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'Evan Harrington': An Analysis Of George Meredith'S Revisions
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'Evan Harrington': An Analysis Of George Meredith'S Revisions
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This dissertation has been microfilmed exactly as received 6 8 -1 2 ,0 2 8 COTTON, Jo Ray, 1929- EVAN HARRINGTON: AN ANALYSIS OF GEORGE MEREDITH’S REVISIONS. University of Southern California, Ph.D., 1968 Language and Literature, modern University Microfilms, Inc., Ann Arbor, M ichigan t C op yrigh t (c) by JO RAY C O TTO N 1968 EVAN HARRINGTON: AN ANALYSIS OF GEORGE MEREDITH'S REVISIONS by Jo Ray Cotton A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (English) January 1968 UNIVERSITY O F SOU TH ERN CALIFORNIA THE GRADUATE SCH O O L UNIVERS1TY PARK LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 9 0 0 0 7 This dissertation, written by ............... under the direction of h&x....Dissertation Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree of D O C T O R OF P H I L O S O P H Y •Dean D ate... Jan u ar y ,1968 DISSERTATION COMMITTEE ' Chairman TABLE OF CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION ............................................ 1 Chapter I. EVAN HARRINGTON: FROM SERIAL TO NOVEL .... 12 Reputation of the Author The Serialization of Evan Harrington Autobiographical Elements Contemporary Criticism II. THE REVISIONS OF EVAN HARRINGTON............. 35 Changes in Plot and Incident Changes in Characterization Changes in Style and Tone Accidentals and Other Minor Changes CONCLUSION............................................... 147 BIBLIOGRAPHY............................................. 150 ii INTRODUCTION The question of whether Meredith revised his novels in a negligent, indiscriminate manner, or whether he emended carefully with an eye to improvement has not been adequately explored. In fact, amid the large aggregate of critical articles on Meredith, this particular question has almost been overlooked. In an attempt to give a partial answer to the question, I have collated the original 1860 serialized version of Evan Harrington with the 1896 de Luxe version, The following studies shed limited light on the sub- j ect: a) The National Observer of June 6 and December 5, 1896; and of January 2, 1897, contains three articles by a corre spondent regretting Meredith's revisions on the basis that they mutilate the novels. "Is it so certain that a writer is the best critic of his own work?" he asks and gives the answer: "I think not."--December 5, p. 64. These articles will be referred to subsequently. b) Various Readings and Bibliography, Vol. XXVII of the Memorial edition of Meredith's collected works (New York, 1911). These lists of variants are not very helpful be cause (1) the variants are not seen in context, (2) not all variants are accurately listed, (3) the variants do not take into consideration the changes made for the 1861 Bradbury and Evans edition of Evan Harrington. c) L. T. Hergenhan, "Meredith's Use of Revision: A Consider ation of the Revisions of Richard Feverel and Evan Har rington," The Modern Language Review, 59:539-544, October 1964. Hergenhan, in this and other articles/ makes some important generalizations, but he supplies no examples. d) Lillian Sacco, "The Significance of George Meredith's Revisions of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel," unpub. diss. (University of Southern California, Los Angeles, 1967). I am much indebted to Mrs. Sacco's study, which has served as a model for my own. 1 which Meredith declared to he his final revision. I also have collated the 1861 Bradbury and Evans version with the serialized version, but since the changes involved are minor and show the same general trends as the 1896 revisions, I have, in order to simplify the treatment of my findings, elected not to handle these changes separately, but to gether . ^ 2 According to my findings, the three versions I have cited are the only ones extant, all other editions being based on one of these versions. An account by Walter T. Spencer in his booh Forty Years in My Bookshop tells of how a bonfire was made of some of Meredith's manuscripts. This may account for the fact that no manuscript version of Evan Harrington is available.— (London, 1923), pp. 234-238. In his Ordeal of George Meredith Lionel Stevenson asserts that Meredith made substantial revisions for the 1885 Chapman and Hall edition of his collected works.— (New York, 1953), p. 263. Although I have been unable to procure a copy of this edition, I find no evidence to substantiate Stevenson's claim, at least in the case of Evan Harrington. The Chapman and Hall edition was prepared and published at a time when Meredith's wife was fatally ill, a matter that absorbed all of his time. Lillian Sacco found no changes worth noting in the Chapman and Hall edition of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel. Three expert Meredith bibliographers— Arundell Esdaile, Luther S. Livingston, and Maurice Buxton Forman— agree that the 1896 de Luxe edition contains Meredith's major revisions; none of them mentions revisions for the 1885 Chapman and Hall edition. Their view is based on the following notation in a prospectus put in circulation by Messrs. Archibald Constable and Company in 1896: "Mr. Mere dith has revised his works for this edition, which he wishes to be regarded as textually final."— Maurice Buxton Forman, A Bibliography of George Meredith (Edinburgh, 1922), p. 282. A letter to his friend Mrs. Meynell, dated June 17, 1896, further substantiates that Meredith revised for the 1896 edition: "Much have I been reading you these days, and then I must away to correction of my books. And troth, it is as if from worship in a cathedral I were dragged away to a dancing-booth." George Meredith, Letters, ed. William Maxse Meredith (London, 1912), I, 484. 3 For three reasons it seemed advantageous to choose this early novel rather than a later one for my study. First, it was more heavily emended than any other novel except The Ordeal of Richard Feverel, affording an opportunity to study a variety of revisions. Second, Meredith seems to have been displeased with the novel from the beginning, as indicated by the following letter in 1861 to Bradbury and Evans: I wish I could have done more for Ev: Harrington, for both our sales, but I should have had to cut him to pieces, put strange herbs to him, and boil him up again— a toilsome and doubtful process: so I let him go much as Once a Week exhibited him. We must take our luck and do better next time.^ This general dissatisfaction on Meredith's part makes the revisions particularly significant in the light they shed on Meredith's theory of the novel. Third, the thirty-six-year time lapse between the novel's conception and its final form is a fair index to the progress of the artist's craft and to the artist's willingness to meet the demands of his critics. As I have proceeded in my investigation, I have become more and more convinced that the work I have undertaken holds real significance for the student of Meredith in the information it provides on his method of work. While the results of my collation have not encouraged me to formulate either a clearly positive or a clearly negative answer to the question of how well the revisions were executed, I can O In Lionel Stevenson, The Ordeal of George Meredith (New York, 1953), p. 82. indicate that in most instances they were done with adroit ness, but that in a few instances— not always minor— they were clumsy or illogical. In the main, I think it equitable to state that the revisions make the novel substantially better. My study is in three parts: the first a history of the publication of Evan Harrington, including some general criticism of Meredith as a novelist; the second an analysis of the results of my collation; and the third a conclusion in which I state how well Meredith functioned as an editor of his own work. It is quite necessary, and, I think, not unreasonable to assume at the beginning of my study that the reader is familiar with the plot of Evan Harrington either as it appears in the American Harpers edition (based on the serialized version), or in one of the revised editions. As to the plan for the second chapter: The revisions fall naturally into four general categories, which in this study will be treated in the following order: 1. Changes in plot and incident 2. Changes in characterization 3. Changes in style and tone 4. Accidentals and other minor changes Proceeding chronologically through the novel, I have, when ever the revisions called for a comparison of texts, pre sented the various changes in categories by dividing the page, with the 1860 serialized version on the left side, and the 1896 de Luxe version on the right side of the page. Comments on the comparison are typed across the page follow ing the two passages. Whenever the revision is merely a matter of excision, I have copied the excised portion and followed it with my comments in a separate paragraph. The pagination for the 1860 version is.given in parentheses, for the 1896 version in brackets. When dealing with listings of minor changes, I have found it injudicious to quote the page reference for each change. The revisions, of course, cannot always be clearly categorized. For instance, a change in plot may concomi tantly be a change in tone; or, a change in characterization may also involve a change in plot or style. In cases where the change is ambiguous, I have chosen to treat it under the category in which it seems most significant. The revisions of Evan Harrington generally reflect the conservatism of an older artist who, on the one hand, has lost his boyhood exuberance and his relish for boisterous farce, but who, on the other hand, has attained a sense of decorum and a polished style. In making his revisions Meredith is no longer appealing to the readers of Once a Week for their attention; rather, he is intent on creating a novel the artistic merits of which will be remembered by posterity. He does not have to use cheap tricks, broad gags, or mysteries to entice his public to read on. Now he is more interested in preserving the dramatic moment, in' keeping the characters consistent, and in polishing his style. Referring to both the 1861 and 1896 revisions, Hergenhan says: The main aim of both sets of revisions was to condense, simplify or delete the extravagant behaviour and conver sation of Raikes, and similarly to tone down the style of certain other passages in the interests of clarity and simplicity. At the same time the author became less intrusive.4 Without detracting from Hergenhan's apt summary of the directions in which Meredith's revisions move, I must sug gest two further objectives: (1) to change the tone of the novel by lessening its sentimentality and burlesque humor, (2) to tighten the whole narrative structure by cutting out repetitious or over-lengthy digressions. Had Meredith, like Thomas Hardy, written prefaces for the various editions of his novels, these might have con tained helpful clues to the purpose of his revisions; but since Evan Harrington contains no such preface, I have had to rely for my analysis on the context of the story, on the major criticisms levelled at Meredith during the years be tween serialization and final publication, and on calculated guesses, keeping in mind Fredson Bowers' edict that a tex tual study must be thoroughly objective and alive to the author's intention, without allowing personal preference to 4 Hergenhan, p. 542. 