3 1822019580323 BRARY) VERSITYOF 31822019580323 MY FIRST BOOK PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON MY FIRST BOOK THE EXPERIENCES' OF WALTER BESANT JAMES PAYN W. CLARK RUSSELL GRANT ALLEN HALL CAINE GEORGE R. SIMS RUDYARD KIPLING A. CONAN DOYLE M. E. BRADDON F. W. ROBINSON H. RIDER HAGGARD R. M. BALLANTYNE I. ZANGWILL MORLEY ROBERTS DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY MARIE CORELLI JEROME K. JEROME JOHN STRANGE WINTER BRET HARTE Q.' ROBERT BUCHANAN ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY JEROME K. JEROME A NEW EDITION, WITH 185 ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON CHATTO & WINDUS 1897 INTRODUCTION BY JEROME K. JEROME PLEASE, sir,' he said, 'could you tell me the right time ? ' ' Twenty minutes to eight,' I replied, looking at my watch. ' Oh,' he remarked. Then added for my informa- tion after a pause : ' I haven't got to be in till half-past eight.' After that we fell back into our former silence, and sat watching the murky twilight, he at his end of the park seat, I at mine. ' And do you live far away ? ' I asked, lest, he having miscalculated, the short legs might be hard put to it. 4 Oh no, only over there,' he answered, indicating with a sweep of his arm the northern half of London where it lay darkening behind the chimney-fringed horizon ; ' I often come and sit here.' It seemed an odd pastime for so very small a citizen. ' And what makes you like to come and sit here ? ' I said. viii MY FIRST BOOK ' Oh, I don't know,' he replied, ' I think.' 4 And what do you think about ? ' 4 Oh oh, lots of things.' He inspected me shyly out of the corner of his eye, but, satisfied apparently by the scrutiny, he sidled up a little nearer. ' Mama does not like this evening time/ he con- fided to me ; ' it always makes her cry. But then,' he went on to explain, ' Mama has had a lot of trouble, and that makes anyone feel different about things, you know.' I agreed that this was so. 4 And do you like this evening time ? ' I enquired. 4 Yes,' he answered ; * don't you ?' 4 Yes, I like it too,' I admitted. ' But tell me why you like it, then I will tell you why I like it.' 4 Oh,' he replied, 4 things come to you.' 4 What things ? ' I asked. Again his critical eye passed over me, and it raised me in my own conceit to find that again the inspection contented him, he evidently feeling satisfied that here was a man to whom another gentleman might speak openly and without reserve. He wriggled sideways, slipping his hands beneath him and sitting on them. 4 Oh, fancies,' he explained ; 4 I'm going to be an author when I grow up, and write books.' INTRODUCTION ix Then I knew why it was that the sight of his little figure had drawn me out of my path to sit beside him, and why the little serious face had seemed so familiar to me, as of some one I had once known long ago. So we talked of books and bookmen. He told me how, having been born on the fourteenth of February, his name had come to be Valentine, though privileged parties, as for example Aunt Emma, and Mr. Dawson, and Cousin Naomi, had shortened it to Val, and Mama would sometimes call him Pickaniny, but that was only when they were quite alone. In return I confided to him my name, and discovered that he had never heard it, which pained me for the moment, until I found that of all my confreres, excepting only Mr. Stevenson, he was equally ignorant, he having lived with the heroes and the heroines of the past, the new man and the new woman, the new pathos and the new humour being alike unknown to him. Scott and Dumas and Victor Hugo were his favourites. ' Gulliver's Travels,' ' Robinson Crusoe/ 'Don Quixote,' and the 'Arabian Nights,' he knew almost by heart, and these we discussed, exchanging many pleasant and profitable ideas upon the same. But the psychological novel, I gathered, was not to his taste. He liked ' real stories,' he told me, naively