Lord +Strangford, Charles Merivale, Greenwood the present editor, Greg, +myself, and very many others;--so many others, that I have met +at a Pall Mall dinner a crowd of guests who would have filled the +House of Commons more respectably than I have seen it filled even +on important occasions. There are many who now remember--and no +doubt when this is published there will be left some to remember--the +great stroke of business which was done by the revelations of a +visitor to one of the casual wards in London. A person had to be +selected who would undergo the misery of a night among the usual +occupants of a casual ward in a London poorhouse, and who should at +the same time be able to record what he felt and saw. The choice +fell upon Mr. Greenwood's brother, who certainly possessed the +courage and the powers of endurance. The description, which was +very well given, was, I think, chiefly written by the brother of +the Casual himself. It had a great effect, which was increased by +secrecy as to the person who encountered all the horrors of that +night. I was more than once assured that Lard Houghton was the man. +I heard it asserted also that I myself had been the hero. At last +the unknown one could no longer endure that his honours should be +hidden, and revealed the truth,--in opposition, I fear, to promises +to the contrary, and instigated by a conviction that if known he +could turn his honours to account. In the meantime, however, that +record of a night passed in a workhouse had done more to establish +the sale of the journal than all the legal lore of Stephen, or the +polemical power of Higgins, or the critical acumen of Lewes. + +My work was various. I wrote much on the subject of the American +War, on which my feelings were at the time very keen,--subscribing, +if I remember right, my name to all that I wrote. I contributed +also some sets of sketches, of which those concerning hunting found +favour with the public. They were republished afterwards, and had +a considerable sale, and may, I think, still be recommended to those +who are fond of hunting, as being accurate in their description of +the different classes of people who are to be met in the hunting-field. +There was also a set of clerical sketches, which was considered to +be of sufficient importance to bring down upon my head the critical +wrath of a great dean of that period. The most ill-natured review +that was ever written upon any work of mine appeared in the +Contemporary Review with reference to these Clerical Sketches. The +critic told me that I did not understand Greek. That charge has +been made not unfrequently by those who have felt themselves strong +in that pride-producing language. It is much to read Greek with +ease, but it is not disgraceful to be unable to do so. To pretend +to read it without being able,--that is disgraceful. The critic, +however, had been driven to wrath by my saying that Deans of the +Church of England loved to revisit the glimpses of the metropolitan +moon. + +I also did some critical work for the Pall Mall,--as I did also for +The Fortnightly. It was not to my taste, but was done in conformity +with strict conscientious scruples. I read what I took in hand, and +said what I believed to be true,--always giving to the matter time +altogether incommensurate with the pecuniary result to myself. In +doing this for the Pall Mall, I fell into great sorrow. A gentleman, +whose wife was dear to me as if she were my own sister; was in +some trouble as to his conduct in the public service. He had been +blamed, as he thought unjustly, and vindicated himself in a pamphlet. +This he handed to me one day, asking me to read it, and express my +opinion about it if I found that I had an opinion. I thought the +request injudicious, and I did not read the pamphlet. He met me +again, and, handing me a second pamphlet, pressed me very hard. I +promised him that I would read it, and that if I found myself able +I would express myself;--but that I must say not what I wished +to think, but what I did think. To this of course he assented. I +then went very much out of my way to study the subject,--which was +one requiring study. I found, or thought that I found, that the +conduct of the gentleman in his office had been indiscreet; but that +charges made against himself affecting his honour were baseless. +This I said, emphasising much more strongly than was necessary the +opinion which I had formed of his indiscretion,--as will so often +be the case when a man has a pen in his hand. It is like a club +or sledge-hammer,--in using which, either for defence or attack, +a man can hardly measure the strength of the blows he gives. Of +course there was offence,--and a breaking off of intercourse between +loving friends,--and a sense of wrong received, and I must own, +too, of wrong done. It certainly was not open to me to whitewash +with honesty him whom I did not find to be white; but there was no +duty incumbent on me to declare what was his colour in my eyes,--no +duty even to ascertain. But I had been ruffled by the persistency +of the gentleman's request,--which should not have been made,--and +I punished him for his wrong-doing by doing a wrong myself. I must +add, that before he died his wife succeeded in bringing us together. + +In the early days of the paper, the proprietor, who at that time +acted also as chief editor, asked me to undertake a duty,--of which +the agony would indeed at no one moment have been so sharp as that +endured in the casual ward, but might have been prolonged until +human nature sank under it. He suggested to me that I should during +an entire season attend the May meetings in Exeter Hall, and give +a graphic and, if possible, amusing description of the proceedings. +I did attend one,--which lasted three hours,--and wrote a paper which +I think was called A Zulu in Search of a Religion. But when the +meeting was over I went to that spirited proprietor, and begged him +to impose upon me some task more equal to my strength. Not even on +behalf of the Pall Mall Gazette, which was very dear to me, could +I go through a second May meeting,--much less endure a season of +such martyrdom. + +I have to acknowledge that I found myself unfit for work on +a newspaper. I had not taken to it early enough in life to learn +its ways and bear its trammels. I was fidgety when any work was +altered in accordance with the judgment of the editor, who, of +course, was responsible for what appeared. I wanted to select my +own subjects,--not to have them selected for me; to write when I +pleased,--and not when it suited others. As a permanent member of +the staff I was of no use, and after two or three years I dropped +out of the work. + +From the commencement of my success as a writer, which I date +from the beginning of the Cornhill Magazine, I had always felt an +injustice in literary affairs which had never afflicted me or even +suggested itself to me while I was unsuccessful. It seemed to me +that a name once earned carried with it too much favour. I indeed +had never reached a height to which praise was awarded as a matter +of course; but there were others who sat on higher seats to whom +the critics brought unmeasured incense and adulation, even when +they wrote, as they sometimes did write, trash which from a beginner +would not have been thought worthy of the slightest notice. I hope +no one will think that in saying this I am actuated by jealousy +of others. Though I never reached that height, still I had so +far progressed that that which I wrote was received with too much +favour. The injustice which struck me did not consist in that which +was withheld from me, but in that which was given to me. I felt +that aspirants coming up below me might do work as good as mine, +and probably much better work, and yet fail to have it appreciated. +In order to test this, I determined to be such an aspirant myself, +and to begin a course of novels anonymously, in order that I might +see whether I could obtain a second identity,--whether as I had made +one mark by such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed +in doing so again. In 1865 I began a short tale called Nina Balatka, +which in 1866 was published anonymously in Blackwood's Magazine. +In 1867 this was followed by another of the same length, called +Linda Tressel. I will speak of them together, as they are of the +same nature and of nearly equal merit. Mr. Blackwood, who himself +read the MS. of Nina Balatka, expressed an opinion that it would +not from its style be discovered to have been written by me;--but +it was discovered by Mr. Hutton of the Spectator, who found the +repeated use of some special phrase which had rested upon his ear +too frequently when reading for the purpose of criticism other +works of mine. He declared in his paper that Nina Balatka was by +me, showing I think more sagacity than good nature. I ought not, +however, to complain of him, as of all the critics of my work he +has been the most observant, and generally the most eulogistic. +Nina Balatka never rose sufficiently high in reputation to make +its detection a matter of any importance. Once or twice I heard the +story mentioned by readers who did not know me to be the author, +and always with praise; but it had no real success. The same may +be said of Linda Tressel. Blackwood, who of course knew the author, +was willing to publish them, trusting that works by an experienced +writer would make their way, even without the writer's name, and he +was willing to pay me for them, perhaps half what they would have +fetched with my name. But he did not find the speculation answer, +and declined a third attempt, though a third such tale was written +for him. + +Nevertheless I am sure that the two stories are good. Perhaps the +first is somewhat the better, as being the less lachrymose. They +were both written very quickly, but with a considerable amount of +labour; and both were written immediately after visits to the towns +in which the scenes are laid,--Prague, mainly, and Nuremberg. Of +course I had endeavoured to change not only my manner of language, +but my manner of story-telling also; and in this, pace Mr. Hutton, +I think that I was successful. English life in them there was none. +There was more of romance proper than had been usual with me. And +I made an attempt at local colouring, at descriptions of scenes +and places, which has not been usual with me. In all this I am +confident that I was in a measure successful. In the loves, and +fears, and hatreds, both of Nina and of Linda, there is much that +is pathetic. Prague is Prague, and Nuremberg is Nuremberg. I know +that the stories are good, but they missed the object with which +they had been written. Of course there is not in this any evidence +that I might not have succeeded a second time as I succeeded before, +had I gone on with the same dogged perseverance. Mr. Blackwood, +had I still further reduced my price, would probably have continued +the experiment. Another ten years of unpaid unflagging labour might +have built up a second reputation. But this at any rate did seem +clear to me, that with all the increased advantages which practice +in my art must have given me, I could not induce English readers +to read what I gave to them, unless I gave it with my name. + +I do not wish to have it supposed from this that I quarrel with public +judgment in affairs of literature. It is a matter of course that +in all things the public should trust to established reputation. It +is as natural that a novel reader wanting novels should send to a +library for those by George Eliot or Wilkie Collins, as that a lady +when she wants a pie for a picnic should go to Fortnum & Mason. +Fortnum & Mason can only make themselves Fortnum & Mason by dint of +time and good pies combined. If Titian were to send us a portrait +from the other world, as certain dead poets send their poetry by +means of a medium, it would be some time before the art critic of +the Times would discover its value. We may sneer at the want of +judgment thus displayed, but such slowness of judgment is human and +has always existed. I say all this here because my thoughts on the +matter have forced upon me the conviction that very much consideration +is due to the bitter feelings of disappointed authors. + +We who have succeeded are so apt to tell new aspirants not to +aspire, because the thing to be done may probably be beyond their +reach. "My dear young lady, had you not better stay at home and darn +your stockings?" "As, sir, you have asked for my candid opinion, +I can only counsel you to try some other work of life which may be +better suited to your abilities." What old-established successful +author has not said such words as these to humble aspirants for +critical advice, till they have become almost formulas? No doubt +there is cruelty in such answers; but the man who makes them has +considered the matter within himself, and has resolved that such +cruelty is the best mercy. No doubt the chances against literary +aspirants are very great. It is so easy to aspire,--and to begin! +A man cannot make a watch or a shoe without a variety of tools and +many materials. He must also have learned much. But any young lady +can write a book who has a sufficiency of pens and paper. It can +be done anywhere; in any clothes--which is a great thing; at any +hours--to which happy accident in literature I owe my success. +And the success, when achieved, is so pleasant! The aspirants, of +course, are very many; and the experienced councillor, when asked +for his candid judgment as to this or that effort, knows that among +every hundred efforts there will be ninety-nine failures. Then the +answer is so ready: "My dear young lady, do darn your stockings; +it will be for the best." Or perhaps, less tenderly, to the male +aspirant: "You must earn some money, you say. Don't you think +that a stool in a counting-house might be better?" The advice will +probably be good advice,--probably, no doubt, as may be proved by +the terrible majority of failures. But who is to be sure that he +is not expelling an angel from the heaven to which, if less roughly +treated, he would soar,--that he is not dooming some Milton to be +mute and inglorious, who, but for such cruel ill-judgment, would +become vocal to all ages? + +The answer to all this seems to be ready enough. The judgment, +whether cruel or tender, should not be ill-judgment. He who +consents to sit as judge should have capacity for judging. But in +this matter no accuracy of judgment is possible. It may be that the +matter subjected to the critic is so bad or so good as to make an +assured answer possible. "You, at any rate, cannot make this your +vocation;" or "You, at any rate, can succeed, if you will try." But +cases as to which such certainty can be expressed are rare. The +critic who wrote the article on the early verses of Lord Byron, which +produced the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, was justified in +his criticism by the merits of the Hours of Idleness. The lines had +nevertheless been written by that Lord Byron who became our Byron. +In a little satire called The Biliad, which, I think, nobody knows, +are the following well-expressed lines:-- + + "When Payne Knight's Taste was issued to the town, + A few Greek verses in the text set down + Were torn to pieces, mangled into hash, + Doomed to the flames as execrable trash,-- + In short, were butchered rather than dissected, + And several false quantities detected,-- + Till, when the smoke had vanished from the cinders, + 'Twas just discovered that--THE LINES WERE PINDAR'S!" + +There can be no assurance against cases such as these; and yet we +are so free with our advice, always bidding the young aspirant to +desist. + +There is perhaps no career or life so charming as that of a successful +man of letters. Those little unthought of advantages which I just +now named are in themselves attractive. If you like the town, live in +the town, and do your work there; if you like the country, choose +the country. It may be done on the top of a mountain or in the +bottom of a pit. It is compatible with the rolling of the sea and +the motion of a railway. The clergyman, the lawyer, the doctor, the +member of Parliament, the clerk in a public office, the tradesman, +and even his assistant in the shop, must dress in accordance with +certain fixed laws; but the author need sacrifice to no grace, +hardly even to Propriety. He is subject to no bonds such as those +which bind other men. Who else is free from all shackle as to hours? +The judge must sit at ten, and the attorney-general, who is making +his œ20,000 a year, must be there with his bag. The Prime Minister +must be in his place on that weary front bench shortly after +prayers, and must sit there, either asleep or awake, even though +---- or ---- should be addressing the House. During all that Sunday +which he maintains should be a day of rest, the active clergyman +toils like a galley-slave. The actor, when eight o'clock comes, +is bound to his footlights. The Civil Service clerk must sit there +from ten till four,--unless his office be fashionable, when twelve +to six is just as heavy on him. The author may do his work at five +in the morning when he is fresh from his bed, or at three in the +morning before he goes there. And the author wants no capital, and +encounters no risks. When once he is afloat, the publisher finds +all that;--and indeed, unless he be rash, finds it whether he be +afloat or not. But it is in the consideration which he enjoys that +the successful author finds his richest reward. He is, if not of +equal rank, yet of equal standing with the highest; and if he be +open to the amenities of society, may choose his own circles. He +without money can enter doors which are closed against almost all +but him and the wealthy. I have often heard it said that in this +country the man of letters is not recognised. I believe the meaning +of this to be that men of letters are not often invited to be +knights and baronets. I do not think that they wish it;--and if +they had it they would, as a body, lose much more than they would +gain. I do not at all desire to have letters put after my name, or +to be called Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom Hughes and Charles +Reade became Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not know how I might +feel,--or how my wife might feel, if we were left unbedecked. As +it is, the man of letters who would be selected for titular honour, +if such bestowal of honours were customary, receives from the general +respect of those around him a much more pleasant recognition of +his worth. + +If this be so,--if it be true that the career of the successful +literary man be thus pleasant--it is not wonderful that many should +attempt to win the prize. But how is a man to know whether or not +he has within him the qualities necessary for such a career? He +makes an attempt, and fails; repeats his attempt, and fails again! +So many have succeeded at last who have failed more than once or +twice! Who will tell him the truth as to himself? Who has power to +find out that truth? The hard man sends him off without a scruple +to that office-stool; the soft man assures him that there is much +merit in his MS. + +Oh, my young aspirant,--if ever such a one should read these +pages,--be sure that no one can tell you! To do so it would be +necessary not only to know what there is now within you, but also +to foresee what time will produce there. This, however, I think may +be said to you, without any doubt as to the wisdom of the counsel +given, that if it be necessary for you to live by your work, do not +begin by trusting to literature. Take the stool in the office as +recommended to you by the hard man; and then, in such leisure hours +as may belong to you, let the praise which has come from the lips +of that soft man induce you to persevere in your literary attempts. +Should you fail, then your failure will not be fatal,--and what +better could you have done with the leisure hours had you not so +failed? Such double toil, you will say, is severe. Yes, but if +you want this thing, you must submit to severe toil. + +Sometime before this I had become one of the Committee appointed +for the distribution of the moneys of the Royal Literary Fund, and +in that capacity I heard and saw much of the sufferings of authors. +I may in a future chapter speak further of this Institution, which +I regard with great affection, and in reference to which I should +be glad to record certain convictions of my own; but I allude to it +now, because the experience I have acquired in being active in its +cause forbids me to advise any young man or woman to enter boldly +on a literary career in search of bread. I know how utterly I +should have failed myself had my bread not been earned elsewhere +while I was making my efforts. During ten years of work, which I +commenced with some aid from the fact that others of my family were +in the same profession, I did not earn enough to buy me the pens, +ink, and paper which I was using; and then when, with all my +experience in my art, I began again as from a new springing point, +I should have failed again unless again I could have given years +to the task. Of course there have been many who have done better +than I,--many whose powers have been infinitely greater. But then, +too, I have seen the failure of many who were greater. + +The career, when success has been achieved, is certainly very +pleasant; but the agonies which are endured in the search for that +success are often terrible. And the author's poverty is, I think, +harder to be borne than any other poverty. The man, whether rightly +or wrongly, feels that the world is using him with extreme injustice. +The more absolutely he fails, the higher, it is probable, he will +reckon his own merits; and the keener will be the sense of injury +in that he whose work is of so high a nature cannot get bread, +while they whose tasks are mean are lapped in luxury. "I, with +my well-filled mind, with my clear intellect, with all my gifts, +cannot earn a poor crown a day, while that fool, who simpers in +a little room behind a shop, makes his thousands every year." The +very charity, to which he too often is driven, is bitterer to him +than to others. While he takes it he almost spurns the hand that +gives it to him, and every fibre of his heart within him is bleeding +with a sense of injury. + +The career, when successful, is pleasant enough certainly; but when +unsuccessful, it is of all careers the most agonising. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON NOVELS AND THE ART OF WRITING THEM + + + + +It is nearly twenty years since I proposed to myself to write +a history of English prose fiction. I shall never do it now, but +the subject is so good a one that I recommend it heartily to some +man of letters, who shall at the same time be indefatigable and +light-handed. I acknowledge that I broke down in the task, because +I could not endure the labour in addition to the other labours of +my life. Though the book might be charming, the work was very much +the reverse. It came to have a terrible aspect to me, as did that +proposition that I should sit out all the May meetings of a season. +According to my plan of such a history it would be necessary +to read an infinity of novels, and not only to read them, but so +to read them as to point out the excellences of those which are +most excellent, and to explain the defects of those which, though +defective, had still reached sufficient reputation to make them +worthy of notice. I did read many after this fashion,--and here +and there I have the criticisms which I wrote. In regard to many, +they were written on some blank page within the book; I have not, +however, even a list of the books so criticised. I think that the +Arcadia was the first, and Ivanhoe the last. My plan, as I settled +it at last, had been to begin with Robinson Crusoe, which is the +earliest really popular novel which we have in our language, and +to continue the review so as to include the works of all English +novelists of reputation, except those who might still be living +when my task should be completed. But when Dickens and Bulwer died, +my spirit flagged, and that which I had already found to be very +difficult had become almost impossible to me at my then period of +life. + +I began my own studies on the subject with works much earlier than +Robinson Crusoe, and made my way through a variety of novels which +were necessary for my purpose, but which in the reading gave me no +pleasure whatever. I never worked harder than at the Arcadia, or +read more detestable trash than the stories written by Mrs. Aphra +Behn; but these two were necessary to my purpose, which was not only +to give an estimate of the novels as I found them, but to describe +how it had come to pass that the English novels of the present +day have become what they are, to point out the effects which they +have produced, and to inquire whether their great popularity has on +the whole done good or evil to the people who read them. I still +think that the book is one well worthy to be written. + +I intended to write that book to vindicate my own profession as +a novelist, and also to vindicate that public taste in literature +which has created and nourished the profession which I follow. +And I was stirred up to make such an attempt by a conviction that +there still exists among us Englishmen a prejudice in respect +to novels which might, perhaps, be lessened by such a work. This +prejudice is not against the reading of novels, as is proved by their +general acceptance among us. But it exists strongly in reference +to the appreciation in which they are professed to be held; and it +robs them of much of that high character which they may claim to +have earned by their grace, their honesty, and good teaching. + +No man can work long at any trade without being brought to consider +much, whether that which he is daily doing tends to evil or to +good. I have written many novels, and have known many writers of +novels, and I can assert that such thoughts have been strong with +them and with myself. But in acknowledging that these writers have +received from the public a full measure of credit for such genius, +ingenuity, or perseverance as each may have displayed, I feel that +there is still wanting to them a just appreciation of the excellence +of their calling, and a general understanding of the high nature +of the work which they perform. + +By the common consent of all mankind who have read, poetry takes +the highest place in literature. That nobility of expression, and +all but divine grace of words, which she is bound to attain before +she can make her footing good, is not compatible with prose. Indeed +it is that which turns prose into poetry. When that has been in +truth achieved, the reader knows that the writer has soared above +the earth, and can teach his lessons somewhat as a god might teach. +He who sits down to write his tale in prose makes no such attempt, +nor does he dream that the poet's honour is within his reach;--but +his teaching is of the same nature, and his lessons all tend to +the same end. By either, false sentiments may be fostered; false +notions of humanity may be engendered; false honour, false love, +false worship may be created; by either, vice instead of virtue +may be taught. But by each, equally, may true honour, true love; +true worship, and true humanity be inculcated; and that will be +the greatest teacher who will spread such truth the widest. But +at present, much as novels, as novels, are bought and read, there +exists still an idea, a feeling which is very prevalent, that novels +at their best are but innocent. Young men and women,--and old men +and women too,--read more of them than of poetry, because such reading +is easier than the reading of poetry; but they read them,--as men +eat pastry after dinner,--not without some inward conviction that +the taste is vain if not vicious. I take upon myself to say that +it is neither vicious nor vain. + +But all writers of fiction who have desired to think well of their +own work, will probably have had doubts on their minds before they +have arrived at this conclusion. Thinking much of my own daily +labour and of its nature, I felt myself at first to be much afflicted +and then to be deeply grieved by the opinion expressed by wise and +thinking men as to the work done by novelists. But when, by degrees, +I dared to examine and sift the sayings of such men, I found them +to be sometimes silly and often arrogant. I began to inquire what +had been the nature of English novels since they first became common +in our own language, and to be desirous of ascertaining whether they +had done harm or good. I could well remember that, in my own young +days, they had not taken that undisputed possession of drawing-rooms +which they now hold. Fifty years ago, when George IV. was king, they +were not indeed treated as Lydia had been forced to treat them in +the preceding reign, when, on the approach of elders, Peregrine +Pickle was hidden beneath the bolster, and Lord Ainsworth put away +under the sofa. But the families in which an unrestricted permission +was given for the reading of novels were very few, and from many +they were altogether banished. The high poetic genius and correct +morality of Walter Scott had not altogether succeeded in making men +and women understand that lessons which were good in poetry could +not be bad in prose. I remember that in those days an embargo was +laid upon novel-reading as a pursuit, which was to the novelist +a much heavier tax than that want of full appreciation of which I +now complain. + +There is, we all know, no such embargo now. May we not say that +people of an age to read have got too much power into their own +hands to endure any very complete embargo? Novels are read right +and left, above stairs and below, in town houses and in country +parsonages, by young countesses and by farmers' daughters, by old +lawyers and by young students. It has not only come to pass that +a special provision of them has to be made for the godly, but that +the provision so made must now include books which a few years since +the godly would have thought to be profane. It was this necessity +which, a few years since, induced the editor of Good Words to apply +to me for a novel,--which, indeed, when supplied was rejected, but +which now, probably, owing to further change in the same direction, +would have been accepted. + +If such be the case--if the extension of novel-reading be so wide +as I have described it--then very much good or harm must be done +by novels. The amusement of the time can hardly be the only result +of any book that is read, and certainly not so with a novel, which +appeals especially to the imagination, and solicits the sympathy of +the young. A vast proportion of the teaching of the day,--greater +probably than many of us have acknowledged to ourselves,--comes +from these books, which are in the hands of all readers. It is from +them that girls learn what is expected from them, and what they +are to expect when lovers come; and also from them that young men +unconsciously learn what are, or should be, or may be, the charms +of love,--though I fancy that few young men will think so little +of their natural instincts and powers as to believe that I am right +in saying so. Many other lessons also are taught. In these times, +when the desire to be honest is pressed so hard, is so violently +assaulted by the ambition to be great; in which riches are the +easiest road to greatness; when the temptations to which men are +subjected dull their eyes to the perfected iniquities of others; +when it is so hard for a man to decide vigorously that the pitch, +which so many are handling, will defile him if it be touched;--men's +conduct will be actuated much by that which is from day to day +depicted to them as leading to glorious or inglorious results. The +woman who is described as having obtained all that the world holds +to be precious, by lavishing her charms and her caresses unworthily +and heartlessly, will induce other women to do the same with +theirs,--as will she who is made interesting by exhibitions of +bold passion teach others to be spuriously passionate. The young +man who in a novel becomes a hero, perhaps a Member of Parliament, +and almost a Prime Minister, by trickery, falsehood, and flash +cleverness, will have many followers, whose attempts to rise in +the world ought to lie heavily on the conscience of the novelists +who create fictitious Cagliostros. There are Jack Sheppards other +than those who break into houses and out of prisons,--Macheaths, +who deserve the gallows more than Gay's hero. + +Thinking of all this, as a novelist surely must do,--as I certainly +have done through my whole career,--it becomes to him a matter of +deep conscience how he shall handle those characters by whose words +and doings he hopes to interest his readers. It will very frequently +be the case that he will be tempted to sacrifice something for +effect, to say a word or two here, or to draw a picture there, +for which he feels that he has the power, and which when spoken or +drawn would be alluring. The regions of absolute vice are foul and +odious. The savour of them, till custom has hardened the palate and +the nose, is disgusting. In these he will hardly tread. But there +are outskirts on these regions, on which sweet-smelling flowers +seem to grow; and grass to be green. It is in these border-lands +that the danger lies. The novelist may not be dull. If he commit +that fault he can do neither harm nor good. He must please, and the +flowers and the grass in these neutral territories sometimes seem +to give him so easy an opportunity of pleasing! + +The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And +he must teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach +lessons of virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to +his readers? That sermons are not in themselves often thought to +be agreeable we all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy +supposed to be pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, +if he have a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same +purpose as the clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. +If he can do this efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and +vice ugly, while he charms his readers instead of wearying them, +then I think Mr. Carlyle need not call him distressed, nor talk +of that long ear of fiction, nor question whether he be or not the +most foolish of existing mortals. + +I think that many have done so; so many that we English novelists +may boast as a class that has been the general result of our own +work. Looking back to the past generation, I may say with certainty +that such was the operation of the novels of Miss Edgeworth, Miss +Austen, and Walter Scott. Coming down to my own times, I find such +to have been the teaching of Thackeray, of Dickens, and of George +Eliot. Speaking, as I shall speak to any who may read these words, +with that absence of self-personality which the dead may claim, I +will boast that such has been the result of my own writing. Can any +one by search through the works of the six great English novelists +I have named, find a scene, a passage, or a word that would teach +a girl to be immodest, or a man to be dishonest? When men in their +pages have been described as dishonest and women as immodest, have +they not ever been punished? It is not for the novelist to say, +baldly and simply: "Because you lied here, or were heartless there, +because you Lydia Bennet forgot the lessons of your honest home, +or you Earl Leicester were false through your ambition, or you +Beatrix loved too well the glitter of the world, therefore you shall +be scourged with scourges either in this world or in the next;" but +it is for him to show, as he carries on his tale, that his Lydia, +or his Leicester, or his Beatrix, will be dishonoured in the estimation +of all readers by his or her vices. Let a woman be drawn clever, +beautiful, attractive,--so as to make men love her, and women +almost envy her,--and let her be made also heartless, unfeminine, +and ambitious of evil grandeur, as was Beatrix, what a danger is +there not in such a character! To the novelist who shall handle it, +what peril of doing harm! But if at last it have been so handled +that every girl who reads of Beatrix shall say: "Oh! not like +that;--let me not be like that!" and that every youth shall say: +"Let me not have such a one as that to press my bosom, anything +rather than that!"--then will not the novelist have preached his +sermon as perhaps no clergyman can preach it? + +Very much of a novelist's work must appertain to the intercourse +between young men and young women. It is admitted that a novel +can hardly be made interesting or successful without love. Some few +might be named, but even in those the attempt breaks down, and the +softness of love is found to be necessary to complete the story. +Pickwick has been named as an exception to the rule, but even +in Pickwick there are three or four sets of lovers, whose little +amatory longings give a softness to the work. I tried it once with +Miss Mackenzie, but I had to make her fall in love at last. In this +frequent allusion to the passion which most stirs the imagination +of the young, there must be danger. Of that the writer of fiction +is probably well aware. Then the question has to be asked, whether +the danger may not be so averted that good may be the result,--and +to be answered. + + + +respect the necessity of dealing with love is advantageous,--advantageous +from the very circumstance which has made love necessary to +all novelists. It is necessary because the passion is one which +interests or has interested all. Every one feels it, has felt it, +or expects to feel it,--or else rejects it with an eagerness which +still perpetuates the interest. If the novelist, therefore, can +so handle the subject as to do good by his handling, as to teach +wholesome lessons in regard to love, the good which he does will +be very wide. If I can teach politicians that they can do their +business better by truth than by falsehood, I do a great service; +but it is done to a limited number of persons. But if I can make +young men and women believe that truth in love will make them +happy, then, if my writings be popular, I shall have a very large +class of pupils. No doubt the cause for that fear which did exist +as to novels arose from an idea that the matter of love would be +treated in an inflammatory and generally unwholesome manner. "Madam," +says Sir Anthony in the play, "a circulating library in a town is +an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge. It blossoms through the +year; and depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of +handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last." Sir Anthony +was no doubt right. But he takes it for granted that the longing +for the fruit is an evil. The novelist who writes of love thinks +differently, and thinks that the honest love of an honest man is +a treasure which a good girl may fairly hope to win,--and that if +she can be taught to wish only for that, she will have been taught +to entertain only wholesome wishes. + +I can easily believe that a girl should be taught to wish to love +by reading how Laura Bell loved Pendennis. Pendennis was not in +truth a very worthy man, nor did he make a very good husband; but +the girl's love was so beautiful, and the wife's love when she became +a wife so womanlike, and at the same time so sweet, so unselfish, +so wifely, so worshipful,--in the sense in which wives are told +that they ought to worship their husband,--that I cannot believe +that any girl can be injured, or even not benefited, by reading of +Laura's love. + +There once used to be many who thought, and probably there still +are some, even here in England, who think that a girl should hear +nothing of love till the time come in which she is to be married. +That, no doubt, was the opinion of Sir Anthony Absolute and of Mrs. +Malaprop. But I am hardly disposed to believe that the old system +was more favourable than ours to the purity of manners. Lydia +Languish, though she was constrained by fear of her aunt to hide +the book, yet had Peregrine Pickle in her collection. While human +nature talks of love so forcibly it can hardly serve our turn +to be silent on the subject. "Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque +recurret." There are countries in which it has been in accordance +with the manners of the upper classes that the girl should be brought +to marry the man almost out of the nursery--or rather perhaps out +of the convent--without having enjoyed that freedom of thought +which the reading of novels and of poetry will certainly produce; +but I do not know that the marriages so made have been thought to +be happier than our own. + +Among English novels of the present day, and among English +novelists, a great division is made. There are sensational novels +and anti-sensational, sensational novelists and anti-sensational, +sensational readers and anti-sensational. The novelists who are +considered to be anti-sensational are generally called realistic. +I am realistic. My friend Wilkie Collins is generally supposed +to be sensational. The readers who prefer the one are supposed to +take delight in the elucidation of character. Those who hold by +the other are charmed by the continuation and gradual development +of a plot. All this is, I think, a mistake,--which mistake arises +from the inability of the imperfect artist to be at the same time +realistic and sensational. A good novel should be both, and both in +the highest degree. If a novel fail in either, there is a failure +in art. Let those readers who believe that they do not like +sensational scenes in novels think of some of those passages from +our great novelists which have charmed them most:--of Rebecca in +the castle with Ivanhoe; of Burley in the cave with Morton; of the +mad lady tearing the veil of the expectant bride, in Jane Eyre; of +Lady Castlewood as, in her indignation, she explains to the Duke +of Hamilton Henry Esmond's right to be present at the marriage of +his Grace with Beatrix;--may I add of Lady Mason, as she makes her +confession at the feet of Sir Peregrine Orme? Will any one say that +the authors of these passages have sinned in being over-sensational? No +doubt, a string of horrible incidents, bound together without truth +in detail, and told as affecting personages without character,--wooden +blocks, who cannot make themselves known to the reader as men +and women, does not instruct or amuse, or even fill the mind with +awe. Horrors heaped upon horrors, and which are horrors only in +themselves, and not as touching any recognised and known person, +are not tragic, and soon cease even to horrify. And such would-be +tragic elements of a story may be increased without end, and +without difficulty. I may tell you of a woman murdered,--murdered +in the same street with you, in the next house,--that she was a +wife murdered by her husband,--a bride not yet a week a wife. I may +add to it for ever. I may say that the murderer roasted her alive. +There is no end to it. I may declare that a former wife was treated +with equal barbarity; and may assert that, as the murderer was led +away to execution, he declared his only sorrow, his only regret +to be, that he could not live to treat a third wife after the same +fashion. There is nothing so easy as the creation and the cumulation +of fearful incidents after this fashion. If such creation and cumulation +be the beginning and the end of the novelist's work,--and novels have +been written which seem to be without other attractions,--nothing +can be more dull or more useless. But not on that account are we +averse to tragedy in prose fiction. As in poetry, so in prose, he +who can deal adequately with tragic elements is a greater artist +and reaches a higher aim than the writer whose efforts never carry +him above the mild walks of everyday life. The Bride of Lammermoor +is a tragedy throughout, in spite of its comic elements. The life +of Lady Castlewood, of whom I have spoken, is a tragedy. Rochester's +wretched thraldom to his mad wife, in Jane Eyre, is a tragedy. +But these stories charm us not simply because they are tragic, but +because we feel that men and women with flesh and blood, creatures +with whom we can sympathise, are struggling amidst their woes. It +all lies in that. No novel is anything, for the purposes either +of comedy or tragedy, unless the reader can sympathise with the +characters whose names he finds upon the pages. Let an author so +tell his tale as to touch his reader's heart and draw his tears, +and he has, so far, done his work well. Truth let there be,--truth +of description, truth of character, human truth as to men and +women. If there be such truth, I do not know that a novel can be +too sensational. + +I did intend when I meditated that history of English fiction to +include within its pages some rules for the writing of novels;--or +I might perhaps say, with more modesty, to offer some advice on +the art to such tyros in it as might be willing to take advantage +of the experience of an old hand. But the matter would, I fear, +be too long for this episode, and I am not sure that I have as yet +got the rules quite settled in my own mind. I will, however, say +a few words on one or two points which my own practice has pointed +out to me. + +I have from the first felt sure that the writer, when he sits down +to commence his novel, should do so, not because he has to tell +a story, but because he has a story to tell. The novelist's first +novel will generally have sprung from the right cause. Some series +of events, or some development of character, will have presented +itself to his imagination,--and this he feels so strongly that he +thinks he can present his picture in strong and agreeable language +to others. He sits down and tells his story because he has a story +to tell; as you, my friend, when you have heard something which +has at once tickled your fancy or moved your pathos, will hurry +to tell it to the first person you meet. But when that first novel +has been received graciously by the public and has made for itself +a success, then the writer naturally feeling that the writing of +novels is within his grasp, looks about for something to tell in +another. He cudgels his brains, not always successfully, and sits +down to write, not because he has something which he burns to +tell, but because be feels it to be incumbent on him to be telling +something. As you, my friend, if you are very successful in +the telling of that first story, will become ambitious of further +storytelling, and will look out for anecdotes,--in the narration +of which you will not improbably sometimes distress your audience. + +So it has been with many novelists, who, after some good work, +perhaps after very much good work, have distressed their audience +because they have gone on with their work till their work has become +simply a trade with them. Need I make a list of such, seeing that +it would contain the names of those who have been greatest in the +art of British novel-writing? They have at last become weary of +that portion of a novelist's work which is of all the most essential +to success. That a man as he grows old should feel the labour of +writing to be a fatigue is natural enough. But a man to whom writing +has become a habit may write well though he be fatigued. But the +weary novelist refuses any longer to give his mind to that work of +observation and reception from which has come his power, without +which work his power cannot be continued,--which work should +be going on not only when he is at his desk, but in all his walks +abroad, in all his movements through the world, in all his intercourse +with his fellow-creatures. He has become a novelist, as another has +become a poet, because he has in those walks abroad, unconsciously +for the most part, been drawing in matter from all that he has seen +and heard. But this has not been done without labour, even when +the labour has been unconscious. Then there comes a time when he +shuts his eyes and shuts his ears. When we talk of memory fading +as age comes on, it is such shutting of eyes and ears that we mean. +The things around cease to interest us, and we cannot exercise +our minds upon them. To the novelist thus wearied there comes the +demand for further novels. He does not know his own defect, and +even if he did he does not wish to abandon his own profession. He +still writes; but he writes because he has to tell a story, not +because he has a story to tell. What reader of novels has not felt +the "woodenness" of this mode of telling? The characters do not +live and move, but are cut out of blocks and are propped against the +wall. The incidents are arranged in certain lines--the arrangement +being as palpable to the reader as it has been to the writer--but +do not follow each other as results naturally demanded by previous +action. The reader can never feel--as he ought to feel--that only +for that flame of the eye, only for that angry word, only for that +moment of weakness, all might have been different. The course of +the tale is one piece of stiff mechanism, in which there is no room +for a doubt. + +These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old +novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, +but can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That +they are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that +they apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last +because we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to +himself, + + + "Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne + Peccet ad extremum ridendus." + + +But many young fail also, because they endeavour to tell stories +when they have none to tell. And this comes from idleness rather +than from innate incapacity. The mind has not been sufficiently at +work when the tale has been commenced, nor is it kept sufficiently +at work as the tale is continued. I have never troubled myself much +about the construction of plots, and am not now insisting specially +on thoroughness in a branch of work in which I myself have not been +very thorough. I am not sure that the construction of a perfected +plot has been at any period within my power. But the novelist has +other aims than the elucidation of his plot. He desires to make +his readers so intimately acquainted with his characters that the +creatures of his brain should be to them speaking, moving, living, +human creatures. This he can never do unless he know those fictitious +personages himself, and he can never know them unless he can live +with them in the full reality of established intimacy. They must +be with him as he lies down to sleep, and as he wakes from his +dreams. He must learn to hate them and to love them. He must argue +with them, quarrel with them, forgive them, and even submit to them. +He must know of them whether they be cold-blooded or passionate, +whether true or false, and how far true, and how far false. The +depth and the breadth, and the narrowness and the shallowness of +each should be clear to him. And, as here, in our outer world, we +know that men and women change,--become worse or better as temptation +or conscience may guide them,--so should these creations of his +change, and every change should be noted by him. On the last day +of each month recorded, every person in his novel should be a month +older than on the first. If the would-be novelist have aptitudes +that way, all this will come to him without much struggling;--but +if it do not come, I think he can only make novels of wood. + +It is so that I have lived with my characters, and thence has come +whatever success I have obtained. There is a gallery of them, and +of all in that gallery I may say that I know the tone of the voice, +and the colour of the hair, every flame of the eye, and the very +clothes they wear. Of each man I could assert whether he would have +said these or the other words; of every woman, whether she would +then have smiled or so have frowned. When I shall feel that this +intimacy ceases, then I shall know that the old horse should be +turned out to grass. That I shall feel it when I ought to feel it, +I will by no means say. I do not know that I am at all wiser than +Gil Blas' canon; but I do know that the power indicated is one without +which the teller of tales cannot tell them to any good effect. + +The language in which the novelist is to put forth his story, the +colours with which he is to paint his picture, must of course be to +him matter of much consideration. Let him have all other possible +gifts,--imagination, observation, erudition, and industry,--they +will avail him nothing for his purpose, unless he can put forth +his work in pleasant words. If he be confused, tedious, harsh, or +unharmonious, readers will certainly reject him. The reading of +a volume of history or on science may represent itself as a duty; +and though the duty may by a bad style be made very disagreeable, +the conscientious reader will perhaps perform it. But the novelist +will be assisted by no such feeling. Any reader may reject his +work without the burden of a sin. It is the first necessity of his +position that he make himself pleasant. To do this, much more is +necessary than to write correctly. He may indeed be pleasant without +being correct,--as I think can be proved by the works of more than +one distinguished novelist. But he must be intelligible,--intelligible +without trouble; and he must be harmonious. + +Any writer who has read even a little will know what is meant by +the word intelligible. It is not sufficient that there be a meaning +that may be hammered out of the sentence, but that the language +should be so pellucid that the meaning should be rendered without +an effort of the reader;--and not only some proposition of meaning, +but the very sense, no more and no less, which the writer has intended +to put into his words. What Macaulay says should be remembered by +all writers: "How little the all-important art of making meaning +pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular author except myself +thinks of it." The language used should be as ready and as efficient +a conductor of the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader +as is the electric spark which passes from one battery to another +battery. In all written matter the spark should carry everything; +but in matters recondite the recipient will search to see that +he misses nothing, and that he takes nothing away too much. The +novelist cannot expect that any such search will be made. A young +writer, who will acknowledge the truth of what I am saying, will +often feel himself tempted by the difficulties of language to +tell himself that some one little doubtful passage, some single +collocation of words, which is not quite what it ought to be, will +not matter. I know well what a stumbling-block such a passage may +be. But he should leave none such behind him as he goes on. The +habit of writing clearly soon comes to the writer who is a severe +critic to himself. + +As to that harmonious expression which I think is required, I shall +find it more difficult to express my meaning. It will be granted, I +think, by readers that a style may be rough, and yet both forcible +and intelligible; but it will seldom come to pass that a novel written +in a rough style will be popular,--and less often that a novelist +who habitually uses such a style will become so. The harmony which +is required must come from the practice of the ear. There are few +ears naturally so dull that they cannot, if time be allowed to them, +decide whether a sentence, when read, be or be not harmonious. And +the sense of such harmony grows on the ear, when the intelligence +has once informed itself as to what is, and what is not harmonious. +The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a +Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge +of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza +be or be not correct. Take a girl, endowed with gifts of music, +well instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such +a stanza with two words transposed, as, for instance-- + + + Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro + Movit Amphion CANENDO LAPIDES, + Tuque testudo resonare septem + Callida nervis-- + + +and she will find no halt in the rhythm. But a schoolboy with +none of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, +become familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover +the fault. And so will the writer become familiar with what is +harmonious in prose. But in order that familiarity may serve him +in his business, he must so train his ear that he shall be able +to weigh the rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen. This, +when it has been done for a time, even for a short time, will become +so habitual to him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration +of every syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon +paper. The art of the orator is the same. He knows beforehand how +each sound which he is about to utter will affect the force of his +climax. If a writer will do so he will charm his readers, though +his readers will probably not know how they have been charmed. + +In writing a novel the author soon becomes aware that a burden +of many pages is before him. Circumstances require that he should +cover a certain and generally not a very confined space. Short novels +are not popular with readers generally. Critics often complain of +the ordinary length of novels,--of the three volumes to which they +are subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in +England have been told in fewer pages. The novel-writer who sticks +to novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this +burden of length is incumbent on him. How shall he carry his burden +to the end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have +by their practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to +preach;--but they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault +and by dint of their greatness. There should be no episodes in a +novel. Every sentence, every word, through all those pages, should +tend to the telling of the story. Such episodes distract the +attention of the reader, and always do so disagreeably. Who has not +felt this to be the case even with The Curious Impertinent and with +the History of the Man of the Hill. And if it be so with Cervantes +and Fielding, who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you +have to write must be long, let it be all one. And this exclusion +of episodes should be carried down into the smallest details. +Every sentence and every word used should tend to the telling of +the story. "But," the young novelist will say, "with so many pages +before me to be filled, how shall I succeed if I thus confine +myself;--how am I to know beforehand what space this story of mine +will require? There must be the three volumes, or the certain number +of magazine pages which I have contracted to supply. If I may not +be discursive should occasion require, how shall I complete my task? +The painter suits the size of his canvas to his subject, and must +I in my art stretch my subject to my canas?" This undoubtedly must +be done by the novelist; and if he will learn his business, may +be done without injury to his effect. He may not paint different +pictures on the same canvas, which he will do if he allow himself +to wander away to matters outside his own story; but by studying +proportion in his work, he may teach himself so to tell his story +that it shall naturally fall into the required length. Though his +story should be all one, yet it may have many parts. Though the +plot itself may require but few characters, it may be so enlarged +as to find its full development in many. There may be subsidiary +plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main story, +and which will take their places as part of one and the same +work,--as there may be many figures on a canvas which shall not to +the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures. + +There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of +episodes is so common as in the dialogue. It is so easy to make +any two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer +presumes himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, +or sport, may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and +the writer, while indulging himself and filling his pages, is apt +to think that he is pleasing his reader. I think he can make no +greater mistake. The dialogue is generally the most agreeable part +of a novel; but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to +the telling of the main story. It need not seem to be confined to +that, but it should always have a tendency in that direction. The +unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe. +When a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind, he at +once feels that he is being cheated into taking something which he +did not bargain to accept when he took up that novel. He does not +at that moment require politics or philosophy, but he wants his +story. He will not perhaps be able to say in so many words that at +some certain point the dialogue has deviated from the story; but +when it does so he will feel it, and the feeling will be unpleasant. +Let the intending novel-writer, if he doubt this, read one of +Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much to charm,--and then +ask himself whether he has not been offended by devious conversations. + +And the dialogue, on which the modern novelist in consulting the +taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained +also by other rules. The writer may tell much of his story in +conversations, but he may only do so by putting such words into +the mouths of his personages as persons so situated would probably +use. He is not allowed for the sake of his tale to make his characters +give utterance to long speeches, such as are not customarily heard +from men and women. The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried +on in short, sharp, expressive sentences, which very frequently are +never completed,--the language of which even among educated people +is often incorrect. The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue +must so steer between absolute accuracy of language--which would +give to his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly +inaccuracy of ordinary talkers, which if closely followed would +offend by an appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of +his readers a sense of reality. If he be quite real he will seem +to attempt to be funny. If he be quite correct he will seem to +be unreal. And above all, let the speeches be short. No character +should utter much above a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer +can justify to himself a longer flood of speech by the specialty +of the occasion. + +In all this human nature must be the novel-writer's guide. No doubt +effective novels have been written in which human nature has been +set at defiance. I might name Caleb Williams as one and Adam Blair +as another. But the exceptions are not more than enough to prove +the rule. But in following human nature he must remember that he does +so with a pen in his hand, and that the reader who will appreciate +human nature will also demand artistic ability and literary aptitude. + +The young novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink +himself how he is to acquire that knowledge of human nature which +will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this +or that position. He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to +print his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by +constant and intelligent practice. Unless it be given to him to +listen and to observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners +of people in his memory as to be able to say to himself with assurance +that these words might have been said in a given position, and that +those other words could not have been said,--I do not think that +in these days he can succeed as a novelist. + +And then let him beware of creating tedium! Who has not felt the +charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly +become aware that it has become too long and is the reverse of +charming. It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, +but that this fault may occur in chapters, in passages, in pages, +in paragraphs. I know no guard against this so likely to be effective +as the feeling of the writer himself. When once the sense that the +thing is becoming long has grown upon him, he may be sure that it +will grow upon his readers. I see the smile of some who will declare +to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to +himself. Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be +said with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his reader. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY + + + + +In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists +of my own time, with whose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour +to point whence their success has come, and why they have failed +when there has been failure. + +I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of +human nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human +beings, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been +within the reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know +no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the +reader becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. +How great a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we +admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there +any one of whom we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel +Newcombe? It is not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman +that we think Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but +because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force +us to love him, a weak and silly old man, on account of this grace +of character. It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he +lived with the characters he was creating. He had always a story +to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was +so, not by the interest which be had in his own plots,--for I doubt +whether his plots did occupy much of his mind,--but by convincing +us that his characters were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, +with Lady Castlewood and her daughter, and with Esmond, with +Warrington, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and +with Barry Lynon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse. +Therefore he has made these personages real to us. + +Among all our novelists his style is the purest, as to my ear it is +also the most harmonious. Sometimes it is disfigured by a slight +touch of affectation, by little conceits which smell of the oil;--but +the language is always lucid. The reader, without labour, knows what +he means, and knows all that he means. As well as I can remember, +he deals with no episodes. I think that any critic, examining +his work minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of +every scene, adds something to the clearness with which the story +is told. Among all his stories there is not one which does not +leave on the mind a feeling of distress that women should ever +be immodest or men dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so +devoted and men so honest. How we hate the idle selfishness of +Pendennis, the worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--how +we love the honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, +and the devoted affection of Mrs. Pendennis! The hatred of evil +and love of good can hardly have come upon so many readers without +doing much good. + +Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the +end of his career,--he failed in his power of charming, because he +allowed his mind to become idle. In the plots which he conceived, +and in the language which he used; I do not know that there is any +perceptible change; but in The Virginians and in Philip the reader +is introduced to no character with which he makes a close and undying +acquaintance. And this, I have no doubt, is so because Thackeray +himself had no such intimacy. His mind had come to be weary of +that fictitious life which is always demanding the labour of new +creation, and he troubled himself with his two Virginians and his +Philip only when he was seated at his desk. + +At the present moment George Eliot is the first of English novelists, +and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time. She +is best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, +and not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will +come from her novels. But the nature of her intellect is very far +removed indeed from that which is common to the tellers of stories. +Her imagination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather +than in creating. Everything that comes before her is pulled +to pieces so that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if +possible by her readers as clearly as by herself. This searching +analysis is carried so far that, in studying her latter writings, +one feels oneself to be in company with some philosopher rather +than with a novelist. I doubt whether any young person can read +with pleasure either Felix Holt, Middlemarch, or Daniel Deronda. +I know that they are very difficult to many that are not young. + +Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and +graphic, and from them has come her great hold on the public,--though +by no means the greatest effect which she has produced. The lessons +which she teaches remain, though it is not for the sake of the +lessons that her pages are read. Seth Bede, Adam Bede, Maggie and +Tom Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, Tito, in Romola, +are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten. I +cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because +in them the philosopher so greatly overtops the portrait-painter, +that, in the dissection of the mind, the outward signs seem to +have been forgotten. In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever +of that weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces +him to declare that the author has written himself out. It is not +from decadence that we do not have another Mrs. Poyser, but because +the author soars to things which seem to her to be higher than Mrs. +Poyser. + +It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too +hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly +the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always +been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally +obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible +not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour +of affectation. In Daniel Deronda, of which at this moment only a +portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found +myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to +take home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I +may be permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my +dearest and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, +I will not attempt to speak of George Eliot's merit as a poet. + +There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of my +time--probably the most popular English novelist of any time--has +been Charles Dickens. He has now been dead nearly six years, and the +sale of his books goes on as it did during his life. The certainty +with which his novels are found in every house--the familiarity of +his name in all English-speaking countries--the popularity of such +characters as Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and many others +whose names have entered into the English language and become +well-known words--the grief of the country at his death, and the +honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity. +Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book +has been so popular as his biography by John Forster. There is +no withstanding such testimony as this. Such evidence of popular +appreciation should go for very much, almost for everything, +in criticism on the work of a novelist. The primary object of a +novelist is to please; and this man's novels have been found more +pleasant than those of any other writer. It might of course be +objected to this, that though the books have pleased they have been +injurious, that their tendency has been immoral and their teaching +vicious; but it is almost needless to say that no such charge has +ever been made against Dickens. His teaching has ever been good. +From all which, there arises to the critic a question whether, with +such evidence against him as to the excellence of this writer, he +should not subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of +the world of readers. To me it almost seems that I must be wrong +to place Dickens after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do +that so great a majority put him above those authors. + +My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the matter forbids me to do so. I +do acknowledge that Mrs. Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have +become household words in every house, as though they were human +beings; but to my judgment they are not human beings, nor are any +of the characters human which Dickens has portrayed. It has been +the peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has +invested, his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense +with human nature. There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, +very much below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the +intellect of all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect +of many. Nor is the pathos of Dickens human. It is stagey and +melodramatic. But it is so expressed that it touches every heart +a little. There is no real life in Smike. His misery, his idiotcy, +his devotion for Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and +incompatible with each other. But still the reader sheds a tear. +Every reader can find a tear for Smike. Dickens's novels are like +Boucicault's plays. He has known how to draw his lines broadly, so +that all should see the colour. + +He, too, in his best days, always lived with his characters;--and +he, too, as he gradually ceased to have the power of doing so, +ceased to charm. Though they are not human beings, we all remember +Mrs. Gamp and Pickwick. The Boffins and Veneerings do not, I think, +dwell in the minds of so many. + +Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, +ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules--almost +as completely as that created by Carlyle. To readers who have taught +themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant. But +the critic is driven to feel the weakness of his criticism, when +he acknowledges to himself--as he is compelled in all honesty to +do--that with the language, such as it is, the writer has satisfied +the great mass of the readers of his country. Both these great +writers have satisfied the readers of their own pages; but both +have done infinite harm by creating a school of imitators. No young +novelist should ever dare to imitate the style of Dickens. If such +a one wants a model for his language, let him take Thackeray. + +Bulwer, or Lord Lytton,--but I think that he is still better known +by his earlier name,--was a man of very great parts. Better educated +than either of those I have named before him, he was always able to +use his erudition, and he thus produced novels from which very much +not only may be but must be learned by his readers. He thoroughly +understood the political status of his own country, a subject +on which, I think, Dickens was marvellously ignorant, and which +Thackeray had never studied. He had read extensively, and was always +apt to give his readers the benefit of what he knew. The result +has been that very much more than amusement may be obtained from +Bulwer's novels. There is also a brightness about them--the result +rather of thought than of imagination, of study and of care, than +of mere intellect--which has made many of them excellent in their +way. It is perhaps improper to class all his novels together, as +he wrote in varied manners, making in his earlier works, such as +Pelham and Ernest Maltravers, pictures of a fictitious life, and +afterwards pictures of life as he believed it to be, as in My Novel +and The Caxtons. But from all of them there comes the same flavour +of an effort to produce effect. The effects are produced, but it +would have been better if the flavour had not been there. + +I cannot say of Bulwer as I have of the other novelists whom I have +named that he lived with his characters. He lived with his work, +with the doctrines which at the time he wished to preach, thinking +always of the effects which he wished to produce; but I do not +think he ever knew his own personages,--and therefore neither do +we know them. Even Pelham and Eugene Aram are not human beings to +us, as are Pickwick, and Colonel Newcombe, and Mrs. Poyser. + +In his plots Bulwer has generally been simple, facile, and successful. +The reader never feels with him, as he does with Wilkie Collins, +that it is all plot, or, as with George Eliot, that there is no plot. +The story comes naturally without calling for too much attention, +and is thus proof of the completeness of the man's intellect. His +language is clear, good, intelligible English, but it is defaced +by mannerism. In all that he did, affectation was his fault. + +How shall I speak of my dear old friend Charles Lever, and +his rattling, jolly, joyous, swearing Irishmen. Surely never did +a sense of vitality come so constantly from a man's pen, nor from +man's voice, as from his! I knew him well for many years, and +whether in sickness or in health, I have never come across him +without finding him to be running over with wit and fun. Of all the +men I have encountered, he was the surest fund of drollery. I have +known many witty men, many who could say good things, many who +would sometimes be ready to say them when wanted, though they would +sometimes fail;--but he never failed. Rouse him in the middle of +the night, and wit would come from him before he was half awake. +And yet he never monopolised the talk, was never a bore. He would +take no more than his own share of the words spoken, and would yet +seem to brighten all that was said during the night. His earlier +novels--the later I have not read--are just like his conversation. +The fun never flags, and to me, when I read them, they were never +tedious. As to character he can hardly be said to have produced +it. Corney Delaney, the old manservant, may perhaps be named as an +exception. + +Lever's novels will not live long,--even if they may be said to +be alive now,--because it is so. What was his manner of working I +do not know, but I should think it must have been very quick, and +that he never troubled himself on the subject, except when he was +seated with a pen in his hand. + +Charlotte Bronte was surely a marvellous woman. If it could be +right to judge the work of a novelist from one small portion of +one novel, and to say of an author that he is to be accounted as +strong as he shows himself to be in his strongest morsel of work, +I should be inclined to put Miss Bronte very high indeed. I know +no interest more thrilling than that which she has been able to +throw into the characters of Rochester and the governess, in the +second volume of Jane Eyre. She lived with those characters, and +felt every fibre of the heart, the longings of the one and the +sufferings of the other. And therefore, though the end of the book +is weak, and the beginning not very good, I venture to predict that +Jane Eyre will be read among English novels when many whose names +are now better known shall have been forgotten. Jane Eyre, and +Esmond, and Adam Bede will be in the hands of our grandchildren, +when Pickwick, and Pelham, and Harry Lorrequer are forgotten; +because the men and women depicted are human in their aspirations, +human in their sympathies, and human in their actions. + +In Vilette, too, and in Shirley, there is to be found human life as +natural and as real, though in circumstances not so full of interest +as those told in Jane Eyre. The character of Paul in the former of +the two is a wonderful study. She must herself have been in love +with some Paul when she wrote the book, and have been determined to +prove to herself that she was capable of loving one whose exterior +circumstances were mean and in every way unprepossessing. + +There is no writer of the present day who has so much puzzled +me by his eccentricities, impracticabilities, and capabilities as +Charles Reade. I look upon him as endowed almost with genius, but +as one who has not been gifted by nature with ordinary powers of +reasoning. He can see what is grandly noble and admire it with +all his heart. He can see, too, what is foully vicious and hate +it with equal ardour. But in the common affairs of life he cannot +see what is right or wrong; and as he is altogether unwilling to be +guided by the opinion of others, he is constantly making mistakes +in his literary career, and subjecting himself to reproach which he +hardly deserves. He means to be honest. He means to be especially +honest,--more honest than other people. He has written a book +called The Eighth Commandment on behalf of honesty in literary +transactions,--a wonderful work, which has I believe been read by +a very few. I never saw a copy except that in my own library, or +heard of any one who knew the book. Nevertheless it is a volume +that must have taken very great labour, and have been written,--as +indeed he declares that it was written,--without the hope of +pecuniary reward. He makes an appeal to the British Parliament and +British people on behalf of literary honesty, declaring that should +he fail--"I shall have to go on blushing for the people I was born +among." And yet of all the writers of my day he has seemed to me +to understand literary honesty the least. On one occasion, as he +tells us in this book, he bought for a certain sum from a French +author the right of using a plot taken from a play,--which he +probably might have used without such purchase, and also without +infringing any international copyright act. The French author not +unnaturally praises him for the transaction, telling him that he +is "un vrai gentleman." The plot was used by Reade in a novel; and +a critic discovering the adaptation, made known his discovery to +the public. Whereupon the novelist became angry, called his critic +a pseudonymuncle, and defended himself by stating the fact of his +own purchase. In all this he seems to me to ignore what we all mean +when we talk of literary plagiarism and literary honesty. The sin +of which the author is accused is not that of taking another man's +property, but of passing off as his own creation that which he +does not himself create. When an author puts his name to a book he +claims to have written all that there is therein, unless he makes +direct signification to the contrary. Some years subsequently there +arose another similar question, in which Mr. Reade's opinion was +declared even more plainly, and certainly very much more publicly. +In a tale which he wrote he inserted a dialogue which he took from +Swift, and took without any acknowledgment. As might have been +expected, one of the critics of the day fell foul of him for this +barefaced plagiarism. The author, however, defended himself, with +much abuse of the critic, by asserting, that whereas Swift had +found the jewel he had supplied the setting;--an argument in which +there was some little wit, and would have been much excellent truth, +had he given the words as belonging to Swift and not to himself. + +The novels of a man possessed of so singular a mind must themselves +be very strange,--and they are strange. It has generally been his +object to write down some abuse with which he has been particularly +struck,--the harshness, for instance, with which paupers or lunatics +are treated, or the wickedness of certain classes,--and he always, +I think, leaves upon his readers an idea of great earnestness +of purpose. But he has always left at the same time on my mind so +strong a conviction that he has not really understood his subject, +that I have ever found myself taking the part of those whom he has +accused. So good a heart, and so wrong a head, surely no novelist +ever before had combined! In storytelling he has occasionally been +almost great. Among his novels I would especially recommend The +Cloister and the Hearth. I do not know that in this work, or in any, +that he has left a character that will remain; but he has written +some of his scenes so brightly that to read them would always be +a pleasure. + +Of Wilkie Collins it is impossible for a true critic not to speak +with admiration, because he has excelled all his contemporaries in +a certain most difficult branch of his art; but as it is a branch +which I have not myself at all cultivated, it is not unnatural +that his work should be very much lost upon me individually. When +I sit down to write a novel I do not at all know, and I do not very +much care, how it is to end. Wilkie Collins seems so to construct +his that he not only, before writing, plans everything on, down to +the minutest detail, from the beginning to the end; but then plots +it all back again, to see that there is no piece of necessary +dove-tailing which does not dove-tail with absolute accuracy. The +construction is most minute and most wonderful. But I can never +lose the taste of the construction. The author seems always to be +warning me to remember that something happened at exactly half-past +two o'clock on Tuesday morning; or that a woman disappeared from +the road just fifteen yards beyond the fourth mile-stone. One is +constrained by mysteries and hemmed in by difficulties, knowing, +however, that the mysteries will be made clear, and the difficulties +overcome at the end of the third volume. Such work gives me no +pleasure. I am, however, quite prepared to acknowledge that the +want of pleasure comes from fault of my intellect. + +There are two ladies of whom I would fain say a word, though I feel +that I am making my list too long, in order that I may declare how +much I have admired their work. They are Annie Thackeray and Rhoda +Broughton. I have known them both, and have loved the former almost +as though she belonged to me. No two writers were ever more +dissimilar,--except in this that they are both feminine. Miss +Thackeray's characters are sweet, charming, and quite true to human +nature. In her writings she is always endeavouring to prove that +good produces good, and evil evil. There is not a line of which +she need be ashamed,--not a sentiment of which she should not be +proud. But she writes like a lazy writer who dislikes her work, +and who allows her own want of energy to show itself in her pages. + +Miss Broughton, on the other hand, is full of energy,--though +she too, I think, can become tired over her work. She, however, +does take the trouble to make her personages stand upright on the +ground. And she has the gift of making them speak as men and women +do speak. "You beast!" said Nancy, sitting on the wall, to the man +who was to be her husband,--thinking that she was speaking to her +brother. Now Nancy, whether right or wrong, was just the girl who +would, as circumstances then were, have called her brother a beast. +There is nothing wooden about any of Miss Broughton's novels; and +in these days so many novels are wooden! But they are not sweet-savoured +as are those by Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to +nature. In Miss Broughton's determination not to be mawkish and +missish, she has made her ladies do and say things which ladies +would not do and say. They throw themselves at men's heads, and +when they are not accepted only think how they may throw themselves +again. Miss Broughton is still so young that I hope she may live +to overcome her fault in this direction. + +There is one other name, without which the list of the best known +English novelists of my own time would certainly be incomplete, +and that is the name of the present Prime Minister of England. Mr. +Disraeli has written so many novels, and has been so popular as a +novelist that, whether for good or for ill, I feel myself compelled +to speak of him. He began his career as an author early in life, +publishing Vivian Grey when he was twenty-three years old. He was +very young for such work, though hardly young enough to justify the +excuse that he makes in his own preface, that it is a book written +by a boy. Dickens was, I think, younger when he wrote his Sketches +by Boz, and as young when he was writing the Pickwick Papers. It +was hardly longer ago than the other day when Mr. Disraeli brought +out Lothair, and between the two there were eight or ten others. +To me they have all had the same flavour of paint and unreality. +In whatever he has written he has affected something which has been +intended to strike his readers as uncommon and therefore grand. +Because he has been bright and a man of genius, he has carried his +object as regards the young. He has struck them with astonishment +and aroused in their imagination ideas of a world more glorious, +more rich, more witty, more enterprising, than their own. But the +glory has been the glory of pasteboard, and the wealth has been +a wealth of tinsel. The wit has been the wit of hairdressers, and +the enterprise has been the enterprise of mountebanks. An audacious +conjurer has generally been his hero,--some youth who, by wonderful +cleverness, can obtain success by every intrigue that comes to +his hand. Through it all there is a feeling of stage properties, +a smell of hair-oil, an aspect of buhl, a remembrance of tailors, +and that pricking of the conscience which must be the general +accompaniment of paste diamonds. I can understand that Mr. Disraeli +should by his novels have instigated many a young man and many a +young woman on their way in life, but I cannot understand that he +should have instigated any one to good. Vivian Grey has had probably +as many followers as Jack Sheppard, and has led his followers in +the same direction. + +Lothair, which is as yet Mr. Disraeli's last work, and, I think, +undoubtedly his worst, has been defended on a plea somewhat similar +to that by which he has defended Vivian Grey. As that was written +when he was too young, so was the other when he was too old,--too +old for work of that nature, though not too old to be Prime Minister. +If his mind were so occupied with greater things as to allow him to +write such a work, yet his judgment should have sufficed to induce +him to destroy it when written. Here that flavour of hair-oil, +that flavour of false jewels, that remembrance of tailors, comes +out stronger than in all the others. Lothair is falser even than +Vivian Grey, and Lady Corisande, the daughter of the Duchess, more +inane and unwomanlike than Venetia or Henrietta Temple. It is the +very bathos of story-telling. I have often lamented, and have as +often excused to myself, that lack of public judgment which enables +readers to put up with bad work because it comes from good or from +lofty hands. I never felt the feeling so strongly, or was so little +able to excuse it, as when a portion of the reading public received +Lothair with satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ON CRITICISM + + + + +Literary criticism in the present day has become a profession,--but +it has ceased to be an art. Its object is no longer that of proving +that certain literary work is good and other literary work is +bad, in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define. +English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so far as +this. It attempts, in the first place, to tell the public whether +a book be or be not worth public attention; and, in the second +place, so to describe the purport of the work as to enable those +who have not time or inclination for reading it to feel that by a +short cut they can become acquainted