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第36部分（第1页）

o　do　so。

Your　story　disposes　me　to　think　you　have　that　ambition。　It　also　causes　me　to　hope　that　I　may　make　the　author’s　acquaintance。　If　you　call　on　me　when　you　are　in　town　I　shall　be　delighted　to　ask　your　pardon　for　writing　to　you　with　such　unmannerly　frankness　and　self…sufficiency。

Believe　me　to　be；　my　dear　sir；

Yours　very　sincerely；

John　Cordy　Jeaffreson。

What　an　extraordinarily　kind　heart　must　have　been　that　of　Mr。　Jeaffreson！　He　was　a　very　busy　man；　producing　as　he　did　works　of　fiction　and　of　biography；　in　addition　to　his　antiquarian　labours　that　involved　the　deciphering　of　thousands　of　old　documents；　by　means　of　all　which　toil　he　earned　a　moderate　ine。　Yet　he　found　time　on　behalf　of　an　individual　totally　unknown　to　him；　or　to　anybody　else　in　this　country；　to　labour　through　several　hundred　not　too　legible　sheets　of　manuscript；　and　to　write　a　masterly　criticism　of　their　contents。　Moreover；　for　all　this　trouble　he　refused　to　accept　any　reward。　Certainly　it　has　been　my　fortune　to　make　acquaintance　with　much　malice　in　the　world；　but　on　the　other　hand　I　have　met　with　signal　kindness　at　the　hands　of　those　engaged　in　literary　pursuits；　and　of　such　kindnesses　I　can　recall　no　more　striking　example　than　this　act　of　Mr。　Jeaffreson；　of　whom　I　shall　always　entertain　the　most　affectionate　memory。

Well；　I　took　his　advice。　From　a　tiny　note　on　the　first　page　of　the　manuscript　it　would　seem　that　I　began　to　rewrite　“Dawn”　or　“Angela；”　as　it　was　then　called；　on　May　15；　1883；　and　finished　the　last　of　the　four　hundred　and　niy…three　foolscap　sheets　on　September　5th　of　the　same　year。　That　is；　in　just　under　four　months；　in　addition　to　my　legal　studies　and　other　occupations　and　the　time　taken　in　attending　in　London　to　eat　my　dinners　at　Lincoln’s　Inn；　I　wrote　nearly　two　hundred　thousand　words。　Nowadays　the　average　length　of　a　novel　may　be　put　at　seventy…five　thousand　words；　or　even　less；　though　mine　are　longer。　But　in　the　early　eighties；　when　stories　were　brought　out　in　three　volumes　and　readers　had　more　patience　than　at　present；　it　was　otherwise。　I　toiled　at　that　book　morning；　noon；　and　night；　with　the　result　that　at　length　my　eyesight　gave　out；　and　I　was　obliged　to　finish　the　writing　of　it　in　a　darkened　room。

Still　I　did　finish　it　notwithstanding　the　pain　in　my　eyes；　and　then　went　to　London　to　see　an　oculist。　To　my　relief　he　told　me　I　was　not　going　blind　as　I　feared；　but　that　the　trouble　came　from　the　brain　which　was　overworked。　He　ordered　me　plete　rest　and　change；　during　which　I　was　not　to　read　anything。　So　we　went　for　a　month　to　Switzerland；　where　we　took　lodgings。　The　only　occupation　that　I　had　there　was　to　walk；　or；　when　this　was　not　feasible；　like　a　child　to　throw　a　ball　against　the　wall　of　the　room　and　see　how　often　I　could　catch　it　on　the　rebound。　However；　the　treatment　proved　effective。

The　book　being　finished；　or　nearly　finished；　and　the　heroine；　Angela；　rescued　from　the　untimely　death　to　which　she　was　consigned　in　the　first　version　and　happily　married　to　her　lover；　once　more　I　sought　the　assistance　of　Cordy　Jeaffreson；　who　gave　me　a　letter　introducing　me　to　Mr。　Arthur　Blackett　of　the　firm　of　Messrs。　Hurst　and　Blackett。　It　runs：

Dear　Blackett；　—　Some　months　since　I　read　the　MS。　of　a　novel　of　which　the　bearer　of　these　presents；　Mr。　Rider　Haggard　of　Ditchingham　House；　Bungay；　is　looking　for　a　publisher。　Mr。　Haggard　having　distinguished　himself　in　another　field　of　literature；　I　was　not　surprised　to　find　his　first　essay　in　prose　fiction　a　thing　of　no　ordinary　power。　It　was　a　tale　of　character；　pathos；　incident；　and　new　ground：　so　good　that　had　it　been　less　I　should　have　advised　him　to　publish　it　as　it　came　to　me。　The　goodness　of　the　story；　however；　made　me　urge　him　to　rewrite　it；　so　that　every　chapter　should　be　in　harmony　with　its　best　and　strongest　parts。　He　has　acted　on　my　advice；　and　if　the　result　of　his　renewed　labour　answers　my　anticipation；　he　has　produced　a　work　that　will　make　your　reader　rub　his　hands　and　say　“This　will　do。”　。　。　。