unconscious of the satire, ' where people did things.' ' I used to read silly stuff once,' he confessed x MY FIJtST BOOK humbly, ' Indian tales and that sort of thing, you know, but Mama said I'd never be able to write if I read that rubbish.' ' So you gave it up,' I concluded for him. ' Yes,' he answered. But a little sigh of regret, I thought, escaped him at the same time. ' And what do you read now ? ' I asked. ' I'm reading Marlowe's plays and De Ouincey's Confessions (he called him Quinsy) just now,' was his reply. ' And do you understand them ? ' I queried. ' Fairly well,' he answered. Then added more hopefully, ' Mama says I'll get to like them better as I go on.' ' I want to learn to write very, very well indeed,' he suddenly added after a long pause, his little earnest face growing still more serious, ' then I'll be able to earn heaps of money.' It rose to my lips to answer him that it was not always the books written very, very well that brought in the biggest heaps of money ; that if heaps of money were his chiefest hope he would be better advised to devote his energies to the glorious art of self-advertise- ment and the gentle craft of making friends upon the Press. But something about the almost baby face beside me, fringed by the gathering shadows, silenced my middle-aged cynicism. Involuntarily my gaze INTRODUCTION xi followed his across the strip of foot- worn grass, across the dismal-looking patch of ornamental water, beyond the haze of tangled trees, beyond the distant row of stuccoed houses, and, arrived there with him, I noticed many men and women clothed in the garments of all ages and all lands, men and women who had written very, very well indeed and who notwithstanding had earned heaps of money, the hire worthy of the labourer, and who were not ashamed ; men and women who had written true words which the common people had read gladly ; men and women who had been raised to lasting fame upon the plaudits of their day ; and before the silent faces of these, made beautiful by Time, the little bitter sneers I had counted truth rang foolish in my heart, so that I returned with my young friend to our green seat beside the foot-worn grass, feeling by no means so sure as when I had started which of us twain were the better fitted to teach wisdom to the other. ' And what would you do, Valentine, with heaps of money ? ' I asked. Again for a moment his old shyness of me returned. Perhaps it was not quite a legitimate question from a friend of such recent standing. But his frankness wrestled with his reserve and once more conquered. ' Mama need not do any work^then,' he answered. ' She isn't really strong enough for it, you know,' he explained, 'and I'd buy back the big house where she xii M\ FIRST BOOK used to live when she was a little girl, and take her back to live in the country the country air is so much better for her, you know and Aunt Emma, too.' But I confess that as regards Aunt Emma his tone was not enthusiastic. I spoke to him less dogmatically than I might have done a few minutes previously, and I trust not discouragingly of the trials and troubles of the literary career, and of the difficulties and disappointments awaiting the literary aspirant, but my croakings terri- fied him not. ' Mama says that every work worth doing is diffi- cult,' he replied, ' and that it doesn't matter what career we choose there are difficulties and disappoint- ments to be overcome, and that I must work very hard and say to myself " I will succeed," and then in the end, you know, I shall.' ' Though of course it may be a long time,' he added cheerfully. Only one thing in the slightest daunted him, and that was the weakness of his spelling. ' And I suppose,' he asked, ' you must spell very well indeed to be an author.' I explained to him, however, that this failing was generally met by a little judicious indistinctness of caligraphy, and all