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I Tlie Life and Letters j
j ol John Galsworthy. )
I . '
I An Official Biography I
| By H. V. MARROT. j
II!.,,., ll,'| IIMMH nfli
TO-DAY'S extracts from Mr. Marrot's
book take us further into the heart
of the story of the Forsyte saga. In this
connection we reproduce from "John o'
London's Weekly" the following sum
mary of the opening novel in the saga: —
"The theme of 'The Man of Pro
perty' is the conflict between the
materialistic and llic spiritual, or be
tween Properly and Art: on (he one
hand Soames Forsyte, 'pale and well
shaved, dark haired, rather bald,'
whoso property-owning instincts are
outraged when he discovers that his
wife Irene is not to be treated as a
chattel; on the other, Philip Boshi-
uey, the young and penniless archi
tect who becomes Irene's lover. The
clash between the two men takes
publicly the form of a dispute over
ine necorauon oi me nouse Soames
builds for Irene. He brings a law
suit; Boslnncy loses; on the same
day lie is run over In a fog, and the
reader is left to judge whether or
not lie has committed suicide. The
book ends witli the return of Irene
to the enslavement of her loveless
marriage. The 'man of property lias,
to outward appearances, vindicated
liis rights. But his victory Is really
his defeat."
The extracts from the official life or
the novelist are published by arangc-
ment with Messrs. Ilclnemann and the
proprietors of "John o' London's
Weekly."
IX. THE STORY OF THE
FORSYTES.
(Continued.)
HP HE next evening Galsworthy wrote
to his friend: —
Madonna di Canmlalio.
June 2, Evening.
"My Dear Garnott, — ... I think I
can bring tho render round to an atmos
pheric state which will make him ac
cept Bosinncy's death whether as acci
dent or suicide — which, I will leave vague
—without cavilling. My theory of suicide,
you know, is perhaps not tho same as
yours. I rather gather that you think
suicide Inherent in character. I think
it is In every man's character, and in
none, and is the outcome of a mass of
circumstances with a main motif to
which accident in. the Inst instance puts
the cap. In fact, it is a hair-trigger
lob.
"I still hope to justify the suspicion
of Bosinney's,
"Thank you for putting me on the scent
of my failure hi technique, which was
hornbly bad.
"By the way. though this is perhaps
against mo, wo both tliink here that the
man I originally took the idea of Bosln
ncy from Is as likely a man qua tem
perament to commit suicide as we know;
but, as I say, that amounts to nothing,
because men of all temperaments do It. —
Ever yours affectionately,
JOHN GALSWORTHY."
Madonna di Camplglio.
Tuesday.
"My Dear Fellow, — I have been work
ing In advance on part III., and I think
I am mooting your point as to E.'s
suicide. I feel that you were right as
the thing was written; the technique was
grievously hi fault, and. after all, in fic
tion there Is no such thing as psychology;
there is only the impression on the
reader's mind. I. am trying to reconcile
myself to having disappointed you both
by the turn of the end.
"With regard to the judgment, I will
see what I can do when I have it before
me — but I fear little. It is really not
a caricature of the judgments, of some
of our judges who import personal feel
ing into their dictums— moreover, it is
a perfectly fair answer to the kind of
pleading presented to the judge. It was
rather with this, I think, that you should
have quarrelled.
"I write now, however, to ask your
advice on another matter. At the very
back of my mind in tlio writing of this
book (and. indeed, of "The Island
Pharisees,' but put that aside) there has
always been the feeling of the utter
disharmony of the Christian religion with
the English character. Not an original
Idea this, but a broad enough theme
to carry any amount of character study.
I've got it in my mind now to carry
on tills Idea for at least two moro vol
umes. Just as the tliemo of tho first
book is the sense of property— the themo
of the next, or rather the national traits
dealt with, are (1) the reforming spirit;
(2) the fighting spirit — done, of course,
through story, and definite character
study. Tho theme of the third book
would be the spirit of advertisement, self-
glorification, and impossibility of seeing
ourselves in the wrong, and it would
deal with tho Boer War. (of course, only
through character, not in story). I cail
tho second book 'Dame,' and tho third
"Tho Mouth of Brass.' Six years elapse
between each book, and I carry young
Jolyon through all three as commenta-
tor. X xiuve my ligures lor tho second
book, but only tho Idea for the third.
"But what I want to ask you Is this.
"Is it worth wliilo to put after the
title of 'The Man of Property,' &c., some
sucli addition as this; —
National Ethics I.
or Christian Ethics I.
or Tales of a Christian People I.