with its contents. Both these +objects, if fairly well carried out, are salutary. Though the +critic may not be a profound judge himself; though not unfrequently +he be a young man making his first literary attempts, with tastes +and judgment still unfixed, yet he probably has a conscience in the +matter, and would not have been selected for that work had he not +shown some aptitude for it. Though he may be not the best possible +guide to the undiscerning, he will be better than no guide at all. +Real substantial criticism must, from its nature, be costly, and +that which the public wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is +given to many thousands, which, though it may not be the best advice +possible, is better than no advice at all. Then that description +of the work criticised, that compressing of the much into very +little,--which is the work of many modern critics or reviewers,--does +enable many to know something of what is being said, who without +it would know nothing. + +I do not think it is incumbent on me at present to name periodicals +in which this work is well done, and to make complaints of others +by which it is scamped. I should give offence, and might probably +be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that as some of these +periodicals are certainly entitled to great praise for the manner +in which the work is done generally, so are others open to very +severe censure,--and that the praise and that the censure are +chiefly due on behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is +not critical ability that we have a right to demand, or its absence +that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability for the price we +pay is not attainable. It is a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, +and when displayed is very frequently not appreciated. But that +critics should be honest we have a right to demand, and critical +dishonesty we are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us what +he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless, +we can forgive him; but when he tells us what he does not think, +actuated either by friendship or by animosity, then there should +be no pardon for him. This is the sin in modern English criticism +of which there is most reason to complain. + +It is a lamentable fact that men and women lend themselves to this +practice who are neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It +has become "the custom of the trade," under the veil of which excuse +so many tradesmen justify their malpractices! When a struggling +author learns that so much has been done for A by the Barsetshire +Gazette, so much for B by the Dillsborough Herald, and, again, so +much for C by that powerful metropolitan organ the Evening Pulpit, +and is told also that A and B and C have been favoured through personal +interest, he also goes to work among the editors, or the editors' +wives,--or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their +wives' first or second cousins. When once the feeling has come upon +an editor or a critic that he may allow himself to be influenced +by other considerations than the duty h owes to the public, all +sense of critical or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. +Facilis descensus Averni. In a very short time that editorial +honesty becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that +he wields the power; and when he is told what is his duty, and what +should be his conduct, the preacher of such doctrine seems to him +to be quixotic. "Where have you lived, my friend, for the last +twenty years," he says in spirit, if not in word, "that you come out +now with such stuff as old-fashioned as this?" And thus dishonesty +begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful. How nice +to be good-natured! How glorious to assist struggling young authors, +especially if the young author be also a pretty woman! How gracious +to oblige a friend! Then the motive, though still pleasing, departs +further from the border of what is good. In what way can the critic +better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than +by good-natured criticism,--or more certainly ensure for himself +a continuation of hospitable favours? + +Some years since a critic of the day, a gentleman well known then +in literary circles, showed me the manuscript of a book recently +published,--the work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, +and was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been given +to him by the author as an acknowledgment for a laudatory review in +one of the leading journals of the day. As I was expressly asked +whether I did not regard such a token as a sign of grace both +in the giver and in the receiver, I said that I thought it should +neither have been given nor have been taken. My theory was repudiated +with scorn, and I was told that I was strait-laced, visionary, and +impracticable! In all that the damage did not lie in the fact of +that one present, but in the feeling on the part of the critic that +his office was not debased by the acceptance of presents from those +whom he criticised. This man was a professional critic, bound by +his contract with certain employers to review such books as were +sent to him. How could he, when he had received a valuable present +for praising one book, censure another by the same author? + +While I write this I well know that what I say, if it be ever +noticed at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats, as a pretence +of honesty, or at any rate as an exaggeration of scruples. I have +said the same thing before, and have been ridiculed for saying it. +But none the less am I sure that English literature generally is +suffering much under this evil. All those who are struggling for +success have forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts +should be made in touting for praise. Those who are not familiar +with the lives of authors will hardly believe how low will be the +forms which their struggles will take:--how little presents will +be sent to men who write little articles; how much flattery may +be expended even on the keeper of a circulating library; with what +profuse and distant genuflexions approaches are made to the outside +railing of the temple which contains within it the great thunderer +of some metropolitan periodical publication! The evil here is not +only that done to the public when interested counsel is given to +them, but extends to the debasement of those who have at any rate +considered themselves fit to provide literature for the public. + +I am satisfied that the remedy for this evil must lie in the conscience +and deportment of authors themselves. If once the feeling could be +produced that it is disgraceful for an author to ask for praise,--and +demands for praise are, I think, disgraceful in every walk of +life,--the practice would gradually fall into the hands only of +the lowest, and that which is done only by the lowest soon becomes +despicable even to them. The sin, when perpetuated with unflagging +labour, brings with it at best very poor reward. That work of running +after critics, editors, publishers, the keepers of circulating +libraries, and their clerks, is very hard, and must be very disagreeable. +He who does it must feel himself to be dishonoured,--or she. It +may perhaps help to sell an edition, but can never make an author +successful. + +I think it may be laid down as a golden rule in literature that +there should be no intercourse at all between an author and his +critic. The critic, as critic, should not know his author, nor the +author, as author, his critic. As censure should beget no anger, +so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should feel +that criticisms fall upon him as dew or hail from heaven,--which, +as coming from heaven, man accepts as fate. Praise let the author +try to obtain by wholesome effort; censure let him avoid, if +possible, by care and industry. But when they come, let him take +them as coming from some source which he cannot influence, and with +which be should not meddle. + +I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge +himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless +labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any +rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken +of the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing +can be gained by combating the reviewer's opinion. If the book +which he has disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by +the praise of others; if bad, his judgment will he confirmed by +others. Or if, unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil +a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, +the author may be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own +book will not set matters right. If injustice be done him, let him +bear it. To do so is consonant with the dignity of the position +which he ought to assume. To shriek, and scream, and sputter, +to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that he has been +belied and defamed in that he has been accused of bad grammar or a +false metaphor, of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine, +will leave on the minds of the public nothing but a sense of +irritated impotence. + +If, indeed, there should spring from an author's work any assertion +by a critic injurious to the author's honour, if the author be +accused of falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable +to him, then, indeed, he may be bound to answer the charge. It is +hoped, however, that he may be able to do so with clean hands, or +he will so stir the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier than +he went into it. + +I have lived much among men by whom the English criticism of the day +has been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to the public +it is a false guide, and that to authors it is never a trustworthy +Mentor. I do not concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of +course, criticism and criticism. There are at this moment one or +two periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look +for guidance, though there are many others from which no spark of +literary advantage may be obtained. But it is well that both public +and authors should know what is the advantage which they have a +right to expect. There have been critics,--and there probably will +be again, though the circumstances of English literature do not +tend to produce them,--with power sufficient to entitle them to +speak with authority. These great men have declared, tanquam ex +cathedra, that such a book has been so far good and so far bad, or +that it has been altogether good or altogether bad;--and the world +has believed them. When making such assertions they have given +their reasons, explained their causes, and have carried conviction. +Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics, but not +without infinite study and the labour of many years. + +Such are not the critics of the day, of whom we are now speaking. +In the literary world as it lives at present some writer is selected +for the place of critic to a newspaper, generally some young +writer, who for so many shillings a column shall review whatever +book is sent to him and express an opinion,--reading the book through +for the purpose, if the amount of honorarium as measured with the +amount of labour will enable him to do so. A labourer must measure +his work by his pay or he cannot live. From criticism such as this +must far the most part be, the general reader has no right to expect +philosophical analysis, or literary judgment on which confidence +may be placed. But he probably may believe that the books praised +will be better than the books censured, and that those which are +praised by periodicals which never censure are better worth his +attention than those which are not noticed. And readers will also +find that by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the criticisms +of the week, they will enable themselves to have an opinion about +the books of the day. The knowledge so acquired will not be great, +nor will that little be lasting; but it adds something to the +pleasure of life to be able to talk on subjects of which others are +speaking; and the man who has sedulously gone through the literary +notices in the Spectator and the Saturday may perhaps be justified +in thinking himself as well able to talk about the new book as +his friend who has bought that new book on the tapis, and who, not +improbably, obtained his information from the same source. + +As an author, I have paid careful attention to the reviews which +have been written on my own work; and I think that now I well know +where I may look for a little instruction, where I may expect only +greasy adulation, where I shall be cut up into mince-meat for the +delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I shall find +an equal mixture of praise and censure so adjusted, without much +judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of the newspaper and its +staff. Among it all there is much chaff, which I have learned bow +to throw to the winds, with equal disregard whether it praises or +blames;--but I have also found some corn, on which I have fed and +nourished myself, and for which I have been thankful. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET"--"LEAVING THE POST OFFICE"--"ST. +PAUL'S MAGAZINE" + + + + +I will now go back to the year 1867, in which I was still living at +Waltham Cross. I had some time since bought the house there which +I had at first hired, and added rooms to it, and made it for our +purposes very comfortable. It was, however, a rickety old place, +requiring much repair, and occasionally not as weathertight as it +should be. We had a domain there sufficient for the cows, and for +the making of our butter and hay. For strawberries, asparagus, green +peas, out-of-door peaches, for roses especially, and such everyday +luxuries, no place was ever more excellent. It was only twelve +miles from London, and admitted therefore of frequent intercourse +with the metropolis. It was also near enough to the Roothing country +for hunting purposes. No doubt the Shoreditch Station, by which it +had to be reached, had its drawbacks. My average distance also to +the Essex meets was twenty miles. But the place combined as much +or more than I had a right to expect. It was within my own postal +district, and had, upon the whole, been well chosen. + +The work that I did during the twelve years that I remained there, +from 1859 to 1871, was certainly very great. I feel confident that +in amount no other writer contributed so much during that time to +English literature. Over and above my novels, I wrote political +articles, critical, social, and sporting articles, for periodicals, +without number. I did the work of a surveyor of the General Post +Office, and so did it as to give the authorities of the department +no slightest pretext for fault-finding. I hunted always at least +twice a week. I was frequent in the whist-room at the Garrick. I +lived much in society in London, and was made happy by the presence +of many friends at Waltham Cross. In addition to this we always +spent six weeks at least out of England. Few men, I think, ever lived +a fuller life. And I attribute the power of doing this altogether +to the virtue of early hours. It was my practice to be at my table +every morning at 5.30 A. M.; and it was also my practice to allow +myself no mercy. An old groom, whose business it was to call me, +and to whom I paid œ5 a year extra for the duty, allowed himself no +mercy. During all those years at Waltham Cross he was never once +late with the coffee which it was his duty to bring me. I do not +know that I ought not to feel that I owe more to him than to any +one else for the success I have had. By beginning at that hour I +could complete my literary work before I dressed for breakfast. + +All those I think who have lived as literary men,--working daily +as literary labourers,--will agree with me that three hours a day +will produce as much as a man ought to write. But then he should +so have trained himself that he shall be able to work continuously +during those three hours,--so have tutored his mind that it shall +not be necessary for him to sit nibbling his pen, and gazing at the +wall before him, till he shall have found the words with which he +wants to express his ideas. It had at this time become my custom,--and +it still is my custom, though of late I have become a little lenient +to myself,--to write with my watch before me, and to require from +myself 250 words every quarter of an hour. I have found that the 250 +words have been forthcoming as regularly as my watch went. But my +three hours were not devoted entirely to writing. I always began +my task by reading the work of the day before, an operation which +would take me half an hour, and which consisted chiefly in weighing +with my ear the sound of the words and phrases. I would strongly +recommend this practice to all tyros in writing. That their work +should be read after it has been written is a matter of course,--that +it should be read twice at least before it goes to the printers, +I take to be a matter of course. But by reading what he has last +written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch +the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the +fault of seeming to be unlike himself. This division of time allowed +me to produce over ten pages of an ordinary novel volume a day, +and if kept up through ten months, would have given as its results +three novels of three volumes each in the year;--the precise amount +which so greatly acerbated the publisher in Paternoster Row, and which +must at any rate be felt to be quite as much as the novel-readers +of the world can want from the hands of one man. + +I have never written three novels in a year, but by following the +plan above described I have written more than as much as three +volumes; and by adhering to it over a course of years, I have been +enabled to have always on hand,--for some time back now,--one or +two or even three unpublished novels in my desk beside me. Were I +to die now there are three such besides The Prime Minister, half +of which has only yet been issued. One of these has been six years +finished, and has never seen the light since it was first tied up +in the wrapper which now contains it. I look forward with some grim +pleasantry to its publication after another period of six years, +and to the declaration of the critics that it has been the work of +a period of life at which the power of writing novels had passed +from me. Not improbably, however, these pages may be printed first. + +In 1866 and 1867 The Last Chronicle of Barset was brought out by +George Smith in sixpenny monthly numbers. I do not know that this +mode of publication had been tried before, or that it answered very +well on this occasion. Indeed the shilling magazines had interfered +greatly with the success of novels published in numbers without +other accompanying matter. The public finding that so much might +be had for a shilling, in which a portion of one or more novels was +always included, were unwilling to spend their money on the novel +alone. Feeling that this certainly had become the case in reference +to novels published in shilling numbers, Mr. Smith and I determined +to make the experiment with sixpenny parts. As he paid me œ3000 +for the use of my MS., the loss, if any, did not fall upon me. If +I remember right the enterprise was not altogether successful. + +Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have +written. I was never quite satisfied with the development of the +plot, which consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made +against a clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty +on the part of the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the +cheque had found its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself +believe that even such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten +how he got it, nor would the generous friend who was anxious to +supply his wants have supplied them by tendering the cheque of a +third person. Such fault I acknowledge,--acknowledging at the same +time that I have never been capable of constructing with complete +success the intricacies of a plot that required to be unravelled. +But while confessing so much, I claim to have portrayed the mind +of the unfortunate man with great accuracy and great delicacy. The +pride, the humility, the manliness, the weakness, the conscientious +rectitude and bitter prejudices of Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true +to nature and well described. The surroundings too are good. Mrs. +Proudie at the palace is a real woman; and the poor old dean dying +at the deanery is also real. The archdeacon in his victory is very +real. There is a true savour of English country life all through +the book. It was with many misgivings that I killed my old friend +Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I think, have done it, but for a resolution +taken and declared under circumstances of great momentary pressure. + +It was thus that it came about. I was sitting one morning at work +upon the novel at the end of the long drawing-room of the Athenaeum +Club,--as was then my wont when I had slept the previous night in +London. As I was there, two clergymen, each with a magazine in his +hand, seated themselves, one on one side of the fire and one on +the other, close to me. They soon began to abuse what they were +reading, and each was reading some part of some novel of mine. The +gravamen of their complaint lay in the fact that I reintroduced +the same characters so often! "Here," said one, "is that archdeacon +whom we have had in every novel he has ever written." "And here," +said the other, "is the old duke whom he has talked about till +everybody is tired of him. If I could not invent new characters, I +would not write novels at all." Then one of them fell foul of Mrs. +Proudie. It was impossible for me not to hear their words, and +almost impossible to hear them and be quiet. I got up, and standing +between them, I acknowledged myself to be the culprit. "As to Mrs. +Proudie," I said, "I will go home and kill her before the week is +over." And so I did. The two gentlemen were utterly confounded, +and one of them begged me to forget his frivolous observations. + +I have sometimes regretted the deed, so great was my delight in +writing about Mrs. Proudie, so thorough was my knowledge of all the +shades of her character. It was not only that she was a tyrant, +a bully, a would-be priestess, a very vulgar woman, and one who +would send headlong to the nethermost pit all who disagreed with +her; but that at the same time she was conscientious, by no means +a hypocrite, really believing in the brimstone which she threatened, +and anxious to save the souls around her from its horrors. And as +her tyranny increased so did the bitterness of the moments of her +repentance increase, in that she knew herself to be a tyrant,--till +that bitterness killed her. Since her time others have grown up +equally dear to me,--Lady Glencora and her husband, for instance; +but I have never dissevered myself from Mrs. Proudie, and still +live much in company with her ghost. + +I have in a previous chapter said how I wrote Can You Forgive Her? +after the plot of a play which had been rejected,--which play had +been called The Noble Jilt. Some year or two after the completion +of The Last Chronicle, I was asked by the manager of a theatre to +prepare a piece for his stage, and I did so, taking the plot of +this novel. I called the comedy Did He Steal It? But my friend the +manager did not approve of my attempt. My mind at this time was +less attentive to such a matter than when dear old George Bartley +nearly crushed me by his criticism,--so that I forget the reason +given. I have little doubt but that the manager was right. That +he intended to express a true opinion, and would have been glad to +have taken the piece had he thought it suitable, I am quite sure. + +I have sometimes wished to see during my lifetime a combined +republication of those tales which are occupied with the fictitious +county of Barsetshire. These would be The Warden, Barchester +Towers, Doctor Thorne, Framley Parsonage, and The Last Chronicle +of Barset. But I have hitherto failed. The copyrights are in the +hands of four different persons, including myself, and with one of +the four I have not been able to prevail to act in concert with the +others. [Footnote: Since this was written I have made arrangements +for doing as I have wished, and the first volume of the series will +now very shortly be published.] + +In 1867 I made up my mind to take a step in life which was not +unattended with peril, which many would call rash, and which, when +taken, I should be sure at some period to regret. This step was +the resignation of my place in the Post Office. I have described +how it was that I contrived to combine the performance of its duties +with my other avocations in life. I got up always very early; but +even this did not suffice. I worked always on Sundays,--as to which +no scruple of religion made me unhappy,--and not unfrequently I +was driven to work at night. In the winter when hunting was going +on, I had to keep myself very much on the alert. And during the +London season, when I was generally two or three days of the week +in town, I found the official work to be a burden. I had determined +some years previously, after due consideration with my wife, to +abandon the Post Office when I had put by an income equal to the +pension to which I should be entitled if I remained in the department +till I was sixty. That I had now done, and I sighed for liberty. + +The exact time chosen, the autumn of 1867, was selected because I +was then about to undertake other literary work in editing a new +magazine,--of which I shall speak very shortly. But in addition to +these reasons there was another, which was, I think, at last the +actuating cause. When Sir Rowland Hill left the Post Office, and +my brother-in-law, Mr. Tilley, became Secretary in his place, I +applied for the vacant office of Under-Secretary. Had I obtained +this I should have given up my hunting, have given up much of my +literary work,--at any rate would have edited no magazine,--and +would have returned to the habit of my youth in going daily to the +General Post Office. There was very much against such a change in +life. The increase of salary would not have amounted to above œ400 +a year, and I should have lost much more than that in literary +remuneration. I should have felt bitterly the slavery of attendance +at an office, from which I had then been exempt for five-and-twenty +years. I should, too, have greatly missed the sport which I loved. +But I was attached to the department, had imbued myself with a +thorough love of letters,--I mean the letters which are carried by +the post,--and was anxious for their welfare as though they were +all my own. In short, I wished to continue the connection. I did +not wish, moreover, that any younger officer should again pass over +my head. I believed that I bad been a valuable public servant, +and I will own to a feeling existing at that time that I had not +altogether been well treated. I was probably wrong in this. I had +been allowed to hunt,--and to do as I pleased, and to say what +I liked, and had in that way received my reward. I applied for +the office, but Mr. Scudamore was appointed to it. He no doubt +was possessed of gifts which I did not possess. He understood +the manipulation of money and the use of figures, and was a great +accountant. I think that I might have been more useful in regard +to the labours and wages of the immense body of men employed by +the Post Office. However, Mr. Scudamore was appointed; and I made +up my mind that I would fall back upon my old intention, and leave +the department. I think I allowed two years to pass before I took +the step; and the day on which I sent the letter was to me most +melancholy. + +The rule of the service in regard to pensions is very just. A man +shall serve till he is sixty before he is entitled to a pension,--unless +his health fail him. At that age he is entitled to one-sixtieth of +his salary for every year he has served up to forty years. If his +health do fail him so that he is unfit for further work before the +age named, then he may go with a pension amounting to one-sixtieth +for every year he has served. I could not say that my health had +failed me, and therefore I went without any pension. I have since +felt occasionally that it has been supposed that I left the Post +Office under pressure,--because I attended to hunting and to my +literary work rather than to postal matters. As it had for many +years been my ambition to be a thoroughly good servant to the public, +and to give to the public much more than I took in the shape of +salary, this feeling has sometimes annoyed me. And as I am still +a little sore on the subject, and as I would not have it imagined +after my death that I had slighted the public service to which I +belonged, I will venture here to give the reply which was sent to +the letter containing my resignation. + + + "GENERAL POST OFFICE, + October 9th, 1867. + +"Sir,--I have received your letter of the 3d inst., in which you +tender your resignation as Surveyor in the Post Office service, and +state as your reason for this step that you have adopted another +profession, the exigencies of which are so great as to make you +feel you cannot give to the duties of the Post Office that amount +of attention which you consider the Postmaster-General has a right +to expect. + +"You have for many years ranked among the most conspicuous members +of the Post Office, which, on several occasions when you have been +employed on large and difficult matters, has reaped much benefit +from the great abilities which you have been able to place at its +disposal; and in mentioning this, I have been especially glad to +record that, notwithstanding the many calls upon your time, you +have never permitted your other avocations to interfere with your +Post Office work, which has been faithfully and indeed energetically +performed." (There was a touch of irony in this word "energetically," +but still it did not displease me.) + +"In accepting your resignation, which he does with much regret, +the Duke of Montrose desires me to convey to you his own sense of +the value of your services, and to state how alive he is to the +loss which will be sustained by the department in which you have +long been an ornament, and where your place will with difficulty +be replaced. + + (Signed) "J. TILLEY." + + +Readers will no doubt think that this is official flummery; and +so in fact it is. I do not at