5 overrule. Accordingly, m this study no attempt will be made to justify the flaws in Meredith's method of revising; rather, the revisions will be carefully considered with a view to getting a clearcut picture of the author's craft as an editor of his own work. Meredith's tendency was to continually make alterations in his text before submitting the final copy to his editors. Probably this compulsion plagued him, as indicated by the fact that on one occasion he asked Samuel Lucas, editor of the magazine Once a Week, in which Evan Harrington first appeared, to set up the first part of the novel in order to prevent him from tampering with it any longer: "If it gets into my hands, I shall be cutting at it, correcting, polish ing— unless I see it as a fact in print.That he believed the revising of a novel to be a special and demanding art can be deduced from a letter he wrote to E. L. Burlingame, editor of Scribner's Magazine, when Burlingame's office wanted to cut The Amazing Marriage for serialization. Here Meredith refers to such cutting as a ". . . surgical opera tion which shall lop excesses without wounding an artery. 7 This without damage to the full publication subsequently." ^Bibliography and Textual Criticism (Oxford, 1964), pp. 1-30. ^Bertha Coolidge, A Catalogue of the Altschul Collec tion of George Meredith (Yale University, privately printed, 1931), p. 81. 7 ’ Letters, II, 471. We assume that in many of the heavy excisions for Evan Har rington he kept this in mind. Giving advice to M. Andre Raffalovich, he wrote: "Observe; write but to tear to g strips, for a time," indicating his subscription to the theory of improving one's work. On one occasion Meredith admitted to his friend John Morley: "I am the worst of cor- 9 rectors of my own writing," probably referring to proof reading, but it is not unlikely that an impartial editor could have gone through Evan Harrington and made better re visions than did the author himself. In concluding my introduction I should like to address myself to the question of how far Meredith allowed himself to be influenced by his critics. The amount of critical writing on Meredith in existence today in the form of books, articles, and reviews forms a mass through which it is dif ficult to force a passage. In my study I have used such critical material as seemed helpful in the task of examining Meredith's method of revising Evan Harrington, and I have made no attempt to reflect accurately all the various cur rents of Meredith criticism. Collecting information on this subject was simplified due to the extensive and well- organized volumes, A Bibliography of Meredith and Meredithi- ana, both edited by Maurice Buxton Forman.^ ^Letters, II, 3 66. ^Letters, I, 274. ^They supply accurate, although not complete, source material up until 1924. A work bringing the bibliography up to date is needed. 9 Most critics think of Meredith as an independent spirit standing above the lashes or praises of public taste. Sir Osbert Sitwell, for instance, states: The great novelist never allowed himself for a moment to be influenced by the critics. He was sure of his own way. He did not mind if he was thought obscure, over stylized, affected, impersonal— or if he minded it, he did not allow it to deflect him from his course.H Meredith himself repeatedly expressed his disdain for praise or blame on the part of literary critics. In a letter to his good friend Augustus Jessopp he wrote: As for recognition of the stuff in my writing, and the system it goes on, I care little for it now, and when I thrust myself into the pillory by publishing, the smack in the face and pat on the shoulder are things in the day's order.^ With financial independence, Meredith became increasingly arrogant in his avowed refusal to cater to the critics' taste. When in 1908 the eminent French critic, Constantin Photiad&s, visited Meredith, the latter confessed with impish delight: I have observed, since my earlier works, that nothing bewilders the critics so much as that which, avoiding banality, demands a surfeit of attention. When I was about sixty, and I had inherited a small sum of money which made me independent, it pleased me to put before these critics a strong dose of the most indigestible material. I presented to them, slyly, Diana of the Crossways and the novels which followed. . . . These poor fellows knew not by what saint to swear. (p. 346) ■^"The Novels of George Meredith," Presidential Address to the English Association in 1947, p. 9. 1 7 In Stewart Marsh Ellis, George Meredith: His Life and Friends in Relation to His Work (London, 1899), p. 267. 10 A strain of hurt pride is detectable in Meredith’s realiza tion that often what he considered his best art was doomed to be rejected. In 1873 he wrote to Jessopp: I cannot go on with a story and not feel that to treat of flesh and blood is to touch the sacredest; and so it usually ends in my putting the destinies of the world about it— like an atmosphere, out of which it cannot sub sist. So my work fails. I see it. But the pressure is on me with every new work. (p. 241) Personal independence not withstanding, Meredith was clearly aware of the power of his critics, nor did he flout this power. When The Fortnightly Review, for example, hesitated, because of its length, to print Beauchamp1s Career, Meredith was eager to accommodate the publishers, promising to make drastic cuts in the story. His proposal to John Morley, the editor, of how exactly he would go about such a condensation is of interest to this study in that it reveals both some thing about Meredith's willingness to please his editors, and his method of revision: Your reluctance to undertake the burden of so lengthy a production, I cannot but think reasonable, and I gladly meet your kind proposal that I should cut it short as much as I can, without endangering the arteries. . . . It strikes me that the parts to lop will be the letters, a portion of the Visit to Normandy, the heavier of the electioneering passages, introductory paragraphs to chap ters, and dialogues passim that may be considered not vital to the central idea.^3 Some hint of the pain caused by having to mutilate his favo rite work‘ d in order to pacify his editors is reflected in the following letter to Moncure D. Conway: "I am engaged in ^Letters, I, 241. 14 Ellis, p. 288. 11 cutting down my novel for The Fortnightly Review. The task is hard, for I have at least to excise a third of my work, 15 which appears to be a full three-vols. measure." The facts show, nonetheless, that Meredith did, in many in stances, meet the demands of his critics and reading public. To what extent his revisions coincided with these demands constitutes a good portion of my stiidy. I am indebted to the staff of librarians of the Huntington Library for the many courtesies shown to me dur ing the months that I worked in the Rare Books Room. I am especially grateful to them for the use of a copy of the 1896 de Luxe edition and a copy of the 1861 Bradbury and Evans edition of Evan Harrington, both rare books and diffi cult to obtain. I am also indebted to Professors James Durbin and Richard O'Dea for their interest in this work and for their helpful encouragement. 15 For a further discussion of Meredith's cooperation with his critics, especially with Samuel Lucas, see Chapter I of the present study. CHAPTER I EVAN HARRINGTON: FROM SERIAL TO NOVEL Reputation of the Author It has become a commonplace in Meredith scholarship and criticism to assume that with the publication of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel in 185 9, Meredith brought an important turn to fiction by uniting the philosophical and critical with the lyrical and romantic, thus forming a brilliant and cunning comedy.^ Of this new method J. B. Priestley says: [It] describes the action, at all heightened moments, not from the usual detached point of view of a disinter ested spectator, but, as it were, from inside the mind of one of the actors, not as it appears to a merely ob servant onlooker, but as it appears in the consciousness of a character taking part in it. He [Meredith] gives See: Mary Sturge Gretton, The Writings and Life of George Meredith: A Centenary Study (London, 1926), pp. 10- 14; J. A. Hammerton, George Meredith in Anecdote and Criti cism (London, 1909), pp. 340-354; Walter Jerrold, George Meredith: An Essay Towards Appreciation (London, 1902), pp. 92-95; Norman Kelvin, A Troubled Eden: Nature and Society in the Works of George Meredith (Stanford, 1961), pp. 1-5; Hannah Lynch, George Meredith (London, 1891), pp. 4-24; James Moffatt, George Meredith: A Primer to the Novels (London, 1909), pp. 2-65; Constantin Photiades, George Mere dith: sa vie, son imagination, son art, sa doctrine, trans. Arthur Price (London, 1913), p. 71; Robert Esmonde Sencourt, The Life of George Meredith (London, 1929), pp. 312-319. 12 13 us not the fact but the fact coloured by emotion and dis torted by thought.