July 17, 2025 • 15 mins
Delve into the captivating life and mind of Anthony Trollope, an iconic figure in literature, through his own words. His autobiography is a rollercoaster of emotions, from side-splitting humor to poignant honesty. Discover the fascinating insights he provides on his unique approach to writing, viewing it more as a labor than a form of art. Trollopes die-hard fans will be thrilled by his candid evaluation of his own work and his recognition of his novels flaws and accomplishments. This autobiography extends beyond just his literary life, providing an intimate look at his years juggling his passion for writing with a full-time job at the post office.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fourteen of the Autobiography of Anthony Trollop. This LibriVox
recording is in the public domain. Autobiography of Anthony Trollop
on criticism. Literary criticism in the present day has become
a profession, but it has ceased to be an art.
(00:21):
Its object is no longer that of proving that certain
literary work is good and other literary work is bad,
in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define.
English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so
far as this. It attempts, in the first place, to
tell the public whether a book be or be not
(00:43):
worth public attention, and in the second place, so to
describe the purport of the work as to enable those
who have not time or inclination for reading it to
feel that by a shortcut they can become acquainted with
its contents. Both these objects, if fairly well carried out,
are salutary. Though the critic may not be a profound
(01:04):
judge himself, though not unfrequently he be a young man
making his first literary attempts, with tastes and judgment still unfixed.
Yet he probably has a conscience in the matter, and
would not have been selected for that work had he
not shown some aptitude for it. Though he may not
be the best possible guide to the undiscerning, he will
(01:28):
be better than no guide at all. Real substantial criticism must,
from its nature be costly, and that which the public
wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is given
to many thousands, which, though it may not be the
best advice possible, is better than no advice at all.
(01:48):
Then that description of the work criticized, that compressing of
the much into very little, which is the work of
many modern critics or reviewers, does enable many to know
something of what is being said, who without it would
know nothing. I do not think it is incumbent on
me at present to name periodicals in which this work
(02:09):
is well done, and to make complaints of others by
which it is scamped. I should give offense, and might
probably be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that,
as some of these periodicals are certainly entitled to great
praise for the manner in which the work is done, generally,
so are others open to very severe censure, And that
(02:31):
the praise and that the censure are chiefly due on
behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is
not critical ability that we have a right to demand,
or its absence that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability,
for the price we pay is not attainable. It is
a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, and when displayed, is
(02:53):
very frequently not appreciated. But that critics should be honest.
We have a right to demand, and critical dishonesty we
are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us
what he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless,
we can forgive him. But when he tells us what
he does not think, actuated either by friendship or by animosity,
(03:17):
then there should be no pardon for him. This is
the sin in modern English criticism of which there is
most reason to complain. It is a lamentable fact that
men and women lend themselves to this practice who are
neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It has become the custom
(03:37):
of the trade, under the veil of which excuse so
many tradesmen justify their malpractices. When a struggling author learns
that so much has been done for a by the
Barsetshire Gazette, so much for b by the Dillsborough Herald,
and again so much for c by that powerful metropolitan organ,
the Evening Pulpit, and is told also that A and
(03:59):
B and see have been favored through personal interest. He
also goes to work among the editors or the editor's wives,
or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their
wives first or second cousins. When once the feeling has
come upon an editor or a critic, that he may
allow himself to be influenced by other considerations than the
(04:20):
duty he owes to the public, all sense of critical
or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. Vasilis
desensus averni in a very short time that editorial honesty
becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that
he wields the power. And when he is told what
(04:42):
is his duty and what should be his conduct, the
preacher of such doctrine seems to him to be quixotic.
Where have you lived, my friend, for the last twenty years?