obstacles thus removed, the busi- ness of a literary gent seemed to him an exceptionally pleasant and joyous one. INTRODUCTION xii ' Mama says it is a noble calling,' he confided to me, 'and that anyone ought to be very proud and glad to be able to write books, because they give people happiness and make them forget things, and that one ought to be awfully good if one's going to be an author, so as to be worthy to help and teach others.' ' And do you try to be awfully good, Valentine ? ' I enquired. ' Yes,' he answered ; ' but it's awfully hard, you know. I don't think anybody could ever be quite good until,' he corrected himself, ' they were grown up.' ' I suppose,' he added with a little sigh, ' it's easy for grown-up people to be good.' It was my turn to glance suspiciously at him, this time wondering if the seeds of satire could have taken root already in that tiny brain. But his eyes met mine without flinching, and I was not loath to drift away from the point. ' And what else does your Mama say about litera- ture, Valentine ? ' I asked. For the strangeness of it was that, though I kept repeating under my breath ' Copy-book maxims, copy-book maxims,' hoping by such shibboleth to protect myself from their influence, the words yet stirred within me old childish thoughts and sentiments that I, in my cleverness, had long since learnt to laugh at, and had thought forgotten. I, with my years of knowledge and experience behind me, seemed for the nonce to be sitting with Valentine xiv MY FIRST BOOK at the feet of this unseen lady, listening, as I again told myself, to ' copy-book maxims ' and finding in them in spite of myself a certain element of truth, a certain amount of helpfulness, an unpleasant suggestion of reproach. He tucked his hands underneath him, as before, and sat swinging his short legs. 'Oh oh lots of things,' he answered vaguely. ' Yes ? ' I persisted. ' Oh, that he repeated it slowly, recalling it word for word as he went on, ' that he who can write a great book is greater than a king ; that a good book is better than a good sermon ; that the gift of being able to write is given to anybody in trust, and that an author should never forget that he is God's servant.' I thought of the chatter of the clubs, and could not avoid a smile. But the next moment something moved me to take his hand in mine, and, turning his little solemn face towards mine, to say : ' If ever there comes a time, little man, when you are tempted to laugh at your mother's old-fashioned notions and such a time may come remember that an older man than you once told you he would that he had always kept them in his heart, he would have done better work.' Then growing frightened at my own earnestness, as we men do, deeming it, God knows why, something INTRODUCTION xv to be ashamed of, I laughed away his answering ques- tions, and led the conversation back to himself. ' And have you ever tried writing anything ? ' I asked him. Of course he had, what need to question ! And it was, strange to say, a story about a little boy who lived with his mother and aunt, and who went to school. ' It is sort of,' he explained, ' sort of auto bio graphical, r you know.' ' And what does Mama think of it ? ' was my next question, after we had discussed the advantages of drawing upon one's own personal experiences for one's material. ' Mama thinks it is very clever in parts,' he told me. ' You read it to her ? ' I suggested. ' Yes,' he acknowledged, ' in the evening, when she's working, and Aunt Emma isn't there.' The room rose up before me, I could see the sweet-faced lady in her chair beside the fire, her white hands moving to and from the pile of sewing by her side, the little flushed face of the lad bending over his pages written in sprawling schoolboy hand. I saw the love light in her eyes as every now and then she stole a covert glance across at him, I heard his childish treble rising