^ Perhaps another way of pinpointing Meredith's method is to say that in his novels the poet expresses a state of mind, the psychologist analyzes that state, and the philosopher passes critical judgment on it. Doubtless this cerebral approach to fiction was partly responsible for the fact that when Evan Harrington was first published, Meredith was appreciated by only a few discerning critics, among whom we find George Eliot, James Thomson, Thomas Love Peacock, Maurice Fitzgerald, and Algernon Swinburne. From Lady Butcher's long personal acquaintance with Meredith we learn the following concerning the British response toward the novelist's early work: In those days he was not a famous author. He was only known to the general British public as a writer of novels very difficult to understand. He was often confounded with Owen Meredith (Lord Lytton's pseudonym), then much more read and talked about. There were always some perceptive minds who appreci ated his work, but they were not numerous.-^ Many theories have attempted to explain why Meredith, despite his dazzling wit and great comic sense, found it impossible to arouse a popular response to his work. Hannah 'Vr Lynch lays the blame directly on a lumpish public, asking, ^George Meredith (London, 1926), pp. 164-165. 3 Memories of George Meredith (London, 1919), pp. 32-33. 14 Can there be a more thankless task than that of labour ing against the tide of fatal dullness, or an unkinder solitude than that of a man who is a head and a half above the tallest of his fellows, and can neither lift them up to his level nor descend to theirs?^ J. A. Hammerton rejects the view that Meredith suffered long years of neglect, because in his opinion an author cannot be termed neglected when he could secure serial publication (as Meredith did with Evan Harrington) in a "high-class maga zine" such as Once a Week and when his earliest work always had an appreciative audience among intelligent critics. "More than most authors," says Hammerton, "Meredith had intelligent and cordial appreciation from the beginning, and that from critics whose opinion he had best reason to value.1 1 ^ The truth, perhaps, includes both positions. As far as I have been able to ascertain, while Meredith's poetry was mentioned occasionally as early as the 1851 Poems, his novels gained slow acceptance— if such can be measured by critical essays and reviews in print. Amid the huge mass of Meredith criticism I could find only a sprinkling of reviews that mention Evan Harrington during 1860 and 1861, the years of its serialized version and its first appearance as a book in England as well as in America. (See pp. 30-33 of this study.) And certainly acceptance by the general public (if ^George Meredith (London, 1891), p. 11. George Meredith in Anecdote and Criticism (London, 1909), p. 131. 15 it ever came at all) came late in Meredith's career. From this dearth of contemporary reviews, we may well assume that Evan Harrington was considered an inferior work. Not until the publication of The Egoist in 187 9, almost twenty years after Evan Harrington was serialized, did reviews and arti cles on Meredith's novels begin to increase in numbers. Yet, I cannot fully accept the view of James Moffatt, who describes Meredith in his early years as a spurned artist having to struggle many years amid "depreciation" and "actual privation."^ In reality Meredith himself did as much as anyone to propagate the idea of his universal re pudiation. Deeply sensitive, he held an exaggerated opinion of the critics' negative attitude to his writings. As late as 1887, when he had already received much glowing praise from both English and American critics, he wrote to an admirer: In England I am encouraged but by a few enthusiasts. I read in a critical review of some verses of mine the other day that I was "a harlequin and a performer of antics." I am accustomed to that kind of writing, as our hustings orator is to the dead cat and the brickbat flung in his face— at wh^ch he smiles politely; and I too; but after many years of it my mind looks elsewhere. Until his death, and long after he had been acknowledged one of England's most distinguished writers, Meredith continued •4 , ^George Meredith: A-Primer to the Novels (London, 1909), p. 5 . 7 In Stewart Marsh Ellis, George Meredith: His Life and Friends in Relation to His Work (London, 1899), p. 345. 16 to describe himself as "an unpopular novelist and unaccepted poet" {p. 372). One of his most withering comments on the critics of his work occurs in a letter to Lady Butcher: "I am bored by having to read belated opinions of the work X D have done.” Nevertheless, by the time Meredith reached his eightieth birthday, his reputation as a consummate artist was firmly established. At that time the presses of England released countless articles for various periodicals and newspapers, referring to Meredith in highly flattering terms. The North Mail hailed him as "The Last of the g Giants." The Birmingham Dispatch referred to him as "The 10 Grand Old Man of English Letters." The Birmingham Gazette 11 and Express named him "The Doyen of Literature." Other 12 epithets included: "Our Greatest Living Novelist," "The 13 14 Novelists' Novelist," "The Dean of English Novelists," 15 "The Nestor of English Letters," and so on in repetitious praise. The following caption under a photograph of ^Lady Butcher, p. 142. ^February 11, 1908, p. 4. "^February 12, 1908, p. 4. "^February 12, 1908, p. 4. 12 The Evening- Telegraph and Post, February 15, 1908, p. 6. ~ * ~ ^ The London Chat, February 22, 1908, p. 195. 14 Munsey1s Magazine, March 1908, p. 798. 15The Church Family Newspaper, February 14, 1908, p. 121. 17 Meredith in The Illustrated London News remains unique as an example of charming civility shown this illustrious octogen arian: "A Novelist Whom the King Delights to Honour. Mr. George Meredith, whose portrait has been commissioned by His Majesty."^ This crest of widely-felt admiration has never again been achieved by the author, and it is unlikely that ever again a fashion will be made of his subtle, complex art. Most likely his coterie of admirers will always be limited to a small group of admirers. As Constantin Photiades predicts: He will never be liked by readers who respond only to "the big drum" and "the tricks of tub- 17 thumping." The reason is best explained in W. E. Henley's paradoxical appraisal of Meredith's art: Meredith is one of the worst and least attractive of great writers as well as one of the best and most fasci nating. He is a sun that has broken out into innumer able spots. The better half of his genius is always suffering eclipse from the worst half. He writes with the pen of a great artist in his left hand and the razor of a spiritual suicide in his right. He is the master and the victim of a monstrous cleverness which is neither to hold nor to bind, and will not permit him to do things as an honest, simple person of genius would. . . . He is tediously amusing; he is brilliant to the point of being obscure; his helpfulness is so extravagant as to worry and confound. That is the secret of his unpopularity. His stories are not often good stories and are seldom well told; his ingenuity and intelligence are always misleading him into treating mere episodes as solemnly and elaborately as main incidents; he is ever ready to discuss, to ramble, to theorise, to dogmatise, t.o in dulge in a little irony or a little reflection of a "^March 21, 1908, p. 413. 17 . . . George Meredith: sa vie, son imagination, son art, sa doctrine, trans. Arthur Price (Paris, 1910), p. 249. 18 little artistic misdemeanour of some sort. . . . To read him at the rate of two or three chapters a day is to have a sincere and hearty admiration for him and a de vout anxiety to forget his defects and make much of his merits. But they are few who can take a novel on such terms as these, and to read your Meredith straight off is to have an indigestion of epigram, and to be incapable of distinguishing good from bad. 3-8 The Serialization of Evan Harrington Evan Harrington was conceived at a time of dissonance in Meredith's life. Separated from his wife, Mary, with whom he had lived for eleven years in a state of frequent domestic strife and emotional turmoil, Meredith settled at Esher in a place called Copsham Cottage and began to write. Alone, and having the full responsibility for his seven- year-old son, he was, as his letters indicate, often de pressed and discouraged, which makes the light quality of the humor throughout much of Evan Harrington amazing, indeed. The novel was first published in serial form for Once a Week, a journal which had published pieces by several well- known writers and artists, among them Millais, Rossetti, 19 Leech, Harriet Martineau, and Swinburne. The magazine had grown out of Dickens' quarrel with Bradbury and Evans, his partners in the popular magazine Household Words. By a 18 Views and Reviews, Essays in Appreciation Literature (London, 1890), pp. 43-46. ■^Walter Jerrold, George Meredith: An Essay Towards Appreciation (London, 1902), p. 12. 19 20 clever legal action Dickens put an end to that journal and then began All the Year Round as an outright continuation of it, confident that the readers would continue to read what ever magazine with which he was associated. Bradbury and Evans were prompt to counteract by creating Once a Week and 21 engaging Samuel Lucas as its editor. But the success of this magazine was hindered in October of 1860 by the discon tinuation of Charles Reade's Good Fight (later entitled The Cloister and the Hearth) due to a quarrel between Reade and Lucas. This left the magazine without a serial until February, when the first installment of Evan Harrington appeared. From all available evidence, Meredith was in need of money around this time, and as he and Lucas had been on good terms since the publication of several Meredith poems in earlier issues of Once a Week, it was natural for Lucas to turn to Meredith as a substitute writer for a serial in the magazine. Meredith's poverty at the time is reflected in a letter to Lucas early in 1860, in which he asks permis sion to sell the Evan Harrington sheets to an American pub lisher, saying: "I'm horridly poor, and thirty pounds or forty pounds is a windfall," adding, "Besides this story 20 Under a decree in Chancery, Dickens caused Household Words to be put up for auction on May 16, 1859, and had it bid in for himself.— Royal A. Gettman, "The Serialization of Reade's Good Fight," Nineteenth Century Fiction, 6:21, June 1951. 91 Royal A. Gettman, "Serialization and Evan Harrington," PMLA, 64:965, December 1949. 