Autobiography of Anthony Trollope - Anthony Trollope

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

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