the days of my life-第30部分

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ather　a　copy　of　it；　for　I　believe　that　Lang　has　lost　the　original。　Again　I　must　express　my　sorrow　that　I　never　saw　Stevenson。　Evidently　he　was　a　delightful　man　and　as　brilliant　as　he　was　charming；　truly　a　master　of　his　craft。　“Dr。　Jeckell　and　Mr。　Hyde”　has　always　seemed　to　me　one　of　the　most　remarkable　things　of　its　sort　in　the　English　language。　Longman　gave　me　an　early　copy　of　it　just　after　it　was　issued　from　the　press；　and　this　I　still　possess　somewhere。　I　shall　never　forget　the　thrill　with　which　I　read　the　story；　in　places　the　horror　of　it　is　enough　to　cause　the　hair　to　rise。　His　essays；　too；　are　almost　unmatched；　at　any　rate　in　our　time；　and　next　to　these　I　should　put　“The　Master　of　Ballantrae。”　At　least　such　is　my　individual　taste。
About　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　I　have　only　this　to　add。　In　it　I　made　a　mistake　with　reference　to　an　eclipse；　which　brought　me　into　much　trouble　with　astronomers；　and　also　with　numbers　of　the　reading　public　who　hurried　to　expose　my　ignorance。　In　a　subsequent　edition　I　rectified　the　mistake；　but　that　produced　more　trouble；　since　students　of　the　work　had　violent　arguments　between　themselves；　each　quoting　the　versions　that　they　had　read；　and　wrote　to　me　to　settle　their　disputes。　I　have　always　found　the　movements　of　the　heavenly　bodies　very　ticklish　things　to　touch。　Whatever　one　says　about　the　moon；　for　instance；　is　pretty　sure　to　be　wrong。
I　may　say　this　further；　that　no　book　that　I　have　written　seems　to　have　conveyed　a　greater　idea　of　reality。　At　this　moment　I　hold　in　my　hand　at　least　a　dozen　letters　sorted　from　what　I　call　“Unknown　Correspondents；”　by　which　I　mean　munications　received　from　individuals　with　whom　I　have　no　personal　acquaintance。　Every　one　of　the　writers　of　these　epistles　is　anxious　to　know　whether　or　not　the　work　is　a　record　of　fact。　Even　the　great　dealer　in　precious　stones；　Mr。　Streeter　—　I　fear　I　must　say　the　late　Mr。　Streeter　—　approached　me　on　the　subject。　I　believe　he　actually　sent　an　expedition　to　look　for　King　Solomon’s　Mines；　or　at　any　rate　talked　of　doing　so。　Nor　was　he　so　far　out　in　his　reckoning；　for　since　that　day　they　have　been　discovered　—　more　or　less。　At　any　rate　Rhodesia　has　been　discovered；　which　is　a　land　full　of　gems　and　gold；　the　same　land；　I　believe；　as　that　whence　King　Solomon　did　actually　draw　his　wealth。　Also　Queen　Sheba’s　Breasts　have　been　found；　or　something　very　like　to　them；　and　traces　of　the　great　road　that　I　describe。　Doubtless　I　heard　faint　rumours　of　these　things　during　my　sojourn　in　Africa；　having　made　it　my　habit　through　life　to　keep　my　ears　open；　but　at　the　best　they　were　very　faint。　The　remainder　I　imagined；　and　imagination　has　often　proved　to　be　the　precursor　of　the　truth。　The　mines　of　Kukuana　land；　alias　Rhodesia；　are　destined　to　produce　much　more　treasure　than　ever　Solomon　or　the　Phoenicians　won　out　of　them。　Who　built　the　vast　Zimbabwe　and　other　temples　or　fortresses？　