all imagine that I was an ornament +to the Post Office, and have no doubt that the secretaries and +assistant-secretaries very often would have been glad to be rid of +me; but the letter may be taken as evidence that I did not allow +my literary enterprises to interfere with my official work. A man +who takes public money without earning it is to me so odious that +I can find no pardon for him in my heart. I have known many such, +and some who have craved the power to do so. Nothing would annoy +me more than to think that I should even be supposed to have been +among the number. + +And so my connection was dissolved with the department to which +I had applied the thirty-three best years of my life;--I must not +say devoted, for devotion implies an entire surrender, and I certainly +had found time for other occupations. It is however absolutely true +that during all those years I had thought very much more about the +Post Office than I had of my literary work, and had given to it a +more unflagging attention. Up to this time I had never been angry, +never felt myself injured or unappreciated in that my literary +efforts were slighted. But I had suffered very much bitterness on +that score in reference to the Post Office; and I had suffered not +only on my own personal behalf, but also and more bitterly when I +could not promise to be done the things which I thought ought to be +done for the benefit of others. That the public in little villages +should be enabled to buy postage stamps; that they should have +their letters delivered free and at an early hour; that pillar +letter-boxes should be put up for them (of which accommodation +in the streets and ways of England I was the originator, having, +however, got the authority for the erection of the first at St. +Heliers in Jersey); that the letter-carriers and sorters should not +be overworked; that they should be adequately paid, and have some +hours to themselves, especially on Sundays; above all, that they +should be made to earn their wages and latterly that they should +not be crushed by what I thought to be the damnable system of +so-called merit;--these were the matters by which I was stirred to +what the secretary was pleased to call energetic performance of my +duties. How I loved, when I was contradicted,--as I was very often +and, no doubt, very properly,--to do instantly as I was bid, and then +to prove that what I was doing was fatuous, dishonest, expensive, +and impracticable! And then there were feuds--such delicious feuds! +I was always an anti-Hillite, acknowledging, indeed, the great thing +which Sir Rowland Hill had done for the country, but believing him +to be entirely unfit to manage men or to arrange labour. It was a +pleasure to me to differ from him on all occasions;--and, looking +back now, I think that in all such differences I was right. + +Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not +go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything +to improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to +do so gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own +reports unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant +to be read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing +myself to re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but +sending them up with their original blots and erasures,--if blots +and erasures there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a +man should search after a fine neatness at the expense of so much +waste labour; or that he should not be able to exact from himself +the necessity of writing words in the form in which they should be +read. If a copy be required, let it be taken afterwards,--by hand +or by machine, as may be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his +words to prevail with the reader, should send them out as written +by himself, by his own hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, +correct or incorrect, with the evidence upon them that they have +come out from his own mind. + +And so the cord was cut, and I was a free man to run about the +world where I would. + +A little before the date of my resignation, Mr. James Virtue, the +printer and publisher, had asked me to edit a new magazine for +him, and had offered me a salary of œ1000 a year for the work over +and above what might be due to me for my own contributions. I had +known something of magazines, and did not believe that they were +generally very lucrative. They were, I thought, useful to some +publishers as bringing grist to the mill; but as Mr. Virtue's business +was chiefly that of a printer, in which he was very successful, +this consideration could hardly have had much weight with him. I +very strongly advised him to abandon the project, pointing out to +him that a large expenditure would be necessary to carry on the magazine +In accordance with my views,--that I could not be concerned in it +on any other understanding, and that the chances of an adequate +return to him of his money were very small. He came down to Waltham, +listened to my arguments with great patience, and the told me that +if I would not do the work he would find some other editor. + +Upon this I consented to undertake the duty. My terms as to salary +were those which he had himself proposed. The special stipulations +which I demanded were: firstly, that I should put whatever I pleased +into the magazine, or keep whatever I pleased out of it, without +interference; secondly, that I should, from month to month, give +in to him a list of payments to be made to contributors, and that +he should pay them, allowing me to fix the amounts; and, thirdly, +that the arrangement should remain in force, at any rate, for two +years. To all this he made no objection; and during the time that +he and I were thus bound together he not only complied with these +stipulations, but also with every suggestion respecting the magazine +that I made to him. If the use of large capital, combined with wide +liberality and absolute confidence on the part of the proprietor, +and perpetual good humour, would have produced success, our magazine +certainly would have succeeded. + +In all such enterprises the name is the first difficulty. There +is the name which has a meaning and the name which has none--of +which two the name that has none is certainly the better, as it +never belies itself. The Liberal may cease to be liberal, or The +Fortnightly, alas! to come out once a fortnight. But The Cornhill +and The Argosy are under any set of circumstances as well adapted +to these names as under any other. Then there is the proprietary +name, or, possibly, the editorial name, which is only amiss because +the publication may change hands. Blackwood's has, indeed, always +remained Blackwood's, and Fraser's, though it has been bought and +sold, still does not sound amiss. Mr. Virtue, fearing the too +attractive qualities of his own name, wished the magazine to be +called Anthony Trollope's. But to this I objected eagerly. There +were then about the town,--still are about the town,--two or three +literary gentlemen, by whom to have had myself editored would +have driven me an exile from my country. After much discussion, we +settled on St. Paul's as the name for our bantling--not as being +in any way new, but as enabling it to fall easily into the ranks +with many others. If we were to make ourselves in any way peculiar, +it was not by our name that we were desirous of doing so. + +I do not think that we did make ourselves in any way peculiar,--and +yet there was a great struggle made. On the part of the proprietor, +I may say that money was spent very freely. On my own part, I +may declare that I omitted nothing which I thought might tend to +success. I read all manuscripts sent to me, and endeavoured to judge +impartially. I succeeded in obtaining the services of an excellent +literary corps. During the three years and a half of my editorship +I was assisted by Mr. Goschen, Captain Brackenbury, Edward Dicey, +Percy Fitzgerald, H. A. Layard, Allingham, Leslie Stephen, Mrs. +Lynn Linton, my brother, T. A. Trollope, and his wife, Charles +Lever, E. Arnold, Austin Dobson, R. A. Proctor, Lady Pollock, G. +H. Lewes, C. Mackay, Hardman (of the Times), George Macdonald, W. +R. Greg, Mrs. Oliphant, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Leoni Levi, Dutton +Cook--and others, whose names would make the list too long. It +might have been thought that with such aid the St. Paul's would have +succeeded. I do not think that the failure,--for it did fail,--arose +from bad editing. Perhaps too much editing might have been the +fault. I was too anxious to be good, and did not enough think of +what might be lucrative. + +It did fail, for it never paid its way. It reached, if I remember +right, a circulation of nearly 10,000--perhaps on one or two occasions +may have gone beyond that. But the enterprise had been set on foot +on a system too expensive to be made lucrative by anything short of +a very large circulation. Literary merit will hardly set a magazine +afloat, though, when afloat, it will sustain it. Time is wanted--or +the hubbub, and flurry, and excitement created by ubiquitous +sesquipedalian advertisement. Merit and time together may be +effective, but they must be backed by economy and patience. + +I think, upon the whole, that publishers themselves have been the +best editors of magazines, when they have been able to give time +and intelligence to the work. Nothing certainly has ever been done +better than Blackwood's. The Cornhill, too, after Thackeray had +left it and before Leslie Stephen had taken it, seemed to be in +quite efficient hands--those hands being the hands of proprietor +and publisher. The proprietor, at any rate, knows what he wants and +what he can afford, and is not so frequently tempted to fall into +that worst of literary quicksands, the publishing of matter not for +the sake of the readers, but for that of the writer. I did not so +sin very often, but often enough to feel that I was a coward. "My +dear friend, my dear friend, this is trash!" It is so hard to speak +thus--but so necessary for an editor! We all remember the thorn +in his pillow of which Thackeray complained. Occasionally I know +that I did give way on behalf of some literary aspirant whose work +did not represent itself to me as being good; and as often as I did +so, I broke my trust to those who employed me. Now, I think that +such editors as Thackeray and myself,--if I may, for the moment, be +allowed to couple men so unequal,--will always be liable to commit +such faults, but that the natures of publishers and proprietors +will be less soft. + +Nor do I know why the pages of a magazine should be considered to +be open to any aspirant who thinks that he can write an article, +or why the manager of a magazine should be doomed to read all that +may be sent to him. The object of the proprietor is to produce +a periodical that shall satisfy the public, which he may probably +best do by securing the services of writers of acknowledged ability. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BEVERLEY + + + + +Very early in life, very soon after I had become a clerk in St. +Martin's le Grand, when I was utterly impecunious and beginning +to fall grievously into debt, I was asked by an uncle of mine, who +was himself a clerk in the War Office, what destination I should +like best for my future life. He probably meant to inquire whether +I wished to live married or single, whether to remain in the Post +Office or to leave it, whether I should prefer the town or the +country. I replied that I should like to be a Member of Parliament. +My uncle, who was given to sarcasm, rejoined that, as far a he knew, +few clerks in the Post Office did become Members of Parliament. I +think it was the remembrance of this jeer which stirred me up to +look for a seat as soon as I had made myself capable of holding one +by leaving the public service. My uncle was dead, but if I could +get a seat, the knowledge that I had done so might travel to that +bourne from whence he was not likely to return, and he might there +feel that he had done me wrong. + +Independently of this, I have always thought that to sit in the +British Parliament should be the highest object of ambition to +every educated Englishman. I do not by this mean to suggest that +every educated Englishman should set before himself a seat in +Parliament as a probable or even a possible career; but that the man +in Parliament has reached a higher position than the man out,--that +to serve one's country without pay is the grandest work that a man +can do,--that of all studies the study of politics is the one in +which a man may make himself most useful to his fellow-creatures,--and +that of all lives, public political lives are capable of the highest +efforts. So thinking,--though I was aware that fifty-three was too +late an age at which to commence a new career,--I resolved with +much hesitation that I would make the attempt. Writing now at an +age beyond sixty, I can say that my political feelings and convictions +have never undergone any change. They are now what they became when +I first began to have political feelings and convictions. Nor do I +find in myself any tendency to modify them as I have found generally +in men as they grow old. I consider myself to be an advanced, but +still a Conservative-Liberal, which I regard not only as a possible, +but as a rational and consistent phase of political existence. +I can, I believe, in a very few words, make known my political +theory; and, as I am anxious that any who know aught of me should +know that, I will endeavour to do so. + +It must, I think, be painful to all men to feel inferiority. It should, +I think, be a matter of some pain to all men to feel superiority, +unless when it has been won by their own efforts. We do not +understand the operations of Almighty wisdom, and are, therefore, +unable to tell the causes of the terrible inequalities that +we see--why some, why so many, should have so little to make life +enjoyable, so much to make it painful, while a few others, not +through their own merit, have had gifts poured out to them from +a full hand. We acknowledge the hand of God and His wisdom, but +still we are struck with awe and horror at the misery of many of +our brethren. We who have been born to the superior condition,--for, +in this matter, I consider myself to be standing on a platform with +dukes and princes, and all others to whom plenty and education and +liberty have been given,--cannot, I think, look upon the inane, +unintellectual, and tossed-bound life of those who cannot even +feed themselves sufficiently by their sweat, without some feeling +of injustice, some feeling of pain. + +This consciousness of wrong has induced in many enthusiastic but +unbalanced minds a desire to set all things right by a proclaimed +equality. In their efforts such men have shown how powerless they +are in opposing the ordinances of the Creator. For the mind of the +thinker and the student is driven to admit, though it be awestruck +by apparent injustice, that this inequality is the work of God. +Make all men equal to-day, and God has so created them that they +shall be all unequal to-morrow. The so-called Conservative, the +conscientious, philanthropic Conservative, seeing this, and being +surely convinced that such inequalities are of divine origin, tells +himself that it is his duty to preserve them. He thinks that the +preservation of the welfare of the world depends on the maintenance +of those distances between the prince and the peasant by which he +finds himself to be surrounded; and, perhaps, I may add, that the +duty is not unpleasant, as he feels himself to be one of the princes. + +But this man, though he sees something, and sees that very clearly, +sees only a little. The divine inequality is apparent to him, but +not the equally divine diminution of that inequality. That such +diminution is taking place on all sides is apparent enough; but it +is apparent to him as an evil, the consummation of which it is his +duty to retard. He cannot prevent it; and, therefore, the society +to which he belongs is, in his eyes, retrograding. He will even, +at times, assist it; and will do so conscientiously, feeling that, +under the gentle pressure supplied by him, and with the drags and +holdfasts which he may add, the movement would be slower than it +would become if subjected to his proclaimed and absolute opponents. +Such, I think, are Conservatives; and I speak of men who, with the +fear of God before their eyes and the love of their neighbours warm +in their hearts, endeavour to do their duty to the best of their +ability. + +Using the term which is now common, and which will be best understood, +I will endeavour to explain how the equally conscientious Liberal +is opposed to the Conservative. He is equally aware that these +distances are of divine origin, equally averse to any sudden +disruption of society in quest of some Utopian blessedness; but he +is alive to the fact that these distances are day by day becoming +less, and he regards this continual diminution as a series of +steps towards that human millennium of which he dreams. He is even +willing to help the many to ascend the ladder a little, though he +knows, as they come up towards him, he must go down to meet them. +What is really in his mind is,--I will not say equality, for the +word is offensive, and presents to the imagination of men ideas of +communism, of ruin, and insane democracy,--but a tendency towards +equality. In following that, however, he knows that he must be +hemmed in by safeguards, lest he be tempted to travel too quickly; +and, therefore, he is glad to be accompanied on his way by the +repressive action of a Conservative opponent. Holding such views, +I think I am guilty of no absurdity in calling myself an advanced +Conservative-Liberal. A man who entertains in his mind any +political doctrine, except as a means of improving the condition +of his fellows, I regard as a political intriguer, a charlatan, +and a conjurer--as one who thinks that, by a certain amount of wary +wire-pulling, he may raise himself in the estimation of the world. + +I am aware that this theory of politics will seem to many to be stilted, +overstrained, and, as the Americans would say, high-faluten. Many +will declare that the majority even of those who call themselves +politicians,--perhaps even of those who take an active +part in politics,--are stirred by no such feelings as these, and +acknowledge no such motives. Men become Tories or Whigs, Liberals +or Conservatives, partly by education,--following their fathers,--partly +by chance, partly as openings come, partly in accordance with the +bent of their minds, but still without any far-fetched reasonings +as to distances and the diminution of distances. No doubt it is +so; and in the battle of politics, as it goes, men are led further +and further away from first causes, till at last a measure is opposed +by one simply because it is advocated by another, and Members of +Parliament swarm into lobbies, following the dictation of their +leaders, and not their own individual judgments. But the principle +is at work throughout. To many, though hardly acknowledged, it is +still apparent. On almost all it has its effect; though there are +the intriguers, the clever conjurers, to whom politics is simply +such a game as is billiards or rackets, only played with greater +results. To the minds that create and lead and sway political +opinion, some such theory is, I think, ever present. + +The truth of all this I had long since taken home to myself. I had +now been thinking of it for thirty years, and had never doubted. +But I had always been aware of a certain visionary weakness about +myself in regard to politics. A man, to be useful in Parliament, +must be able to confine himself and conform himself, to be satisfied +with doing a little bit of a little thing at a time. He must +patiently get up everything connected with the duty on mushrooms, +and then be satisfied with himself when at last he has induced +a Chancellor of the Exchequer to say that he will consider the +impost at the first opportunity. He must be content to be beaten +six times in order that, on a seventh, his work may be found to +be of assistance to some one else. He must remember that he is one +out of 650, and be content with 1-650th part of the attention of +the nation. If he have grand ideas, he must keep them to himself, +unless by chance, he can work his way up to the top of the tree. +In short, he must be a practical man. Now I knew that in politics +I could never become a practical man. I should never be satisfied +with a soft word from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but would +always be flinging my overtaxed ketchup in his face. + +Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a +good speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied +the art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I +had found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences +by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or, +again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it +in a commonplace fashion--but always as though I were in a hurry, +and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I +had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do, +that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the +moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else +all impromptu,--which was very bad, indeed, unless I had something +special on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by +going into Parliament--that the time for it, if there could have +been a time, had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire +to sit there, and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn +had not been deserved. + +In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a dissolution, +I should stand for one division of the County of Essex; and I had +promised that I would do so, though the promise at that time was +as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this by the +late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very +anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with +which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he +regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution +then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the +Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament +was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex +was portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions, +one of which,--that adjacent to London,--would, it was thought, +be altogether Liberal. After the promise which I had given, +the performance of which would have cost me a large sum of money +absolutely in vain, it was felt by some that I should be selected +as one of the candidates for the new division--and as such I was +proposed by Mr. Charles Buxton. But another gentleman, who would +have been bound by previous pledges to support me, was put forward +by what I believe to have been the defeating interest, and I had +to give way. At the election this gentleman, with another Liberal, +who had often stood for the county, was returned without a contest. +Alas! alas! They were both unseated at the next election, when the +great Conservative reaction took place. + +In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal +mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the +dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to +look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my +ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape +the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to +which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the +Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others, +Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went. + +I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from +undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly +understood Parliament, having sat there himself--and he sits there +now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or, at least, the +East Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly +better than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of +canvassing, and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the +prospect of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they +who knew Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So," +said he, "you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely +that I was thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he +said. Again I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but, +nevertheless, I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh, no!" +continued he, with good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I +don't suppose you really expect it. But there is a fine career open +to you. You will spend œ1000, and lose the election. Then you will +petition, and spend another œ1000. You will throw out the elected +members. There will be a commission, and the borough will be +disfranchised. For a beginner such as you are, that will be a great +success." And yet, in the teeth of this, from a man who knew all +about it, I persisted in going to Beverley! + +The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented +by Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying +that he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of +the seat. There had been many contests, many petitions, many void +elections, many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept +his seat, if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next +door to permanence. I fancy that with a little management between +the parties the borough might at this time have returned a member +of each colour quietly; but there were spirits there who did not +love political quietude, and it was at last decided that there +should be two Liberal and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry +was joined by a young man of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was +grouped with Mr. Maxwell, the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch +Roman Catholic peer, who lives in the neighbourhood. + +When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the +most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was +subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were +doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure +me a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands, at any +rate, the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr. +Maxwell and I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves +but the one holiday during this period of intense labour; but I +was assured, as was he also, by a publican who was working for us, +that if we committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert +us. From morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes +and by-ways of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter, +exposed to the rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable +to assume that air of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful +candidate should he invested. At night, every night I had to +speak somewhere,--which was bad; and to listen to the speaking of +others,--which was much worse. When, on one Sunday, I proposed to +go to the Minster Church, I was told that was quite useless, as +the Church party were all certain to support Sir Henry! "Indeed," +said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes there in a kind of official +profession, and you had better not allow yourself to be seen in the +same place." So I stayed away and omitted my prayers. No Church of +England church in Beverley would on such an occasion have welcomed +a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a kind of pariah in the +borough, to whom was opposed all that was pretty, and all that was +nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good. + +But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the conviction +that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to the men +whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my doctrines, +and could not be made to understand that I should have any. I had +been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry Edwards,--which, +however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or to cause him +the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, and expense. +There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my wished-for +supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two points +I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious for +the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the +Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking +it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil +results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence +on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done +much to emancipate itself by extending electoral divisions and by +an increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret +voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be +overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parlimentary restraint; +but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and +education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have +been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing, +and was altogether the wrong man. + +I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be. +Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as +my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his +thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself +that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so +utterly unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into +Yorkshire merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not +have said more than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of +course I was not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became +members for Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid +œ400 for my expenses, and then returned to London. + +My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the +cost. He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque +for œ400, and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice. +How it came to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never +knew, but such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from +me, but from the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen +were unseated, the borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards +was put on his trial for some kind of Parliamentary offence and +was acquitted. In this way Beverley's privilege as a borough and +my Parliamentary