and falling, as his small finger moved slowly down the sheet. xvi MY FIRST BOOK Suddenly it said, a little more distinctly : ' Please, sir, could you tell me the time ? ' 'Just over the quarter, Valentine,' I answered, waking up and looking at my watch. He rose and held out his hand. ' I didn't know it was so late,' he said, ' I must go now.' But as our hands met another question occurred to him. ' Oh,' he exclaimed, ' you said you'd tell me why you liked to come and sit here of an evening, like I do. Why?' ' So I did, Valentine,' I replied, 'but I've changed my mind. When you are a big man, as old as I am, you come and sit here and you'll know. But it isn't so pleasant a reason as yours, Valentine, and you wouldn't understand it. Good-night.' He raised his cap with an old-fashioned courtesy and trotted off, looking however a little puzzled. Some distance down the path, he turned and waved his hand to me, and I watched him disappear into the twilight. I sat on for a while, thinking many thoughts, until across the rising mist there rang a hoarse, harsh cry, ' All out, All out,' and slowly I moved homeward. CONTENTS PAGE READY-MONEY MORTIBOY. BY WALTER BESANT .... 3 THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. BY JAMES PAYN . . . .15 THE WRECK OF THE ' GROSVENOR.' Bv W. CLARK RUSSELL 29 PHYSIOLOGICAL /ESTHETICS AND PHILISTIA. BY GRANT ALLEN ............ 43 THE SHADOW OF A CRIME. BY HALL CAINE . . . . 53 THE SOCIAL KALEIDOSCOPE. BY GEORGE R. SIMS ... 75 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. BY RUDYARD KIPLING . . . 91 JUVENILIA. BY A. CONAN DOYLE 99 THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT. BY M. E. BRADDON . . . 109 THE HOUSE OF ELMORE. BY F. W. ROBINSON . . . .123 DAWN. BY H. RIDER HAGGARD . . .* 135 HUDSON'S BAY. BY R. M. BALLANTYNE 151 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER. BY I. ZANGWILL . . 163 THE WESTERN AVERNUS. BY MORLEY ROBERTS . . .181 A LIFE'S ATONEMENT. BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY . . . 193 A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. BY MARIE CORELLI 206 xviii MY FIRST BOOK PAGE ON THE STAGE AND OFF. BY JEROME K. JEROME . . . 221 CAVALRY LIFE. BY ' JOHN STRANGE WINTER ' (MRS. ARTHUR STANNARD) ........... 239 CALIFORNIAN VERSE. BY BRET HARTE 257 DEAD MAN'S ROCK. BY ' Q.' 269 UNDERTONES AND IDYLS AND LEGENDS OF INVERBURN. BY ROBERT BUCHANAN 283 TREASURE ISLAND. BY ROBERT Louis STEVENSON . . .297 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE JEROME K. JEEOME ........ Frontispiece WALTER BESANT 2 JAMES RICE 5 JULIA 7 MR. BESANT'S STUDY 9 THE OYSTER SHOP .......... 12 A BOOK PLATE 13 A WICKED SISTER .......... 16 JAMES PAYN 17 IT 'TOOK OFF' FROM HIS SHOULDER ....... 18 MR. PAYN'S STUDY 19 COUNT GOTSUCHAKOFF 21 WOULD YOU MIND JUST READING A BIT OF IT?' 22 THE SERVANT CAME TO PUT COALS ON THE FIRE .... 23 MR. PAYN'S OFFICE AT WATERLOO PLACE 24 KILLED BY LIONS 25 CLARK RUSSELI 28 CLARK RUSSELL AS A MIDSHIPMAN OF SEVENTEEN . . . 29 I WAS A CHILD OF THIRTEEN 30 NEATBY 31 ANCHORED IN THE DOWNS 32 SOME OF THE CREW . 33 THE MAGISTRATES . . 34 THE WRECK OF THE ' GROSVENOR ' 35 MRS. CLARK RUSSELL 37 THE BOATSWAIN OF THE < GROSVENOR ' 38 THE ' HOUGOUMONT ' 39 xx MY FIRST BOOK PAGE POOR JACK ! 40 GRANT ALLEN 4 2 FICTION 44 SCIENCE 45 ANDREW CHATTO 49 A SHELF IN THE STUDY 50 THANK YOU, SIR' ........... 51 I LEFT IT ............ 54 HALL CAINE ............ 55 MY MS. WENT SPRAWLING OVER THE TABLE 56 DERWENTWATER 57 STY HEAD PASS 58 WASTWATER FROM STY HEAD PASS 59 THE HORSE BROKE AWAY ......... 60 SOMETHING STRAPPED ON ITS BACK . . . . . . . 61 THE CASTLE ROCK, ST. JOHN'S VALE ....... 62 THIRLMERE ............ 63 ROSSETTI WALKING TO AND FRO ........ 64 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 65 MR. HALL CAINE IN HIS STUDY ........ 68 MRS. HALL CAINE 69 COMING UP IN THE TRAIN 71 12 CLARENCE TERRACE 75 THE HALL 76 GEORGE R. SIMS 77 GEORGE R. SIMS ........... 