Some　ridiculous　scientist　has　alleged　within　the　last　few　years　that　these　were　reared　by　the　Portuguese　at　the　time　that　those　very　Portuguese　were　talking　of　them　as　the　work　of　the　devil　or　of　ancient　magicians　in　an　unknown　age。　The　thing　is　absurd。　Those　edifices　are　the　relics　of　a　lost　civilisation　which　worshipped　the　Nature　gods。　Who　they　were；　what　they　were；　we　do　not　and　perhaps　never　shall　know。　Andrew　Lang　has　stated　the　whole　problem　much　better　than　I　can　ever　hope　to　do；　in　a　poem　he　once　wrote　at　my　request　for　a　paper　in　which　I　was　interested。　I　do　not　think　that　those　verses　have　ever　been　republished；　so　I　：13
13　Republished　in　The　Poetical　Words　of　Andrew　Lang；　vol。　iii；　p。　42　（1923）；　under　the　title　of　“Zimbabwe。”　—　Ed。
Into　the　darkness　whence　they　came；
They　passed　—　their　country　knoweth　none；
They　and　their　gods　without　a　name
Partake　the　same　oblivion。
Their　work　they　did；　their　work　is　done；
Whose　gold；　it　may　be；　shone　like　fire；
About　the　brows　of　Solomon；
And　in　the　House　of　God’s　Desire。
The　pestilence；　the　desert　spear；
Smote　them：　they　passed　with　none　to　tell
The　names　of　them　that　laboured　here：
Stark　walls　and　crumbling　crucible；
Straight　gates；　and　graves；　and　ruined　well；
Abide；　dumb　monuments　of　old。
We　know；　but　that　men　fought　and　fell；
Like　us　—　like　us　—　for　love　of　gold。
A　girls’　school；　or　some　members　of　it；　evidently　weary　of　the　society　of　their　own　sex；　wrote　congratulating　me　with　great　earnestness　because　I　had　in　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　produced　a　thrilling　book　“without　a　heroine。”
Truly　in　those　days　my　industry　was　great。　While　on　my　summer　holiday　in　1885　I　ain；”　the　sequel　to　“King　Solomon’s　Mines；”　from　the　first　word　to　the　last；　although　it　did　not　appear　until　about　a　couple　of　years　later；　after　it　had　run　through　Longman’s　Magazine。　On　what　exact　dates　I　began　and　finished　the　story　I　do　not　know；　though　possibly　these　are　entered　on　the　manuscript；　of　which　I　made　a　present　to　my　friend　Charles　Longman。14
14　These　dates　are　not　entered　on　the　MS。　—　Ed。
On　my　return　to　town　in　the　late　autumn　I　began　a　novel　of　a　very　different　style；　which　was　afterwards　published　under　the　name　of　“Jess。”　The　manuscript　of　“Jess”　does　not　state　the　date　of　its　mencement；　but　at　the　end　appears　the　date　of　December　31；　1885；　showing　that　it　was　finished　on　that　day。　This　book　I　wrote　for　the　most　part　in　the　chambers；　at　1　Elm　Court；　that　I　shared　with　Mr。　Kerr；　the　son　of　missioner　Kerr；　upon　an　old　teak　table　with　a　leather　top。　This　table；　which　I　bought　of　a　second…hand　dealer；　had　evidently　begun　life　in　some　ship　where　the　cabins　were　low；　for　it　was　so　short　in　the　legs　that；　until　they　were　heightened　in　some　way；　it　used　to　make　my　back　ache　to　write　at　it；　also　it　has　all　the　solidity　mon　to　ship’s　furniture。　Now　it　is　used　for　trimming　lamps　in　the　basement　of　Ditchingham　House。
