MR HALL CAINE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2667, 26 April 1905, Page 69

MR HALL CAINE.

— His Interesting Literary Career. —

Mr Hall Came,, the success of whose recently-published book "The Prodigal Son" is almost unique, enjoys the enviable position of being, with the possible exception of Miss Marie Corelli, the most widely-read writer of the day. It might be added that he has also had to endure an exceptional quantity of literary criticism and satire, which is not surprising. Nothing succeeds like success, and there is nothing which provokes so much indignation., amongst men of less ability. This popular novelist was born in the Isle of Man about" 52 yeao-s ago, and, after being brought up as an architect, he turned his attention to journalism, and naturally did his first work for two architectural papers. He then began to contribute to papers of a more literary description — the Athenaeum and the Academy, and spent six years as a leader writer on the Liverpool Mercury. His absolutely first literary effort was a poem ! In the author's own words: —

"At eighteen I wrote a poem of a mystical sort, which was printed (not at my own risk) and published under a pseudonym. Happily no man will ever identify me behind tne romantic name wherein I hid my own. Only pne man knew my secret, and he is dead. Then, at 20, 1 wrote an autobiography for another person, and was paid ten pounds for it. These were really my first books, and I grow quite hot when I think of them." Before continuing the narrative of Mr Hall Caine's career, it will be well to again quote his own words in regard to his literary beginnings. No description of the experience in the writer's words could have the same interest that attaches to Mr Hall Caine's own explanation. To the young writer who may be struggling to get his first book, or even article, published, nothing is rrore helpful than the consideration of the fact that those who are now at the top of the tree have so often had to go through a similar experience. "At five-and-twenty I came Up to London with the manuscript of a critical work which I had written while at Liverpool. Somebody had recommended that I should submit it to a certain great publishing house, and I took it in person. At file door of the office I was told to write my own name and the name of the person I wished to see, and to state the nature of my business. I did sb, and the Doy who took my message brought back word that I might leave my manuscript for consideration. It seemed to me that somebody might have seen me for a minute, but I had expected too much. The manuscript was carefully tied up in brown paper, and so I left it.

"After waiting three torturing weeks for the decision of the publishers, I made bold to call again. At the same little box at the door of the office, I had once more to fill up the same little document. 'JLhe boy took it in, and I was left to sit cn-his table ; to look at the desk which he had been whittling away with his penknife ; to wait and to tremble.

"After a time I heard footsteps returning I thought it might be the publisher or the editor of the house. It was tho boy back again. He had a pile of sheets of loose paper in his hands. They were the sheets of my book. 'The editor's con pliments, and thank you,' said the boy. And my manuscript went sprawling o\*er the table!

"I gathered it up, tucked it as deep as possible into the darkness under the wings ot my Inverness cape, and went downstairs, ashamed, humiliated, crushed, and brokenspirited. Not -quite that, either, for I remember that, as I got to tho fresh air at the door, my gorge rose within me, and I cried in my heart, 'By heaven, you shall !' —and something proud and vain. " I dare bay it wa,s all right and proper, and in acod order. The book was ofterwa.ids published, and I think it sold well. I hardly kitow whether I ought to pay that the editor should have ?boTvn me more courtesy. Tt was all a part of the. diarchy of things which Mr Hardy considers the rule of life.

" But the sequel is worth telling. That editor became my personal friend. He is dead, and he was a good and able man. Of course, h& remembered nothing of this incident, and I never poisoned one hour of our intercourse by telling him how, when I

was young and a ■word of cheer would have br.oved me up, he made me drink the water of Marah. And three times since that day the publishing house I speak of has come to me with the request that I should write a book for them.

" I have never been able to do so ; but I have outgrown my bitterness, arid I show no malice — indeed, I h«ve now the best of reasons for wishing the great enterprise well. But if literary confessions are worth) anything, this one may, perhaps, be a seed that will somewhere find grateful soil. Keep a good heart, even if you have t--knock in rain at many doors, and kick about the back stairs of the house of letters — there is room enough inside ! "

Mr Hall Caine's first great literary friend was the poet-painter, the late Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and, after an intimate friendship, in -the course of which Rossetti went to live with the author at his Kttle house in Cumberland, the author nursed Rossetti through his last illness. Three .years after Rossetti's death, Mr Hall Came made up his mind to desert the critical work and reviewing; which he had been doing, and to start fiction in earnest.

His first novel was "The Shadow of a Crime." During the time he was writing,it- he had but little in the way of "reserve funds," and was earning nothing. Nor did the writing of the book come in him easily. The first half volume was written no less than four times.

" Shall I ever forget the agony of those first efforts?" Mr Hall Came exclaims. At this date it is interesting to remember that tho funds which tihe author had in hand! when lie began his first woxk of fiction were only sufficient io enable him to iive for four months, and at the end of that time he nmst either have written and sold his first) work or gene bankrppt.

Hard work as it was, the book v.as written, and, after several disheartening experiences, he was offered £100 for the serial rights. Subsequently Mr Chatto published it in book form, and, though it is not so> popular as Mr Caine's later works, it has passed into numerous editions. In appearance, Mr Hall Caane is slightly built, and rather under what is called "medium height." Hie is a delightful conversationalist, fluent, aaid generous to a. degree in his opinion of others. Hair, moustache, and^ pointed beard are a bright auburn, and with the lofty forehead and keen, luminous eyes, he would give you the impression ot being a man of great ability, even if his name and real personalty were unknown to you.

For some time past he ha 3 i&ade his he me in the Isle of Man, the place of his upbringing,. Walking is his main recreation, though he is also partial to horse-rid-irtg and mountaineering. Many months — even a couple of years — are sometimes spent by Mr Came- in the preliminary woi'k of a book. For example, before writing "The Scapegoat," he wents to Morocco, and made it his buj-iness to thoroughly realise the conditions nf modem slavery. In order to give a vivid picture of the Continental Jews, he journeyed to Polajjd, and visited raaaiy o-f the frontiertowns of Russia. Before beginning "The Christian " his studies of East London, of the High Church monastic orders, and his visits to Derby racecourse — an unusual experience for him. — were most carefully conducted.

He finds the early mornLn-g the best time for writing, covering many sheets of note]/aper with his neat and exceedingly legible writing. An eminently soeiaVe man, a niember of several clubs. Mr Came is a. first-rate after-dinner speaker, and may be irequently seen in the metropolis. The young writer — ruad, indeed, most of vs — -will be interested to know Mr Hall Caine's verdict as to the commercial value of criticism. After repeating eoaaiebody's statement that a favourable article in The Times will carry off an entire edition oi c be ok in 24 hours, Mr Hall Came lemaiked, "1 remember a very clever and amusing skit on one of my novels in Punch. It appeared on Wednesday, and we had then nearly 2000 copies of the cinrent edition on the shelves at the publisher's. On Saturday there was not a copy left, nothing else having occurred in tie meantime to cause aai unttsual demand."

Finally, it should be said that Mr Hall Came is not one of those who are inclined to belittle literature as a profession, and t treat it merely as one method of moneygetting.

On the contrary. " For my own pa.rt," he hias said, "I have found the profession of letters a serious pursuit, of which in no company and in no country have I had need, to be ashamed. It has demanded all my powers, tired all my enthusiasm, developed mv sympathies, enlarged my friendships, tov.ched, amused, soothed, and comforted, me. If it has been hard work, it has also been a constant inspiration, and I would not change it 'or all the glo-rv and more than all the emoluments of the best-paid' and most illustrious profession in tho world. ' ' — Leeds M er cury .