He says, in spirit, if not in word, that you
come out now with such stuff as old fashioned as this,
And thus dishonesty begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful,
(05:05):
How nice to be good natured? How glorious to assist
struggling young authors, especially if the young author be also
a pretty woman. How gracious to oblige a friend. Then
the motive, though still pleasing, departs further from the border
of what is good. In what way can the critic
better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than
(05:28):
by good natured criticism, or, more certainly, insurer for himself
a continuation of hospitable favors. Some years since a critic
of the day, a gentleman well known then in literary circles,
showed me the manuscript of a book recently published, the
work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, and
(05:49):
was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been
given to him by the author as an acknowledgment for
a laudatory review in one of the leading journals of
the day. As I was expressly asked whether I did
not regard such a token as a sign of grace,
both in the giver and in the receiver, I said
that I thought it should neither have been given nor
(06:12):
have been taken. My theory was repudiated with scorn, and
I was told that I was straight laced, visionary, and
impracticable in all that the damage did not lie in
the fact of that one present, but in the feeling
on the part of the critic that his office was
not debased by the acceptance of presents from those whom
he criticized. This man was a professional critic, bound by
(06:36):
his contract with certain employers to review such books as
were sent to him. How could he when he had
received a valuable present for praising one book censure another
by the same author. While I write this, I well
know that what I say, if it be ever noticed
at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats,
(06:57):
as a pretense of honesty, or at any rate, as
an exaggeration of scruples. I have said the same thing before,
and have been ridiculed for saying it. But nonetheless I
am sure that English literature generally is suffering much under
this evil. All those who are struggling for success have
forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts should
(07:17):
be made in touting for praise. Those who are not
familiar with the lives of authors will hardly believe how
low will be the forms which their struggles will take
how little presence will be sent to men who write
little articles, how much flattery may be expended even on
the keeper of a circulating library, with what profuse and
(07:37):
distant genuflections approaches are made to the outside railing of
the temple which contains within it the great thunderer of
some metropolitan periodical publication. The evil here is not only
that done to the public when interested counsel is given
to them, but extends to the debasement of those who have,
(07:58):
at any rate considered them so fit to provide literature
for the public. I'm satisfied that the remedy for this
evil must lie in the conscience and deportment of authors themselves.
If once the feeling could be produced that it is
disgraceful for an author to ask for praise, and demands
(08:18):
for praise are I think disgraceful in every walk of life.
The practice would gradually fall into the hands only of
the lowest, and that which is done only by the
lowest soon becomes despicable even to them. The sin, when
perpetuated with unflagging labor, brings with it at best very
poor reward. That work of running after critics, editors, publishers,
(08:43):
the keepers of circulating libraries and their clerks. Is very hard,
and must be very disagreeable. He who does it must
feel himself to be dishonored or she. It may perhaps
help to sell an addition, but can never make an
author successful. I think it may be laid down as
(09:03):
a golden rule in literature that there should be no
intercourse at all between an author and his critic. The
critic as critic should not know his author, nor the
author as author his critic. As censure should beget no anger,
so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should
(09:24):
feel that criticisms fall upon him as due or hail
from heaven, which, as coming from heaven man accepts as
fate praise. Let the author try to obtain by wholesome
effort censure, let him avoid, if possible, by care and industry.
But when they come, let him take them as coming
(09:44):
from some source which he cannot influence, and with which
he should not meddle. I know no more disagreeable trouble
into which an author may plunge himself than of a
quarrel with his critics, or any more uselessly labor than
that of answering them. It is wise to presume at
any rate that the reviewer has simply done his duty
(10:07):
and has spoken of the book according to the dictates
of his conscience. Nothing can be gained by combating the
reviewer's opinion. If the book which he has disparaged be good,
his judgment will be condemned by the praise of others.
If bad, his judgment will be confirmed by others. Or
if unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so
(10:29):
evil a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected.
The author may be sure that his efforts made on
behalf of his own book will not set matters right.
If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To
do so is consonant with the dignity of the position
which he ought to assume. To shriek and scream and sputter,
(10:52):
to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that
he has been belied and defamed in that he has
been accused of bad grammar, or a fa false metaphor,
of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine,
will leave on the minds of the public nothing but
a sense of irritated impotence. If indeed, there should spring
(11:13):
from an author's work. Any assertion by a critic injurious
to the author's honor. If the author be accused of
falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable to him,
then indeed he may be bound to answer the charge.
It is hoped, however, that he may be able to
do so with clean hands, or he will so stir
the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier
(11:36):
than he went into it. I have lived much among
men by whom the English criticism of the day has
been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to
the public it is a false guide, and that to
authors it is never a trustworthy mentor. I do not
concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of course criticism
(11:57):
and criticism. There are at this moment one or two
periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look
for guidance, though there are many others from which no
spark of literary advantage may be obtained. But it is
well that both public and authors should know what is
the advantage which they have a right to expect. There
(12:17):
have been critics, and there probably will be again, though
the circumstances of English literature do not tend to produce
them with power sufficient to entitle them to speak with authority.
