He changed his residence several times. From Surbiton, where he stayed for five years, he went to West Brighton, to a house called "Savernake."

Did he himself christen it after the forest which he knew so well?

Thence, in 1884, he went to Eltham, where he took a house in the Victoria Road. Then, I suppose, an irresistible yearning for some place far from men seized him, for he moved again, and went to live at a cottage two miles and a half from Crowborough Station, near Crowborough Hill, the highest spot in Suss.e.x. Again he stayed for a few weeks on the Quantock Hills, Somerset. Lastly, he went to live at a house called Sea View, at Goring, where he died.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LONGMAN LETTERS.

Mr. Charles Longman, who for the last eight years of Jefferies' life was one of his most constant friends, has lent me a packet of letters written to him by Jefferies between the years 1878 and 1886. They form by themselves, like the previous letters to Mrs. Harrild, a kind of diary of his life during that period.

"The papers on the 'Gamekeeper at Home,' in the _Pall Mall Gazette_,"

Mr. Longman writes, "were the first things of Jefferies' that attracted me. I thought at once that they seemed to me written by a man who could see more of the secrets of nature than anyone whose work I had ever come across. I wrote to Mr. George Smith, asking him to forward a letter to the writer of the papers, whose name I did not know. In the letter I proposed that he should write a complete work on Shooting, to be what Hawker's work was forty years ago. He never did it; but this was the beginning of my friendship with this most interesting man."

"He never did it." Jefferies could never do anything which did not spring from his own brain. He has written admirable pages on kindred subjects--he was the very man to write such a book--and it would undoubtedly have proved a most popular book. Why, there is not a gentleman's house in the three kingdoms or the colonies which would not desire to have a copy of such a work. But the work was proposed to him by another man, therefore Jefferies could not see his way to put his heart in it. However, he did think of it; he even went so far as to draw up a scheme of the work. He would have chapters on the gun, the gun-room, the art of shooting, etiquette of the field, the dog, the various kinds of game, and so forth. Presently, we hear that the book is actually begun; that there are difficulties about getting information as to various points; that he has been occupied with the various kinds of game, and so on. He also mentions with complacency pardonable and even praiseworthy that he has received a proposal to write two books from a leading Edinburgh firm. Nothing apparently came of this proposal.

It is, however, noticeable, and to young writers it should be very encouraging, that no sooner did his first really good book appear--the "Gamekeeper at Home"--than his genius was at once recognised, and the best publishers began inviting him to write for them. He then offers a novel--always a novel!--which Messrs. Longmans' reader does not advise the house to accept. What was that novel? Perhaps one of those which had already been refused by one publisher, if not by more. Pending the writing and completion of the book on Shooting, he submits another proposal. He says:

"To carry out this volume I must partly lay aside some MSS. which I had previously begun, and before writing it I should like to hear your opinion on the subject. The provisional t.i.tle of one for which I have acc.u.mulated materials and ideas for some time is 'The Proletariate: the Power of the Future.' It has been my lot to see a great deal of the Labour Question, not only agricultural, but also urban." Really? Urban? Where, how, and in what period of his life did he get his urban experience? Was it on the streets of Swindon, that great centre of life and thought? "And it seems to me that all politics are slowly resolving into this one great point." He means that the condition of the people all over the world is rapidly becoming the dominant question. He was right; but he spoke ten years too soon. "Religion, society, inst.i.tutions of every kind are affected. No doubt you saw the extraordinary account in the _Times_ recently of the burial of a Socialist in Germany, and the marked progress of their doctrines. There are several books on wages, capital and labour, etc., but it seems to me that most thinkers and writers treat the subject on grounds too narrow. Of wages I propose to say very little. My idea is to point out how proletarian influences are at work everywhere under the surface. The Church, the Chapel, the Houses of Parliament, legislation, society, at home; abroad, the same. Note the Nihilism in Russia, and the railway insurrection in the United States lately. Everywhere the ma.s.ses are heaving and fermenting. In our own rural districts I clearly foresee changes in the future through the education now beginning of the cottagers. Personally, I have little feeling, and my book will be absolutely free of party politics. I look at it much as I should dissect and a.n.a.lyze a given period in the history of ancient Rome."

Nothing came of this proposal, and, indeed, one feels that Jefferies was not the man to write such a book. Of the people in other countries he knew nothing but what he read in the papers; of the people at home he knew only the agricultural portion; and though he had read a great many books he was in no sense an historical student. But he was still young, and it still seemed to him, as to all young writers, that he could write a book upon any subject which it interested him to read about in the papers or elsewhere.

