the days of my life-第47部分

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nt　and　recorder　of　matters　connected　with　myth；　ritual；　and　religion；　I　find　myself　inpetent　to　judge　of　his　real　status；　which　doubtless　the　future　will　decide；　though　personally　I　believe　it　will　be　a　very　high　one。　On　such　matters；　however；　only　experts　can　express　opinions　of　real　value。　Lang　never　claimed　to　be　a　creator；　and　whenever　he　sets　to　work　to　create；　which　he　has　not　done　of　late　years；　his　wide　knowledge　and　his　marvellous　memory　of　everything　he　has　read　—　and　little　worth　studying　in　ancient　or　modern　literature　has　escaped　him　—　prove　positive　stumbling…blocks　in　his　path。　I　noticed　this　particularly　when　we　were　evolving　“The　World’s　Desire。”　With　that　modesty　which　so　often　distinguishes　those　who　have　much　to　be　proud　of；　he　once　described　himself　to　me　as　“A　hodman　of　letters；”　a　description　that　may　be　paralleled　by　Mrs。　Lynn　Linton’s　rather　sharp　saying　—　to　myself　I　believe；　although　of　this　I　am　not　sure　—　that　“Andrew　Lang　would　be　the　greatest　writer　in　the　language　if　only　he　had　something　to　write　about。”　The　fact　is；　of　course；　that　he　has　always　had　too　much。　Like　the　amorous　Frenchman　he　has　ever　been　wont　to　eparpiller　son　coeur　upon　a　hundred　subjects。　I　should　add　that　Mrs。　Linton　was　one　of　his　great　admirers。　In　a　letter　which　she　wrote　to　me　in　1890；　and　which　is　before　me　at　this　moment；　she　says；　“I　simply　adore　his　work。”　Again；　further　on　in　the　same　epistle；　she　speaks　of　her　“delight　in　his　most　exquisite　work。”
The　truth　is　that　Lang　is　par　excellence　a　litterateur　of　the　highest　sort；　perhaps　the　most　literary　man　in　England　or　America。　When　he　is　not　reading　he　is　writing；　and　he　writes　more　easily　than　he　talks；　at　any　rate　to　most　people。　Also　some　of　his　poetry　is　wonderfully　beautiful。　If　verses　like　“The　White　Pacha；”　its　panion　“Midnight；　January　25th；　1886；”　and　“A　Dream”　are　doomed　to　die；　and　with　them　others　as　good；　I　wonder　what　will　live！　Again；　what　majestic　lines　are　these　upon　the　Odyssey：
So　gladly；　from　the　songs　of　modern　speech
Men　turn；　and　see　the　stars；　and　feel　the　free
Shrill　wind　beyond　the　close　of　heavy　flowers；
And　through　the　music　of　the　languid　hours；
They　hear　like　ocean　on　a　western　beach
The　surge　and　thunder　of　the　Odyssey。
Of　his　extraordinary　readiness　I　need　say　little；　as　it　is　known　to　all　men。　Still；　as　it　may　be　forgotten　when　this　book　is　published；　if　that　ever　happens；　I　will　give　two　instances。　Once　he　called　on　me；　we　were　going　for　a　walk　together；　but　I　was　not　ready　to　start。　So　he　asked　for　paper；　and　in　half　an　hour　or　so　finished　a　leading　article　—　I　think　it　was　for　the　Daily　News　—　which　he　sent　straight　to　the　office　by　a　cabman；　to　appear　without　the　submission　of　a　proof。　I　read　that　article　afterwards；　it　was　on　some　Shakespearian　subject　which　involved　many　allusions　and　much　quotation。　I　believe　that　it　contained　no　error。
