MEN OF THE DAY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1262, 7 May 1896, Page 9

MEN OF THE DAY.

THE AUTHOR OF THE "MAIL'S "NEW SERIAL STORY/' PHROSO." A GOSSIP ABOUT ANTHONY HOPE,

[Mr Anthony Hope, whoso now story " Phroso," commences publication in thin week's Mail, was recently interviewed Cor The Idler magazine by Mr 11. If. Sherard. Thinking that our readers would like to know Bomothing of the personal life of this wonderfully successful young' novelist, wo now repiint the most interesting portions of Mr Sherard's interview.]

Mr Authouy Hope is a striking exemplification of the fact that the talent and quality that are within a man will force themselves out, no matter how circumstances may combine and conspire to keep them under. Anthony Hope's life has been the unadventurou3, unromantic existence of the young English gentleman ; but in vain have the dulling influences of life in an English public school and at an English university exercised themselves on his temperament. Romance, humour, and a brilliancy which is the very opposite of the dulness which overweighs English literature, have won for him a success which is all the better deserved on account of the quelling circumstances under which it has been attained.

Tho street in which is situated the house whore his literary labours are pursued is one of tho dullest in London, a cul-de-sac. of ennui, from which no egress seems possible. This is Buckingham street, Strand, and from Hope's window one looks out on dismal brick houses, veiled, for tho most part, in a dull mist. Yet it is from his room in this house aud in this street, that Anthony llopo sends forth those works which, for their vervo and brilliance, show him to us as a kind of St. George of the pen triumphing over tho dragon of British tedium.

He i» a quiet man, of gentle manners, unpretending, courteous, an English gentleman in one word, with a soft voice which drops at the end of each sentence, as though apologising for the expression of some opinion which the person to whom he is speaking might contest. His workroom is furnished after tho fashion of the study of an Oxford undergraduate, with a big bookcase filled with prize-books; and in a corner by the fireplace is a large writingtable of the American fashion, in some disorder with papers, proofs, and the general litter of a writer's craft.

" I am afraid," said Anthony Hope, " that my life has been a most commonplace one, and I do not remember a single adventure which has como into it at any time."

Ho was born in Hackney in 1803. " Mine was a humdrum childhood. I lived in Hackney till I was nine year.? old. I can remember no incidents of my life there. I road a great deal, but none of the books I read made any particular impression upon mo, I was a late leader, but when I. did know how to read, it was my favourite occupation. Stay, I now remember that I was greatly impressed' by ' The Pilgrim's Progress.' I used to take it Up to bed with me and fall asleep to dream of Apollyon." When Anthony Hope Hawkins, this being tho full name of the writer known a:s Anthony Hope, was nine years old, his father moved to Leatherhead, wheie he took over a school for boys, an establishment known as St. John's School and intended exclusively for the sons of clergymen. "I attended my father's school as a day-boy. My father was a clergyman, so that I was admissible also to St. John's School. At that time 1 was a great reader of Ballanlyne, and perhaps my favourite book was 'TheThroe Middies.' "At the ago of thirteen 1 won a scholarship to Marlborough College, and wen! up as a boarder at tho Old House, the ' (.'. House 1 as it is known to Marlborough boys. I was placed in tho lower fifth form, and got into the sixth form in two years. I worked creditably, but, you know, nobody works Very hard at an English public school. I kept up my football here."

