The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-08-07
ANTHONY TRoLLoPE.
RecoIIections of the Novelist by One
of His Friends.
(From the Londoner.)

Erom the Londoner.)
Anthony TroIlope prescribed for himself
certain method which he more than
once described to me and pointed out to
me for my own guidance when | was
fiedgeling in authorship. He worked, when
living in London. in a comfortable study
in a house In Montagu Square. The room
was warmed by an asbestos gas stove,
which he could set going whenever he
pleased. In this room he worked for at
least two hours every morning before the
day for his household and the London
world had really begun. He knew by long
experience exactly how many words he
had written by a given time, and, there
were very few alterations or erasures in
his MS. The printers must have loved
him. When his appointed tale was COM
pleted he put the whole thing out of his
mind and went a-hunting or a-whisting
Che loved whist). or both, till the time
for work came round again the next day,
when the performance of writing words
In y time. as near as possible. was repeat
ed. For his hunting he was perhaps
more daring than an elegant rider, and he
was not lightweight.
Trcliope loved animals, and animals
loved aim. Yet he oEce was victim OF
his fiction suddenly turning into some
thing ike fact-a turning which has not
unfrequently happened in the case of fic-
tionists. though generally without i'll con-
sequences to themselves. 1t will be remem-
bered by readers of The Small House at
Arlington" that the fortunes Of John Fam
es, very fayorite character of Trollope's,
turn upon his rescuing Lord De Guest from
the attack of a bull which, according to
his Lop. las old documents have it,, is
as quiet an animal generally as any suck
ing dove but not the less has to be shot
afterward. 1t must have been some time
after he wrote this story that Trollope
himself, when he was living in the coun-
try, was Unexpectedly run at ead tossed
by fayorite COW. His country house was
hard by to Epping. and when l was staring
with him there we gravely took part-he
having mounted me On a horse like to
Bear-in the Epping Hunt. This was in a
way good enough fun in itself, but much
better fun in the material 1t care to
Troilope for keen and humorous obaelva-
ton. and. consequently. most diverting
conversation. in the spontaneous vein of
humor which somehow always seemed to
find its way more naturally into his talk
than into his books. There was plenty OF
it in his best books. but it was there with
difference from the humor Of his talk.
Mrs. Proudie in THE Last Chronicles OF
Barsetshire, is somewhat forced name.
which reminds me of an anecdote which
has been printed before, but wa.ch cjmes
back to me with all the freshnes5 and ro-
business which Trollope's utterance gav3
it before it found its way into print. He
said to NE: Il was writing a letter at the
club, and / heard group OF clergy dis s.
ing The Last Chronicles They wee very
complimentary on the whole, and l valued
it the more because l knew SO little CT
cathedral city life by actual experience.
But they all agreed taat there had teel
more than enough OF Mrs. Pioudie. l
could lot resist the impulse. I got up.
went to them and said. Forgive me, but /
could not help hearing what you said about
Mrs. Proudie. l think you are quite right.
l am Anthony Trollope, and now I'll go
home and kill Mrs. Proudie.'" And this
he proceeded at once TO do.
Troilope resented bitterly-and here, 1
think, most justly-the unfortunate fact
that there are certain offences against the
laws of truth and honor and social moral
ity for which there is practically no legal
remedy. To take an instance a well-bred
girl can hardly bring an action for breach
of promise OF marriage; and there are all
kinds OF other instances. Therefore, as
the duello was practically dead in England
when Trollope began writing novels, his
heroes when they felt called upon to
avenge such wrongs as these, betook them
selves merrfly to hsticuHS or horsewhips;
and it would be difficult to say which
seemed to enjoy these encounters the more
the heroes or their authors.
Let me end with a story which Illus
trates his happy fashion OF treating juniors
as if they were on equal terms with him
fashion which assuredly could never have
prompted anyone to venture on liberty.
When / was doing a good deal of review
ing work my editor sent me by mistake
Is it turned out. a novel of Trollopes for
review. / went straight to Trollope for
his advice. He thought a moment, then
fixed kindly glare upon me through his
spectacles. and said My boy | don't
think you ought 10 review novel OF mine,
any more than l ought to review a novel
of yours. II l were you I should send it
back and explain that you knew me too
intimately to undertake the task