The same letter contains another idea. It is that of a book on "The History of the English Squire." This seems a very good subject for a competent person. Perhaps someone will take up the idea and write the history of the English squire before he becomes extinct. One would like to see how, first, the yeoman added acre to acre, ousting his neighbour, and so became the squire; then how, gradually, all over the country, owing to the action of forces too strong for him, the yeoman began to disappear; how the squire was able to add more acres, buying out yeoman after yeoman, always on the look-out to buy more land, and therefore always becoming more important; and how, presently, he got a t.i.tle, which he now "enjoys," claiming superiority of blood and descent, while the ex-yeoman, once his equal, is now his tenant, and humbly doffs his hat. Jefferies, one feels convinced, ought to have written a most interesting and instructive volume upon this subject, if--which he has never shown--he had the patience for historical research and investigation.

He presently forwards a specimen chapter for the Shooting-Book. That was in September, 1878. In October he formally accepted the business arrangements offered by the firm, undertook the work, and signed the agreement. There follows here a gap of three years. When the letters are resumed, Jefferies is living at West Brighton (December, 1882). He offers to contribute to the new _Longman's Magazine_, and proposes an article consisting of three short sketches. (1) The Acorn-gatherer; (2) The Legend of a Gateway; and (3) A Roman Brook. This article, in fact, appeared under the t.i.tle of "Bits of Oak Bark."

He presently speaks of his long illness, which has kept him out of the world. "I see," he says, "that you have got out the Shooting-Book under the t.i.tle of 'The Dead Shot.'" This, however, was a reprint of an old book. Mr. Longman's idea of a complete manual for shooting has since been carried out in "The Badminton Library." "No wonder; I could not expect anyone to be more patient than you were. But even now I hope some day to send in a ma.n.u.script."

He is also ready to write another book. This time it is to be a series of "short story-sketches of life and character, incident and nature. I want to express the deeper feelings with which observation of life-histories has filled me, and I a.s.sure you I have as large a collection of these facts and incidents--the natural history of the heart--as I have ever written about birds and trees." In short, he proposes to write a series which shall take the place in the magazine of the novel, and says that he has enough material to carry him along until the year 1890, or longer. "Why not let other contributors, besides the novelist, occasionally give you a series? For myself, I have given up English novels and taken to the French, which are at least bright, short, dramatic, and amusing." The poor English novelist! He has to endure a great deal. Whenever an editor is in want of a subject for a leading article, or a critic for something to talk about, he has a fling at the English novelist. The greatest artist and the smallest, most insignificant story-teller; the master and the apprentice; the observer of manners and the school-girl--all are lumped together by the critic who has nothing else to write about, and discussed under the t.i.tle of "the English Novelist." And to think that Jefferies--Richard Jefferies--should throw his stone! Oh! 'tis too much! But Nemesis fell upon him, for he presently wrote "Green Ferne Farm," which is neither short, bright, dramatic, nor amusing. That proposed series did not appear. He says, a few days afterwards, that he has begun a paper asked for by Mr. Longman on "The County Suffrage." This paper subsequently appeared under the t.i.tle of "After the County Suffrage."

It was in June, 1883, that _Longman's Magazine_ contained the article called "The Pageant of Summer." This fine paper, the best thing ever written by Jefferies, glorified the whole of that number. There has never been, I think, in any magazine any article like unto it, so splendid in imagery and language, so perfectly truthful, so overflowing with observation, so full of the deepest feeling, so tender and so touching, so generous of thought and suggestion. In this paper Jefferies reached his highest point. There are plenty of single pages and detached pa.s.sages in which he has equalled the "Pageant of Summer;" but there is no one chapter, no single article, in which he has sustained throughout the elevation of this n.o.ble paper. I will return to "The Pageant of Summer" later on.