Ho had no idea of writing, and no taste for literary work at this time of his life, " My solo achievement in literature whilst I was at Marlborough was that I won an English Essay pri/.0. We had excellent House Libraries at tho school, but I do not recollect that 1 read very much. My time was taken up with my wort, or with games, or in bally ragging. It was a very happy time. Indeed, the life of a sixth-form boy in a public school is a very happy life. 1 remained five years at the school, and, during the last two years of my life there, I was a member of the College fifteen. 1 passed from Marlborough to Baliol College, in Oxford, with an exhibition, and tho year after won a Baliol scholarship. That was in 1881. I enjoyed my 'Varsity life immensely, and I look back on my rooms in Balliol as tho place where, perhaps, my happiost hours were spent." During tho last two yoars of his Oxford lifo, ho was eating his dinners at the Middle Temple. "My intention at that timo was to become a barrister," A journey to Switzerland was an advent in his life in 1883, but nothing happened during this journey. "No, it was quite unadventurous." He took his degree in 18S5, and remained "up" during two terms, during which time ho supported himself by coaching undergraduates. "Prom the age of fifteen, I practically supported myself by my scholarships and exhibitions, and I certainly made more money from the age of fifteen to the ago of twenty than I did during the five years between the ages of twenty and twentyfive." , ~ He dees not appear to have been greatly influenced by Jowott, tho head of Baliol, who, for good or evil, has had an immense influence m the young men who passed.

1 through Balliol College during his consulate. | " I liked Jowett," ho says, " but I was \ always rather afraid of him." He made no particular friends at Oxford. In 1880 another event occurred, which helped to shape his life. " In that year I ' was elected President of the Oxford Union, in succession to Lord Robert Cecil. I was a Radical and had often spoken on political questions in the Union debates." Election to the office of President of tho Oxford Union is a groat distinction in a man's University career. It is tho letters patent 'of his pre-eminence as a debater, as a man of speech. It is an event which might have turned Hope altogether away fiom writing in favour of the easier and more remunerative profession of speaker; for who has not noticed how vastly su;*orioi are tho prizes which can bo gained l.y the man who talks to those which lie within tho compass of the man who writes ? "The candidate opposed to me was a man named Temple, who is now on the stall' of The Globe. The oilice of President gave me readiness, a mental alertness, for JL had to face tho hecklers of the debatingrooin. I left Oxford in 1880 and came up to London and read Law at Lincoln's Inn and the Middle Temple, living quieth. at home with my people, and hoping for nothing more than a fairly successful career at the Bar. 1 was called to the Barin 1887 and my first case was at Aylesbury, where the judge commissioned me to defend some ruffians who were indicted for a murderous assault on a policeman. They all got convicted, and very properly so. I was very nervous. I remember, and, indeed, for a long time J felt very nervous when I got up to address the jury." There are immense possibilities of romance in the life of a barrister, but: Hope was fated to leave these on one side. " My biggest cases," he says, " were on election petitions. I did very littie criminal work, because I preferred to stay quietly at home in London to going about the country on Circuit. It is an easier and a quieter life, f did, however, occasionally go on Circuit, and, on one occasion, accompanied Mr Justice Hawkins, my father's iirst cousin, as his marshal. I was not very successful at the Bar, and, for the first two years, got very little work, so that it impressed itself upon mo that I must look to some other source for increasing my income, It was then that 1 began to write. I never wrote for the papers, because I had no experience in journalism, and my ambition was a higher one. In 1889 I wrote my iirst book, a novel entitled ' A Man of Mark.' I wrote it pretty quickly, although I had had no experience in writing, and without feeling any particular effort. A 3 I did not hope to be able to find a publisher to take the risk of publishing the iirst work of an unknown writer, I produced the book at my own expense, and published it on commission. It was a story about swindling company transactions, and the scene was laid in one of the South American republics. It was fairly well received by tho reviewers. Some of the critics praised it, others attacked it bitterly. I remember that The Saturday Review was very unkind about it. whilst, on the other hand, The National Observer spoke well of my lirst book. But it was not a financial success at the time. 1 do not think, however, that I shall lose by it, as I have brought it out again this year. I cannot say that, apart from a vague hope, I had at any time much expectation from literature as a profession, and, indeed, I wrote more for amusement than anything else. 1 looked on the Bar as my career in life. After writing 'The Man of Mark,' I began writing short atories, which I sent round to the magazines. Almost all of these came back. Very few, if any, got published. Many of these early efforts I afterwards tore up, because I recognised that the editors who had rejected them were quite right ; that fhey were not worth much. Nobody helped me. My light was a single-handed ii ;-hl. I was all alone. I was living at homo, making a sin ill and varying income at the Bar. .My average earnings from my profession during the lirst two years were very sin ill indeed, but then one mustn't expect to make much a-: a beginner." His next book was " Father Stafford." "This was written in IS!)!). I hawked it about among the publishers for a long lime in vain. At last Messrs C.issell took if, and brought, it out as a six-shilling boot. It never did any good, and was not a financial success, which shows I ha! the other publishers were right in rai'u-sing it. I then relurned once more to I ho writing of short stories, and contributed fourteen or lift-en to the Saturday i.wu > of the 87. James's Gazette." It speaks well for the discrimination of the editor of the SI. ,/ ■'„>■ .:', C.r-Ali that it was in the columns of his paper that several of the writers who are no.v high in favour with the public in England iirst found encouragement and acceptance of their work. Hope, Parker, Crockett and Weyman, amongst others, acknowledge their debt to him in this respect. It i.-, truo that the stories were publishodanonymously, but tho encouragement was there, and the fact that all these men have ' eventually come to the front shows that the editor of the publication in question lias ;l keen eye and a useful literary palate. "Several of these stories," continued Hope, " were republished, together with another, in my volume entitled ' Sport Royal.' Literature had become a subsidiary source of income, and helped me in a pleasant way." Smoothly, uneventfully tho lifo of Anthony Hope flowed on, under circumstances not untainted with tedium, and, at any rate, unfruitful in experience or suggestion or influence. He lived quietly at homo; he practised quietly and without excitement in tho civil couris, and wrote without either great discoiuagoment or startling success. But the fire was brood- [ ing all the while. It needed but the course '