In otlior words, to foreshadow a series
upon tills central Idea.
"My intention Is to mako that central
idea plainer In Vol. II. and absolutely
patent in Vol. III. without, I hope, trans
gressing against art. It has become ob
vious to me, and I expect to you, that
my strength— if any— lies in writing to
a polemical strain through character;
and I find it natural to think of life in
my fiction in a sort of string— a sort of
second world peopled by ray own peoplo.
One person makes another, in fact, and
It all comes into a sort of mould gradu
ally that way. So that if I live, and
don't collapse, I ought to bo able to
carry out my intention, and with regard
to the third book, by tho time it comes
out the public v.oukl oe able to look
on at an analysts of our attitude to the
Boer War without blood In the eyes.
"However, if .you say that it is umvise
to commit myself thus I will take, your
advice.
Our best love.— Ever yours.
' " ' JOHN GALSWORTHY."
Finally, after further correspondence,
Galsworthy writes on 2Gth June: —
"Well, as to the last pages, I have
re-written them. 1 now make young
Jolyon find the door open and Soames
wandering In the square — they talk, tlie
door is shut In young Jolyon's face.
mcnce ne goes to his fathers house,
and finding him alone In the dining-
room, they speak together and the last
words ure old Jolyon's. I think it will
do; at all events I don't see my way to
anything better. . . ."
At last the book was finished and de
spatched.
Galsworthy wrote hi 1932 of Ills happy
recollections of this time, and told the
fate of the MS.
How "The Man of Properly"
was Written:
"To the ferment roused in my spirit
by the Boer War, and to a simmering
revolt against the shibboleths of my
home, school and college, I suppose I
may trace six out of the seven books
which followed. "The Man of Property'
was conceived In satiric mood and car
ried to its close in a larger spirit; it
was written here, there, everywhere, the
most scattered of my manuscripts, at
the time of my life most poignant. Two-
thirds of It had taken nearly two years
to write; the last third was written in
six weeks, witli the pale north Italian
sunlight filtering through winter
branches on to tlie pages. I was. In
deed, In no hurry for the appearance
of that book; I knew It to be the best
I had written; and the revision of it,
sentence by sentence, gave me more inti
mate pleasure than I am likely to have
again. And so it came out in Its due
lime. When, seven years later, we were
changing house, I came upon the frag
ments of those first two-thirds of 'The
Man of Property,' instantly I lighted a
fire and stuffed Into it an incredible con
fusion of jumbled note-book pages — the
last, third, clean written, with the con
tinuity o: a mind at rest, I had not the
ncart to preserve. Into the fire it went,
too, for at that time one's manuscripts
were still just so much rubbish. The
noiocaust of 'The Men or Property' illus
trates once moro the whimsicality of
fate. The rest of the Forsyte books lie
under glass in the British Museum, but
that book, without which they would
never have been thought of or born, was
burned and went into the rcther to mix
with the lui gs of twenty years ago."
The oook, now finished, was, of course,
shown to his sister, Lily, who, not un
naturally. received rather a shock. The
Forsytes, as we know, were drawn very
much from the life; and to recognise
In tlie book a whole portrait gallery of
relatives— painted, too, in a highly satiric
style — was an experience more discon
certing thirty years ago than it might
be to-day. At any rate, whether or no
ANOTHER GALSWORTHY FAMILY GROUP. Help
ANOTHER GALSWORTHY FAMILY GROUP.
the reader will sympathise with her atti
tude is beyond tho point; she did so feel,
and told her brother so. His reply is
Interesting in a dozen different ways.
The Impersonal Idealist.
Buckingham Palace Hotel.
September 11.
"My Dearest Old Girl, — Your very
lovely and beautifully honest letter has
put me perhaps into a muddled state for
answering it, but still I must try.
"The first thing that strikes me on
a whole review of tlie letter Is that it
Is the cry of one temperament to a very
different one I have long known that
In essence of outlook we are very unlike.
We have much of tho same sympathy,
much of the same width, but at the
very bottom there is a difference. You
have not cne vein of realism, cynicism,
satirlcism, impersonalism, call It what
you will, that I have. You are an op
timist, an idealist. I am not an opti
mist. nor a pessimist, and if I have Ideals
they are not yours.
"Then artistically we are not the same
hi our cravings. , To put an example
you would have a contrast so given as
to enlist the reader on one side, and
against the other. I don't feel like this.