Although he wrote this paper while in dire straits of poverty; although he had already entered that valley whose gloomy sides continually narrow; where the slopes become, little by little, precipices; where the light grows dim, and where the spectre of death slowly rises before the eyes and takes shape: although he lived poorly; although he continued unknown to the ma.s.s of the reading world, who pa.s.sed him by, everything, to us, seems compensated by the splendid power which he had now acquired of thinking such thoughts and expressing them in such language. I have heard it said by some that Jefferies wrote too much. Not a single page too much, beginning from the "Gamekeeper at Home," and thinking only of the "Gamekeeper's" legitimate successors! That is to say, we are prepared to surrender portions, but not all--saving great pieces, huge cantles, here and there whole chapters--of "Bevis," "Wood Magic," "After London," "Green Ferne Farm," "The Dewy Morn," and even "Amaryllis." We will blot out everything that has to do with the ordinary figures, conversations, and situations of what the writer called a novel. But of the rest we will not part with one single line. Year after year--generation after generation--the truth and fidelity and beauty of these pages will sink deeper and deeper into the heart of the world. So deeply will they sink, so long will they live, that he who writes a memoir of this man trembles for thinking that when future ages ask who and what was the man who wrote these things, the pages which contain his life may seem unequal to the subject--too low, pedestrian, and creeping for the greatness of the author he commemorates.

I return to the packet of letters. They go on to offer articles, and to explain how promised papers are getting on. He wrote nine papers in all for _Longman's Magazine_--namely, three in 1883, two in 1884, one in 1885, one in 1886, and two, which appeared after his death, in the year 1887.

In June of 1883 he offers a ma.n.u.script which, he says, he has been meditating for seventeen years. In that case he must have begun to think of it at eighteen. This, if one begins to consider, is by no means improbable. On the contrary, I think it is extremely probable, and that Jefferies meant his words to be taken literally. The thoughts of a boy are long thoughts. Sometimes one remembers, by some strange trick of memory--it shows how the past never dies, but may be recalled at any moment--a train of thought which filled the mind on some day long pa.s.sed away, when one was a lad of eighteen; a child; almost an infant. At such a moment one is astonished to remember that this thought filled the brain so early. As for the age of adolescence, there is no time when the brain is more active to question, to imagine, to create, to inform; none, when the mind is more eager to arrive at certainty; none, more hopeful of the future; none, more anxious to arrive at the truth.

Therefore, when Jefferies tells Mr. Longman that he has meditated "The Story of My Heart" for eighteen years, I believe him: not that he then consciously called the work by that or by any other name, but that the book is the outcome of so long a period of thought and questioning. "It is," he says, "a real record--unsparing to myself as to all things--absolutely and unflinchingly true."

The book was published with Longman's autumn list in October, 1883. I have something to say about it in another chapter.

Jefferies' industry at this time seems superhuman. The MS. of "The Story of My Heart" is no sooner out of his hands, than he asks Mr. Longman if he will look at another. This time it is his "Red Deer," which I really believe to be the very best book of the kind ever produced. This is what he says himself about it:

"The t.i.tle is 'Red Deer,' and it is a minute account of the natural history of the wild deer of Exmoor, and of the modes of hunting them. I went all over Exmoor a short time since on foot in order to see the deer for myself, and in addition I had the advantage of getting full information from the huntsman himself, and from others who have watched the deer for twenty years past. The chase of the wild stag is a bit out of the life of the fifteenth century brought down to our own times. Nothing has ever interested me so much, and I contemplate going down again. In addition, there are a number of Somerset poaching tricks which were explained to me by gamekeepers and by a landowner there, besides a few curious superst.i.tions.

There seem to be no books about the deer--I mean the wild deer. A book called 'Collyer's Chase of the Wild Red Deer' was published many years ago, but is not now to be had."

"Red Deer" was brought out by Longmans in 1884.

In December, 1883, he offers "The Dewy Morn." The proposal came to nothing. The book was published in the following year by Messrs. Chapman and Hall. In February, 1884, he speaks of a letter written to him by Lord Ebrington, master of the Devon and Somerset staghounds, upon his "Red Deer." Certain small errors were pointed out for correction, but, as he points out with satisfaction, no serious omission or fault had been discovered.

In a letter written in March he mentions that an anonymous correspondent has been scourging him with Scripture texts on account of the "Story of My Heart." That anonymous correspondent! How he lieth in wait for everybody! how omniscient he is! how unsparing! how certain and sure of everything! The texts which this person used to belabour poor Jefferies were, however, singularly inappropriate. "O Lord," he quotes, "how glorious are Thy works! Thy thoughts are very deep. An unwise man doth not consider this, and a FOOL doth not understand it." The word "fool"

was doubly underlined, so that there should be no mistake as to the practical application of the pa.s.sage. The anonymous correspondent is, indeed, always very particular on this point. But Jefferies had been all his life commenting on the glory of those works, and endeavouring to apprehend and to realize, if only a little, the meaning and the depth of these thoughts. The cry of his heart all through the book is for fuller insight--for a deeper understanding.