of time to bring it leaping forth in a dazzling flame. " My next book was ' Mr Witt's Widow,' which I wrote in 1801 and published in 1892. It was published by Innes, who had been a school and college friend of mine. This was certainly the best thing which I had done up to that time, aud it meb with a certain amount of success. It was favourably, very favourably, reviewed, and it sold fairly well as a six-shilling book. But it did not in any degree improve my standing as a writer, for though the St. James's Gazette continued to publish my stories, there were other editors of other magazines who persistently refused my contributions."

In 189-', Fate finally decided that Anthony Hope was to be a man who writes and not a man who talks, lie made a great bid for pro-ominence as the latter. "That year was occupied by my Parliamentary candidature for the Southern Division of South Ducks, which I contested as a Liberal candidate against Viscount Curzon. I had visited the division in the autumn of 1891, preparing my candidature. The greater of the following year was similarly taken up. I remained in London writing and working at law, and in the evenings would take a train down to Bucks, address some village meeting, and got the last train back to town. Wo had some very noisy meetings, but nothing striking or eventful occurred in Connection with this campaign. In the interval of briefs, which had then become rather more frequent, 1 wrote my stories. 1 had no great expectation of success in my candidature, as I had no local connections, whilst the Curzous are big people in that part of the country, and own a seat, there called Penn House. My defeat was a foregone conclusion, and so I was not in the least surprised when one day at noon, at Wycombe, the poll was announced, and I learned that I had been defeated by a majority of over one thousand votes. It was an interesting experience, and gave me many good friends in that part of England."

Anthony Hope has not abandoned his political ambition altogether, but is doubtful as to further attempts to realise it. " I don't know. 1 must think. Things may happen." Let it be hoped that tho writing-table and the pen will hold him fast. Politics can spare us a brilliant writer.

"' A Change of Air ' was written in my law-chambers at the Temple in 1893, and in the same year I published my novel ' Half a Hero,' a story dealing with colonial politics. It only had a small sale as a two-volume novel, but has done well as a six-shilling volume." In tho meanwhib Anthony Hope had struck out in an original line. Mr Oswald Crawfurd was at that timo editing the illustrated weekly paper call id Black and Wliiie, and had introduced as a novel feature into this paper a weekly story told in the form of a dialogue. Ho relates that one day ho received from a writer, whose name was not known to him, such a dialogue, which, when ho had read it, convinced him that there was for this writer a very brilliant future in literature. Ho at once wrote to Anthony Hope, and asked him to continue sending contributions of this kind.