Messrs。　Hurst　and　Blackett　wrote　to　me；　and　well　do　I　remember　the　jubilation　with　which　I　read　the　letter：

We　shall　be　very　happy　to　undertake　the　publication　of　your　novel　on　the　following　terms。　To　produce　the　work　at　our　own　expense　and　risk。　To　pay　you　the　sum　of　40　pounds　on　the　sale　of　four　hundred　copies　and　30　pounds　on　the　sale　of　every　hundred　copies　after。　The　title　“Angela”　has　been　used　before　。　。　。　。

Needless　to　say　I　accepted　the　offer　with　gratitude　and　promised　to　find　another　title。　Three　days　later　the　agreement　arrived　under　which　I　sold　the　copyright　to　Messrs。　Hurst　and　Blackett　for　a　period　of　one　year　only　from　the　date　of　publication。　In　their　covering　letter　they　informed　me　that　they　only　proposed　to　print　five　hundred　copies　in　the　three…volume　form；　leaving　me　at　liberty　to　make　any　arrangements　I　liked　for　a　cheap　edition；　if　one　should　be　demanded。

About　this　time；　namely　just　after　he　had　read　the　MS。　of　“Angela；”　I　received　the　following　interesting　but　undated　letter　from　Mr。　Jeaffreson：

Dear　Sir；　—　Can’t　you　arrange　to　dine　with　us　at　seven　o’clock　on　the　10th　of　next　month？　We　could　talk　all　round　the　literary　question　over　a　cigar　in　my　study　after　dinner。　Could　you　succeed　in　literature？　Certainly　up　to　a　certain　point：　unquestionably　up　to　the　point　you　indicate；　though　you　might　never　earn　as　much　money　as　the　two　novelists　you　mention；　for　in　that　respect　they　have　been　singularly　fortunate。　But　you　may　not　hope　to　succeed　in　a　day。　You　might　bee　famous　in　a　morning；　but　you　may　not　entertain　the　hope　of　doing　so。　You　must　hope　only　to　succeed　by　degrees；　—　by　steady　work；　slow　advances；　and　after　several　disappointments。　Moderate　success　in　literature　is　easily　attainable　by　a　man　of　energy；　culture；　and　resoluteness　who　can　afford　to　work　steadily　and　play　a　waiting　game。　At　twenty…one　a　man　is　necessarily　impatient；　at　twenty…six　a　man　has　neither　the　excuse　of　youth　nor　the　excuse　of　advancing　age　for　impatience。　How　I　envy　you　for　being　only　twenty…six。　I　am　old　enough　to　be　your　father。　I　could　not　have　written　as　good　a　novel　as　Angela’s　story　when　I　was　twenty…six。　I　have　already　perused　your　“Cetewayo。”　It　is　a　far　more　difficult　thing　to　interest　readers　in　imaginary　persons　and　incidents　than　to　entertain　them　with　writing　about　facts　and　characters　in　which　they　are　already　interested。　It　was　because　I　saw　you　really　knew　your　characters　that　I　urged　you　to　make　the　most　of　them。　Do　e　and　see　me。

Yours　cordially；

John　Cordy　Jeaffreson。

The　following　letter　from　myself　to　my　sister　Mary；　which　she　found　and　returned　to　me　a　few　years　ago；　throws　some　light　upon　the　above：

Ditchingham　House：　May　5　＇1883＇。

My　dearest　Mary；　—　The　enclosed　letters　may　interest　you。　I　consider　Jeaffreson’s　very　encouraging　on　the　whole；　though　he　is　inflicting　a　lot　of　extra　labour　on　me。　However；　after　I　have　been　up　for　this　examination　I　will　go　at　it；　and　hope　to　finish　the　book　in　from　two　to　three　months。　I　do　not　altogether　agree　with　Mr。　Jeaffreson’s　ideas　as　to　changing　the　end　of　the　book；　indeed　my　own　sentiments　about　it　are　much　the　same　as　those　expressed　by　Miss　Barber　＇a　schoolfellow　of　my　wife’s　who　was　more　or　less　living　with　us　at　the　time。　She　is　a　sister　of　the　late　Marjorie　Barber；　“Michael　Faireless；”　the　well…known　author　of　“The　Road…Mender；”　etc。；　and　afterwards　married　my　brother；　John　G。　Haggard；　R。N。＇　in　the　letter　that　I　forward　you；　because　it　puts　the　other　side　of　the　question　very　well。　I　wrote　and　asked　Jeaffreson　what　he　meant　when　he　said　that　I　could　succeed　in　literature；　and　if　in　his　opinion　I　could　hope　to　pete　with　men　like　Payn　and　Blackmore；　and　in　the　very　nice　letter　that　he　sent　me　in　answer　he　said　that　“unquestionably　I　could　succeed　to　the　point　I　indicated。”　This　is　of　course　encouraging；　but　I　am　not　so　sure　about　it。