He goes on to speak of his illness. It is not, he says, at all serious; but it will make him go to London to see a physician, and it is likely to prevent him from getting about. There is a paper (not one of these letters) among his literary remains, in which he describes the symptoms at length.

In April he writes a long letter about many things, but especially his "After London."

"I have just put the finishing touch to my new book. It is in three volumes." As published by Ca.s.sell and Co. it was in one volume, and it leaves off with the story only half told. Perhaps the author cut it down, perhaps the publishers refused to bring it out unless as a short one-volume work. "It is called," he says, "'After London,'

with a second t.i.tle, 'Chronicles of the House of Aquila.' The first part describes the relapse of England into barbarism; how the roads are covered with gra.s.s, how the brambles extend over the fields, and in time woods occupy the country. These woods are filled with wild animals--descendants of the dogs, cats, swine, horses, and cattle that were left, and gradually returned to their original wild nature. The rivers are choked, and a great lake forms in the centre of the island.

"Such inhabitants as remain are resident about the sh.o.r.es of the lake--the forest being without roads, and their only communication being by water. They have lost printing and gunpowder; they use the bow and arrow, and wear armour, but retain some traces of the arts and of civilization. At the same time, slavery exists, and moral tyranny. There are numerous petty kingdoms and republics at war with each other. Knights and barons possess fortified dwellings, and exercise unbounded power within their stockaded estates--stockaded against bushmen, forest savages, against bands of gipsies, and against wild cattle and horses.

"The Welsh issue from their mountains, claiming England as having belonged to their ancestors. They succeed in conquering a section, but are confronted by other invaders, for the Irish, thinking that now is the time for their revenge, land at Chester. These invaders to some degree neutralize each other, yet they form a standing menace to the South, and more civilized portion.

"The state of the site of London is fully described. It is, I think, an original picture.

"The second part, or 'Chronicles of the House of Aquila,' treats of the manner of life, the hunting journeys through the forest, the feasts and festivals, and, in short, the entire life of the time.

Ultimately, one of them starts on a voyage round the great inland lake, and his adventures are followed. He a.s.sists at a siege, and visits the site of London.

"All these matters are purposely dealt with in minute detail so that they may appear actual realities, and the incidents stand out as if they had just happened. There is a love affair, but it is in no sense a novel; more like a romance, but no romance of a real character.

"First, you see, I have to picture the condition of the country 'After London,' and then to set my heroes to work, and fight, and travel in it."

This book was brought out, as stated above, by Ca.s.sell and Co. in 1886.

The idea is indeed truly original. Had it been more of a novel, with an end, as well as a beginning, it would have proved more successful.

"You tell me," Jefferies continues, "that I write too much. To me it seems as if I wrote nothing, more especially since my illness; for this is the third year I have been so weakened. To me, I say, it seems as if I wrote nothing, for my mind teems with ideas, and my difficulty is to know what to do with them. I not only sketch out the general plan of a book almost instantaneously, but I can see every little detail of it from the first page to the last. The mere writing--the handwriting--is the only trouble; it is very wearying. At this moment I have several volumes quite complete in my mind. Scarce a day goes by but I put down a fresh thought. I have twelve note-books crammed full of ideas, plots, sketches of papers, and so on."

These are probably the note-books of which I have spoken, and from which I have quoted.

The following, dated January 29, 1885, refers to a copy of the Badminton hunting-book sent him by Mr. Longman:

"You have made me pretty miserable. I have just read the otter chapter, and I can see it all so plainly--the rocks and the rush of water, and the oaks of June above. Have you ever seen the Exe and Barle? It is a land of Paradise. So you have made me miserable enough, being on all-fours; literally not able to go even on three, as the Sphynx said, but on four, crawling upstairs on hands and knees, and nailed to the uneasy chair."

He offers more work from Crowborough (May 1, 1884 or 1885, uncertain).

There is a new novel of which he speaks, called "A Bit of Human Nature,"

which never appeared, and was probably never written. The rest of the letters belong to the last few months of his life, and must be reserved for the last chapter.

Enough has been quoted from these letters to show the extraordinary mental activity of the man. He is continually planning new work. He sees a whole book spread out before him complete in all its details. To make a book--that is to say, to imagine a book already made,--is nothing; what troubles him is the writing it. This temperament, however, is fatal to novel-writing, because characters cannot be seen at once; they must be studied, they require time to grow in the brain. But Jefferies cannot write enough. It seems to his fertile brain, fevered with long sickness, as if he did nothing.

CHAPTER IX.

THE COUNTRY LIFE.