20 22 would catch the Yankees by the ear." The American pub lisher turned out to be Harper Brothers, who in that same year brought out what Livingston believes was a pirated ver- 23 sion of Evan Harrington. Meredith also wrote a letter to Bradbury and Evans, asking them to negotiate with Harper Brothers: Perhaps you may as well, since you kindly undertake the task, write to Messrs. Harper's agents, or send to them, and come to the best terms you can. The story (as you may tell them) will suit Yankee sentiment and Yankee principles. Exalt me tolerably, and in fine, I shall be quite satisfied that you will arrange it as well as it can be done: but there should be no loss of time.24 Meredith had miscalculated the "Yankee sentiment," as the following letter some years later accompanying the proof sheets of Emilia in England indicates: You have done me the honor to publish my Evan Harrington in New York. I wish consequently that you should have the early sheets of all my works. My friend Mr. James Virtue tells me that Evan Harrington made no mark among you. . . . I am aware that in the present unhappy pos ture of affairs you cannot treat so liberally as of old. As far as that matter goes, I place myself in your hands. I have had offers previously from Mr. Fields, of Boston, but prefer, if possible, to have my books republished by the gentlemen who first made my name known in America.25 n o Bertha Coolidge, The Altschul Collection of Meredxth Letters (Yale University, 1931), pp. 82, 83. 23 First Editions of George Meredith (New York, n.d.), p. 9. 24 Letters, I, 20. 2 3 J. Henry Harper, The House of Harper (New York, 1912), pp. 165-166. 21 The serialization of Evan Harrington began in 1860 with the February 11 installment and lasted until February 13, 1861, Meredith being paid approximately four hundred pounds for his work. Although some readers complained about the story's dullness, this novel nevertheless established Mere- 2 6 dith's reputation as an author. Meredith did not want to imitate Household Words; in fact, he was urgent in his request that Lucas strike out on a line entirely of his own. Early in 1859 he had written to a friend: If it [Once a Week] is of the character of Household Words, I am not suited to contribute. Facts on the broad grin, and the tricky style Dickens encouraged, I cannot properly do. And if Lucas does not clear himself of the legacy, the publication must fail. . . . If Lucas is the right sort of man, and gets about him a staff of writers altogether different from Dickens public taste may go with him.27 And later, to Lucas upon having read the first issues: And now I am going to show you what an unwise contributor you possess. I don't like your first number. It con tains no piece of weight. It has too many small pieces, (p- 131) From the above it is apparent that Meredith wanted Evan Hanrington to be a novel of substance— one free from "facts on the broad grin" and the "tricky style" of Dickens. Meredith's avowed antipathy to Dickens' style is of import ance to this study because it appears that under the Lionel Stevenson, The Ordeal of George Meredith (Mew York, 1953), p. 78. ^Coolidge, p. 131. 22 pressure of Lucas, who was always aiming for qualities that would popularize his magazine, Meredith was forced to adopt some of Dickens' method of creating comic caricatures and exuberant, quaintly eccentric dialogue. He was also pres sured into imitating Wilkie Collins' method of introducing mysteries in order to create suspense, which he equally dis liked, as seen from his response to Lucas' request for more excitement: . . . please don't hurry for emotion. It will come. I have it. But— unless you have mysteries of the W. Collins kind— interest, not to be false and evanescent, must kindle slowly, and ought to centre more in charac ter— out of which incidents should grow. (p. 81) As will be seen from the study that follows, when Meredith made his final revisions for the 1896 collection of his works, he toned down both the Dickensian burlesque and the Collins mysteries. William Chislett suggests that what Meredith objected to most in Dickens' style was a "general 28 lack of breeding," or Dickens' indecorous delineation of the humors of the vulgar. He did, however, approve of Dickens' system of placing the principal tale of the maga- 29 zine at the beginning of each issue. It must be noted that Meredith's adoption of some of the techniques found in the novels of Dickens and Collins is ironic, for Lucas had often criticized both of these novelists for their tendency op George Meredith: A Study and Appraisal (Boston, 1925), p. 116. 29 Coolidge, p. 83. 23 to write with an eye on the Victorian theater rather than on 30 the reflective reader. It appears, then, that in an attempt to sell Evan Harrington, Lucas inadvertently led Meredith into imitating two novelists whom neither man admired.^ Meredith's association with Once a Week apparently did not help the circulation of that magazine, and, in fact, for a while it appeared that publication might have to be stopped. In July of 1861 Meredith wrote to Evans from Austria: "Is it true that Once a Week is dead?" And in another letter a few days later: "I have an autobiographi cal story in view of O.a.W. . . . That is, if O.a.W. sur- ,,3 2 vives. Recognizing that Lucas was giving him the opportunity to become a known writer, Meredith began his serialization of Evan Harrington with a burst of energy and with an eager ness to please, taking particular care not to offend the public taste, as doubtless he remembered the stinging attacks on his Ordeal of Richard Eeverel, a novel which Mudie had refused to circulate because of "remonstrances of several respectable families, who objected to it as dangerous 3 0 See Lucas' review of Thackeray's Miscellanies in the London Times, December 25, 1856. 31 For further information on Lucas' theory of the novel, see Gettman, "Reade's A Good Fight," pp. 23-24. ^Letters, I, 29. 24 33 and wicked and damnable." Lucas stood up for Meredith in this battle, thus strengthening the friendship between edi tor and writer. Regarding Mudie1s rejection, Meredith wrote to Lucas: I find I have offended Mudie and the British Matron. He will not, or haply, dare not put me in his advertised catalogue. Because of the immoralities I depict. 0 canting age! I predict a Deluge. Mudie is Metternich: and after him— . Meanwhile I am tabooed from all decent drawing-room tables. (p. 79) Nevertheless, Meredith understood how important it was to have Mudie's and the British Matron's approval, declaring to Lucas: "I would rather have Mudie and the British Matron with me than the whole Army of the Press" (p. 79). As Meredith grew older, he himself became more conservative, as will be seen in the way he excised some of the scenes in Evan Harrington. The progress of the serialization was not always smooth, and although generally speaking Lucas and Meredith had re spect for one another, there were times when they clashed. One point of contention was the pacing of plot. From Mere dith's letters it can be deduced that Lucas wanted a rapid, instant progression whereas Meredith was interested in pre paring his readers for the strong grip of central incident. By the time Lucas had the first five chapters in hand, he complained that the story was not moving fast enough to fix the flighty attention of Once a Week readers. At that time ^Coolidge, p. 78. 25 Meredith agreed: "Your advice is good. This cursed desire I have haunting me to show the reason for things is a per petual obstruction to movement" (p. 83). But as Lucas kept harping on the need for more plot, Meredith became defen sive : I am rather upset by what you say about lack of interest in the progress of the story. Doubtless in a 'Serial' point of view, there may be something to say; but I fancy I am right in slowly building up for the scenes to follow, and the book will, as a whole, be better for it. (P- 81) Toward the end of the serial, when Lucas again charged Meredith with dullness, the latter defended himself rather bitterly: How is it I haven't had proofs of the last number? I particularly wished for them, to add a little polish to the hurried close. It's vexatious. Are you all in a state of disgust with the story and anxious to shovel it off anyhow? Upon my honour I see its demerits clearly, and points I missed, and the lengthiness I should have cut short, but I maintain that the story is true to its title, and that I avoided making the fellow a snob in spite of his and my own temptations. Hence probably the charge of dullness: but this comes of an author giving himself a problem to work out, and doing it as conscien tiously as he could. The ground was excessively deli cate. This is too late to dwell upon; but I shudder at the thought of the last number. (p. 83) The letter accompanying Meredith's final installment indi cates genuine hurt: "Herewith is the conclusion, which please, send to printers at once. It is finished as an actor finishes under hisses" (p. 83). Care should be taken not to infer from these few, iso lated letters that Meredith did not get along with Lucas. As a matter of fact, judging from the bulk of their corre- 26 spondence, it appears that Lucas was a congenial editor in his handling of Evan Harrington, sending proof to Meredith regularly and allowing Meredith to decide how long each installment should be. For instance, when Meredith re quested seven and a half or eight pages for the number three installment, Lucas complied, and that number ran seven and a half pages exactly. Further correspondence indicates that Meredith respected Lucas’ judgment and often asked for his criticism. Typical excerpts follow: I would not have you do otherwise than speak openly. In the end I profit and am spurred by it. (p. 82) [Concerning his chapter "My Gentleman on the Road1 ']: I particularly wish your opinion on it. . . . Tell me quickly how the chapter goes. (p. 82) [Concerning his chapter "The Comic Muse Surveys the Posi tion"] : Pray when it is set up, look at it just before it is sent. Speak out, for I am only anxious to do my duty by you and will defer to my editor almost entirely, (p. 83) Autobiographical Elements Stewart Marsh Ellis suggests that Evan Harring-ton was probably written as a sort of safety valve whereby Meredith gave vent to much long-repressed emotion— old slights, old humiliations, bitter regrets that he, so aristocratic in 34 aspiration and personal appearance, was basely born. This, however, seems unlikely in terms of the universal quality of the book's humor and social message. I do not ^ Georcre Meredith: His Life and Friends in Relation to His Work {London, 1899), pp. 138 ff. 27 believe that the novel could have been as light and con genial a comedy as it is, if Meredith had been trying to settle personal antagonisms, for these surely would have produced a much more venomous, bitter atmosphere. That the story, however, is autobiographical, cannot be disputed. According to Lionel Stevenson, whose view finds numerous supporters, the story grew out of Meredith's romantic attachment to Janet Duff-Gordon, the lovely, much-admired, baronet's daughter who accompanied him on walks, tutored his son, and generally became his romantic ideal after he became 35 estranged from his wife. In her book The Fourth Genera tion Janet Ross admits: Evan Harrington was my novel because Rose Jocelyn was myself. . . . With the magnificent impertinence of six teen I would interrupt Meredith, exclaiming, "No, I should never have said it like that;" or, "I should not have done so." A young Irish retriever, Peter, which I was breaking in and afterwards gave to little Arthur, was immortalized in the pages of the novel at my special request.36 Again, in Early Days Recalled Mrs. Ross states: "Here [Copsham Cottage] several of his well-known novels were written, among others Evan Harrington, in whose pages some 37 of the inmates of the Gordon Arms are depicted. Appar ently Meredith read passages aloud to the Duff-Gordons in order to test the authenticity of the Jocelyn family, for ^^The Ordeal of George Meredith (New York, 1953), p. 81. ■^London, 1912, pp. 50-51. "^London, 1891, p. 77. 