These great men have declared tunquam ex cathedra, that such
a book has been so far good and so far bad,
or that it has been altogether good or altogether bad,
(12:39):
And the world has believed them. When making such assertions.
They have given their reasons, explained their causes, and have
carried conviction. Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics,
but not without infinite study in the labor of many years.
Such are not the critics of the day of whom
(13:00):
we are now speaking. In the literary world as it
lives at present, some writer is selected for the place
of critic to a newspaper. Generally some young writer who
for so many shillings a column, shall review whatever book
is sent to him and express an opinion reading the
book through for the purpose. If the amount of honorarium
is measured with the amount of labor will enable him
(13:22):
to do so. A laborer must measure his work by
his pay, or he cannot live from criticisms such as
this must, for the most part be the general reader
has no right to expect philosophical analysis or a literary
judgment on which confidence may be placed. But he probably
may believe that the books praised will be better than
(13:45):
the books censured, that those which are praised by periodicals
which never censure are better worth his attention than those
which are not noticed. And readers will also find that
by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the
critics of the week, they will enable themselves to have
an opinion about the books of the day. The knowledge
(14:06):
so acquired will not be great, nor will that little
be lasting, but it adds something to the pleasure of
life to be able to talk on subjects of which
others are speaking. And the man who has sedulously gone
through the literary notices in the Spectator in the Saturday
may perhaps be justified in thinking himself as well able
to talk about the new book as his friend who
(14:27):
has bought that new book on the tapis, and who
not improbably obtained his information from the same source as
an author. I have paid careful attention to the reviews
which have been written on my own work, and I
think that now I well know where I may look
for little instruction, where I may expect only greasy adulation,
(14:49):
where I shall be cut up into mincemeat, for the
delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I
shall find an equal measure of praise and censure, so
adjusted without much judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of
the newspaper and its staff. Among it all, there is
much chaff, which I have learned how to throw to
(15:10):
the winds, with equal disregard, whether it praises or blames.
But I have also found some corn on which I
have fed and nourished myself, and for which I have
been thankful. End of Chapter fourteen.
Chapter fourteen of the Autobiography of Anthony Trollop. This LibriVox
recording is in the public domain. Autobiography of Anthony Trollop
on criticism. Literary criticism in the present day has become
a profession, but it has ceased to be an art.
(00:21):
Its object is no longer that of proving that certain
literary work is good and other literary work is bad,
in accordance with rules which the critic is able to define.
English criticism at present rarely even pretends to go so
far as this. It attempts, in the first place, to
tell the public whether a book be or be not
(00:43):
worth public attention, and in the second place, so to
describe the purport of the work as to enable those
who have not time or inclination for reading it to
feel that by a shortcut they can become acquainted with
its contents. Both these objects, if fairly well carried out,
are salutary. Though the critic may not be a profound
(01:04):
judge himself, though not unfrequently he be a young man
making his first literary attempts, with tastes and judgment still unfixed.
Yet he probably has a conscience in the matter, and
would not have been selected for that work had he
not shown some aptitude for it. Though he may not
be the best possible guide to the undiscerning, he will
(01:28):
be better than no guide at all. Real substantial criticism must,
from its nature be costly, and that which the public
wants should at any rate be cheap. Advice is given
to many thousands, which, though it may not be the
best advice possible, is better than no advice at all.
(01:48):
Then that description of the work criticized, that compressing of
the much into very little, which is the work of
many modern critics or reviewers, does enable many to know
something of what is being said, who without it would
know nothing. I do not think it is incumbent on
me at present to name periodicals in which this work
(02:09):
is well done, and to make complaints of others by
which it is scamped. I should give offense, and might
probably be unjust. But I think I may certainly say that,
as some of these periodicals are certainly entitled to great
praise for the manner in which the work is done, generally,
so are others open to very severe censure, And that
(02:31):
the praise and that the censure are chiefly due on
behalf of one virtue and its opposite vice. It is
not critical ability that we have a right to demand,
or its absence that we are bound to deplore. Critical ability,
for the price we pay is not attainable. It is
a faculty not peculiar to Englishmen, and when displayed, is
(02:53):
very frequently not appreciated. But that critics should be honest.
