Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-09-18

He published TOO muah; tae writing
If novels had ended by becs~ins, with
lin, perceptibly mechanical process.
Dickens was prolific; Thackeray pro-
luced with freedom for which we are
constantly grateful; but we feel that
hese writer's had their periods Of ges-
alton. They took more time to look at
heir subject; relatively (for to-day
here is not much leisure, at best, for
hose who undertake to entertain a
hungry public they were able to wait
or Inspiration. Trollope's fecundity
vas prodigious; there was no limit to
he work he was ready to do. It is not
Unjust to say that he sacrificed quality
o quantity Abundance, certainly, is
| itself great merit; almost all the
greatest writers have been abundant.
sui Trollope's fertility was fantastic.
Incredible; he himself commended, we
believe, that he had given to the orld
| greater number Of printed pages
If fiction than any OF his literary con-
iemporaries. Not only did his novels
ollow each other without visible inter
mission, overlapping and treading on
ZACH others heels, but most OF these
works are of extraordinary length.
Orley Farm" Can You Forgive
Herr" He Knew He Was Right, are
exceedingly voluminous tales. "The
Way We Live Now" is one of the long
est of modern novels. Trollope pro
iuced, moreover, in the intervals OF
larger labor, great number of short
stories, many of them charming, SIS well
Is various books of travel and two or
;hree biographies. He was the great inn
orovvisatore of these latter years. Two
distinguished story-tellers of ths other
sex-one in France and one in En-
gland-have shown An extraordinary
facility of composition; but Trollope's
pace was brisker even than that of the
wonderful Madame Saad and the de-
ightful Mrs. Oiphant he had taught
himself to keep this pace and bad re-
1aced his admirable faculty to habit.
Every day of his Life ne wrote q certain
aumber of pages of his current tale, in
dependent of mood and place. It was
once the fortune of the author Of these
ines to cross the Atlantic in his com
psny, and he has never forgotten the
magnificent example of stiff persistence
which it was in the power of the emf
Qent novelist to give on that occasion.
Che season wss unpropitious, the YES
sci overcroHded, the voyage de.est-
able; but Trollope shut himself up in
as cabin every mernin2 fos purpose
which, on the part Of distinguished
writer who was also an invulnerable
sailor, could only be communion with
he muse. He drove his pen a, steadily
On the tumbling ocean ~ in Montague
Square: and, as his voyages were many,
It was his practice before sailing TO
some down to the ship and confer with
The carpenter, who was instructed to
rig up rough writingtable in his
small seacehanbsr. Trollope has been
accused of being deficient in magma
kon; but, IN the face of such net as
,hat, the charge will scarcely seem
inst. The power to shut ones eyes,
ors's ears Ito say nothing of another
sanse) upon the scenery Of pitching
Gunardsr and open them upon the
owes and sorrovs of Lily Dale, on the
,onjugal embarrassment OF Lady Glen
cora PAlliser, is certainly Q faculty
which has an element OF the magical.
fhs Imagination that Trollope possessed
no had, at least, thoroughly at his COM
na.d. I speak Of all this in order to
explain Tin part Why it vas that, with
ais extraordinary gift, there uas al
ways in him q certain touch Of the COM
non. He abused his gilt, overworked
it, rode his horse too hard. As an artist.
ae never took himself seriously; many
people viii say this was why he was so
delightful. - Henry James, in the
81. 'cs; q: ).