I　am　going　to　dine　with　him　on　the　10th；　when　I　shall　try　to　modify　his　views　about　changing　the　end　of　the　book。　。　。　。

To　this　day　I　often　wonder　whether　Jeaffreson　was　right　in　making　me　turn　my　story　inside　out　and　give　it　a　happy　ending。　My　idea　was　to　present　the　character　of　a　woman　already　sweet　and　excellent　in　mind　and　body；　and　to　show　it　being　perfected　by　various　mortal　trials；　till　at　length　all　frailties　were　burnt　out　of　it　by　the　fires　of　death。　In　the　second　version　I　continued　to　carry　out　this　scheme　as　well　as　I　could；　only　the　final　fires　through　which　the　heroine　had　to　pass　were　those　of　marriage　to　a　not　very　interesting　young　man。　I　have　always　found　young　men　—　and；　if　they　are　to　fill　the　position　of　heroes；　the　novel…reader　insists　that　they　must　be　rather　young　—　somewhat　difficult　to　draw。　Young　men；　at　any　rate　to　the　male　eye；　have　a　painful　similarity　to　each　other；　whereas　woman　is　of　an　infinite　variety　and　therefore　easier　to　depict。　With　elderly　men；　such　as　old　Allan　Quatermain；　to　take　an　instance；　the　case　is　different。　With　these　I　have　had　no　trouble；　perhaps　because　from　my　boyhood　my　great　friends　have　always　been　men　much　older　than　myself；　if　I　except　the　instances　of　Sheil　or　Brother　Basil；　and　that　other　friend　who　died；　of　whom　I　have　already　written。　Now　I　am　reaping　the　sad　fruits　of　this　idiosyncrasy；　since　nearly　all　of　those　to　whom　I　was　deeply　attached　have　gone　before　me；　although；　thank　Heaven！　a　few　still　remain；　such　as　Arthur　Cochrane；　Andrew　Lang；　and　Charles　Longman。

My　criticism　on　“Dawn”　considered　as　a　whole　—　that　is；　so　far　as　I　recollect　it；　for　I　have　not　reread　the　book　for　many　years　—　is　that　it　ought　to　have　been　cut　up　into　several　stories。　However；　it　has　pleased；　and　apparently　still　continues　to　please；　a　vast　number　of　persons；　and　not　long　ago　I　was　much　amused　to　see　in　an　article　in　The　Times　that　at　Pekin　—　or　Hong…Kong　—　it　is　one　of　the　favourite　subjects　of　study　among　the　Chinese　students　of　English　literature。　Perhaps　an　old　aunt　of　mine；　who　still　lives　at　the　age　of　nearly　a　hundred；　was　right　when　she　declared　that　the　book　was　too　full　of　“amateur　villains。”

However；　in　due　course　it　appeared　in　charming　type；　such　as　we　do　not　get　in　novels　nowadays；　and　three　nice　volumes　bound　in　green；　which　I　admire　as　I　write。　Certain　of　the　reviews　of　it　still　remain　pasted　in　a　book。　They　were　not　very　many　nearly　thirty　years　ago；　or　perhaps；　as　there　were　no　Press…cutting　agencies；　one　did　not　see　them。　On　the　whole；　however；　they　seem　to　have　been　fairly　favourable。　Since　1883　I　have　read　hundreds；　if　not　thousands；　of　reviews　of　my　books；　good；　bad；　and　indifferent；　but　I　can　safely　say　that　few　if　any　of　them　have　pleased　me　more　than　that　which　appeared　of　“Dawn”　in　The　Times。

“Dawn”　＇said　The　Times＇　is　a　novel　of　merit　far　above　the　average。　From　the　first　page　the　story　arrests　the　mind　and　arouses　the　expectation。　。　。　。　This　is；　we　repeat；　a　striking　and　original　novel；　breathing　an　elevated　if　somewhat　exaggerated　tone。

I　wonder　who　wrote　that　notice！　Be　he　living；　which　is　scarcely　probable；　or　dead；　I　offer　him　my　gratitude。　And　yet　I　know　not　whether　I　should　be　grateful　to　this　kindly　critic；　since　his　words；　more　than　any　other　circumstances；　encouraged　me　to　try　another　novel。

As　regards　“Dawn”　itself；　it　was　more　or　less　of　a　failure　—　of　course　I　mean　at　that