Anthony Trollope: Autobiography of Anthony Trollope

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.