28 38 whom the Duff-Gordons served as originals. Since Meredith knew only too well that nothing could ever come of his rela tionship with Janet, he used the typical author's recourse and created their relationship into his novel. There he could provide all the romance and beauty that the real-life relationship could never attain. In 1861 Meredith wrote to Janet: Maxse . . . is very anxious to be introduced some day to Rose Jocelyn. I tell him that Janet Ross is a finer creature. If Rose satisfies him, how will not Janet I39 Forty-three years later, when Janet made her last visit to Meredith, he said to her, "You have something of Rose in you still, my dear; those were pleasant days" (p. 147). The best source indicating the close analogy in Evan Harrington between members of Meredith's family and friends and the characters in the novel is drawn by Ellis (Mere dith's first cousin once removed). He suggests the follow ing key: Lymport is Portsmouth, where the Merediths lived. The Great Mel is Meredith's grandfather, Melchizedek Meredith, a naval outfitter actually called "Old Mel." Mel's widow is Anne Mitchell, Meredith's plain-speaking grandmother. The Countess de Saldar is Meredith's Aunt Louisa, married to William Harding Read, who maintained a high position in the court circles of Portugal because of his consular work in * 3 o ■ a q Stevenson, p. 196. Ellis, p. 147. the Azores, where he became friends with Pedro, Emperor of Brazil and sometime King of Portugal. Harriet Cogglesby is Meredith's Aunt Harriet, who married John Hellyer, a brewer. Caroline is Meredith's Aunt Catherine, the most beautiful of Melchizedek‘s daughters, who married Samuel Burdon Ellis, then a lieutenant in the Royal Marines. (Ellis objects to Burdon as a prototype of Major Strike.) Rose is Janet Ross. The Jocelyns are Janet's parents, Sir Alexander and Lady Duff-Gordon. Fallowfield is Petersfield. Beckley Court is Fair Oak Lodge, about fifteen miles from Petersfield, with the River Rother running through its grounds. The Green Dragon Inn is probably "The Anchor." The whole novel is doubtless based on the situation in which Meredith's hand some father, Augustus, found himself, when, at the age of seventeen, he was called back from a visit to his sister in Lisbon to assist in paying off his father's debts by helping his mother take over the family business of tailoring and naval outfitting at Portsmouth.^ Apparently Meredith's father felt that the book was a personal attack on the family because he is said to have remarked to a customer in regard to it: "I am very sore about it, I am pained beyond expression, as I consider it aimed at myself and am sorry to 41 ■ say the writer is my own son." Meredith's son Willxam Maxse comments: ^Ellis, pp. 134-142. 41 Coolidge, p. 82. 30 In so far as Meredith ever drew his characters direct from life, Janet Duff Gordon was his model for Rose Jocelyn in Evan Harrington, whilst her father and mother are pictured as Sir Frank and Lady Jocelyn. Perhaps we should guard against fishing for close analogies between Meredith's life and the story. As Meredith himself once wrote to Janet Ross concerning Emilia in England: I gave you once, sitting on the mound over Copsham, an outline of the real story it is taken from. Of course one does not follow out real stories; and this has simply suggested Emilia to me. (p. 25) Although the novel may well have been suggested by personal associations, Meredith doubtless went off into flights of fancy quite unrelated to his world of known personages. Contemporary Criticism It has been generally recognized that Evan Harrington, especially in serial form, fell short of success; but a recent study by L. T. Hergenhan of monthly reviews of peri odical literature in which serialized novels were sometimes noticed reveals that the work had strong admirers never 43 before taken into account. When the novel appeared xn book form, the reviews were sparse, although here again critics disagree on how sparse. Galland mentions three 42 Letters, I, 12. ^"The Reception of George Meredith's Early Novels," Nineteenth-century Fiction, 19:225-229, 234-235, December 1964. 31 44 45 46 47 reviews, Stevenson, four, Forman, six, Lane, seven, 48 and Hergenhan, thirteen. A selection of the most import ant comments in the reviews is pertinent. The Manchester Review suggested both why the novel was liked and disliked: On the whole, we can heartily recommend "Evan Harring ton." We have said that the plot wants interest, that the story often flags, and that the reader will, in conse quence, sometimes yawn. But all this is more than com pensated for by the ability of the writing, by the truth of the social sketches. It is a perfect contrast to the "Woman in White." No one could lay that novel down; we venture to add, that no one has ever read it a second time. Now the most excitable mortals will not be kept out of bed beyond their accustomed hour by "Evan Harring ton" ; the most inveterate novel reader may take a week to get through it; but, on the other hand, no one will feel reluctant to meditate for a second or even a third time over its humour, its shrewdness, and its w i s d o m . 49 The Daily News was not altogether happy with Meredith's characters or with his treatment of humor: Humorous and eccentric characters he fails in alto gether, and his attempts to give variety to the conven tional element in which he is so much at home by occa sional admixture of odd people and out-of-the-way adven tures are crude almost to juvenility. Deserted damsels, found fainting by the roadside, and conveyed away by their preservers in broad-wheeled wagons, went out, we had imagined, with Fielding and Smollett; young men like 44 .... Rene Galland, George Meredith and British Criticism (Paris, 1923), p. 21. 45 c 46 The Ordeal, p. 84. Meredithiana, p. 15. 47 ' In Richard Le Gallienne, George Meredith Some Charac teristics (London', 1900) , p. xxii. 48 "The Reception of George Meredith's Early Novels," pp. 225-229. 49 February 9, 1861, pp. 92-93. 32 "Mr. John Raikes," with their mouths full of scraps of plays, and walking aimlessly across the country on the look out for fortune, survived, we know, into some of the Bulwerian novels, but there we fondly trusted, we had met the last of them. We hope that in his next work Mr. Meredith will free himself from the ideas, which we should fancy he entertains, that it is necessary to throw in either the adventurous or the comic element. There is too much aiming at universality as it is, among our writ ers of novels.50 The Spectator described Meredith as "a writer of uncommon ability" and said that his "vein of humour in literary com position" was "fining down" as he grew older, stating that unlike some of its predecessors, this story "is interesting, and will carry the usual style of novel reader swimmingly to 51 the end." The Examiner briefly noted that the story was "cleverly told in vigorous and pointed English" and also 52 praised its many "shrewd sketches of character." The Saturday Review alluded to the over-emphasis on the tailor- dom theme, but termed the novel "surprisingly good" in that it was "a story new in'conception, new in the study of char acter, fresh, odd, a little extravagant, but noble and original." However^, this praise was muted by the last sen tence of the review: "It is not a great work, but it is a remarkable one, and deserves a front place in the literature 53 that is ranked as avowedly not destined to endure." The 50March 11, 1861, p. 2. 51 January 19, 1861, p. 66. 52March 23, 1861, p. 183. ^3January 19, 1861, pp. 76-77. 33 Literary Gazette gave the most enthusiastic review: "In our opinion Evan Harrington is the only novel of the day that is entitled to a place on the same shelf with such works as The 54 Woman in White. Other journals either did not mention the book at all, or, like The Athenaeum, stated that it was not worth reviewing. Time has vindicated this novel not by placing it in the front ranks of best sellers, but by giving it a modest yet enduring spot in literature. Nor is it unreasonable to sup pose that in the future readers will discover in Evan Har rington a wit and whimsy not appreciated by the generation for which it was written. Some of the incidents in the novel have become so obsolete that the very remoteness of the age portrayed may now seem quaint. For instance, the steeple chase, the hospitality of the village tavern, the postilions and curricles, and the great ladies with slightly damaged reputations— all these may now seem delightful to an age in which chivalry and gentility have been replaced by efficiency. Even the idea of consumption as the solution for getting rid of a character, and the horror of appearing in a divorce court, may today find readers with an interest \jr in the past. In short, Evan Harrington has value both as a record of social history and as a comedy of manners. Let us note Sir Osbert Sitwell1s comments to the English Associa tion in 1947: 54 August 11, 1860, pp. 88-89. 