On　another　occasion　I　was　travelling　with　them　from　St。　Andrews　to　Edinburgh；　and　Dr。　Boyd；　better　known　as　A。K。H。B。；　was　our　fellow…voyager。　He　was　a　great　conversationalist　and　talked　to　Lang　almost　without　ceasing。　Presently　Lang　took　off　the　tall　hat　he　was　wearing；　placed　it　on　his　knee；　produced　paper　and　pencil；　set　the　paper　on　the　crown　of　the　hat　and　began　to　write　like　a　spiritualist　automatist；　if　that　is　the　right　word；　all　the　time　keeping　up　a　flow　of　argument　and　conversation　with　A。K。H。B。　At　Edinburgh　I　saw　him　post　the　results；　without　rereading；　to　the　editor　of　the　Saturday　Review。　The　article　appeared　in　due　course　without　his　seeing　a　proof；　and　written　in　his　usual　clear　and　beautiful　style。
Such　is　the　professional　man；　but　of　the　friend　I　know　not　what　to　say；　save　that　I　reckon　it　as　one　of　the　privileges　of　my　life　to　be　able　to　call　him　by　that　much…misused　name；　the　tenderest；　the　purest　and　the　highest…minded　of　human　creatures；　one　from　whom　true　goodness　and　nobility　of　soul　radiate　in　every　mon　word　and　act；　though　often　half…hidden　in　a　jest；　the　most　perfect　of　gentlemen　—　such　is　Andrew　Lang。
To　return　to　the　history　of　“King　Solomon’s　Mines。”　Ultimately　that　book　found　its　way　to　Messrs。　Cassells；　remended　to　them；　I　believe；　by　Mr。　Henley。　Subsequently　Henley　reproached　me　with　having　taken　it　out　of　his　hands；　and　said　that　he　could　have　got　me　much　better　terms。　But　I　never　did　take　it　out　of　his　hands；　indeed　I　never　knew　that　it　was　in　his　hands。　If　my　memory　serves　me；　I　heard　direct　from　Messrs。　Cassells　informing　me　that　they　would　publish　the　book　and　asking　me　to　call　re　the　agreement。
At　any　rate　I　called　and　in　that　great　building　saw　a　business…like　editor　whose　name　I　never　knew。　He　pointed　out　that　the　pany　was　prepared　to　offer　me　an　alternative　agreement。　The　first　of　the　two　agreements　conveyed　the　copyright　to　Messrs。　Cassells　in　return　for　a　sum　of；　I　think；　100　pounds　paid　down。　The　second　offered　me　50　pounds　on　account　of　royalties；　to　be　calculated　“at　the　rate　of　ten　per　cent。　of　the　published　price　of　the　book　on　all　copies　sold　by　them　during　the　continuance　of　the　copyright；　reckoning　thirteen　copies　to　the　twelve。”
After　my　previous　experiences　as　an　author　100　pounds　on　the　nail　had　great　attractions。　I　had　no　particular　belief　in　the　story　which　I　had　thrown　off　in　my　leisure　hours　as　a　mere　jeu　d’esprit；　especially　after　its　rejection　in　other　quarters。　Even　Mr。　Lang’s　kind　expressions　of　opinion　carried　no　conviction　to　my　mind；　for　I　did　not　understand　all　that　it　meant　ing　from　such　a　source。　I　set　him　down　as　an　amiable　gentleman　with　a　taste　for　savages　and　boys’　books；　it　did　not　occur　to　me　that　he　saw　such　things　every　day；　and　that　when　he　wrote　to　one　who　was　practically　a　stranger　that　he　almost　preferred　this　particular　boys’　book　to　“Treasure　Island；”　the　pliment　was　high　and　indeed　extraordinary。　So　after　a　brief　moment　of　reflection　I　told　the　business…like　editor　that　I　would　sell　the　copyright　for　100　pounds；　and　he　departed　to　fetch　the　agreement。
As　it　chanced；　however；　there　sat　in　the　corner　of　the　room　a　quiet　clerk；　whom　I　had　never　even　noticed。　When　the　editor　had　departed　this　unobtrusive　gentleman　addressed　me。