ambition were brought to an end at the same time. + +When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be +that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and +Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure +of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but +connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should +do, I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed +to me that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing +more absolutely opposed to the system of representative government, +than the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had +come to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens. +There was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal +there turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should +be no bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side. +It was a matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were +appreciated because they might subserve electoral purposes, and +how little it was understood that electoral purposes, which are in +themselves a nuisance, should be endured in order that they may +subserve politics. And then the time, the money, the mental energy, +which had been expended in making the borough a secure seat for +a gentleman who had realised the idea that it would become him to +be a member of Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be +realised and approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants +had taught themselves to think that it was for such purposes that +boroughs were intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this, +even in one town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION 0F COPYRIGHT WITH +AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS + + + + +In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which, +as being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has +been brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go +over to the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington. +This, as I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and +of course I went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made +two since. As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was +very far from being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington, +a place I do not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by +incompetence, and opposed by what I felt to be personal and not +national views. I had to deal with two men,--with one who was a +working officer of the American Post Office, than whom I have never +met a more zealous, or, as far as I could judge, a more honest +public servant. He had his views and I had mine, each of us having +at heart the welfare of the service in regard to his own country,--each +of us also having certain orders which we were bound to obey. But +the other gentleman, who was in rank the superior,--whose executive +position was dependent on his official status, as is the case with +our own Ministers,--did not recommend himself to me equally. He +would make appointments with me and then not keep them, which at +last offended me so grievously, that I declared at the Washington +Post Office that if this treatment were continued, I would write +home to say that any further action on my part was impossible. I +think I should have done so had it not occurred to me that I might +in this way serve his purpose rather than my own, or the purposes +of those who had sent me. The treaty, however, was at last made,--the +purport of which was, that everything possible should be done, at +a heavy expenditure on the part of England, to expedite the mails +from England to America, and that nothing should be done by America +to expedite the mails from thence to us. The expedition I believe +to be now equal both ways; but it could not be maintained as it is +without the payment of a heavy subsidy from Great Britain, whereas +no subsidy is paid by the States. [Footnote: This was a state of +things which may probably have appeared to American politicians +to be exactly that which they should try to obtain. The whole +arrangement has again been altered since the time of which I have +spoken.] + +I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had +asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright +between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is +the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands +in the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have +never had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my +work; but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found +many years ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject, +being then in the States, the details of which are sufficiently +amusing [Footnote: In answer to a question from myself, a certain +American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised me +that IF ANY OTHER AMERICAN PUBLISHER REPUBLISHED MY WORK ON AMERICA +BEFORE HE HAD DONE SO, he would not bring out a competing edition, +though there would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an +agreement with another American publisher, stipulating to supply +him with early sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain +royalty on his sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly. +I sent the sheets with energetic punctuality, and the work was +brought out with equal energy and precision--by my old American +publishers. The gentleman who made the promise had not broken his +word. No other American edition had come out before his. I never +got any account, and, of course, never received a dollar.]--that +I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I +have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though +I do not know that I have raised my price against them on that +score, I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from +the American market. But I do know that what the publishers have +received here is very trifling. I doubt whether Messrs. Chapman & +Hall, my present publishers, get for early sheets sent to the States +as much as 5 per cent. on the price they pay me for my manuscript. +But the American readers are more numerous than the English, and +taking them all through, are probably more wealthy. If I can get +œ1000 for a book here (exclusive of their market), I ought to be +able to get as much there. If a man supply 600 customers with shoes +in place of 300, there is no question as to such result. Why not, +then, if I can supply 60,000 readers instead of 30,000? + +I fancied that I knew that the opposition to an international +copyright was by no means an American feeling, but was confined to +the bosoms of a few interested Americans. All that I did and heard +in reference to the subject on this further visit,--and having +a certain authority from the British Secretary of State with me I +could hear and do something,--altogether confirmed me in this view. +I have no doubt that if I could poll American readers, or American +senators,--or even American representatives, if the polling could +be unbiassed,--or American booksellers, [Footnote: I might also say +American publishers, if I might count them by the number of heads, +and not by the amount of work done by the firms.] that an assent +to an international copyright would be the result. The state of +things as it is is crushing to American authors, as the publishers +will not pay them a liberal scale, knowing that they can supply +their customers with modern English literature without paying for +it. The English amount of production so much exceeds the American, +that the rate at which the former can be published rules the +market. it is equally injurious to American booksellers,--except +to two or three of the greatest houses. No small man can now acquire +the exclusive right of printing and selling an English book. If +such a one attempt it, the work is printed instantly by one of the +leviathans,--who alone are the gainers. The argument of course is, +that the American readers are the gainers,--that as they can get +for nothing the use of certain property, they would be cutting their +own throats were they to pass a law debarring themselves from the +power of such appropriation. In this argument all idea of honesty +is thrown to the winds. It is not that they do not approve of +a system of copyright,--as many great men have disapproved,--for +their own law of copyright is as stringent as is ours. A bold +assertion is made that they like to appropriate the goods of other +people; and that, as in this case, they can do so with impunity, +they will continue to do so. But the argument, as far as I have been +able to judge, comes not from the people, but from the bookselling +leviathans, and from those politicians whom the leviathans are able +to attach to their interests. The ordinary American purchaser is +not much affected by slight variations in price. He is at any rate +too high-hearted to be affected by the prospect of such variation. +It is the man who wants to make money, not he who fears that he may +be called upon to spend it, who controls such matters as this in +the United States. It is the large speculator who becomes powerful +in the lobbies of the House, and understands how wise it may +be to incur a great expenditure either in the creation of a great +business, or in protecting that which he has created from competition. +Nothing was done in 1868,--and nothing has been done since (up to +1876). A Royal Commission on the law of copyright is now about to +sit in this country, of which I have consented to be a member; and +the question must then be handled, though nothing done by a Royal +Commission here can effect American legislators. But I do believe +that if the measure be consistently and judiciously urged, the +enemies to it in the States will gradually be overcome. Some years +since we had some quasi private meetings, under the presidency of +Lord Stanhope, in Mr. John Murray's dining-room, on the subject of +international copyright. At one of these I discussed this matter of +American international copyright with Charles Dickens, who strongly +declared his conviction that nothing would induce an American to +give up the power he possesses of pirating British literature. But +he was a man who, seeing clearly what was before him, would not +realise the possibility of shifting views. Because in this matter +the American decision had been, according to his thinking, dishonest, +therefore no other than dishonest decision was to be expected from +Americans. Against that idea I protested, and now protest. American +dishonesty is rampant; but it is rampant only among a few. It +is the great misfortune of the community that those few have been +able to dominate so large a portion of the population among which +all men can vote, but so few can understand for what they are +voting. + +Since this was written the Commission on the law of copyright has +sat and made its report. With the great body of it I agree, and +could serve no reader by alluding here at length to matters which +are discussed there. But in regard to this question of international +copyright with the United States, I think that we were incorrect +in the expression of an opinion that fair justice,--or justice +approaching to fairness,--is now done by American publishers to +English authors by payments made by them for early sheets. I have +just found that œ20 was paid to my publisher in England for the +use of the early sheets of a novel for which I received œ1600 in +England. When asked why he accepted so little, he assured me that +the firm with whom he dealt would not give more. "Why not go to +another firm?" I asked. No other firm would give a dollar, because +no other firm would care to run counter to that great firm which +had assumed to itself the right of publishing my books. I soon after +received a copy of my own novel in the American form, and found +that it was published for 7 1/2d. That a great sale was expected +can be argued from the fact that without a great sale the paper and +printing necessary for the republication of a three-volume novel +could not be supplied. Many thousand copies must have been sold. +But from these the author received not one shilling. I need hardly +point out that the sum of œ20 would not do more than compensate +the publisher for his trouble in making the bargain. The publisher +here no doubt might have refused to supply the early sheets, but +he had no means of exacting a higher price than that offered. I +mention the circumstance here because it has been boasted, on behalf +of the American publishers, that though there is no international +copyright, they deal so liberally with English authors as to make +it unnecessary that the English author should be so protected. +With the fact of the œ20 just brought to my knowledge, and with the +copy of my book published at 7 1/2d. now in my hands, I feel that +an international copyright is very necessary for my protection. + +They among Englishmen who best love and most admire the United +States, have felt themselves tempted to use the strongest language +in denouncing the sins of Americans. Who can but love their personal +generosity, their active and far-seeking philanthropy, their love +of education, their hatred of ignorance, the general convictions +in the minds of all of them that a man should be enabled to walk +upright, fearing no one and conscious that he is responsible for +his own actions? In what country have grander efforts been made by +private munificence to relieve the sufferings of humanity? Where +can the English traveller find any more anxious to assist him than +the normal American, when once the American shall have found the +Englishman to be neither sullen nor fastidious? Who, lastly, is +so much an object of heart-felt admiration of the American man and +the American woman as the well-mannered and well-educated Englishwoman +or Englishman? These are the ideas which I say spring uppermost +in the minds of the unprejudiced English traveller as he makes +acquaintance with these near relatives. Then he becomes cognisant +of their official doings, of their politics, of their municipal +scandals, of their great ring-robberies, of their lobbyings and +briberies, and the infinite baseness of their public life. There +at the top of everything he finds the very men who are the least +fit to occupy high places. American public dishonesty is so glaring +that the very friends he has made in the country are not slow +to acknowledge it,--speaking of public life as a thing apart from +their own existence, as a state of dirt in which it would be an +insult to suppose that they are concerned! In the midst of it all +the stranger, who sees so much that he hates and so much that he +loves, hardly knows how to express himself. + +"It is not enough that you are personally clean," he says, with +what energy and courage he can command,--"not enough though the +clean outnumber the foul as greatly as those gifted with eyesight +outnumber the blind, if you that can see allow the blind to lead +you. It is not by the private lives of the millions that the outside +world will judge you, but by the public career of those units whose +venality is allowed to debase the name of your country. There never +was plainer proof given than is given here, that it is the duty of +every honest citizen to look after the honour of his State." + +Personally, I have to own that I have met Americans,--men, but more +frequently women,--who have in all respects come up to my ideas of +what men and women should be: energetic, having opinions of their +own, quick in speech, with some dash of sarcasm at their command, +always intelligent, sweet to look at (I speak of the women), fond +of pleasure, and each with a personality of his or her own which +makes no effort necessary on my own part in remembering the difference +between Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Green, or between Mr. Smith and Mr. +Johnson. They have faults. They are self-conscious, and are too +prone to prove by ill-concealed struggles that they are as good as +you,--whereas you perhaps have been long acknowledging to yourself +that they are much better. And there is sometimes a pretence at +personal dignity among those who think themselves to have risen +high in the world which is deliciously ludicrous. I remember two +old gentlemen,--the owners of names which stand deservedly high +in public estimation,--whose deportment at a public funeral turned +the occasion into one for irresistible comedy. They are suspicious +at first, and fearful of themselves. They lack that simplicity of +manners which with us has become a habit from our childhood. But +they are never fools, and I think that they are seldom ill-natured. + +There is a woman, of whom not to speak in a work purporting to be +a memoir of my own life would be to omit all allusion to one of +the chief pleasures which has graced my later years. In the last +fifteen years she has been, out of my family, my most chosen friend. +She is a ray of light to me, from which I can always strike a spark +by thinking of her. I do not know that I should please her or do +any good by naming her. But not to allude to her in these pages +would amount almost to a falsehood. I could not write truly of +myself without saying that such a friend had been vouchsafed to me. +I trust she may live to read the words I have now written, and to +wipe away a tear as she thinks of my feeling while I write them. + +I was absent on this occasion something over three months, and +on my return I went back with energy to my work at the St. Paul's +Magazine. The first novel in it from my own pen was called Phineas +Finn, in which I commenced a series of semi-political tales. As I +was debarred from expressing my opinions in the House of Commons, +I took this method of declaring myself. And as I could not take my +seat on those benches where I might possibly have been shone upon +by the Speaker's eye, I had humbly to crave his permission for a +seat in the gallery, so that I might thus become conversant with +the ways and doings of the House in which some of my scenes were +to be placed. The Speaker was very gracious, and gave me a running +order for, I think, a couple of months. It was enough, at any rate, +to enable me often to be very tired,--and, as I have been assured +by members, to talk of the proceedings almost as well as though +Fortune had enabled me to fall asleep within the House itself. + +In writing Phineas Finn, and also some other novels which followed +it, I was conscious that I could not make a tale pleasing chiefly, +or perhaps in any part, by politics. If I write politics for my +own sake, I must put in love and intrigue, social incidents, with +perhaps a dash of sport, for the benefit of my readers. In this +way I think I made my political hero interesting. It was certainly +a blunder to take him from Ireland--into which I was led by the +circumstance that I created the scheme of the book during a visit +to Ireland. There was nothing to be gained by the peculiarity, and +there was an added difficulty in obtaining sympathy and affection +for a politician belonging to a nationality whose politics are not +respected in England. But in spite of this Phineas succeeded. It +was not a brilliant success,--because men and women not conversant +with political matters could not care much for a hero who spent +so much of his time either in the House of Commons or in a public +office. But the men who would have lived with Phineas Finn read the +book, and the women who would have lived with Lady Laura Standish +read it also. As this was what I had intended, I was contented. It +is all fairly good except the ending,--as to which till I got to +it I made no provision. As I fully intended to bring my hero again +into the world, I was wrong to marry him to a simple pretty Irish +girl, who could only be felt as an encumbrance on such return. When +he did return I had no alternative but to kill the simple pretty +Irish girl, which was an unpleasant and awkward necessity. + +In writing Phineas Finn I had constantly before me the necessity +of progression in character,--of marking the changes in men and +women which would naturally be produced by the lapse of years. In +most novels the writer can have no such duty, as the period occupied +is not long enough to allow of the change of which I speak. In +Ivanhoe, all the incidents of which are included in less than a +month, the characters should be, as they are, consistent throughout. +Novelists who have undertaken to write the life of a hero or heroine +have generally considered their work completed at the interesting +period of marriage, and have contented themselves with the advance +in taste and manners which are common to all boys and girls as +they become men and women. Fielding, no doubt, did more than this +in Tom Jones, which is one of the greatest novels in the English +language, for there he has shown how a noble and sanguine nature +may fall away under temptation and be again strengthened and made +to stand upright. But I do not think that novelists have often +set before themselves the state of progressive change,--nor should +I have done it, had I not found myself so frequently allured back +to my old friends. So much of my inner life was passed in their +company, that I was continually asking myself how this woman would +act when this or that event had passed over her head, or how that +man would carry himself when his youth had become manhood, or +his manhood declined to old age. It was in regard to the old Duke +of Omnium, of his nephew and heir, and of his heir's wife, Lady +Glencora, that I was anxious to carry out this idea; but others added +themselves to my mind as I went on, and I got round me a circle of +persons as to whom I knew not only their present characters, but +how those characters were to be affected by years and circumstances. +The happy motherly life of Violet Effingham, which was due to the +girl's honest but long-restrained love; the tragic misery of Lady +Laura, which was equally due to the sale she made of herself in her +wretched marriage; and the long suffering but final success of the +hero, of which he had deserved the first by his vanity, and the +last by his constant honesty, had been foreshadowed to me from +the first. As to the incidents of the story, the circumstances by +which these personages were to be affected, I knew nothing. They +were created for the most part as they were described. I never +could arrange a set of events before me. But the evil and the good +of my puppets, and how the evil would always lead to evil, and the +good produce good,--that was clear to me as the stars on a summer +night. + +Lady Laura Standish is the best character in Phineas Finn and its +sequel Phineas Redux,--of which I will speak here together. They +are, in fact, but one novel though they were brought out at a +considerable interval of time and in different form. The first was +commenced in the St. Paul's Magazine in 1867, and the other was +brought out in the Graphic in 1873. In this there was much bad +arrangement, as I had no right to expect that novel readers would +remember the characters of a story after an interval of six years, +or that any little interest which might have been taken in the +career of my hero could then have been renewed. I do not know that +such interest was renewed. But I found that the sequel enjoyed the +same popularity as the former part, and among the same class of +readers. Phineas, and Lady Laura, and Lady Chiltern--as Violet +had become--and the old duke,--whom I killed gracefully, and the +new duke, and the young duchess, either kept their old friends or +made new friends for themselves. Phineas Finn, I certainly think, +was successful from first to last. I am aware, however, that there +was nothing in it to touch the heart like the abasement of Lady +Mason when confessing her guilt to her old lover, or any approach +in delicacy of delineation to the character of Mr. Crawley. + +Phineas Finn, the first part of the story, was completed in +May, 1867. In June and July I wrote Linda Tressel for Blackwood's +Magazine, of which I have already spoken. In September and October +I wrote a short novel, called The Golden Lion of Granpere, which +was intended also for Blackwood,--with a view of being published +anonymously; but Mr. Blackwood did not find the arrangement to be +profitable, and the story remained on my hands, unread and unthought +of, for a few years. It appeared subsequently in Good Words. It +was written on the model of Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, but +is very inferior to either of them. In November of the same year, +1867, I began a very long novel, which I called He Knew He Was +Right, and which was brought out by Mr. Virtue, the proprietor of +the St. Paul's Magazine, in sixpenny numbers, every week. I do not +know that in any literary effort I ever fell more completely short +of my own intention than in this story. It was my purpose to create +sympathy for the unfortunate man who, while endeavouring to do +his duty to all around him, should be led constantly astray by his +unwillingness to submit his own judgment to the opinion of others. +The man is made to be unfortunate enough, and the evil which he +does is apparent. So far I did not fail, but the sympathy has not +been created yet. I look upon the story as being nearly altogether +bad. It is in part redeemed by certain scenes in the house and +vicinity of an old maid in Exeter. But a novel which in its main +parts is bad cannot, in truth, be redeemed by the vitality of +subordinate characters. + +This work was finished while I was at Washington in the spring of +1868, and on the day after I finished it, I commenced The Vicar of +Bullhampton, a novel which I wrote for Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +This I completed in November, 1868, and at once began Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, a story which I was still writing at the +close of the year. I look upon these two years, 1867 and 1868, of +which I have given a somewhat confused account in this and the two +preceding chapters, as the busiest in my life. I had indeed left +the Post Office, but though I had left it I had been employed by +it during a considerable portion of the time. I had established the +St. Paul's Magazine, in reference to which I had read an enormous +amount of manuscript, and for which, independently of my novels, I +had written articles almost monthly. I had stood for Beverley and +had made many speeches. I had also written five novels, and had +hunted three times a week during each of the winters. And how happy +I was with it all! I had suffered at Beverley, but I had suffered +as a part of the work which I was desirous of doing, and I had gained +my experience. I had suffered at Washington with that wretched +American Postmaster, and with the mosquitoes, not having been able +to escape from that capital till July; but all that had added to +the activity of my life. I had often groaned over those manuscripts; +but I had read them, considering it--perhaps foolishly--to be a +part of my duty as editor. And though in the quick production of my +novels I had always ringing in my ears that terrible condemnation +and scorn produced by the great man in Paternoster Row, I +was nevertheless proud of having done so much. I always had a pen +in my hand. Whether crossing the seas, or fighting with American +officials, or tramping about the streets of Beverley, I could do a +little, and generally more than a little. I had long since convinced +myself that in such work as mine the great secret consisted +in acknowledging myself to be bound to rules of labour similar to +those which an artisan or a mechanic is forced to obey. A shoemaker +when he has finished one pair of shoes does not sit down and +contemplate his work in idle satisfaction. "There is my pair of +shoes finished at last! What a pair of shoes it is!" The shoemaker +who so indulged himself would be without wages half his time. It +is the same with a professional writer of books. An author may of +course want time to study a new subject. He will at any rate assure +himself that there is some such good reason why he should pause. +He does pause, and will be idle for a month or two while he tells +himself how beautiful is that last pair of shoes which he has +finished! Having thought much of all this, and having made up my +mind that I could be really happy only when I was at work, I had +now quite accustomed myself to begin a second pair as soon as the +first was out of my hands. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"THE VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON"--"SIR HARRY HOTSPUR"--"AN EDITOR'S +TALES"--"CAESAR" + + + + +In 1869 I was called on to decide, in council with my two boys and +their mother, what should be their destination in life. In June of +that year the elder, who was then twenty-three, was called to the +Bar; and as he had gone through the regular courses of lecturing +tuition and study, it might be supposed that his course was already +decided. But, just as he was called, there seemed to be an opening +for him in another direction; and this, joined to the terrible +uncertainty of the Bar, the terror of which was not in his case +lessened by any peculiar forensic aptitudes, induced us to sacrifice +dignity in quest of success. Mr. Frederic Chapman, who was then +the sole representative of the publishing house known as Messrs. +Chapman & Hall, wanted a partner, and my son Henry went into the +firm. He remained there three years and a half; but he did not like +it, nor do I think he made a very good publisher. At any rate he +left the business with perhaps more pecuniary success than might +have been expected from the short period of his labours, and has +since taken himself to literature as a profession. Whether he will +work at it so hard as his father, and write as many books, may be +doubted. + +My second son, Frederic, had very early in life gone to Australia, +having resolved on a colonial career when he found that boys who did +not grow so fast as he did got above him at school. This departure +was a great pang to his mother and me; but it was permitted on the +understanding that he was to come back when he was twenty-one, and +then decide whether he would remain in England or return to the +Colonies. In the winter of 1868 he did come to England, and had a +season's hunting in the old country; but there was no doubt in his +own mind as to his settling in Australia. His purpose was fixed, +and in the spring of 1869 he made his second journey out. As I +have since that date made two journeys to see him,--of one of which +at any rate I shall have to speak, as I wrote a long book on the +Australasian Colonies,--I will have an opportunity of saying a word +or two further on of him and his doings. