Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-10-24
LITERARY SUCCESS.
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rOrs Of my productions had been so
ho"s fol as we tmy wife sad " thoasht
s..s deserved 10 he. did not think
Wv" much Of my wife's judgment in
80 things. but IN the matter Of litera-
80 che showed discernment superior
~ hat Of others With larger preten-
ms and wider experience. She was,
S%s ,bs vile Of Carlyle, convinced OF
a., husbands genius and certain oil
49, ultimate recognition but ] had to
~,,t longer for the recognition than
C.,j,le. and was more hsmperod in
10 Affairs than the philosopher OF
~, lses ! could not keep house on
- buodred ard fifty pounds while
ito me first volume Of great his
COW had a large family to provide
r., and the family could not postpone
=, amer TO meet The requirements Of
Genius SO it vas the history that had
10 wsi'.
always intended to write it-that
~ something equally important. There
-, mary forms in which a masterpiece
~ he written. Sometimes | thought
80 tragedy, but that was sure not to
nay. and Shakespeare has killed the
arsma IN Eoglsnd--no room for any
I,ule stars with that sun shining in the
skv. Then though. Of novel, but
,ovcls have become so common, al
mos, vulgar every body writes them.
Then thought Of epic poetry, or a
work on philosophy, or a social satire,
or in fact, anything would do as
mere vehicle for the conveyance Of
Genius. My wife remarked that the
form was imma,eriAl; the fact of the
substance being there was the i'm
rortant thing, and felt that she was
,i,ht. bad no idea. however, that
should become an illustration Of Mr..
Mathew Arnold's dictum as to the
prop,r function Of the age, and that
my Great work, my successful work,
would be one Of criticism.
was in no hurry to begin the great
task of my lie. waited for the ma
turity Of my powers; but it came at
last to be understood by everybody
that | should produce something im-
portsn, before long. In the mean time
ore two preliminary things which
attempted in the direction Of perma-
nent literature did not bring to me the
populaIity or remuneration which
might have expected. They cost me
money. in fact and my friends rarely
referred to them, or seemed to remem-
Der them. They always asked, when
is your great work coming out, Rod
new" as if they knew Of nothing
which was out already.
still, Ipicktd up living somehow or
other, though 1t was more by means OF
working at odds and ends Of literature
than by the making of real books. |
was known as useful man who could
fll an empty corner, where no sigma
lure was wanted, very respectfully. |
could be relied upon to supply an anec-
do,e, TO look up a subject for a hasty
article. or to run off across the king
dom at an hours notice to make a re-
Iort. got plenty OF work, therefore,
which brought me profit, though it did
not add to my fame. Ii threw me also
IN the way of a great many distin
euisbed people, and gave me an OPP
1ortuuity Of observing again and
again bow little the distinction Of
many Of them was deserved and how
RmCe chance had lifted them to po-
siuon which | and others Of the Great
Uprecoguzed could not reach. | used
10 note down these observations as J
made them. and il gave me a grim salts
faction to look out my old diaries from
tine to time and see there the records
Of the follies and ilanlties Of men whom
tie world applauded. read them to
NY wife also on rare occasions, and
she would sigh little as she listened,
and wish that the world would nOtcon-
True so blind to my merits. She Was
a very good wife to me, bat not so
economical as Carlyle's, and she did
not keep the house as quiet as | should
have liked. She wes rather weak in
her treatment Of the children. Per-
haps this was the reason that never
wrote French Revolution"
When our children were, some Of
them. grown up lone daughter, in fact,
beng married), my great work was
still no; begun, and our pecuniary af-
fairs were as unsatisfactory as ever.
We were little behind in our bills, as
usual. and ! had been compelled to re-
new the mortgage on our house (which
belonged TO my Wife instead of paying
it off, as had intended to do if | had
ound time for my first volume some
what sooner. The mortgage was get
ting troublesome too; houses were
down in the market, many standing
empty, and he complained tina. wo
were letting ours drop into absolute
ruin for want Of repair. He should
Ike TO put his money on something
securtr. explained to him that while
bad his interest to pay could not az
ford to spend anything on the house,
hut the explanation did not seem 10
satisfy him. suggested to my son-in-
law 8he was rich) that he should bug
he house from US, put it in repair, and
let US rent il; but he did not seem to
like the notion. Perhaps he felt doubt
iul about the rent; | should have been
so in bis place.
Something had to be done, however.
! was having an idle time. Nobody
seemed TO want my services anywhere.
There were no vacant corners IN maya
zines. Every page was filled up by
papers with big signatures at the cad OF
them. Here was an opportunity to be-
gin my masterpiece. Unluckily, my
family was, as usual, watching the
operations Of my pen with hungry
eyes there was no time to wait for a
whole volume; it was necessary to
think Of something immediate, and
something turned up. Ii came in the
shape Of Lord Selcoyer, who was going
on hunting expedition into the heart
Of Africa. lie intended to make big
concern Of it, and had already engaged
an artist to do the sketches OF his adj
ventures and discoveries. lie offered
NE the post Of literary man OF the
party, to record events aud help him to