“Mr。　Haggard；”　he　said　in　a　warning　voice；　“if　I　were　you　I　would　take　the　other　agreement。”
Then　hearing　some　noise；　once　more　he　became　absorbed　in　his　work；　and　I　understood　that　the　conversation　was　not　to　be　continued。
Still　a　moment　remained　for　thought。
“Why　the　dickens；”　I　reflected　to　myself；　“did　he　say　that　to　me？　He　must　have　had　some　reason。”　The　business…like　editor　re…entered　the　room　bearing　the　document　in　hand。
“I　have　changed　my　mind；”　I　said　as　he　presented　it　to　me：　“I　will　not　sell　the　copyright；　I　will　take　the　royalty　agreement。”
Undoubtedly　the　quiet　clerk　in　the　corner；　who　was　acquainted　with　the　estimate　that　had　been　formed　of　the　book　by　his　employers；　did　me　a　very　good　turn；　as　did　my　knowledge　of　men　when　I　acted　so　promptly　on　his　hint。
The　royalty　that　I　accepted　might　have　been　higher；　at　any　rate　after　the　sale　of　a　certain　number　of　copies；　but　it　was　infinitely　better　than　the　acceptance　of　a　small　sum　down　for　the　copyright　of　“King　Solomon’s　Mines；”　of　which　the　sale　has　been　very　great　and　at　present　shows　signs　of　increase　rather　than　of　diminution。
Many　years　later　this　gentleman　wrote　reminding　me　of　the　incident　and　forwarding　a　book　that　he　had　published。
“King　Solomon’s　Mines；”　which　was　produced　as　a　five…shilling　book；　proved　an　instant　success。　Published　about　the　beginning　of　October；　on　December　9th　Messrs。　Cassells　wrote　to　me　that　they　had　already　sold　5000　copies　more　or　less；　a　large　sale　for　a　boys’　book　by　a　practically　unknown　man。　I　wonder　how　many　copies　they　have　sold　up　to　Christmas　1911！　In　one　form　and　another　the　total　must　run　to　hundreds　of　thousands。
Before　the　book　appeared　we　had　gone　down　to　Norfolk　for　part　of　the　long　vacation；　not　to　Ditchingham；　which　was　let；　but　to　a　farmhouse　at　Denton　adjoining　a　farm　of　our　own；　where　I　employed　my　holiday　in　ain；”　the　continuation　of　“King　Solomon’s　Mines。”　One　day　I　chanced　to　visit　the　little　town　of　Bungay　and　there　to　see　a　copy　of　the　Saturday　Review　which　contained　a　two…column　notice　of　the　latter　work。　It　was　written　by　Lang；　although　this　I　did　not　know　at　the　time。　With　delight　my　eye　fell　upon　such　sentences　as　“All　through　the　battle　piece；　‘The　Last　Stand　of　the　Greys；’　Mr。　Haggard；　like　Scott　at　Flodden；　‘never　stoops　his　wing’”；　and　“to　tell　the　truth　we　would　give　many　novels；　say　eight　hundred　（that　is　about　the　yearly　harvest）；　for　such　a　book　as　‘King　Solomon’s　Mines。’”
By　the　way；　things　in　this　respect　have　changed　since　1885。　I　believe　that　the　“yearly　harvest”　of　British　novels　now　numbers　nearly　three　thousand。
I　went　back　to　the　farm　that　night　feeling　sure　that　my　book　was　going　to　succeed。　A　week　or　so　later　I　received　a　note　from　Lang　in　which　he　says：　“The　Spectator　in　a　‘middle’　gives　you　more　praise　than　I　did；　and　is　neither　known　personally　to　you；　I　fancy；　nor　an　amateur　of　savages；　like　me。　I　hope　they　will　give　a　review　also。　。　。　。　I　never　read　anything　in　the　Spectator　before　with　such　pleasure。”
One　day　I　took　the　manuscript　of　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　t