BOOKS AND WRITERS

11 -ALF-A-DOZEN years ago an American lady and her son published a book about the TroIlOpe family, the salient feature of which was a sustained and acrimonious attack on the sincerity, veracity and general probity of Anthony Trollope. Inevitably this attack centred on the Autobiography which, instead of being (as most of us believed) an almost aggressively honest self- portrait, was declared a farrago of embittered egoism and carefully fabricated falsehood. Thus, nearly seven decades after the book's first appearance, the keen eye. of Bostonian culture detected its guile and perfidy. Anthony Trollope, as he chose to depict himself, was a fake.

And, fools that we were, we never guessed it. All the same, to have tricked three generations of readers into accepting a cunning, a nauseous, masquerade as genuine autobiography argued a certain evil dexterity on the part of Anthony ; and now that Professor A. Booth has published his long-awaited volume of Trollope letters*, the conspiratorial ingenuity of the man who wrote their is beyond the credulity of any sane being. For these letters, written (roughly) between 1850 and 1880, are the Autobiography in terms of day-by- day correspondence. They have every quality possessed by the Autobiography ;-sometimes they even anticipate its very words. If therefore, -Trollope sold to the public after his death a deliberate travesty of his life, opinions and ideals, he had spent 30 years in carefully building up the fabricated Anthony which was to be his legacy to posterity. And that, of course, is bosh. .

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During the years of its eclipse in his native land, Trollope's reputation was kept alive in America. Not startlingly alive, but alive. And now America is once more busy with him and his work, but from the other end—reseuing marginalia, filling the gaps with material which might be suggestive to students of an acknow- ledged master. I have an uneasy feeling that this process will be overdone—has, indeed, already begun to be overdone. Trollope as a novelist is immortal ; but he was not—nor wished to be—a Great Man of Letters. Embellish his memory with Trollope fellowships and Trollope societies and -Seminar studies of his art and philosophy, and you risk smothering the undying flame of-his real genius—his steady, unfailing comprehension of human beings.

No charge of ignoring Trollope's understanding of human nature can be brought against Professor Booth's volume of letters. It is a treasure-house of contacts with men and women of every kind. But was it wise to attempt the completest possible schedule of letters, knowing (and faithfully staling) that numerous Very important letters have disappeared ? Anthony's letters to his mother Frances (who was author of Domestic Manners of the Americans and some 30 novels), many of his letters to Kate Field, incalculable letters to all and sundry, are hopelessly lost. Indeed, many (shameful to record) were just thrown' away during the years when he was regarded as 'a negligible has-been. In consequence lacunae of the most serious kind exist—and must continue to exist—in any would-be compre- hensive collection.

Professor Booth decided to accept lacunae and to set out in a single chronology texts or summaries of all letters discoverable, down to the most trivial. There texts and summaries he annotates with a patient assiduity beyond praise. I know of no other similar work to which the editor has given such unsparing labour. But, alas, this tireless tracking down of letters, this meticulous commentary, can adorn but cannot transform a work which, because it lacks con- tinuity, because letters of individual importance and scraps devoid of interest follow one another with the monotony of water dripping from a tap, is (one hates to say so) dull.'

It need not have been. A volume two-thirds the size, containing only letters worth printing for their own sake and arranged under main headings, each section chronological 'within itself, would have been engrossing. Under recipients we should find in sequence the excellent surviving letters to Kate Field; the warmly affectionate letters to G. H. Lewes and George Eliot, those to his wife and his son, those to the Tilleys and the Merivales. Under subjects we should find the important and voluminous letters to publishers * The Letters of Anthony Trollope. Edited by Bradford Allen Booth. (Oxford University Press. 30s.)

and to editors ; the letters commenting on his own books, many of helpful significance ; the letters defending himself and other writers against absurd charges of " low morality " ' • the letters to literary aspirants, to persons asking advice about the Civil Service, to friends in America, Australia and South Africa, seeking information for his travel-books or discussing political developments.

Professor Booth is Tully aware that an argument in favour of selective grouping would be provoked by the policy he adopted. He defends his chosen policy as serving the interests of students and research-scholars " for whom the collection is primarily intended." This alarms me. Once again I am conscious of the danger of an over-elaboration of what will certainly be dubbed " Trollopian Studies." And I cannot conceive the most frenzied of thesis-writers hoping to hasten a coveted Ph.D. by noting refusals of invitations, brief notes 'to printers, even the- reports on investments which become a feature of the letters to Henry Trollope during the last years of his father's life.

In his general comments on Trollope as a letter-writer Professor Booth is acute and judicious. But I am not sure if " a fear that his letters were not good enough for publication" was what made Trollope reluctant (as Henry implied that he was) to have them printed. " Good enough " implies comparison ,with other literary letter-writers of established reputation. Was it not rather that Trollope considered his letters of no interest to posterity and of no concern to anyone but himself ? With a few exceptions they were functional and, once sent and received, had served their pur- pose. The exceptions he would have regarded as personal, and withheld, not on literary grounds but as part of his individual privacy.

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One effect of Professor Booth's superlative achievement in identi- fying individuals, in interpreting obscure allusions and so forth, is to set the reader trying to go one better, here and there, to correct or to amplify. This I have found extremely difficult, and, incident- ally, I must salute Professor 'Booth for the apt description of L. E. L. and Mrs. S. C. Hall as " writers of the pale sort." In Letter 110 Charles Mackay might with advantage be recorded as the father of Marie Corelli. In 115 a note is desirable about Isa Blagden. 384: The Noble Jilt and Bartley's letter were published in 1923 by Constable, London. In 522 and 524 there is strange confusion. Fawkes not Fildes illustrated The Way We Live Now. I made the original mistake in declaring Luke Fildes the illustrator. When I met a copy of the book with, written on the title-page, an indisputable attribution to Fawkes by his aunt, I senf a letter of correction and apology to the T.L.S., which letter Booth notes under 522. Yet in note 2 to 524 he declares that Fildes was finally chosen as illustrator. This is incorrect.

531: Marcus Clarke's novel was first published (1874) as His Natural Life. The longer title was not applied until the 1878 one- volume issue.

-671: I think "The Chronicles " are the eight-vol. Chronicles of *Barsetshire published early in 1878.

794: London Tradesmen were collected and published in book- form in 1927 by Mathews & Marrot, London.

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As one who is paid by Professor Booth the great compliment of sharing the dedication of his book with Trollope's granddaughter, and as an appreciative admirer (with reservations) of his unsparing efforts on behalf of the Master's memory, I ask his pardon for criticising his policy in this matter of Trollope's letters. He has unearthed much material new to me and material for which, mainly as bibliographer and student of publishing history, I am most grate- ful. But will he please bear in mind one of the. best and most - characteristic of Anthony's recorded sayings ? When asking to be excused from visiting Agassiz's Museum in Cambridge, Massa- chusetts, he said

"In truth I do not care for the stars. I care, I think, only for men and women."

I urge Professor Booth not to deptive Anthony of his men and women. There are so many lesser writers who will gladly fuis