Charles Menvale's History of the Romans under the Empire, and had
got into some correspondence with the author's brother as to the
author's views about Caesar. Hence arose in my mind a tendency to
investigate the character of probably the greatest man who ever
lived, which tendency in after years produced a little book of
which I shall have to speak when its time comes,--and also a taste
generally for Latin literature, which has been one of the chief
delights of my later life. And I may say that I became at this time
as anxious about Caesar, and as desirous of reaching the truth as
to his character, as we have all been in regard to Bismarck in these
latter days. I lived in Caesar, and debated with myself constantly
whether he crossed the Rubicon as a tyrant or as a patriot. In
order that I might review Mr. Merivale's book without feeling that
I was dealing unwarrantably with a subject beyond me, I studied the
Commentaries thoroughly, and went through a mass of other reading
which the object of a magazine article hardly justified,--but which
has thoroughly justified itself in the subsequent pursuits of my
life. I did write two articles, the first mainly on Julius Caesar,
and the second on Augustus, which appeared in the Dublin University
Magazine. They were the result of very much labour, but there came
from them no pecuniary product. I had been very modest when I sent
them to the editor, as I had been when I called on John Forster,
not venturing to suggest the subject of money. After a while I did
call upon the proprietor of the magazine in Dublin, and was told
by him that such articles were generally written to oblige friends,
and that articles written to oblige friends were not usually paid
for. The Dean of Ely, as the author of the work in question now
is, was my friend; but I think I was wronged, as I certainly had
no intention of obliging him by my criticism. Afterwards, when I
returned to Ireland, I wrote other articles for the same magazine,
one of which, intended to be very savage in its denunciation, was
on an official blue-book just then brought out, preparatory to the
introduction of competitive examinations for the Civil Service. For
that and some other article, I now forget what, I was paid. Up to
the end of 1857 I had received (pounds)55 for the hard work of ten years.
It was while I was engaged on Barchester Towers that I adopted a
system of writing which, for some years afterwards, I found to be
very serviceable to me. My time was greatly occupied in travelling,
and the nature of my travelling was now changed. I could not
any longer do it on horseback. Railroads afforded me my means of
conveyance, and I found that I passed in railway-carriages very
many hours of my existence. Like others, I used to read,--though
Carlyle has since told me that a man when travelling should not
read, but "sit still and label his thoughts." But if I intended
to make a profitable business out of my writing, and, at the same
time, to do my best for the Post Office, I must turn these hours
to more account than I could do even by reading. I made for myself
therefore a little tablet, and found after a few days' exercise
that I could write as quickly in a railway-carriage as I could at
my desk. I worked with a pencil, and what I wrote my wife copied
afterwards. In this way was composed the greater part of Barchester
Towers and of the novel which succeeded it, and much also of others
subsequent to them. My only objection to the practice came from
the appearance of literary ostentation, to which I felt myself to
be subject when going to work before four or five fellow-passengers.
But I got used to it, as I had done to the amazement of the west
country farmers' wives when asking them after their letters.
In the writing of Barchester Towers I took great delight. The bishop
and Mrs. Proudie were very real to me, as were also the troubles
of the archdeacon and the loves of Mr. Slope. When it was done,
Mr. W. Longman required that it should be subjected to his reader;
and he returned the MS. to me, with a most laborious and voluminous
criticism,--coming from whom I never knew. This was accompanied
by an offer to print the novel on the half-profit system, with a
payment of (pounds)100 in advance out of my half-profits,--on condition
that I would comply with the suggestions made by his critic. One
of these suggestions required that I should cut the novel down to
two volumes. In my reply, I went through the criticisms, rejecting
one and accepting another, almost alternately, but declaring at
last that no consideration should induce me to cut out a third of
my work. I am at a loss to know how such a task could have been
performed. I could burn the MS., no doubt, and write another book
on the same story; but how two words out of six are to be withdrawn
from a written novel, I cannot conceive. I believe such tasks have
been attempted--perhaps performed; but I refused to make even the
attempt. Mr. Longman was too gracious to insist on his critic's
terms; and the book was published, certainly none the worse, and
I do not think much the better, for the care that had been taken
with it.
The work succeeded just as The Warden had succeeded. It achieved
no great reputation, but it was one of the novels which novel
readers were called upon to read. Perhaps I may be assuming upon
myself more than I have a right to do in saying now that Barchester
Towers has become one of those novels which do not die quite at once,
which live and are read for perhaps a quarter of a century; but if
that be so, its life has been so far prolonged by the vitality of
some of its younger brothers. Barchester Towers would hardly be
so well known as it is had there been no Framley Parsonage and no
Last Chronicle of Barset.
I received my (pounds)100, in advance, with profound delight. It was a
positive and most welcome increase to my income, and might probably
be regarded as a first real step on the road to substantial success.
I am well aware that there are many who think that an author in his
authorship should not regard money,--nor a painter, or sculptor, or
composer in his art. I do not know that this unnatural sacrifice
is supposed to extend itself further. A barrister, a clergyman, a
doctor, an engineer, and even actors and architects, may without
disgrace follow the bent of human nature, and endeavour to fill
their bellies and clothe their backs, and also those of their wives
and children, as comfortably as they can by the exercise of their
abilities and their crafts. They may be as rationally realistic,
as may the butchers and the bakers; but the artist and the author
forget the high glories of their calling if they condescend to make
a money return a first object. They who preach this doctrine will
be much offended by my theory, and by this book of mine, if my theory
and my book come beneath their notice. They require the practice
of a so-called virtue which is contrary to nature, and which, in
my eyes, would be no virtue if it were practised. They are like
clergymen who preach sermons against the love of money, but who
know that the love of money is so distinctive a characteristic
of humanity that such sermons are mere platitudes called for by
customary but unintelligent piety. All material progress has come