"After my defeat in South Uncles, I returned to the Temple and resumed my dual occupations as a barrister and an author. After f had written ' Haifa Hero,' I wrote 'The Prisoner of Zouda,' and, history having always fascinated me, I fashioned it in the form of an historical novel. That is to say historical in one sense, for it is really a modern story of incident, the scene of which is laid in an imaginary republic. It was published by Arrowsmith, and at first went slowly. But the reviews wore very favourable, and did much for it, and once it had got a start if went ahead. I think that there were sold fourteen thousand copies in England, and nearly twice as many in America." "The Prisoner of Zenda," which established Anthony lb,|,e's reputation, was quickly written. "I vary greatly in my work/' he says. " Books of character Luce me a longer time; incidents come quicker. That, at hast, is my own personal experience.

"My book, 'Th' Cod in the Car," was begun before 'The Prisoner of Zemin,' but, was put aside and finished after the latter. ft was published by Methuen, and was

successful from the first, 1 then wrot" the ' Indiscretion of th • Duchess,' which was published by Arrowsmith."

About this book it was remarked in some London drawing-room that none should write about duchesses in books al a shilling a copy j that a liticheiS should he narrated in volumes of 110 hover prie,.' than a guinea. The general public was nol of (Ids opinion nor weie the reviewers, and the book in question was received with the most signal favour.

Encouraged by his success, Anthony ll.rpo gave up the Bar in tho spring of 1891, and decided in the future to devote himself entirely to literature. "My last brief was in a case at the county court in Wells, whore I appeared for a railway company, which had frequently engaged me, against a plaintiff who claimed heavy damages for an accident. He had pinched his finger in the door of the carriage. An unromantic ami an uneventful case. Rut 1 won it, and so went out of the legal profession on a success."

He is a hard and a regular worker. He comes to his chambers in Buckingham street with the punctuality of a bankclerk. " I reach here at a quarter to ten in tho morning, and work on till four in the afternoon, or even later. I do not set myself any fixed task to be performed each day, but work rather by time, and take what heaven sends. I am a (puck worker, and though I never re-write, I revise carefully, and am very fidgety over my work." Ho does not read greatly. " I have so little timo for reading. When I can read, I prefer novels, and my favourite authors

are Meredith, Kipling and Stevenson. I am also very fond of Norris's work." His pleasure in sport remains. " I have had to give up football," this regretfully, "but I manage to get a little lawn tennis. And Igo out a little into society in a quiet way. I am afraid that I take very little exercise, for my place seems to be, here at my writing-table, and, as I have said, tho greater part of my day is spent here."

At present he is engaged on a series of romantic stories, the scene of which is laid in an imaginary Italian Republic in the Middle Ages. "I am also writing some stories for a weekly paper. Fertile present I shall write no more dialogues."

Anthony 1 [ope is a kindly man. " Since my books have become popular, I receive a number of applications for autographs. I always send them. If is a small thing to do if'it really gives pleasure to the people who write for them.''

Literature indeed manifests itself in many ways. This quiet, unassuming lowvoiced man, who, with a life of almost mechanical regularity, writes amidst uninspiring surroundings, who has experienced neither the stress nor the stir of the world, but has rather progressed muDr quelling influences, is Anthony Hope. Anthony Hope, who, from his imagination, draws adventure of a keenest " Sturm and Drang," and, reticent himself, has put into the mouths of a. legion of spiritual children of his own, let loose over English-speaking lands, the wit and verve and brilliance of conversation which, in society, we listen for in vain, and can only hear in faintest echo from (he few stages for which the acknowledged masters write—a sparkling company of talkers, who, with their pheasant aud inspiring sayings, have belied those who have sung cynical requiem over tho art which chiefly charms this poor life of our and is its greatest happiness, the art of conversation. And it is from a house at tho bo;tom of a gloomy London cul-de-sac, under the grey mist of tho Thames, and in an atmosphere of headacho and ennui, that this sparkle which has overflowed the English-speaking world goes forth.