We have a right to demand, and critical dishonesty we
are bound to expose. If the writer will tell us
what he thinks, though his thoughts be absolutely vague and useless,
we can forgive him. But when he tells us what
he does not think, actuated either by friendship or by animosity,
(03:17):
then there should be no pardon for him. This is
the sin in modern English criticism of which there is
most reason to complain. It is a lamentable fact that
men and women lend themselves to this practice who are
neither vindictive nor ordinarily dishonest. It has become the custom
(03:37):
of the trade, under the veil of which excuse so
many tradesmen justify their malpractices. When a struggling author learns
that so much has been done for a by the
Barsetshire Gazette, so much for b by the Dillsborough Herald,
and again so much for c by that powerful metropolitan organ,
the Evening Pulpit, and is told also that A and
(03:59):
B and see have been favored through personal interest. He
also goes to work among the editors or the editor's wives,
or perhaps, if he cannot reach their wives, with their
wives first or second cousins. When once the feeling has
come upon an editor or a critic, that he may
allow himself to be influenced by other considerations than the
(04:20):
duty he owes to the public, all sense of critical
or of editorial honesty falls from him at once. Vasilis
desensus averni in a very short time that editorial honesty
becomes ridiculous to himself. It is for other purpose that
he wields the power. And when he is told what
(04:42):
is his duty and what should be his conduct, the
preacher of such doctrine seems to him to be quixotic.
Where have you lived, my friend, for the last twenty years?
He says, in spirit, if not in word, that you
come out now with such stuff as old fashioned as this,
And thus dishonesty begets dishonesty, till dishonesty seems to be beautiful,
(05:05):
How nice to be good natured? How glorious to assist
struggling young authors, especially if the young author be also
a pretty woman. How gracious to oblige a friend. Then
the motive, though still pleasing, departs further from the border
of what is good. In what way can the critic
better repay the hospitality of his wealthy literary friend than
(05:28):
by good natured criticism, or, more certainly, insurer for himself
a continuation of hospitable favors. Some years since a critic
of the day, a gentleman well known then in literary circles,
showed me the manuscript of a book recently published, the
work of a popular author. It was handsomely bound, and
(05:49):
was a valuable and desirable possession. It had just been
given to him by the author as an acknowledgment for
a laudatory review in one of the leading journals of
the day. As I was expressly asked whether I did
not regard such a token as a sign of grace,
both in the giver and in the receiver, I said
that I thought it should neither have been given nor
(06:12):
have been taken. My theory was repudiated with scorn, and
I was told that I was straight laced, visionary, and
impracticable in all that the damage did not lie in
the fact of that one present, but in the feeling
on the part of the critic that his office was
not debased by the acceptance of presents from those whom
he criticized. This man was a professional critic, bound by
(06:36):
his contract with certain employers to review such books as
were sent to him. How could he when he had
received a valuable present for praising one book censure another
by the same author. While I write this, I well
know that what I say, if it be ever noticed
at all, will be taken as a straining at gnats,
(06:57):
as a pretense of honesty, or at any rate, as
an exaggeration of scruples. I have said the same thing before,
and have been ridiculed for saying it. But nonetheless I
am sure that English literature generally is suffering much under
this evil. All those who are struggling for success have
forced upon them the idea that their strongest efforts should
(07:17):
be made in touting for praise. Those who are not
familiar with the lives of authors will hardly believe how
low will be the forms which their struggles will take
how little presence will be sent to men who write
little articles, how much flattery may be expended even on
the keeper of a circulating library, with what profuse and
(07:37):
distant genuflections approaches are made to the outside railing of
the temple which contains within it the great thunderer of
some metropolitan periodical publication. The evil here is not only
that done to the public when interested counsel is given
to them, but extends to the debasement of those who have,
(07:58):
at any rate considered them so fit to provide literature
for the public. I'm satisfied that the remedy for this
evil must lie in the conscience and deportment of authors themselves.
If once the feeling could be produced that it is
disgraceful for an author to ask for praise, and demands
(08:18):
for praise are I think disgraceful in every walk of life.
The practice would gradually fall into the hands only of
the lowest, and that which is done only by the
lowest soon becomes despicable even to them. The sin, when
perpetuated with unflagging labor, brings with it at best very
poor reward. That work of running after critics, editors, publishers,
(08:43):
the keepers of circulating libraries and their clerks. Is very hard,
and must be very disagreeable. He who does it must
feel himself to be dishonored or she. It may perhaps
help to sell an addition, but can never make an
author successful. I think it may be laid down as
(09:03):
a golden rule in literature that there should be no
intercourse at all between an author and his critic. The
critic as critic should not know his author, nor the
author as author his critic. As censure should beget no anger,
so should praise beget no gratitude. The young author should
(09:24):
feel that criticisms fall upon him as due or hail
from heaven, which, as coming from heaven man accepts as
fate praise. Let the author try to obtain by wholesome
effort censure, let him avoid, if possible, by care and industry.