I feel more like a sort of chemist, more
cold, more dlsscctive, always riding a
philosophical idea, and perverting, if you
like, my values to fit it. I start out from
tho thesis that property Is not exactly
a Christian, a decent Idea, I perhaps
expect people to see this; In any case
I deal always negatively, destructively;
I can't bear the Idea of the beautiful
character: It seems to mt sn niiuinnc
commonplace and disgusting; above all,
eminently imphilosophicnl. This may be,
probably Is. a defect, but It is, and enn't
be got over. I cannot take the human
being so seriously. There are things I
like; there ore things I love in people,
but If I start out to treat them bo sure
I shall do' more than justice to their
darker side. This is my genre. I can't
alter it. 1 daresay it grieves you.
"Any brief held on behalf of a person
1 smell at once, and detest, and yet I
am always holding a brief for a point
of view of a philosophical nature. My
mastery of art. such as it is, I apply,
and always shall apply, on these lines.
As such I must bo accepted. This, of
course, discounts a great deal of what
you havo said, which in essence amounts
to asking mo to write another book, to
have another temperament. But there
are particular points that can be more
easily discussed.
"And first as to the personal question.
Do you really think It matters ? Apart
from yourself, Mab, and mother (who
pernnps had better not read the book),
who really knows enough or takes enough
Interest in us to make it more. than a
two-days' wonder, that I should choose
such a subject ? Who (except the For
sytes, to whom I come presently) knows
enough even to connect A with I, espe
cially as I have changed her hair to
gold. . The' Fordhams, half a dozen
others, none of whom matters, who would
merely say perhaps; 'Well, If It's in
tended for a likeness it's very bad'; or
even 'it's very had taste.'
"Take the Conrads. the Garnet ts, the
Hueffers, who have read the book: what
difference nas it made to them ? None
except that they tliink I have done my
best piece ot work.
"As to the Forsytes, it does not matter
whether tliev connect A with I, she is
certainly very different: or myself with
— whom ? Because under the circum
stances one Is not likely to hear that
they made the connection. They are
done with.
"As to whether the family is too like-
like; the idea Is obviously taken— Swlthln.
Ann and old Jolyon are portraits as far
as fictional creations can be so, which
Is but little, perhaps (always with the
perversion necessary to the philosophic
Idea), but the others are all mixed, hope
lessly mixed, Aunt J„ for instance, being
if anybody B . and so on. Moreover,
which of them ' (In the recent cir
cumstances) is going to read the book ?
And, as you say, there is surely a cer
tain tolerance exhibited. I was very
pleased that you felt sympathy with
Scamcs. I have been very much afraid
of not doing him. Justice. :Apd it seems
that you have felt the end miserable,
Pitiful — that also is good.'
"As to the 'act of property' being, as
it were, justified. It is, of course, Justi
fied in so far as a man is a brute, and
a hungry, poor, pathetic brute, but I
think you will agree that it is not ex
actly in accordance with sanctity of mar
riage. I have not attempted to set up
Irene or Boslnney, because I have not
attempted to set up Soames.
"'Pink and Black': I believe this was
suggested by seeing F ten years ago.
I will make It apricot and blue.
"End of Chapter IH. By a coinci
dence I had already made Boslnney say
something.
"Boslnney I freely admit to be shirked.
x uiiiimuv suujecuviscu mm, anci lounu
him repulsive to me. not really seen
(even according to my average insight),
so I changed him Into an objective
being, and swung the focus entirely into
the Forsyte eye. which gives a certain
artistic completeness to tho book, on its
lines (not on your lines). He Is now
really a figure, not a character; tho
same with Irene; she Is entirely objec
tive also. They are neither of them
vitalised as the Forsytes are vitalised;
but they serve. Characters are success
ful (In my experience) in so far (1)
as you have enough of them in your
own composition; (2) as you have op
portunity of observing them. Only a
certain number of figures can hope to
act on your retina, and the creative
nerves of your finger and thumb; and
unless you are an absolute genius you
must look near home for the material
you work with. This is why most people
fall so pitifully; they try far too much.
"1 am r.ot as good as I want to be,
and as you want me to be, but I am not
Dad enough writer for it to be desirable
for me to stop writing.
Publication Imperative.
"This book is undoubtedly my best so
far, very undoubtedly. Which brings
me to the real difficulty of your letter.
"Practically you say: 'Don't publish.
At all events for years.' You speak, if
I may say so, dear girl, cheerfully upon
a very delicate subject.
"The alternative to not publishing 'now
is publishing never. This book in two
montlis (practically now) will be dead
in my mind, never to come to life again.
It has been - slowly dying sfiice May.