Whenever　I　was　not　engaged　in　Court；　where　I　hung　about　a　great　deal；　and　even　for　a　while　reported　Divorce　and　Probate　cases　for　The　Times　on　behalf　of　that　journal’s　regular　reporter；　an　old　barrister　name　Kelly；　when　he　was　absent　on　a　holiday；　I　sat　at　this　table　in　the　dingy　room　at　1　Elm　Court　and　toiled　at　“Jess。”　Sometimes　this　was　no　easy　task；　since　young　barristers　of　my　acquaintance；　with　time　upon　their　hands；　would　enter　and　scoff　at　my　literary　labours。　In　the　evening　I　placed　what　I　had　written　in　a　kind　of　American　cloth　music…roll；　which　either　my　wife　or　Miss　Barber　made　for　me；　and　carried　it　home　to　West　Kensington；　so　that　I　might　continue　my　work　after　dinner。　In　fact；　there　were　two　of　these　rolls。　The　first　of　them　I　lost　on　my　homeward　way；　I　know　not　how　or　where。　It　contained　about　a　dozen　foolscap　sheets　of　closely　written　manuscript　of　one　of　the　most　important　parts　of　the　book；　that　which；　amongst　other　things；　describes　the　character　of　Frank　Muller　and　how；　after　he　had　attempted　the　murder　of　Neal　and　Jess　in　the　Vaal　River；　he　galloped　away　pursued　by　his　own　terrors。　I　remember　that　I　was　much　distressed　at　this　loss；　thinking　that　what　I　had　written　was　the　best　thing　I　had　ever　done。　I　waited　awhile；　hoping　that　the　address　written　within　the　case　might　bring　it　back　to　me。　But　it　never　did。　So　I　rewrote　the　missing　sheets　from　memory；　which　has　never　been　my　strong　point。　I　wonder　whether　they　are　better　or　worse　than　those　that　departed！
So　soon　as　“Jess；”　of　which　I　will　speak　more　hereafter；　was　finished；　or　rather　about　a　month　later；　I　began　another　tale　which　the　world　knows　as　“She。”　The　exact　date　of　its　mencement　is　uncertain；　for　it　has　been　obliterated　by　a　clip　that　fastened　the　manuscript　together；　and　all　that　remains　is　“Feb。86。”　At　the　end；　however；　is　inscribed　“Finished　18　March　1886。”　Therefore；　even　supposing　that　it　was　begun　upon　the　1st　February；　which　would　mean　that　I　had　allowed　myself　a　month’s　rest　after　finishing　“Jess；”　the　whole　romance　was　pleted　in　a　little　over　six　weeks。　Moreover；　it　was　never　rewritten；　and　the　manuscript　carries　but　few　corrections。　The　fact　is　that　it　was　written　at　white　heat；　almost　without　rest；　and　that　is　the　best　way　to　pose。
I　remember　that　when　I　sat　down　to　the　task　my　ideas　as　to　its　development　were　of　the　vaguest。　The　only　clear　notion　that　I　had　in　my　head　was　that　of　an　immortal　woman　inspired　by　an　immortal　love。　All　the　rest　shaped　itself　round　this　figure。　And　it　came　—　it　came　faster　than　my　poor　aching　hand　could　set　it　down。
Well　do　I　recall　taking　the　pleted　manuscript　to　the　office　of　my　literary　agent；　Mr。　A。　P。　Watt；　and　throwing　it　on　the　table　with　the　remark：　“There　is　what　I　shall　be　remembered　by。”　Well　do　I　recall　also　visiting　Mr。　Watt　at　his　office；　which　then　was　at　2　Paternoster　Square；　and　finding　him　out。　As　the　business　was　urgent；　and　I　did　not　wish　to　have　to　return；　I　sat　down　at　his　table；　asked　for　some　foolscap；　and　in　the　hour　or　two　that　I　had　to　wait　wrote　the　scene　of　the　destruction　of　She　in　the　Fire　of　Life。　This；　however；　was　of　course　a　little　while　—　it　may　have　been　a　few　days　—　before　I　delivered　the　manuscript。