34 All authors, good or bad, are— I speak generally— equal in one respect after their death; for a decade or two they are unreadable. The majority of readers are by then in reaction against the age, the decade, the year, of which the author was the embodiment. Then, if the author is a good writer, the tide turns, and the faithful reveal themselves, and more are added to their numbers. Thus Meredith is plainly now readable again. The year 1947 was perhaps premature for a re-discovery of Evan Harrington, but that the re-discovery will be made is not unthinkable. 55"The Novels of George Meredith,” p. 3. CHAPTER II THE REVISIONS OF EVAN HARRINGTON Changes in Plot and Incident Oscar Wilde was not entirely wrong when he remarked about Meredith that as a novelist he could do everything except tell a story.^ Certainly when compared with such master narrators as Jane Austen or George Eliot, Meredith must appear a failure in the realm of convincing chronicles, The execution of the narrative— that is, Meredith's round about and riddling manner— often makes it difficult for the reader to follow the simple outline of what is happening or what has already happened. The bits and pieces of action sandwiched between much discursive digression are often not enough to move the novel forward and keep it from repeated stagnation. As Priestley notes, Few men who have put their names to a series of intelli gent novels have shown less concern for the art of narra tion. He deliberately flouts it, and his later work is worse in this respect than his earlier.^ ■''"The Decay of Lying: A Dialogue," The Nineteenth Cen tury, January 1888, pp. 35-36. 2 George Meredith, p. 145. 35 v 36 Criticism of Meredith as a novelist repeatedly centers on his inability to develop a plot artfully. Numerous critics have called attention to his lame and awkward movement, his loose ends everywhere, and his unconvincing actions. They also have blamed him for a lack of proportion and balance in his construction, which led him to expand incidentals while telescoping essentials. Evan Harrington came in for its share of this adverse criticism. Ellis, for example, considered the plot absurd and impossible since, iri^his opinion, no children of tailordom could have kept up the farce of denying their origin, even when they were known to be what they were, in the manner of the Harringtons at Beckley Court, and also since Evan's frequent misunderstandings and renun ciations of Rose are as improbable as his sacrifice of tak- 3 ing on the Countess's wrong of forging a letter. Ernest Newman, writing for The Free Review, was contemptuous in his appraisal, particularly with respect to plot: Evan Harrington is truly deplorable. It shows Mr. Meredith at his worst in everything that is worst in him— his bad social sentiment, his feeble construction, his dummy characters, and an evident attempt to rival Dickens on his own ground in the characters of Mr. Raikes and the Cogglesby brothers. But the entire work is a mass of bad articulation. The whole handling of the two brothers, the fictitious devices by which Evan is maintained in ease and idleness, the sudden and inexplicable elevation of Mr. Raikes to fortune, the intercepting of a letter from Evan to Rose, the contents of which are communi cated to her by Evan himself a few pages after, thus 3 George Meredith: His Life and Friends in Relation to His Work, p. 138. 37 rendering the whole episode futile; the fictitious bank ruptcy of the brothers, the inconceivably clumsy scheming to have the Harrington family under one roof in Lymport, in order that the final scenes may be brought about— are only some of the worst faults of the book.^ Another persistent critic of Meredith's plot, as I have already indicated, was Lucas, who repeatedly encouraged Meredith to hurry emotion and to speed up pacing, suggesting 5 Smollett as a good model. Most attacks against Meredith's handling of plot are based on four reasons: (1) his lack of straightforward progression, (2) his absurd and unconvincing situations, (3) his lack of proportion in the treatment of incidents, and (4) his loose ends. Meredith's revisions indicate that he attempted to take these faults into account. He deleted some of the digres sions, cleared up certain absurdities, improved the balance in the action, and tied up many loose ends; but the result is not altogether felicitous, and the plot as it exists in the 1896 version is still one of the weak points of the novel. Meredith's alterations give the general impression that he has set himself the task of making plausible a plot which was originally conceived as a boisterous farce. Taken altogether the revisions do not correct one cardinal error— the lack of motivation for much of the action. At various points throughout the narrative we anticipate certain events, ^"George Meredith," The Free Review, August 1894, p. 398. 5 See Coolidge, pp. 82-83. 38 but whenever they happen, they usually are artificially imposed by the author. The story, in the 1896 as in the 1860 version, is replete with dei ex machina, forced good luck, or haphazard misfortune. As J. A. Hammerton suggests, Meredith will step in whenever he^ feels inclined and dispose of his people, perhaps only to continue the play by hauling up the curtain again forthwith, as he has thought of something more he would like his "poor actors to vacant benches" to say for him.® I propose two reasons why Meredith did not handle plot as deftly as his critics wished him to. The first is that to him plot was not an end in itself, but merely a means toward making some kind of philosophic point. In other words, Meredith simply developed his plot according to the require ments of his comic idea. Arthur C. Hicks contends that for Meredith an individual scene is far more important than how all the scenes fit together. "He imagines a series of situ ations adapted to his purpose, but he is too impatient to 7 weld them into a well-concatenated whole." In writing to G. P. Baker in 1887 Meredith himself explained his emphasis on separate events: My method has been to prepare my readers for a crucial exhibition of the personae, and then to give the scene ^George Meredith in Anecdote and Criticism (London, 1909), p. 164. 7 "The Structure of Meredith's Novels and the Comic Spirit," University of Oregon Thesis Series, No. 7, 1939, p. 21. 39 in the fullest of their blood and brain under stress of a fiery situation. In a sense, then, we ought to think of Meredith as a drama- 9 tist writing for a theater audience. And, in fact, many of the scenes in Evan Harrington contain elements of the finest sophisticated comedy. Artfully he brings his characters together at Beckley Court, at Fallowfield, or at Lymport and proceeds to get them involved in conversations and actions that clearly set forth their motives or their ironic posi tion. Inevitably the result is a highly dramatic episode which may or may not fit smoothly into the total structure of the novel. Priestley observes: The general conduct of the narrative is nothing to him; not for him the necessary exposition, the marshalling of significant facts, the shuffling of characters; but he will single out certain moments, it may be an early morn ing meeting of two lovers, the sight of a cherry-tree in blossom, a dawn in the mountains, and make them his own.10 In other words, Meredith, as most of his critics remarked, is pre-eminently the creator of great individual scenes. If certain chapters and the novel itself collapse at the end instead of gradually unfolding to separate the shuffled parts, it is probably not because of the author's flagging energy, but because for him once a great scene is over, ^Letters, II, p. 398. g At the beginning of Chapter 38, Meredith himself sug gests that he has modeled his novel after the classical five-part dramatic structure. He begins this section with the announcement: "So ends the fourth act of our comedy." 10 Priestley, p. 149. 40 there remains only a perfunctory together of the ends. Once he has seen his characters through a situation of stress and strain, he has done with them for a while. A second reason why Meredith was not as concerned with plot as his critics expected him to be is that his determi nation to make a thematic point kept slowing down the ac tion. In Evan Harrington Meredith wanted to raise certain fundamental questions about the nature of being a gentleman, a problem with which Ruskin and Newman had also struggled. On one hand, Meredith attacked the conventional English idea that a gentleman is one who lives in polite idleness; on the other hand, he also attacked the idea that blood and birth are of no account. The central question that motivates the entire plot is: Will Evan be a man as well as a gentleman? In his revisions, Meredith was willing to delete many digressions that hampered the progress of the action, but he deleted only when theme was not destroyed or perverted. Significantly, in his revisions Meredith did not attempt to gather all the loose threads of the plot at the end of the novel in readiness for a final resolution although he had been repeatedly criticized for not doing so. Evan's victory is not clearcut. Rather, Meredith leaves it somewhat vague and open because for him no victory is ever clearcut. At best Evan’s triumph is a quiet acknowledgment that winning Rose will bring new duties and new ordeals. Since for Meredith life never admitted any kind of cessation, and 41 since for him progress was essentially a matter demanding continual effort, he left the 1860 open-ended conclusion unchanged in the 1896 version. Yet, the plot, as Meredith presented it in 1896, moves despite its spasmodic thrust, toward a discernible climax. In stresses and shocks, Mere dith created a progressive scale of intensity in which the rhythm quickens and the suspense builds despite stagnant moments. In other words, the elliptical interruptions diminish as the excitement rises. Meredith's revisions are an attempt to make the most of this movement, as the colla tion results that follow will demonstrate. (II, 223) n, 1311 In the scene where Tom Cogglesby dines at the Aurora, deleted: Sacred, I say; for is it not a sort of aping in brittle clay of the everlasting Round we look to? We sneer at the slaves of Habit, we youth; but may it not be the re sult of a strong soul, after shooting vainly thither and yon, and finding not the path it seeketh, lying down weariedly and imprinting its great instinct on the prison house where it must serve its term? So that a boiled pullet and a pint of Madeira on Thursdays, for certain, becomes a solace and a symbol of perpetuity; and a pint of Port every day, is a noble piece of Habit, and a dis tinguishing stamp on the body of Time, fore and aft; one that I, for my part, wish every man in these islands might daily affix. This excision is typical of several others that fol low— attempts on the part of Meredith to be less intrusive as a narrator and to avoid making personal comments about food or drink. 