Another book is begun. I merely com
pare the other books I have written
None of these could I look at again for
purpose of alteration; -the plants have
died for want of ordinary everyday
watering. So with this. I can never
alter it.
"This clears the ground.
"The question is, do you and Mab
feel strongly enough that tho book is
sacrilege to consign it to the flames ?
I can't publish it anonymously because
that would mean publishing the present
book and the one after also anonymously
— 'Young Jolyon' and others running
through alL In the book I am now
writing all the tender fatherly side of
old Jolyon is given full play to the
happy side of him; which could not be
done In tho scheme of the other book.
"It is a sort of cant to believe that
tlie artist can reproduce anything; tills
with tho exception of a few great
geniuses Is not so; tho artist can as a,
rule only reproduce that, or things simi
lar to that, which he has felt. To go
deep you must feel deeply, on your
own lines, whatever they may be. I am
myself no believer in barring but the
personal or what may be construed into
the personal theme. It is like saying to a
painter, 'It is not a good likeness I
Whereas your only criticism should bo,
'it is not a good picture.' Of 'Tho Man
of Property' as a picture I rather doubt
your capacity to Judge. I would, I mean,
prefer the judgment of someone know
ing nothing of the suggestive materials.
Though I freely admit that from a cer
tain point of view your feeling about it
is right. As a portrait you condemn it;
or think it too faithful; but then I ask
again does that really matter? You
have read it; Mab will read It. When
this is done all the mischief is done as
far as that goes. The only difference
will be that none of us will recommend
the book to our friends, and if we don't,
which of them will read it ?
"Why is loneliness and pathos in
tolerable to you ? That is strange to me.
I prefer It to happiness, in reading. Hap
piness means success, and somehow suc
cess is repulsive, I prefer old Jolyon
lonely and pathetic; I feel more for
him and love him better.
"As to character, there is always this
to be remembered. You start ' with a
suggestion; you go on working from a
figure (a living figure) for perhaps two
or threo chapters, then suddenly you
work no longer from that figure, but
from what you have said about him —
from your own creation. In fact, which
at every sentence diverges more and
more fiom the original.
"You cannot therefore expect a por
trait of fattier; nor had I the intention
of making one
"It is instructive to see how deep the
family roots are In people. You are,
though perhaps ycu don't know it, criti
cising with the family eye, feeling with
the family pulse, or whatever people feel
with Because really there ts no one also
hardly who knows, who could know that
father was meant.
"Think for a moment, To spot old
Jolyon you must know intimately the
whole cradle — the family circle — other
wise he may be any man of eighty, espe
cially as it Is a phase ol father that was
never shown to tlie world — nor even to
the family. It is seen deeply (half
truthfully, if you like) as only we could
see it..
"But who is there who knows the fam
ily cradle sufficiently, outside the family
itso'f l
"Personally 1 am neither ashamed nor
distressed at the 'portrait'; it is to me a
sympathetic creation — naturally; but it
is very grievous to think that you and
Mab may not feel it so; and what is to
be done I don't quite know to-night.
"Best love, dear girl. — Your most lov
ing. JACK."
The Chorus of Praise.
The winter of 1905-1906 was spent nt
Bolt Head, in Devonshire, correcting the
proofs of "The Man of Property," which
appeared on 23rd March, 1906, and was
greeted with what on the whole may
be termed a choms of praise. Out of
some forty-odd notices, twenty-eight ex
pressed various degrees of enthusiasm,
four qualified praise, four hovered over
the critical fence without alighting; and
a solitary grumbler alone found that
"the effect of the book as a whole Is
somewhat dull and uninteresting."
But the publication of "The Man of
Property" is but half the story of this
annus mirabilis in Galsworthy's life. He
had made his mark; he had stepped out
of the ranks of the unnoted scribes Into
a position of real Importance In the lite
rature of the age. Henceforth he was
a leader; a name to conjure with, a
source of ideas in places where they
thought and debated. In a word, he
had achieved what every writer longs
for. He was now to perform the same
iwuu no iv hi dUialislr, UUu l-nis time uu EilC
first attempt. In the autumn of 1905
Edward Garnott had suggested to him
that he shoud write a play for tho won
derful Vetlrenne-Barker management then
In full swing. Wedded to the novel, with
Its greater freedom and technical elbow-
room, he had returned a very decided
refusal . . . which had not prevented
him from setting to work, before his re
turn to London at the end of January,
1908, on "The Cigarette Eox," now
known to fame ns "The Silver Box."
"The Silver Bo;:."