78 THE ' SOCIAL KALEIDOSCOPE ' 79 THE SNUGGERY 80 MR. SIMS'S 'LITTLE DAWG ' 81 THE DINING-ROOM 82 THE LIBRARY 83 ' SIR HUGO' ............ 84 THE BALCONY 85 ' BEAUTY,' AN OLD FAVOURITE, TWENTY YEARS OLD .... 86 THE DRAWING-ROOM 87 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxi I'AGE TAUST UP TO DATE' 88 MR. SIMS'S DINNER PARTY 89 THE NEWSPAPER FILES 91 ' YOUR POTERY VERY GOOD, SIR ; JUST COMING PROPER LENGTH TO-DAY.' 92 RUDYARD KIPLING ........... 93 SUNG TO THE BANJOES ROUND CAMP FIRES 96 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES 97 A. CONAN DOYLE ........... 98 I WAS Six 99 ON THE PRAIRIES AND THE OCEANS ....... 100 MY DEBUT AS A STORY-TELLER ........ 101 ' WITH THE EDITOR'S COMPLIMENTS' ....... 102 'HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT YOU?' IOJ ' MRS. THURSTON'S LITTLE BOY WANTS TO SEE YOU, DOCTOR ' . . 105 MR. ANDREW LANG .......... 107 LlCHKIELD HOUSE, RICHMOND IIO THE HALL in THE DINING-ROOM . . . . . . . . . .112 THE DRAWING-ROOM . . . . . . . . . . 113 THE EVENING-ROOM 115 THE SMOKING-ROOM 116 THE LIBRARY 117 Miss BRADDON'S FAVOURITE MARE. . . . . . . . 119 THE ORANGERY 120 Miss BRADDON'S COTTAGE AT LYNDHURST 121 Miss BRADDON'S INKSTAND 122 AT TWENTY 124 F. W ROBINSON 125 ELMORE HOUSE . . . . . . . . . . . 126 AT THIRTY . . . . . . . . . . .127 MR. ROBINSON'S LIBRARY 128 THE GARDEN 129 THE DRAWING-ROOM 13 AT FORTY . . 131 MR. ROBINSON AT WORK i3 2 xxii MY FIRST BOOK PAGE H. RIDER HAGGARD . . . . . . . . . -134 THE FRONT GARDEN 135 MR. RIDER HAGGARD AND HIS DAUGHTERS 137 THE HALL 139 MR. RIDER HAGGARD'S STUDY 141 SOME CURIOS 143 A STUDY CORNER .......... 145 MR. RIDER HAGGARD .......... 147 THE FARM 149 WHERE I WROTE MY FIRST BOOK . . . . . . . . 151 R. M. BALLANTYNE 153 MR. BALLANTYNE'S HOUSE AT HARROW 155 TROPHIES FROM MR. BALLANTYNE'S TRAVELS 157 THE ST;IDY 159 MR. R. M. BALLANTYNE 161 LOOKING FOR TOOLE 164 I. ZANGWILL ........... 165 I SAT DOWN AND WROTE SOMETHING l66 ARTHUR GODDARD 167 IT WAS HAWKED ABOUT THE STREETS l68 A POLICEMAN TOLD HIM TO GET DOWN ...... 169 SUCH STUFF AS LITTLE BOYS SCRIBBLE UPON WALLS . . . . 171 LIFE IN BETHNAL GREEN 173 WE SENT IT ROUND ........... 175 MR. ZANGWILL AT WORK . . . . . . . . -177 EDITING A COMIC TAPER 178 A FAME LESS WIDESPREAD THAN A PRIZEFIGHTER'S .... 179 MR. MORLEY ROBERTS 180 BEFORE THE MAST 181 I MARRIED THEM ALL OFF AT THE END . . . . . . 182 AN AMERICAN SAW-MILL WHERE MR. ROBERTS -WORKED . . . 183 DEFYING THE UNIVERSE 185 COWBOY ROBERTS 186 THE VERY PRAIRIE DOGS TAUGHT ME 187 THE CALIFORNIA COAST RANGE 189 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxiii PAGE BY THE CAMP FIRE 190 D. CHRISTIE MURRAY 192 I HANDED HIM TWO CHAPTERS ........ 194 I SENT ALL MY PEOPLE INTO A COAL-MINE 195 THEY INVESTED HIM WITH THE MEDAL 197 CONSULTING OLD ALMANACS 199 SHE DREW FROM IT A BROWN-PAPER PARCEL . .... 2OI IF THERE HAD BEEN NO ' DAVID COPPERFIELI) ' .... 2O2 THE STOCK WAS TRANSFERRED ........ 203. SOME NOVELS ........... 204 THE DRAWING-ROOM .......... 209 THE LIBRARY 211 THE STUDY 213 FACSIMILE OF MARIE CORELLI'S MS. AS PREPARED FOR THE PRESS . 217 MY FIRST-BORN ........... 222 JEROME K. JEROME .......... 223 HE AND YOU HAD TO CARRY LlSA WEBER ACROSS THE STAGE' . . 226 THAT BRILLIANT IDEA 227 I HATED THE DISMAL LITTLE ' SLAVEY ' . . . . . . . 230 THE STUDY 231 I AM REMEMBERING 234 MR. JEROME K. JEROME 237 THREE SOLDIERS AND A PIG ......... 239 JOHN STRANGE WINTER 241 MR. ARTHUR STANNARD 243 THE FIRM' CONSIDERING ......... 246 HE SQUINTED ! 247 Miss STANNARD 248 THE TWINS' BOOTLES AND BETTY ....... 249 LONG-LEGGED SOLDIERS 251 CAVALRY LIFE 253 I TOOK UP THE ' SATURDAY REVIEW ' 255 BRET HARTE 256 WE SETTLED TO OUR WORK 258 A CIRCULATION IT HAD NEVER KNOWN BEFORE 259 xxiv MY FIRST BOOK PAGE ' CONSIDER THEM AT YOUR SERVICE ' . . . . . . . 261 I WAS INWARDLY RELIEVED ......... 263 THE BOOK SOLD TREMENDOUSLY 265 A. T. QUILLER COUCH 268