42 (II. 265) n, 131] In the scene where Evan discovers Susan pregnant, deleted: Thus, a gray tailor (for in our noble days we may sup pose such a person gifted with that to which they address themselves),— a tailor in the flourishing of the almond- tree, who looks back on a period when he summoned the bright heavens to consider his indignant protest against the career they have marked out for him; does he not hear huge shouts of laughter echoing round and round the blue ethereal dome? Yet they listened, and silently! In addition to being precious and unwieldy, this digression leaves the reader wondering who the figure is crouching in the moonlight. The excision allows for a faster relief of the suspense created. (II, 292) In the scene of Tom Cogglesby’s birthday celebration at the Green Dragon, deleted: Discordant as the individual may have become, the condi tion of the universe is vindicated by this great meeting of a beef and Britons. We have here a basis. I cherish a belief that, at some future day, the speculative Teuton and experimental Gaul will make pilgrimages to this island solely to view this sight and gather strength from it. In the same scene, deleted: Gratitude forbid that I should say a word against good ale: I am disinclined to say a word in disfavour of Eve. Both Ale and Eve seem to speak imperiously to the soul of man. See that they be good, see that they come in season, and we bow to the consequences. Again the narrator dissociates himself from gourmand remarks about food and drink; at the same time he speeds up the action in order to hasten the comic tavern brawl. 43 (II. 293) FI. 1571 In the same scene, deleted: " Gentlemen 11 1 this inveterate harper resumed. It was too much. Numerous shoulders fell against the backs of chairs, and the terrible rattle of low laughter commenced. Before it could burst overwhelmingly, Jack, with a dra matic visage, leaned over his glass, and looking, as he spoke, from man to man, asked emphatically: "Is there any person present whose conscience revolts against being involved in that denomination?" The impertinence was at least a saving sign of wits awake. So the chairman led off, in reply to Jack, with an encouraging "Bravo!" and immediately there ensued an agricultural chorus of "Bravos!" Jack's readiness had thus rescued him in extremity. He nodded, and went ahead cheerily. "I should be sorry to think so. When I said 'Gentle men, ' I included all. If the conscience of one should impeach him, or me— " Jack eyed the lordly contemplator of his nails, on a pause, adding, "It is not so. I re joice. I was about to observe, then, that, a stranger, I entered this hospitable establishment— I and my friend— " "The gentleman!" their now recognised antagonist interposed, and turned his head to one of his comrades, and kept it turned--a proceeding similar in tactics to striking and running away. "I thank my honourable— a— um! I thank the— a-~what- ever he may be!" continued Jack. "I accept his suggestion. My friend, the gentleman!— the real gentleman!— the true gentleman!— the undoubted gentleman 1" Further iterations, if not amplifications, of the merits of the gentleman would have followed, had not Evan, strong in his modesty, pulled Jack into his seat, and admonished him to be content with the present measure of his folly. But Jack had more in him. He rose, and flourished off: "A stranger, I think I said. What I have done to deserve to feel like an alderman I can't say; but— " (Jack, falling into perfect good-humour and sincerity, 44 was about to confess the cordial delight his supper had given him, when his eyes met those of his antagonist superciliously set): "but," he resumed, rather to the perplexity of his hearers, "this sort of heavy fare of course accounts for it, if one is not accustomed to it, and gives one, as it were, the civic crown, which I apprehend to imply a surcharged stomach— in the earlier stages of the entertainment. I have been at feasts, I have even given them— yes, gentlemen— " (Jack slid sud denly down the slopes of anti-climax), "you must not judge by the hat, as I see one or two here do me the favour to do. Bye the bye," he added, glancing hurriedly about, "where did I clap it down when I came in?" His antagonist gave a kick under the table, saying, with a sneer, "What's this?” Mr. Raikes dived below, and held up the battered decoration of his head. He returned thanks with studi ous politeness, the more so as he had forgotten the con text of his speech, and the exact state of mind he was in when he broke from it. "Gentlemen!" again afflicted the ears of the company. "Oh, by Jove! more gentlemen!" cried Jack's enemy. "No anxiety, I beg!" Jack rejoined, always brought to his senses when pricked: "I did not include you, sir." "Am I in your way, sir?" asked the other, hardening his under lip. "Well, I did find it difficult, when I was a boy, to cross the Ass's Bridge!" retorted Jack— and there was laughter. (II, 294) ri, 1601 In the same scene, deleted: "Ought to have excused this humble stuff to you sir," he remarked. "It's the custom. We drink ale to-night: any other night happy to offer you your choice, sir— Johannisberg, Rudesheim, Steenberg, Libefreemilk, Asmanshauser, Lafitte, La Rose, Margaux, Bordeaux: Clarets, Rhine wines, Burgundies— drinks that men of your station are more used to." Mr. Raikes stammered: "Thank you, thank you; ale will do, sir— an excellent ale!" 45 Mr. Raikes was engaged in a direct controversy with his enemy. In that young gentleman he had recognised one of a station above his own— even what it was in the palmy days of bank-notes and naughty suppers; and he did not intend to allow it. On the other hand, Laxley had begun to look at him very distantly over the lordly bridge of his nose. In the same scene, deleted: Laxley said nothing; but the interjection "black guard!" was perceptible on his mouth. "Did you allude to me, sir?" Jack inquired, in his turn. "Would you like me to express what I think of a fellow who listens to private conversations?" was the answer. "I should be happy to task your eloquence even to that extend, if I might indulge a hope for grammatical re sults," said Jack. Laxley thought fit to retire upon his silent superior ity. Up to this point in the scene the excisions affecting Raikes' behavior during the conflict have one purpose: to tone down Raikes' vulgar,boisterous exhibition and to keep the action from centering on him. (II. 295) ri. 1611 (II. 295) (I. 1621 In the same scene, deleted: "Have you a confession to make?" quoth Jack, unmoved. "Have you planted a thorn in the feminine flower-garden? Make a clean breast of it at the table. Confess openly, and be absolved. 'Gad, there's a young woman in the house. She may be Chloe. If "Have you a confession to make?" quoth Jack, unmoved. "Have you planted a thorn in the feminine flower-garden? Make a clean breast of it at the table. Confess openly, and be absolved. While Evan spoke a word 46 so, all I can say is, she may complain of a thorn of some magnitude, and will very soon exhibit one." While Evan spoke a word of angry reproof to Mr. Raikes, Harry had to be re strained by his two friends. Jack's insinuation seemed to touch him keenly. By a strange hazard they had both glanced upon facts. Mutterings amid the oppo site party of "Sit down," "Don't be an ass," "Leave the snob alone, 1 1 were sufficiently distinct. The rest of the company looked on with curi osity; the mouth of the chair man was bunched. Drummond had his eyes on Evan, who was gazing steadily at the three. Suddenly "The fellow isn't a gentleman!’ 1 struck the atten tion of Mr. Raikes with alarm ing force. I remember hearing of a dispute between two youthful clerks, one of whom launched at the other 1s head accusa tions that, if true, would have warranted his being ex pelled from society: till, having exhausted his stock, the youth gently announced to his opponent that he was a numskull: upon which the latter, hitherto full of for bearance, shouted that he could bear anything but that, — appealed to the witnesses generally for a corroboration of the epithet, and turned back his wristbands. It was with similar sensa tions, inexplicable to the historian, that Mr. Raikes, who had borne to have imputed of angry reproof to Mr. Raikes, Harry had to be re strained by his two friends. The rest of the company looked on with curiosity; the mouth of the chairman was bunched. Drummond had his eyes on Evan, who was gazing steadily at the three. Suddenly "The fellow isn't a gentleman!" struck the attention of Mr. Raikes with alarming force. Raikes— and it may be be cause he knew he could do more than Evan in this re spect— vociferated: "I'm the son of a gentleman!" Drummond, from the head of the table, saw that a diversion was imperative. He leaned forward, and with a look of great interest said: "Are you? Pray, never disgrace your origin, then. "If the choice were of fered me, I think I would rather have known his fa ther," said the smiling fel low, yawning, and rocking on his chair, "You would, possibly, have been exceedingly inti mate— with his right foot," said Raikes. The other merely re marked: "Oh! that is the language of the son of a gentleman." to him frightful things— heard that he was not con sidered a gentleman: and as they who are themselves, per haps, doubtful of the fact, are most stung by the denial of it, so do they take refuge in assertion, and claim to establish it by violence. This Mr. John Raikes seized on, and vociferating: "I'm the son of a gentleman]" flung it in the faces of the three. Drummond, from the head of the table, saw that a diver sion was imperative. He leaned forward, and with a look of great interest, said: "Are you really? Pray, never disgrace your origin, then." He spoke with an apparent sincerity, and Jack, absorbed by the three in front of him„ and deceived by the mildness of his manner, continued glaring at them, after a.sharp turn of the head, like a dog receiving a stroke while his attention is taken by a bone. "If the choice were offered me, I think I would rather have known his father," said the smiling fellow, yawning, and rocking on his chair. "You would, possibly, have been exceedingly intimate— with his right foot," said Jack. The other merely remarked: "Oh! that is the language of the son of a gentleman." 