By the middle of March — in a mere six
weeks or so — the play was done, and in
an even shorter space of lime had been
accepted by the management for whom
it was intended.
A letter written at this time to R. H.
Mottrani contains tho following pas
sage:
To R. H. Mottram.
August 4, '06. Cortina.
"My Dear Ralph, — . . . . You ask me
a poser about morals and art, so I'll
answer you in platitudes.
"They are both part of the machinery
of life, both equally valuable and only
in opposition in the following sense.
"The artist takes life as he finds It,
observes, connotes and stores with all
his feelers, then out of his store (con
structs — creates according to his ' tem
perament) with the primary object of
stirring the emotional nerves or his au
dience, and thereby directly, actively giv
ing pleasure.
"The moralist observes life, generalises,
notes what is wrong and forms laws,
rules and conventions, which by bind-
ing and checking the use or over use
of the emotional nerves (I.e., by negat
ing individual pleasure secondarily se
cures the pleasure of the greater num
ber).
"The process Is, in fact, reversed.
"The artist is active 1 as producers
"The moralist negative j of pleasure.
Obviously very few men are purely ar
tists or purely moralists, perhaps none.
"But all men are rather more one
than the other. The antagonism only
begins when personality comes into
play, i.e.:
"A. (artist) is temperamentally op
posed to M. (moralist) as a man, or
they Irritate each other; that's all. if
they're both extreme types.
"As to morals, what Is moral to-day Is
Immoral to-morrow, and that, of course,
confuses things a bit. The artist there
has the advantage in a manner of speak
ing because he is dealing with things
that practically speaking do not change,
I.e., the laws of nature, and dealing wiLh
them with the senses, which also do not
change (or so slowly that tho changes
do not count)
"To take, for Instance, the very useful
Shakespeare. He is, of course, a supreme
artist, but some people would call him
also a great moralist. To my mind
that is making too free and general a
use of the word moralist. A moralist is
essentially a man of an epoch of morals;
it may not be his own epoch, it may bo
the next, but it Is an epoch. Shakes-
peare, however, is dateless.
"Most writers have a large dash of
the moralist; all satirists have. But the
two qualities in a writer are not neces
sarily in the least in opposition except
as a matter of technique; that Is of
holding the balance firm and true so
that both sides are done full Justice
to.
- "Does Gavnett talk of an artist en-
Joying life ? I think he .must mean as
a spectator, as a person endowed with
a great curiosity.
"Conrad (a painter's writer) is per-
naps the best specimen I can think of
as a pure artist (there Is practically
nothing of the moralist in him) amongst
moderns.
"Turgenov was a greater artist than
Conrad, but there's dnsh oi; the moralist
In him, too, which comes out in tho
themes of his books.
"Tolstoi, a large, violent being, has the
two qualities about equally, but being
lnrgo and violent, ho resembles a see
saw which Is never at equipoise, and
don't they give him a bad time of It— art
and morals 1
"Roughly speaking, tho more a moral
ist is an artist the longer ho will live.
As to tho converse, well, those artists
so great that they arc cosmic and deal
In Nature's morals (not man's), such
as Shakespeare and Homer, survive; but
most surviving books and authors , have
been a blend of artist and moralist.
Perhaps you are inclined to use morals
In the sense of Nature's morals; if so
get out of the habit — it's a vague bad
use of the word — mores— customs, fash
ions, and Nature has no fashions, ex
cept cyclically, which we need not con
sider.
"Excuse a very bad rigmarole written
with a fountain pen out of doors.
"No roses here — but very large moun
tains lying round like Hons white and
tawny.
"I've been writing a good deal, but the
last two days struck and walked all
day.
"Ada very fit, and walking like a four-
year-old. Our love to you and your
mother; best respects to your dad, and
a warm greeting to her unknown whom
wo shall hope to know.
"As to the first sentence in your letter
I attribute it to tlie cider that you
drink out of brown jugs,— Adieu, J.G."
The play was produced at the Court
Theatre on Tuesday, 25th September,
and caused a strong and Immediate sen
sation. Tlie author's comments were
characteristically modest:
To Edward Garnett: "I notice that
two sayings you suggested to me in 'Tlie
Silver Box are those which receive the
most regular laughter."
. Ralph Mottram: "The play seems
to have struck a good many people
... the odd tiling Is I can't tell in the
least what it s like. I lost one of mv
£"rlnpr rchrsn,s' but whether
t was the sense of smqll or not I don't
know. I can't Judge, anyway."
(To be Continued Next Tuesday.)
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