But when they come, let him take them as coming
(09:44):
from some source which he cannot influence, and with which
he should not meddle. I know no more disagreeable trouble
into which an author may plunge himself than of a
quarrel with his critics, or any more uselessly labor than
that of answering them. It is wise to presume at
any rate that the reviewer has simply done his duty
(10:07):
and has spoken of the book according to the dictates
of his conscience. Nothing can be gained by combating the
reviewer's opinion. If the book which he has disparaged be good,
his judgment will be condemned by the praise of others.
If bad, his judgment will be confirmed by others. Or
if unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so
(10:29):
evil a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected.
The author may be sure that his efforts made on
behalf of his own book will not set matters right.
If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To
do so is consonant with the dignity of the position
which he ought to assume. To shriek and scream and sputter,
(10:52):
to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that
he has been belied and defamed in that he has
been accused of bad grammar, or a fa false metaphor,
of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine,
will leave on the minds of the public nothing but
a sense of irritated impotence. If indeed, there should spring
(11:13):
from an author's work. Any assertion by a critic injurious
to the author's honor. If the author be accused of
falsehood or of personal motives which are discreditable to him,
then indeed he may be bound to answer the charge.
It is hoped, however, that he may be able to
do so with clean hands, or he will so stir
the mud in the pool as to come forth dirtier
(11:36):
than he went into it. I have lived much among
men by whom the English criticism of the day has
been vehemently abused. I have heard it said that to
the public it is a false guide, and that to
authors it is never a trustworthy mentor. I do not
concur in this wholesale censure. There is, of course criticism
(11:57):
and criticism. There are at this moment one or two
periodicals to which both public and authors may safely look
for guidance, though there are many others from which no
spark of literary advantage may be obtained. But it is
well that both public and authors should know what is
the advantage which they have a right to expect. There
(12:17):
have been critics, and there probably will be again, though
the circumstances of English literature do not tend to produce
them with power sufficient to entitle them to speak with authority.
These great men have declared tunquam ex cathedra, that such
a book has been so far good and so far bad,
or that it has been altogether good or altogether bad,
(12:39):
And the world has believed them. When making such assertions.
They have given their reasons, explained their causes, and have
carried conviction. Very great reputations have been achieved by such critics,
but not without infinite study in the labor of many years.
Such are not the critics of the day of whom
(13:00):
we are now speaking. In the literary world as it
lives at present, some writer is selected for the place
of critic to a newspaper. Generally some young writer who
for so many shillings a column, shall review whatever book
is sent to him and express an opinion reading the
book through for the purpose. If the amount of honorarium
is measured with the amount of labor will enable him
(13:22):
to do so. A laborer must measure his work by
his pay, or he cannot live from criticisms such as
this must, for the most part be the general reader
has no right to expect philosophical analysis or a literary
judgment on which confidence may be placed. But he probably
may believe that the books praised will be better than
(13:45):
the books censured, that those which are praised by periodicals
which never censure are better worth his attention than those
which are not noticed. And readers will also find that
by devoting an hour or two on Saturday to the
critics of the week, they will enable themselves to have
an opinion about the books of the day. The knowledge
(14:06):
so acquired will not be great, nor will that little
be lasting, but it adds something to the pleasure of
life to be able to talk on subjects of which
others are speaking. And the man who has sedulously gone
through the literary notices in the Spectator in the Saturday
may perhaps be justified in thinking himself as well able
to talk about the new book as his friend who
(14:27):
has bought that new book on the tapis, and who
not improbably obtained his information from the same source as
an author. I have paid careful attention to the reviews
which have been written on my own work, and I
think that now I well know where I may look
for little instruction, where I may expect only greasy adulation,
(14:49):
where I shall be cut up into mincemeat, for the
delight of those who love sharp invective, and where I
shall find an equal measure of praise and censure, so
adjusted without much judgment, as to exhibit the impartiality of
the newspaper and its staff. Among it all, there is
much chaff, which I have learned how to throw to
(15:10):
the winds, with equal disregard, whether it praises or blames.
But I have also found some corn on which I
have fed and nourished myself, and for which I have
been thankful. End of Chapter fourteen.
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