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written in 1868 for publication in Once +a Week, a periodical then belonging to Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. +It was not to come out till 1869, and I, as was my wont had made +my terms long previously to the proposed date. I had made my terms +and written my story and sent it to the publisher long before it +was wanted; and so far my mind was at rest. The date fixed was the +first of July, which date had been named in accordance with the +exigencies of the editor of the periodical. An author who writes +for these publications is bound to suit himself to these exigencies, +and can generally do so without personal loss or inconvenience, if +he will only take time by the forelock. With all the pages that I +have written for magazines I have never been a day late, nor have +I ever caused inconvenience by sending less or more matter than I +had stipulated to supply. But I have sometimes found myself compelled +to suffer by the irregularity of others. I have endeavoured to +console myself by reflecting that such must ever be the fate of +virtue. The industrious must feed the idle. The honest and simple +will always be the prey of the cunning and fraudulent. The punctual, +who keep none waiting for them, are doomed to wait perpetually for +the unpunctual. But these earthly sufferers know that they are making +their way heavenwards,--and their oppressors their way elsewards. +If the former reflection does not suffice for consolation, the +deficiency is made up by the second. I was terribly aggrieved on +the matter of the publication of my new Vicar, and had to think +very much of the ultimate rewards of punctuality and its opposite. +About the end of March, 1869, I got a dolorous letter from the +editor. All the Once a Week people were in a terrible trouble. They +had bought the right of translating one of Victor Hugo's modern +novels, L'Homme Qui Rit; they bad fixed a date, relying on positive +pledges from the French publishers; and now the great French author +had postponed his work from week to week and from month to month, +and it had so come to pass that the Frenchman's grinning hero would +have to appear exactly at the same time as my clergyman. Was it +not quite apparent to me, the editor asked, that Once a Week could +not hold the two? Would I allow my clergyman to make his appearance +in the Gentleman's Magazine instead? + +My disgust at this proposition was, I think, chiefly due to Victor +Hugo's latter novels, which I regard as pretentious and untrue to +nature. To this perhaps was added some feeling of indignation that +I should be asked to give way to a Frenchman. The Frenchman had +broken his engagement. He had failed to have his work finished by +the stipulated time. From week to week and from month to month he +had put off the fulfilment of his duty. And because of these laches +on his part,--on the part of this sententious French Radical,--I was +to be thrown over! Virtue sometimes finds it difficult to console +herself even with the double comfort. I would not come out in the +Gentleman's Magazine, and as the Grinning Man could not be got out +of the way, by novel was published in separate numbers. + +The same thing has occurred to me more than once since. "You no +doubt are regular," a publisher has said to me, "but Mr. ---- is +irregular. He has thrown me out, and I cannot be ready for you till +three months after the time named." In these emergencies I have +given perhaps half what was wanted, and have refused to give the +other half. I have endeavoured to fight my own battle fairly, and +at the same time not to make myself unnecessarily obstinate. But +the circumstances have impressed on my mind the great need there is +that men engaged in literature should feel themselves to be bound +to their industry as men know that they are bound in other callings. +There does exist, I fear, a feeling that authors, because they are +authors, are relieved from the necessity of paying attention to +everyday rules. A writer, if he be making œ800 a year, does not think +himself bound to live modestly on œ600, and put by the remainder +for his wife and children. He does not understand that he should +sit down at his desk at a certain hour. He imagines that publishers +and booksellers should keep all their engagements with him to +the letter;--but that he, as a brain-worker, and conscious of the +subtle nature of the brain, should be able to exempt himself from +bonds when it suits him. He has his own theory about inspiration +which will not always come,--especially will not come if wine-cups +overnight have been too deep. All this has ever been odious to +me, as being unmanly. A man may be frail in health, and therefore +unable to do as he has contracted in whatever grade of life. He who +has been blessed with physical strength to work day by day, year +by year--as has been my case--should pardon deficiencies caused +by sickness or infirmity. I may in this respect have been a little +hard on others,--and, if so, I here record my repentance. But +I think that no allowance should be given to claims for exemption +from punctuality, made if not absolutely on the score still with +the conviction of intellectual superiority. + +The Vicar of Bullhampton was written chiefly with the object of +exciting not only pity but sympathy for fallen woman, and of raising +a feeling of forgiveness for such in the minds of other women. I +could not venture to make this female the heroine of my story. To +have made her a heroine at all would have been directly opposed +to my purpose. It was necessary therefore that she should be +a second-rate personage in the tale;--but it was with reference to +her life that the tale was written, and the hero and the heroine with +their belongings are all subordinate. To this novel I affixed a +preface,--in doing which I was acting in defiance of my old-established +principle. I do not know that any one read it; but as I wish to +have it read, I will insert it here again:-- + + +"I have introduced in the Vicar of Bullhampton the character of a +girl whom I will call,--for want of a truer word that shall not in +its truth be offensive,--a castaway. I have endeavoured to endow +her with qualities that may create sympathy, and I have brought +her back at last from degradation, at least to decency. I have not +married her to a wealthy lover, and I have endeavoured to explain +that though there was possible to her a way out of perdition, still +things could not be with her as they would have been had she not +fallen. + +"There arises, of course, the question whether a novelist, who +professes to write for the amusement of the young of both sexes, +should allow himself to bring upon his stage a character such as +that of Carry Brattle. It is not long since,--it is well within the +memory of the author,--that the very existence of such a condition +of life as was hers, was supposed to be unknown to our sisters and +daughters, and was, in truth, unknown to many of them. Whether that +ignorance was good may be questioned; but that it exists no longer +is beyond question. Then arises the further question,--how far the +conditions of such unfortunates should be made a matter of concern +to the sweet young hearts of those whose delicacy and cleanliness +of thought is a matter of pride to so many of us. Cannot women, +who are good, pity the sufferings of the vicious, and do something +perhaps to mitigate and shorten them without contamination from the +vice? It will be admitted probably by most men who have thought +upon the subject that no fault among us is punished so heavily +as that fault, often so light in itself but so terrible in its +consequences to the less faulty of the two offenders, by which a +woman falls. All of her own sex is against her, and all those of +the other sex in whose veins runs the blood which she is thought +to have contaminated, and who, of nature, would befriend her, were +her trouble any other than it is. + +"She is what she is, and she remains in her abject, pitiless, +unutterable misery, because this sentence of the world has placed +her beyond the helping hand of Love and Friendship. It may be said, +no doubt, that the severity of this judgment acts as a protection +to female virtue,--deterring, as all known punishments do deter, from +vice. But this punishment, which is horrible beyond the conception +of those who have not regarded it closely, is not known beforehand. +Instead of the punishment, there is seen a false glitter of gaudy +life,--a glitter which is damnably false,--and which, alas I has +been more often portrayed in glowing colours, for the injury of +young girls, than have those horrors which ought to deter, with +the dark shadowings which belong to them. + +"To write in fiction of one so fallen as the noblest of her sex, +as one to be rewarded because of her weakness, as one whose life +is, happy, bright, and glorious, is certainly to allure to vice +and misery. But it may perhaps be possible that if the matter be +handled with truth to life, some girl, who would have been thoughtless, +may be made thoughtful, or some parent's heart may be softened." + + +Those were my ideas when I conceived the story, and with that +feeling I described the characters of Carry Brattle and of her +family. I have not introduced her lover on the scene, nor have I +presented her to the reader in the temporary enjoyment of any of +those fallacious luxuries, the longing for which is sometimes more +seductive to evil than love itself. She is introduced as a poor +abased creature, who hardly knows how false were her dreams, with +very little of the Magdalene about her--because though there may +be Magdalenes they are not often found--but with an intense horror +of the sufferings of her position. Such being her condition, will +they who naturally are her friends protect her? The vicar who has +taken her by the hand endeavours to excite them to charity; but +father, and brother, and sister are alike hard-hearted. It had +been my purpose at first that the hand of every Brattle should be +against her; but my own heart was too soft to enable me to make +the mother cruel,--or the unmarried sister who had been the early +companion of the forlorn one. + +As regards all the Brattles, the story is, I think, well told. +The characters are true, and the scenes at the mill are in keeping +with human nature. For the rest of the book I have little to say. +It is not very bad, and it certainly is not very good. As I have +myself forgotten what the heroine does and says--except that she +tumbles into a ditch--I cannot expect that any one else should +remember her. But I have forgotten nothing that was done or said +by any of the Brattles. + +The question brought in argument is one of fearful importance. As +to the view to be taken first, there can, I think, be no doubt. In +regard to a sin common to the two sexes, almost all the punishment +and all the disgrace is heaped upon the one who in nine cases out +of ten has been the least sinful. And the punishment inflicted is +of such a nature that it hardly allows room for repentance. How is +the woman to return to decency to whom no decent door is opened? +Then comes the answer: It is to the severity of the punishment alone +that we can trust to keep women from falling. Such is the argument +used in favour of the existing practice, and such the excuse +given for their severity by women who will relax nothing of their +harshness. But in truth the severity of the punishment is not known +beforehand; it is not in the least understood by women in general, +except by those who suffer it. The gaudy dirt, the squalid plenty, +the contumely of familiarity, the absence of all good words and all +good things, the banishment from honest labour, the being compassed +round with lies, the flaunting glare of fictitious revelry, the +weary pavement, the horrid slavery to some horrid tyrant,--and then +the quick depreciation of that one ware of beauty, the substituted +paint, garments bright without but foul within like painted sepulchres, +hunger, thirst, and strong drink, life without a hope, without the +certainty even of a morrow's breakfast, utterly friendless, disease, +starvation, and a quivering fear of that coming hell which still +can hardly be worse than all that is suffered here! This is the +life to which we doom our erring daughters, when because of their +error we close our door upon them! But for our erring sons we find +pardon easily enough. + +Of course there are houses of refuge, from which it has been +thought expedient to banish everything pleasant, as though the only +repentance to which we can afford to give a place must necessarily +be one of sackcloth and ashes. It is hardly thus that we can hope +to recall those to decency who, if they are to be recalled at +all, must be induced to obey the summons before they have reached +the last stage of that misery which I have attempted to describe. +To me the mistake which we too often make seems to be this,--that +the girl who has gone astray is put out of sight, out of mind if +possible, at any rate out of speech, as though she had never existed, +and that this ferocity comes not only from hatred of the sin, put +in part also from a dread of the taint which the sin brings with +it. Very low as is the degradation to which a girl is brought when +she falls through love or vanity, or perhaps from a longing for +luxurious ease, still much lower is that to which she must descend +perforce when, through the hardness of the world around her, +she converts that sin into a trade. Mothers and sisters, when the +misfortune comes upon them of a fallen female from among their +number, should remember this, and not fear contamination so strongly +as did Carry Brattle's married sister and sister-in-law. + +In 1870 I brought out three books,--or rather of the latter of +the three I must say that it was brought out by others, for I had +nothing to do with it except to write it. These were Sir Harry +Hotspur of Humblethwaite, An Editor's Tales, and a little volume +on Julius Caesar. Sir Harry Hotspur was written on the same plan as +Nina Balatka and Linda Tressel, and had for its object the telling +of some pathetic incident in life rather than the portraiture of a +number of human beings. Nina and Linda Tressel and The Golden Lion +had been placed in foreign countries, and this was an English story. +In other respects it is of the same nature, and was not, I think, +by any means a failure. There is much of pathos in the love of +the girl, and of paternal dignity and affection in the father. + +It was published first in Macmillan's Magazine, by the intelligent +proprietor of which I have since been told that it did not make +either his fortune or that of his magazine. I am sorry that it +should have been so; but I fear that the same thing may be said of +a good many of my novels. When it had passed through the magazine, +the subsequent use of it was sold to other publishers by Mr. +Macmillan, and then I learned that it was to be brought out by them +as a novel in two volumes. Now it had been sold by me as a novel +in one volume, and hence there arose a correspondence. + +I found it very hard to make the purchasers understand that I had +reasonable ground for objection to the process. What was it to me? +How could it injure me if they stretched my pages by means of lead +and margin into double the number I had intended. I have heard the +same argument on other occasions. When I have pointed out that in +this way the public would have to suffer, seeing that they would +have to pay Mudie for the use of two volumes in reading that which +ought to have been given to them in one, I have been assured that +the public are pleased with literary short measure, that it is +the object of novel-readers to get through novels as fast as they +can, and that the shorter each volume is the better! Even this, +however, did not overcome me, and I stood to my guns. Sir Harry +was published in one volume, containing something over the normal +300 pages, with an average of 220 words to a page,--which I +had settled with my conscience to be the proper length of a novel +volume. I may here mention that on one occasion, and one occasion +only, a publisher got the better of me in a matter of volumes. He +had a two-volume novel of mine running through a certain magazine, +and had it printed complete in three volumes before I knew where I +was,--before I had seen a sheet of the letterpress. I stormed for +a while, but I had not the heart to make him break up the type. + +The Editor's Tales was a volume republished from the St. Paul's +Magazine, and professed to give an editor's experience of his +dealings with contributors. I do not think that there is a single +incident in the book which could bring back to any one concerned +the memory of a past event. And yet there is not an incident in it +the outline of which was not presented to my mind by the remembrance +of some fact:--how an ingenious gentleman got into conversation +with me, I not knowing that he knew me to be an editor, and pressed +his little article on my notice; how I was addressed by a lady with +a becoming pseudonym and with much equally becoming audacity; how +I was appealed to by the dearest of little women whom here I have +called Mary Gresley; how in my own early days there was a struggle +over an abortive periodical which was intended to be the best +thing ever done; how terrible was the tragedy of a poor drunkard, +who with infinite learning at his command made one sad final effort +to reclaim himself, and perished while he was making it; and lastly +how a poor weak editor was driven nearly to madness by threatened +litigation from a rejected contributor. Of these stories, The Spotted +Dog, with the struggles of the drunkard scholar, is the best. I +know now, however, that when the things were good they came out +too quick one upon another to gain much attention;--and so also, +luckily, when they were bad. + +The Caesar was a thing of itself. My friend John Blackwood had set +on foot a series of small volumes called Ancient Classics for English +Readers, and had placed the editing of them, and the compiling of +many of them, in the hands of William Lucas Collins, a clergyman +who, from my connection with the series, became a most intimate +friend. The Iliad and the Odyssey had already come out when I was +at Edinburgh with John Blackwood, and, on my expressing my very strong +admiration for those two little volumes,--which I here recommend +to all young ladies as the most charming tales they can read,--he +asked me whether I would not undertake one myself. Herodotus was +in the press, but, if I could get it ready, mine should be next. +Whereupon I offered to say what might be said to the readers of +English on The Commentaries of Julius Caesar. + +I at once went to work, and in three months from that day the little +book had been written. I began by reading through the Commentaries +twice, which I did without any assistance either by translation +or English notes. Latin was not so familiar to me then as it has +since become,--for from that date I have almost daily spent an +hour with some Latin author, and on many days many hours. After +the reading what my author had left behind him, I fell into the +reading of what others had written about him, in Latin, in English, +and even in French,--for I went through much of that most futile +book by the late Emperor of the French. I do not know that for a +short period I ever worked harder. The amount I had to write was +nothing. Three weeks would have done it easily. But I was most +anxious, in this soaring out of my own peculiar line, not to disgrace +myself. I do not think that I did disgrace myself. Perhaps I was +anxious for something more. If so, I was disappointed. + +The book I think to be a good little book. It is readable by all, old +and young, and it gives, I believe accurately, both an account of +Caesar's Commentaries,--which of course was the primary intention,--and +the chief circumstances of the great Roman's life. A well-educated +girl who had read it and remembered it would perhaps know as much +about Caesar and his writings as she need know. Beyond the consolation +of thinking as I do about it, I got very little gratification from +the work. Nobody praised it. One very old and very learned friend +to whom I sent it thanked me for my "comic Caesar," but said no +more. I do not suppose that he intended to run a dagger into me. +Of any suffering from such wounds, I think, while living, I never +showed a sign; but still I have suffered occasionally. There +was, however, probably present to my friend's mind, and to that +of others, a feeling that a man who had spent his life in writing +English novels could not be fit to write about Caesar. It was as +when an amateur gets a picture hung on the walls of the Academy. +What business had I there? Ne sutor ultra crepidam. In the press it +was most faintly damned by most faint praise. Nevertheless, having +read the book again within the last month or two, I make bold to say +that it is a good book. The series, I believe, has done very well. +I am sure that it ought to do well in years to come, for, putting +aside Caesar, the work has been done with infinite scholarship, and +very generally with a light hand. With the leave of my sententious +and sonorous friend, who had not endured that subjects which had +been grave to him should be treated irreverently, I will say that +such a work, unless it be light, cannot answer the purpose for which +it is intended. It was not exactly a schoolbook that was wanted, +but something that would carry the purposes of the schoolroom even +into the leisure hours of adult pupils. Nothing was ever better +suited for such a purpose than the Iliad and the Odyssey, as done +by Mr. Collins. The Virgil, also done by him, is very good; and so +is the Aristophanes by the same hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +"RALPH THE HEIR"--"THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS"--"LADY ANNA"--"AUSTRALIA" + + + + +In the spring of 1871 we,--I and my wife,--had decided that we +would go to Australia to visit our shepherd son. Of course before +doing so I made a contract with a publisher for a book about the +Colonies. For such a work as this I had always been aware that +I could not fairly demand more than half the price that would be +given for the same amount of fiction; and as such books have an +indomitable tendency to stretch themselves, so that more is given +than what is sold, and as the cost of travelling is heavy, the +writing of them is not remunerative. This tendency to stretch comes +not, I think, generally from the ambition of the writer, but from +his inability to comprise the different parts in their allotted +spaces. If you have to deal with a country, a colony, a city, a +trade, or a political opinion, it is so much easier to deal with +it in twenty than in twelve pages! I also made an engagement with +the editor of a London daily paper to supply him with a series of +articles,--which were duly written, duly published, and duly paid +for. But with all this, travelling with the object of writing is +not a good trade. If the travelling author can pay his bills, he +must be a good manager on the road. + +Before starting there came upon us the terrible necessity of coming +to some resolution about our house at Waltham. It had been first +hired, and then bought, primarily because it suited my Post Office +avocations. To this reason had been added other attractions,--in the +shape of hunting, gardening, and suburban hospitalities. Altogether +the house had been a success, and the scene of much happiness. But +there arose questions as to expense. Would not a house in London +be cheaper? There could be no doubt that my income would decrease, +and was decreasing. I had thrown the Post Office, as it were, +away, and the writing of novels could not go on for ever. Some of +my friends told me already that at fifty-five I ought to give up +the fabrication of love-stories. The hunting, I thought, must soon +go, and I would not therefore allow that to keep me in the country. +And then, why should I live at Waltham Cross now, seeing that +I had fixed on that place in reference to the Post Office? It was +therefore determined that we would flit, and as we were to be away +for eighteen months, we determined also to sell our furniture. So +there was a packing up, with many tears, and consultations as to +what should be saved out of the things we loved. + +As must take place on such an occasion, there was some heart-felt +grief. But the thing was done, and orders were given for the letting +or sale of the house. I may as well say here that it never was let +and that it remained unoccupied for two years before it was sold. +I lost by the transaction about œ800. As I continually hear that +other men make money by buying and selling houses, I presume I am +not well adapted for transactions of that sort. I have never made +money by selling anything except a manuscript. In matters of +horseflesh I am so inefficient that I have generally given away +horses that I have not wanted. + +When we started from Liverpool, in May, 1871, Ralph the Heir was +running through the St. Paul's. This was the novel of which Charles +Reade afterwards took the plot and made on it a play. I have always +thought it to be one of the worst novels I have written, and almost +to have justified that dictum that a novelist after fifty should +not write love-stories. It was in part a political novel; and +that part which appertains to politics, and which recounts the +electioneering experiences of the candidates at Percycross, is well +enough. Percycross and Beverley were, of course, one and the same +place. Neefit, the breeches-maker, and his daughter, are also good +in their way,--and Moggs, the daughter's lover, who was not only +lover, but also one of the candidates at Percycross as well. But +the main thread of the story,--that which tells of the doings of the +young gentlemen and young ladies,--the heroes and the heroines,--is +not good. Ralph the heir has not much life about him; while Ralph +who is not the heir, but is intended to be the real hero, has +none. The same may be said of the young ladies,--of whom one, she +who was meant to be the chief, has passed utterly out of my mind, +without leaving a trace of remembrance behind. + +I also left in the hands of the editor of The Fortnightly, ready for +production on the 1st of July following, a story called The Eustace +Diamonds. In that I think that my friend's dictum was disproved. +There is not much love in it; but what there is, is good. The +character of Lucy Morris is pretty; and her love is as genuine and +as well told as that of Lucy Robarts of Lily Dale. + +But The Eustace Diamonds achieved the success which it certainly +did attain, not as a love-story, but as a record of a cunning little +woman of pseudo-fashion, to whom, in her cunning, there came a +series of adventures, unpleasant enough in themselves, but pleasant +to the reader. As I wrote the book, the idea constantly presented +itself to me that Lizzie Eustace was but a second Becky Sharpe; but +in planning the character I had not thought of this, and I believe +that Lizzie would have been just as she is though Becky Sharpe had +never been described. The plot of the diamond necklace is, I think, +well arranged, though it produced itself without any forethought. +I had no idea of setting thieves after the bauble till I had got +my heroine to bed in the inn at Carlisle; nor of the disappointment +of the thieves, till Lizzie had been wakened in the morning with +the news that her door had been broken open. All these things, and +many more, Wilkie Collins would have arranged before with infinite +labour, preparing things present so that they should fit in with +things to come. I have gone on the very much easier plan of making +everything as it comes fit in with what has gone before. At any +rate, the book was a success, and did much to repair the injury +which I felt had come to my reputation in the novel-market by the +works of the last few years. I doubt whether I had written anything +so successful as The Eustace Diamonds. since The Small House at +Allington. I had written what was much better,--as, for instance, +Phineas Finn and Nina Balatka; but that is by no means the same +thing. + +I also left behind, in a strong box, the manuscript of Phineas Redux, +a novel of which I have already spoken, and which I subsequently +sold to the proprietors of the Graphic newspaper. The editor of +that paper greatly disliked the title, assuring me that the public +would take Redux for the gentleman's surname,--and was dissatisfied +with me when I replied that I had no objection to them doing +so. The introduction of a Latin word, or of a word from any other +language, into the title of an English novel is undoubtedly in +bad taste; but after turning the matter much over in my own mind, +I could find no other suitable name. + +I also left behind me, in the same strong box, another novel, called +An Eye for an Eye, which then had been some time written, and of +which, as it has not even yet been published, I will not further +speak. It will probably be published some day, though, looking +forward, I can see no room for it, at any rate, for the next two +years. + +If therefore the Great Britain, in which we sailed for Melbourne, +had gone to the bottom, I had so provided that there would be new +novels ready to come out under my name for some years to come. This +consideration, however, did not keep me idle while I was at sea. +When making long journeys, I have always succeeded in getting +a desk put up in my cabin, and this was done ready for me in the +Great Britain, so that I could go to work the day after we left +Liverpool. This I did; and before I reached Melbourne I had finished +a story called Lady Anna. Every word of this was written at sea, +during the two months required for our voyage, and was done day by +day--with the intermission of one day's illness--for eight weeks, +at the rate of 66 pages of manuscript in each week, every page of +manuscript containing 250 words. Every word was counted. I have +seen work come back to an author from the press with terrible +deficiencies as to the amount supplied. Thirty-two pages have +perhaps been wanted for a number, and the printers with all their +art could not stretch the matter to more than twenty-eight or -nine! +The work of filling up must be very dreadful. I have sometimes been +ridiculed for the methodical details of my business. But by these +contrivances I have been preserved from many troubles; and I have +saved others with whom I have worked--editors, publishers, and +printers--from much trouble also. + +A month or two after my return home, Lady Anna appeared in The +Fortnightly, following The Eustace Diamonds. In