It　would　seem；　therefore；　that　between　January　1885　and　March　18；　1886；　with　my　own　hand；　and　unassisted　by　any　secretary；　I　wrote　“King　Solomon’s　Mines；”　“Allan　Quatermain；”　“Jess；”　and　“She。”　Also　I　followed　my　profession；　spending　many　hours　of　each　day　studying　in　chambers；　or　in　Court；　where　I　had　some　devilling　practice；　carried　on　my　usual　correspondence；　and　attended　to　the　affairs　of　a　man　with　a　young　family　and　a　certain　landed　estate。
A　little　later　on　the　work　grew　even　harder；　for　to　it　was　added　the　toil　of　an　enormous　correspondence　hurled　at　me　by　every　kind　of　person　from　all　over　the　earth。　If　I　may　judge　by　those　which　remain　marked　with　a　letter　A　for　“answered；”　I　seem　to　have　done　my　best　to　reply　to　all　these　scribes；　hundreds　of　them；　even　down　to　the　autograph…hunter；　a　task　which　must　have　taken　up　a　good　part　of　every　day；　and　this　in　addition　to　all　my　other　work。　No　wonder　that　my　health　began　to　give　out　at　last；　goaded　as　I　was　at　that　period　of　my　life　by　constant　and　venomous　attacks。
When　“She”　was　in　proof　for　serial　publication　in　the　Graphic　I　showed　it　to　Andrew　Lang。　He　writes　to　me　on　July　12；　1886：
I　have　pretty　nearly　finished　“She。”　I　really　must　congratulate　you；　I　think　it　is　one　of　the　most　astonishing　romances　I　ever　read。　The　more　impossible　it　is；　the　better　you　do　it；　till　it　seems　like　a　story　from　the　literature　of　another　pla。　I　can’t　give　a　better　account　of　the　extraordinary　impression　it　makes　upon　me；　as　to　the　Public　I　never　can　speak。
Then　he　makes　some　criticisms　of　the　style；　the　ic　element　and　the　horrors；　and　ends　with　a　P。S。　“I　know　I　shan’t　sleep。”
On　the　25th　of　the　same　month　Lang　writes　again：
I　have　just　finished　“She；”　previously　I　skipped　a　bit　to　get　to　the　end。　I　certainly　still　think　it　the　most　extraordinary　romance　I　ever　read；　and　that’s　why　I　want　you　to　be　very　careful　with　the　proofs；　before　it　goes　out　in　a　volume。　。　。　。　I　nearly　cried　over　Ayesha’s　end。　But　how　did　she　e　to　Kor？　There　is　a　difficulty　about　Leo。　He　is　not　made　a　very　interesting　person。　Probably　he　was　only　a　fine　animal。　Anyhow　that　can’t　be　helped　now　and　never　could　perhaps。　I　dare　say　Kallikrates　was　no　better。　But　some　of　the　chaff　in　awful　situations　lets　one　down　too　suddenly。　I’d　take　other　fellows’　advice　about　it；　in　some　of　the　marked　places。　I　hope　they　find　She　in　Thibet；　and　all　die　together。　＇They　did；　practically；　twenty　years　later；　see　“Ayesha。”　—　H。　R。　H。＇　By　George；　I’d　have　gone　into　the　fire　and　chucked　in　She　too；　perhaps　it　would　have　picked　her　up　again。
In　another　letter　he　says：
It　is　awfully　good　of　you　to　think　of　putting　my　name　in　“She”　and　I　consider　it　a　great　distinction。　The　only　thing　is　that；　if　you　do；　I　shan’t　be　able　to　review　it；　except　with　my　name　signed　thereto　and　my　honest　confession。　Probably　I　could　do　that　in　the　Academy。　It　is　rather　curious　（plagiarism　on　your　side　again）　that　I　was　going　to　ask　you　to　let　me　dedicate　my　little　volume　of　tales；　“That　Missionary；”　etc。　to　you。
I　may　say　here　that　Lang　did　review　“She”　in　the　Academy　over　his　own　name；　but；　I　am　almost　sure；　nowhere　else；　although　I　believe　he　was　accused　of　having　written　a　dozen　or　more　notices　of　this　work；　and　that　he　did　dedicate　“In　the　Wrong　Paradise”　to　me　in　very　charming　language。
