“The Claverings,” The “Pall
Mall Gazette,” “Nina Balatka,”
And “Linda Tressel”
The Claverings, which came out in 1866 and 1867, was
the last novel which I wrote for the Cornhill; and
it was for this that I received the highest rate of
pay that was ever accorded to me. It was the
same length as Framley Parsonage, and the price was
(pounds)2800. Whether much or little, it was
offered by the proprietor of the magazine, and was
paid in a single cheque.
In The Claverings I did not follow the habit which
had now become very common to me, of introducing personages
whose names are already known to the readers of novels,
and whose characters were familiar to myself.
If I remember rightly, no one appears here who had
appeared before or who has been allowed to appear since.
I consider the story as a whole to be good, though
I am not aware that the public has ever corroborated
that verdict. The chief character is that of
a young woman who has married manifestly for money
and rank,—so manifestly that she does not
herself pretend, even while she is making the marriage,
that she has any other reason. The man is old,
disreputable, and a wornout debauchee. Then comes
the punishment natural to the offence. When she
is free, the man whom she had loved, and who had loved
her, is engaged to another woman. He vacillates
and is weak,—in which weakness is the fault
of the book, as he plays the part of hero. But
she is strong—strong in her purpose, strong
in her desires, and strong in her consciousness that
the punishment which comes upon her has been deserved.
But the chief merit of The Clarverings is in the genuine
fun of some of the scenes. Humour has not been
my forte, but I am inclined to think that the characters
of Captain Boodle, Archie Clavering, and Sophie Gordeloup
are humorous. Count Pateroff, the brother of
Sophie, is also good, and disposes of the young hero’s
interference in a somewhat masterly manner. In
The Claverings, too, there is a wife whose husband
is a brute to her, who loses an only child—his
heir—and who is rebuked by her lord because
the boy dies. Her sorrow is, I think, pathetic.
From beginning to end the story is well told.
But I doubt now whether any one reads The Claverings.
When I remember how many novels I have written, I have
no right to expect that above a few of them shall
endure even to the second year beyond publication.
This story closed my connection with the Cornhill
Magazine;—but not with its owner, Mr. George
Smith, who subsequently brought out a further novel
of mine in a separate form, and who about this time
established the Pall Mall Gazette, to which paper
I was for some years a contributor.