it a young girl, +who is really a lady of high rank and great wealth, though in her +youth she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth or rank, marries +a tailor who had been good to her, and whom she had loved when she +was poor and neglected. A fine young noble lover is provided for +her, and all the charms of sweet living with nice people are thrown +in her way, in order that she may be made to give up the tailor. +And the charms are very powerful with her. But the feeling that +she is bound by her troth to the man who had always been true to +her overcomes everything,--and she marries the tailor. It was my +wish of course to justify her in doing so, and to carry my readers +along with me in my sympathy with her. But everybody found fault +with me for marrying her to the tailor. What would they have said +if I had allowed her to jilt the tailor and marry the good-looking +young lord? How much louder, then, would have been the censure! +The book was read, and I was satisfied. If I had not told my story +well, there would have been no feeling in favour of the young lord. +The horror which was expressed to me at the evil thing I had done, +in giving the girl to the tailor, was the strongest testimony I +could receive of the merits of the story. + +I went to Australia chiefly in order that I might see my son among +his sheep. I did see him among his sheep, and remained with him for +four or five very happy weeks. He was not making money, nor has he +made money since. I grieve to say that several thousands of pounds +which I had squeezed out of the pockets of perhaps too liberal +publishers have been lost on the venture. But I rejoice to say +that this has been in no way due to any fault of his. I never knew +a man work with more persistent honesty at his trade than he has +done. + +I had, however, the further intentions of writing a book about the +entire group of Australasian Colonies; and in order that I might +be enabled to do that with sufficient information, I visited them +all. Making my headquarters at Melbourne, I went to Queensland, New +South Wales, Tasmania, then to the very little known territory of +Western Australia, and then, last of all, to New Zealand. I was +absent in all eighteen months, and think that I did succeed in +learning much of the political, social, and material condition of +these countries. I wrote my book as I was travelling and brought +it back with me to England all but completed in December, 1872. + +It was a better book than that which I had written eleven years +before on the American States, but not so good as that on the West +Indies in 1859. As regards the information given, there was much +more to be said about Australia than the West Indies. Very much +more is said,--and very much more may be learned from the latter +than from the former book. I am sure that any one who will take +the trouble to read the book on Australia, will learn much from +it. But the West Indian volume was readable. I am not sure that +either of the other works are, in the proper sense of that word. +When I go back to them I find that the pages drag with me;--and if +so with me, how must it be with others who have none of that love +which a father feels even for his ill-favoured offspring. Of all +the needs a book has the chief need is that it be readable. + +Feeling that these volumes on Australia were dull and long, I was +surprised to find that they had an extensive sale. There were, I +think, 2000 copies circulated of the first expensive edition; and +then the book was divided into four little volumes, which were +published separately, and which again had a considerable circulation. +That some facts were stated inaccurately, I do not doubt; that many +opinions were crude, I am quite sure; that I had failed to understand +much which I attempted to explain, is possible. But with all these +faults the book was a thoroughly honest book, and was the result of +unflagging labour for a period of fifteen months. I spared myself +no trouble in inquiry, no trouble in seeing, and no trouble in +listening. I thoroughly imbued my mind with the subject, and wrote +with the simple intention of giving trustworthy information on +the state of the Colonies. Though there be inaccuracies,--those +inaccuracies to which work quickly done must always be subject,--I +think I did give much valuable information. + +I came home across America from San Francisco to New York, visiting +Utah and Brigham Young on the way. I did not achieve great intimacy +with the great polygamist of the Salt Lake City. I called upon +him, sending to him my card, apologising for doing so without an +introduction, and excusing myself by saying that I did not like +to pass through the territory without seeing a man of whom I had +heard so much. He received me in his doorway, not asking me to +enter, and inquired whether I were not a miner. When I told him +that I was not a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I +told him I did. "I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured +him that I was not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him +I did so by writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then +he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the +door. I was properly punished, as I was vain enough to conceive +that he would have heard my name. + +I got home in December, 1872, and in spite of any resolution made +to the contrary, my mind was full of hunting as I came back. No +real resolutions had in truth been made, for out of a stud of four +horses I kept three, two of which were absolutely idle through the +two summers and winter of my absence. Immediately on my arrival +I bought another, and settled myself down to hunting from London +three days a week. At first I went back to Essex, my old country, +but finding that to be inconvenient, I took my horses to Leighton +Buzzard, and became one of that numerous herd of sportsmen who rode +with the "Baron" and Mr. Selby Lowndes. In those days Baron Meyer +was alive, and the riding with his hounds was very good. I did not +care so much for Mr. Lowndes. During the winters of 1873, 1874, and +1875, I had my horses back in Essex, and went on with my hunting, +always trying to resolve that I would give it up. But still I +bought fresh horses, and, as I did not give it up, I hunted more +than ever. Three times a week the cab has been at my door in London +very punctually, and not unfrequently before seven in the morning. +In order to secure this attendance, the man has always been invited +to have his breakfast in the hall. I have gone to the Great Eastern +Railway,--ah! so often with the fear that frost would make all my +exertions useless, and so often too with that result! And then, +from one station or another station, have travelled on wheels at +least a dozen miles. After the day's sport, the same toil has been +necessary to bring me home to dinner at eight. This has been work +for a young man and a rich man, but I have done it as an old man +and comparatively a poor man. Now at last, in April, 1876, I do +think that my resolution has been taken. I am giving away my old +horses, and anybody is welcome to my saddles and horse-furniture. + + + "Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; + Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ladum; + Tendunt extorquere poemata." + + "Our years keep taking toll as they move on; + My feasts, my frolics, are already gone, + And now, it seems, my verses must go too." + + +This Is Conington's translation, but it seems to me to be a little +flat. + + + "Years as they roll cut all our pleasures short; + Our pleasant mirth, our loves, our wine, our sport, + And then they stretch their power, and crush at last + Even the power of singing of the past." + + +I think that I may say with truth that I rode hard to my end. + + + "Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, + Et militavi non sine gloria; + Nunc arma defunctumque bello + Barbiton hic paries habebit." + + "I've lived about the covert side, + I've ridden straight, and ridden fast; + Now breeches, boots, and scarlet pride + Are but mementoes of the past." + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"THE WAY WE LIVE NOW" AND "THE PRIME MINISTER"--CONCLUSION + + + + +In what I have said at the end of the last chapter about my hunting, +I have been carried a little in advance of the date at which I +had arrived. We returned from Australia in the winter of 1872, and +early in 1873 I took a house in Montagu Square,--in which I hope +to live and hope to die. Our first work in settling there was to +place upon new shelves the books which I had collected round myself +at Waltham. And this work, which was in itself great, entailed +also the labour of a new catalogue. As all who use libraries know, +a catalogue is nothing unless it show the spot on which every +book is to be found,--information which every volume also ought to +give as to itself. Only those who have done it know how great is +the labour of moving and arranging a few thousand volumes. At the +present moment I own about 5000 volumes, and they are dearer to +me even than the horses which are going, or than the wine in the +cellar, which is very apt to go, and upon which I also pride myself. + +When this was done, and the new furniture had got into its place, +and my little book-room was settled sufficiently for work, I +began a novel, to the writing of which I was instigated by what I +conceived to be the commercial profligacy of the age. Whether the +world does or does not become more wicked as years go on, is a +question which probably has disturbed the minds of thinkers since +the world began to think. That men have become less cruel, less +violent, less selfish, less brutal, there can be no doubt;--but +have they become less honest? If so, can a world, retrograding from +day to day in honesty, be considered to be in a state of progress? +We know the opinion on this subject of our philosopher Mr. Carlyle. +If he be right, we are all going straight away to darkness and the +dogs. But then we do not put very much faith in Mr. Carlyle,--nor +in Mr. Ruskin and his other followers. The loudness and extravagance +of their lamentations, the wailing and gnashing of teeth which comes +from them, over a world which is supposed to have gone altogether +shoddy-wards, are so contrary to the convictions of men who cannot +but see how comfort has been increased, how health has been improved, +and education extended,--that the general effect of their teaching +is the opposite of what they have intended. It is regarded simply +as Carlylism to say that the English-speaking world is growing +worse from day to day. And it is Carlylism to opine that the general +grand result of increased intelligence is a tendency to deterioration. + +Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent +in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at +the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be +reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that +dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. +If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all +its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory +in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into +Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, +and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. +Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down +in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured +to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the +iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an +onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want +to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain +single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to +cheat the public into buying their volumes. + +The book has the fault which is to be attributed to almost all +satires, whether in prose or verse. The accusations are exaggerated. +The vices are coloured, so as to make effect rather than to represent +truth. Who, when the lash of objurgation is in his hands, can +so moderate his arm as never to strike harder than justice would +require? The spirit which produces the satire is honest enough, but +the very desire which moves the satirist to do his work energetically +makes him dishonest. In other respects The Way We Live Now +was, as a satire, powerful and good. The character of Melmotte is +well maintained. The Beargarden is amusing,--and not untrue. The +Longestaffe girls and their friend, Lady Monogram, are amusing,--but +exaggerated. Dolly Longestaffe, is, I think, very good. And Lady +Carbury's literary efforts are, I am sorry to say, such as are too +frequently made. But here again the young lady with her two lovers +is weak and vapid. I almost doubt whether it be not impossible to +have two absolutely distinct parts in a novel, and to imbue them +both with interest. If they be distinct, the one will seem to be +no more than padding to the other. And so it was in The Way We Live +Now. The interest of the story lies among the wicked and foolish +people,--with Melmotte and his daughter, with Dolly and his family, +with the American woman, Mrs. Hurtle, and with John Crumb and the +girl of his heart. But Roger Carbury, Paul Montague, and Henrietta +Carbury are uninteresting. Upon the whole, I by no means look upon +the book as one of my failures; nor was it taken as a failure by +the public or the press. + +While I was writing The Way We Live Now, I was called upon by the +proprietors of the Graphic for a Christmas story. I feel, with regard +to literature, somewhat as I suppose an upholsterer and undertaker +feels when he is called upon to supply a funeral. He has to supply +it, however distasteful it may be. It is his business, and he will +starve if he neglects it. So have I felt that, when anything in the +shape of a novel was required, I was bound to produce it. Nothing +can be more distasteful to me than to have to give a relish of +Christmas to what I write. I feel the humbug implied by the nature +of the order. A Christmas story, in the proper sense, should be +the ebullition of some mind anxious to instil others with a desire +for Christmas religious thought, or Christmas festivities,--or, +better still, with Christmas charity. Such was the case with Dickens +when he wrote his two first Christmas stories. But since that the +things written annually--all of which have been fixed to Christmas +like children's toys to a Christmas tree--have had no real savour +of Christmas about them. I had done two or three before. Alas! +at this very moment I have one to write, which I have promised to +supply within three weeks of this time,--the picture-makers always +require a long interval,--as to which I have in vain been cudgelling +my brain for the last month. I can't send away the order to another +shop, but I do not know how I shall ever get the coffin made. + +For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. +Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not +loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, +by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station +in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well +through my labour on that occasion. I only wish I may have no +worse success in that which now hangs over my head. + +When Harry Heathcote was over, I returned with a full heart to +Lady Glencora and her husband. I had never yet drawn the completed +picture of such a statesman as my imagination had conceived. The +personages with whose names my pages had been familiar, and perhaps +even the minds of some of my readers--the Brocks, De Terriers, Monks, +Greshams, and Daubeneys--had been more or less portraits, not of +living men, but of living political characters. The strong-minded, +thick-skinned, useful, ordinary member, either of the Government or +of the Opposition, had been very easy to describe, and had required +no imagination to conceive. The character reproduces itself from +generation to generation; and as it does so, becomes shorn in +a wonderful way of those little touches of humanity which would +be destructive of its purposes. Now and again there comes a burst +of human nature, as in the quarrel between Burke and Fox; but, as +a rule, the men submit themselves to be shaped and fashioned, and +to be formed into tools, which are used either for building up or +pulling down, and can generally bear to be changed from this box +into the other, without, at any rate, the appearance of much personal +suffering. Four-and-twenty gentlemen will amalgamate themselves +into one whole, and work for one purpose, having each of them to +set aside his own idiosyncrasy, and to endure the close personal +contact of men who must often be personally disagreeable, having +been thoroughly taught that in no other way can they serve either +their country or their own ambition. These are the men who are +publicly useful, and whom the necessities of the age supply,--as +to whom I have never ceased to wonder that stones of such strong +calibre should be so quickly worn down to the shape and smoothness +of rounded pebbles. + +Such have been to me the Brocks and the Mildmays, about whom I have +written with great pleasure, having had my mind much exercised in +watching them. But had I also conceived the character of a statesman +of a different nature--of a man who should be in something perhaps +superior, but in very much inferior, to these men--of one who could +not become a pebble, having too strong an identity of his own. To +rid one's self of fine scruples--to fall into the traditions of +a party--to feel the need of subservience, not only in acting but +also even in thinking--to be able to be a bit, and at first only a +very little bit,--these are the necessities of the growing statesman. +The time may come, the glorious time when some great self action +shall be possible, and shall be even demanded, as when Peel gave +up the Corn Laws; but the rising man, as he puts on his harness, +should not allow himself to dream of this. To become a good, round, +smooth, hard, useful pebble is his duty, and to achieve this he +must harden his skin and swallow his scruples. But every now and +again we see the attempt, made by men who cannot get their skins to +be hard--who after a little while generally fall out of the ranks. +The statesman of whom I was thinking--of whom I had long thought--was +one who did not fall out of the ranks, even though his skin would +not become hard. He should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary +habits, by which to bind him to the service of his country; and he +should also have unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love +of country. That virtue I attribute to our statesmen generally. +They who are without it are, I think, mean indeed. This man should +have it as the ruling principle of his life; and it should so rule +him that all other things should be made to give way to it. But he +should be scrupulous, and, being scrupulous, weak. When called to +the highest place in the council of his Sovereign, he should feel +with true modesty his own insufficiency; but not the less should +the greed of power grow upon him when he had once allowed himself +to taste and enjoy it. Such was the character I endeavoured to +depict in describing the triumph, the troubles, and the failure +of my Prime Minister. And I think that I have succeeded. What the +public may think, or what the press may say, I do not yet know, +the work having as yet run but half its course. [Footnote: Writing +this note in 1878, after a lapse of nearly three years, I am obliged +to say that, as regards the public, The Prime Minister was a failure. +It was worse spoken of by the press than any novel I had written. +I was specially hurt by a criticism on it in the Spectator. The +critic who wrote the article I know to be a good critic, inclined +to be more than fair to me; but in this case I could not agree with +him, so much do I love the man whose character I had endeavoured +to portray.] + +That the man's character should be understood as I understand +it--or that of his wife's, the delineation of which has also been +a matter of much happy care to me--I have no right to expect, seeing +that the operation of describing has not been confined to one novel, +which might perhaps be read through by the majority of those who +commenced it. It has been carried on through three or four, each +of which will be forgotten even by the most zealous reader almost +as soon as read. In The Prime Minister, my Prime Minister will not +allow his wife to take office among, or even over, those ladies who +are attached by office to the Queen's court. "I should not choose," +he says to her, "that my wife should have any duties unconnected +with our joint family and home." Who will remember in reading +those words that, in a former story, published some years before, +he tells his wife, when she has twitted him with his willingness +to clean the Premier's shoes, that he would even allow her to clean +them if it were for the good of the country? And yet it is by such +details as these that I have, for many years past, been manufacturing +within my own mind the characters of the man and his wife. + +I think that Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, is a perfect +gentleman. If he be not, then am I unable to describe a gentleman. +She is by no means a perfect lady; but if she be not all over +a woman, then am I not able to describe a woman. I do not think +it probable that my name will remain among those who in the next +century will be known as the writers of English prose fiction;--but +if it does, that permanence of success will probably rest on the +character of Plantagenet Palliser, Lady Glencora, and the Rev. Mr. +Crawley. + +I have now come to the end of that long series of books written by +myself with which the public is already acquainted. Of those which +I may hereafter be able to add to them I cannot speak; though I +have an idea that I shall even yet once more have recourse to my +political hero as the mainstay of another story. When The Prime +Minister was finished, I at once began another novel, which is now +completed in three volumes, and which is called Is He Popenjoy? +There are two Popenjoys in the book, one succeeding to the title +held by the other; but as they are both babies, and do not in the +course of the story progress beyond babyhood, the future readers, +should the tale ever be published, will not be much interested in +them. Nevertheless the story, as a story, is not, I think, amiss. +Since that I have written still another three-volume novel, to +which, very much in opposition to my publisher, I have given the +name of The American Senator. [Footnote: The American Senator and +Popenjoy have appeared, each with fair success. Neither of them has +encountered that reproach which, in regard to The Prime Minister, +seemed to tell me that my work as a novelist should be brought to +a close. And yet I feel assured that they are very inferior to The +Prime Minister.] It is to appear in Temple Bar, and is to commence +its appearance on the first of next month. Such being its +circumstances, I do not know that I can say anything else about it +here. + +And so I end the record of my literary performances,--which I +think are more in amount than the works of any other living English +author. If any English authors not living have written more--as +may probably have been the case--I do not know who they are. I find +that, taking the books which have appeared under our names, I have +published much more than twice as much as Carlyle. I have also +published considerably more than Voltaire, even including his +letters. We are told that Varro, at the age of eighty, had written +480 volumes, and that he went on writing for eight years longer. +I wish I knew what was the length of Varro's volumes; I comfort +myself by reflecting that the amount of manuscript described as a +book in Varro's time was not much. Varro, too, is dead, and Voltaire; +whereas I am still living, and may add to the pile. + +The following is a list of the books I have written, with the dates +of publication and the sums I have received for them. The dates +given are the years in which the works were published as a whole, +most of them having appeared before in some serial form. + + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + +The Macdermots of Ballycloran, 1847 œ48 6 9 +The Kellys and the O'Kellys, 1848 123 19 5 +La Vendee, 1850 20 0 0 +The Warden, 1855 \ 727 11 3 +Barchester Towers, 1857 / +The Three Clerks, 1858 250 0 0 +Doctor Thorne, 1858 400 0 0 +The West Indies and the +Spanish Main, 1859 250 0 0 +The Bertrams, 1859 400 0 0 + + Carried forward, œ2219 16 17 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought Forward, œ2219 16 17 +Castle Richmond, 1860 600 0 0 +Framley Parsonage, 1861 1000 0 0 +Tales of All +Countries--1st Series, 1861 \ + " " 2d 1863 > 1830 0 0 + " " 3d 1870 / +Orley Farm, 1862 3135 0 0 +North America, 1862 1250 0 0 +Rachel Ray, 1863 1645 0 0 +The Small House at Allington, 1864 3000 0 0 +Can You Forgive Her? 1864 3525 0 0 +Miss Mackenzie, 1865 1300 0 0 +The Belton Estate, 1866 1757 0 0 +The Claverings, 1867 2800 0 0 +The Last Chronicle of Barset, 1867 3000 0 0 +Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0 +Linda Tressel, 1868 450 0 0 +Phineas Finn, 1869 3200 0 0 +He Knew He Was Right, 1869 3200 0 0 +Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 1870 600 0 0 +The Vicar of Bullhampton, 1870 2500 0 0 +An Editor's Tales, 1870 378 0 0 +Caesar (Ancient Classics), 1870 0 0 0 +[Footnote: This was given by me as a present to +my friend John Blackwood] + +Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite, 1871 750 0 0 +Ralph the Heir, 1871 2500 0 0 +The Golden Lion of Granpere, 1872 550 0 0 +The Eustace Diamonds, 1873 2500 0 0 +Australia and New Zealand, 1873 1300 0 0 +Phineas Redux, 1874 2500 0 0 +Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, 1874 450 0 0 + + Carry forward, œ48,389 17 5 + +Names of Works. Date of Publication. Total Sums Received. + + Brought forward, œ48,389 17 5 +Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0 +The Way We Live Now, 1875 3000 0 0 +The Prime Minister, 1876 2500 0 0 +The American Senator, 1877 1800 0 0 +Is He Popenjoy? 1878 1600 0 0 +South Africa, 1878 850 0 0 +John Caldigate, 1879 1800 0 0 +Sundries, 7800 0 0 + ____________ + œ68,939 17 5 + ------------ + +It will not, I am sure, be thought that, in making my boast as +to the quantity, I have endeavoured to lay claim to any literary +excellence. That, in the writing of books, quantity without quality is +a vice and a misfortune, has been too manifestly settled to leave +a doubt on such a matter. But I do lay claim to whatever merit +should be accorded to me for persevering diligence in my profession. +And I make the claim, not with a view to my own glory, but for +the benefit of those who may read these pages, and when young may +intend to follow the same career. Nulla dies sine linea. Let that +be their motto. And let their work be to them as is his common work +to the common labourer. No gigantic efforts will then be necessary. +He need tie no wet towels round his brow, nor sit for thirty hours +at his desk without moving,--as men have sat, or said that they +have sat. More than nine-tenths of my literary work has been done +in the last twenty years, and during twelve of those years I followed +another profession. I have never been a slave to this work, giving +due time, if not more than due time, to the amusements I have loved. +But I have been constant,--and constancy in labour will conquer +all difficulties. Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo. + +It may interest some if I state that during the last twenty years +I have made by literature something near œ70,000. As I have said +before in these pages, I look upon the result as comfortable, but +not splendid. + +It will not, I trust, be supposed by any reader that I have intended +in this so-called autobiography to give a record of my inner life. +No man ever did so truly,--and no man ever will. Rousseau probably +attempted it, but who doubts but that Rousseau has confessed +in much the thoughts and convictions rather than the facts of his +life? If the rustle of a woman's petticoat has ever stirred my +blood; if a cup of wine has been a joy to me; if I have thought +tobacco at midnight in pleasant company to be one of the elements +of an earthly paradise; if now and again I have somewhat recklessly +fluttered a œ5 note over a card-table;--of what matter is that to +any reader? I have betrayed no woman. Wine has brought me to no +sorrow. It has been the companionship of smoking that I have loved, +rather than the habit. I have never desired to win money, and I +have lost none. To enjoy the excitement of pleasure, but to be free +from its vices and ill effects,--to have the sweet, and leave the +bitter untasted,--that has been my study. The preachers tell us that +this is impossible. It seems to me that hitherto I have succeeded +fairly well. I will not say that I have never scorched a finger,--but +I carry no ugly wounds. + +For what remains to me of life I trust for my happiness still +chiefly to my work--hoping that when the power of work be over with +me, God may be pleased to take me from a world in which, according +to my view, there can be no joy; secondly, to the love of those who +love me; and then to my books. That I can read and be happy while +I am reading, is a great blessing. Could I remember, as some men +do, what I read, I should have been able to call myself an educated +man. But that power I have never possessed. Something is always +left,--something dim and inaccurate,--but still something sufficient +to preserve the taste for more. I am inclined to think that it is +so with most readers. + +Of late years, putting aside the Latin classics, I have found +my greatest pleasure in our old English dramatists,--not from any +excessive love of their work, which often irritates me by its want +of truth to nature, even while it shames me by its language,--but +from curiosity in searching their plots and examining their character. +If I live a few years longer, I shall, I think, leave in my copies +of these dramatists, down to the close of James I., written criticisms +on every play. No one who has not looked closely into it knows how +many there are. + +Now I stretch out my hand, and from the further shore I bid adieu +to all who have cared to read any among the many words that I have +written. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANTHONY TROLLOPE *** + +This file should be named 8auto10.txt or 8auto10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8auto11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8auto10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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