Having　run　through　the　Graphic；　where　it　attracted　a　good　deal　of　attention；　“She”　appeared　as　a　six…shilling　volume；　I　think　the　first　or　one　of　the　first　novels　that　was　published　in　that　form；　some　time　in　December　1886。　It　was　brought　out　by　Messrs。　Longmans　and　very　well　got　up；　the　elaborate　sherd　pounded　by　my　sister…inlaw；　then　Miss　Barber；　and　myself　being　reproduced　in　two　plates　at　the　beginning　of　the　volume。　The　illustrations　by　Messrs。　Greiffenhagen　and　Kerr　were；　however；　added　afterwards。　By　the　way；　the　reproduction　of　this　sherd　was　shown　as　being　from　a　genuine　antique　to　Mr。　（afterwards　Sir　John）　Evans；　who　of　course　was　a　great　expert　on　such　matters。　For　a　long　while　he　peered　at　it　through　his　eyeglasses　and　at　last　put　it　down；　remarking；　“All　I　can　say　is　that　it　might　possibly　have　been　forged”　—　which　I　consider　great　testimony　to　the　excellency　of　the　sherd；　which　now　reposes　in　a　cupboard　upstairs。15
15　It　is　now　in　Norwich　Museum　with　the　original　MSS。　of　many　of　Sir　Rider’s　tales。　—　Ed。
The　title　“She；”　if　I　remember　aright；　was　taken　from　a　certain　rag　doll；　so　named；　which　a　nurse　at　Bradenham　used　to　bring　out　of　some　dark　recess　in　order　to　terrify　those　of　my　brothers　and　sisters　who　were　in　her　charge。
“She”　proved　a　great　and　immediate　success；　and　I　received　many　letters；　of　　Sir　Walter　Besant；　and　one　from　Mr。　（now　Sir　Edmund）　Gosse。
12　Gayton　Crescent；　Hampstead：
January　2；　1887。
My　dear　Haggard；　—　While　I　am　under　the　spell　of　“Ayesha；”　which　I　have　only　just　finished；　I　must　write　to　congratulate　you　upon　a　work　which　most　certainly　puts　you　at　the　head　—　a　long　away　ahead
—　of　all　contemporary　imaginative　writers。　If　fiction　is　best　cultivated　in　the　field　of　pure　invention　then　you　are　certainly　the　first　of　modern　novelists。　“Solomon’s　Mines”　is　left　far　behind。　It　is　not　only　the　central　conception　that　is　so　splendid　in　its　audacity；　but　it　is　your　logical　and　pitiless　working　out　of　the　whole　thing　in　its　inevitable　details　that　strikes　me　with　astonishment。
I　do　not　know　what　the　critics　will　say　about　it。　Probably　they　will　not　read　more　than　they　can　help　and　then　let　you　off　with　a　few　general　expressions。　If　the　critic　is　a　woman　she　will　put　down　this　book　with　the　remark　that　it　is　impossible　—　almost　all　women　have　this　feeling　towards　the　marvellous。
Whatever　else　you　do；　you　will　have　“She”　always　behind　you　for　purposes　of　odious　parison。　And　whatever　critics　say　the　book　is　bound　to　be　a　magnificent　success。　Also　it　will　produce　a　crop　of　imitators。　And　all　the　little　conventional　story…tellers　will　be　jogged　out　of　their　grooves　—　until　they　find　new　ones　。　。　。　。
Yours　very　sincerely；
Walter　Besant。
Certainly　Besant　was　quite　right　when　he　said　that　I　should　always　have　“She”　behind　me　“for　purposes　of　odious　parison。”　I　always　have。　Quite　a　large　proportion　of　my　critics　during　many　years　have　mentioned　in　the　course　of　their　reviews　of　various　wor