48 Jack 1s evident pugnacity behind his insolence, aston ished Evan, as the youth was not famed for bravery at school; but this is what dig nity and ale do for us in the world. As a comparison of the two versions indicates, Meredith (in addition to toning down Raikes' pugnacity) cuts out the allusion to the pregnant girl— part of his general attempt to lessen the mystery element, to which he had always ob jected on the basis that it was a "cheap trick." By mini mizing Raikes' quarrelsomeness, Meredith creates a problem in that he leaves no strong motivation for Laxley's quarrel with Raikes and subsequently for Evan's quarrel with Baxley. (II, 296) ri, 166] In the same scene, emended: [Evan is speaking to Laxley] "... That you may not sub sequently bring the charge against me of having led you to 'soil your hands'— as your friend there terms it— I, with all the willingness in the world to chastise you or him for your impertinence, must— as I conceive I am bound to do— first give you a fair chance of escape, by telling you that my father was a tailor, and that I also am a tailor." The countenance of Mr. Raikes at the conclusion of this speech was a painful picture. He knocked the table passionately, exclaim ing: "... That you may not sub- sequently bring the charge against me of having led you to 'soil your hands'— as your friend there terms it-- I, with all the willingness in the world to chastise you or him for your impertinence, must— as I conceive I am bound to do--first give you a fair chance of escape, by telling you that my father was a tailor." The countenance of Mr. Raikes at the conclusion of this speech was a painful picture. He knocked the table passionately, exclaim ing 4 "Who'd have thought it?" Yet he had known it. But he could not have thought it possible for a man to own it publicly. Indeed, Evan could not have mentioned it, but for the ale. It was the ale in him expelling truth; and certainly, to look at him, none would have thought it. The above emendations attempt to make the general plot more plausible. First, the excision of "and that I also am a tailor" makes Evan's long stay at Beckley Court more under standable by emphasizing his reluctance to admit his own profession. However, the change makes the following state ment a few paragraphs later puzzling: "Why, since he had accepted his fate [of being a tailor], should he pretend to judge the conduct of people his superiors in rank? And where was the necessity for him to thrust the fact of his being that abhorred social pariah down the throats of an assembly of worthy good fellows?" Second, since Raikes had gone to school with Evan, he would have known that Evan was a tailor's son, thus the added clarification that he knew all along. Here again a problem occurs: With Raikes1 pre tensions to class, why did he attach himself to Evan in the first place? ' "Who'd have thought it?" Indeed, Evan could not have mentioned it, but for the ale. It was the ale in him expelling truth; and certainly, to look at him, none would have thought it. 50 (II, 312) ri. 1781 In the scene at the Fallowfield cricket game, deleted: Mr. Raikes tried two or three groups. There is dan ger, when you are forcing a merry countenance before the mirror presented to you by your kind, that your features, unless severely practised, will enlarge beyond the ar tistic limits and degenerate to a grimace. Evan (hardly a fair judge, perhaps) considered the loud remarks of Mr. Raikes on popular pastimes, and the expression of his approval of popular sports, his determination to up hold them, his extreme desire to see the day when all the lower orders would have relaxation once a week, and his unaffected willingness to stoop to join their sports, exaggerated, and, in contrast with his attire, incongru ous. He allowed Mr. Raikes but a few minutes in one spot, He was probably too much absorbed in himself to see and admire the sublime endeavour of the imagination of Mr. Raikes to soar beyond his hat. Since the passage is a bothersome intrusion into the excit ing cricket match, its excision is an improvement in pacing, (II, 312) TI, 1791 In the same scene, deleted: [Evan has just been in formed that he and Raikes are being watched.] "Oh, are we?" said Evan care lessly. "See, there are your friends of last night." Laxley and Harry Jocelyn were seen addressing Miss Wheedle, who apparently had plenty of answers for them, and answers of a kind that encouraged her sheeping natu ral courtiers (whom the pair of youthful gentlemen en tirely overlooked) to snigger and seem at their ease. There was indeed a man lurking near and moving as they moved, with a specula tive air. Writs were out against Raikes. He slipped from his friend, saying: 'Never mind me. That old Amphitryon's birthday hangs on till the meridian; you understand. His table in vites. He is not unlikely to enjoy my conversation. What mayn't that lead to? Seek me there.' "Will you go over and show?" said Evan. Mr. Raikes glanced from a corner of his eye, and returned, 51 with tragic emphasis and brevity: "We're watched. I shall bolt." "Very well," said Evan. "Go to the inn. I'll come to you in an hour or so, and then we'll walk on to London, if you like." "Bailiffs do take fellows in the country," murmured Jack. "They've an extraordi- nary scent. I fancied them among my audience when I ap peared on the boards. That's what upset me, I think. is it much past twelve o'clock?" Evan drew forth his watch. "Just on the stroke." "Then I shall just be in time to stick to the old gentleman's birthday. Per haps I may meet him! I rather think he noticed me favour ably. Who knows? A sprightly half-hour's conversation might induce him to do odd things. He shall have my address." Mr. Raikes, lingering, caught sight of an object, cried, "Here he comes: I'm off," edged through the crowd, over whose heads he tried— standing on tip-toe— to gain a glimpse of his imaginary persecutor, and dodged away. Evan strolled on. The original passage has too many separate ideas crammed into it— a return to the conflict with Laxley and Harry, the author's observations on flirtations among the young, 52 Raikes1 evasion of the bailiffs, and Raikes' hint at pos sible future dealings with Tom Cogglesby. Since in this scene Meredith primarily wanted to get rid of Raikes as quickly as possible, he revised the passage to focus on Raikes’ evasion of a writ out for his arrest. Unfortunately, the change leaves us more confused than ever, since the rea son for Raikes1 difficulty with the law is not at all clear. (II, 334) Tl, 205] In the Countess de Saldar's letter to Harriet, added: "I am working for Carry to come with Andrew. Beautiful women always welcome. A prodigy!— if they wish to aston ish the Duke." In the revisions Caroline's troubles are accentuated as a motive for Evan's actions, especially his prolonged stay at Beckley Court. This is part of Meredith's attempt to make Evan's behavior more plausible. (II, 406) Tl. 242] In Raikes’ conversation with Evan back at the Green Dragon, deleted: "Plainly, Harrington, her soul is prosaic. I have told her I am fain, but that fate is against it. She has ad vised me to get a new hat before I consider the question. These country creatures are all for show." Raikes' involvement with Polly at this point serves no pur pose; the plot is complicated enough. 53 (II, 407) Tl, 245] In the scene where Evan and Raikes reminisce about their schooldays together, emended: Evan, in return, confided to him his history and present position, and Mr. Raikes, without cooling to his for tunate friend, became a trifle patronising. "You said your father— I think I remember at old Cud- ford's— was a cavalry offi cer, a bold dragoon?" "I did," replied Evan. "I told a lie." Mr. Raikes whistled. "That's very wrong, you know, Harrington." "Yes. I’m more ashamed of the lie than of the fact. Oblige me by not reverting to the subject. To tell you the truth," added Evan with frank bitterness. "I don’t like the name." Quoth Jack: "Truly it has a tang. I should have to drink at somebody else’s ex pense to get up the courage to call myself a sn— a shears- man, say." Evan had to bear with the sting of similar observations till he begged Jack to tell him the condition of his father, and the limit of the distance between them. "Pardon me, pardon me," said Jack. "I forget myself." Evan, in return, confided to him his history and present position, and Mr. Raikes, without cooling to his for tunate friend, became a trifle patronising. "You said your father--! think I remember at old Cud- ford's— was a cavalry offi cer, a bold dragoon?" "I did," replied Evan. "I told a lie." "We knew it; but we feared your prowess, Har rington. " Evan firmly repeated his request for the information. 54 "He is an officer, Har rington. 1 1 "In what regiment?" "Government employ, friend Harrington." "Of course. Where?" "In the Customs— high up." Mr. Raikes stooped from the announcement to plunge at Evan1s hand and shake it warmly, assuring him that he did not measure the differ ence between them; adding, with a significant nod, "We rank from our mother," as if the Customs scarcely satisfied the Raikes-brood. The revision is an attempt first, to keep consistent the fact that Raikes knew all along that Evan is the son of a tailor (see p. 49) and second, to delete the passage that makes Raikes of a higher social rank than Evan. (II, 407) Tl, 2451 In the scene where Evan must decide whether or not to enter into Tom's suggested pact, emended: Then they talked over the singular letter uninter ruptedly, and Evan, wanting money for the girl up-stairs, for Jack's bill at the Green Dragon, and for his own im mediate requirements, and with the bee buzzing of Rose'' in his ears: "She does not love'you— shq despises you," consented ultimately to sign his name to it, and despatch jack forthwith to Messrs. Grist, a prospect that Then they talked over the singular letter uninter ruptedly, and Evan, wanting money for the girl up-stairs, for Jack's bill at the Green Dragon, and for his own im mediate requirements, and with'the bee buzzing of Rose in his ears: "She despises you," consented in despera tion ultimately to sign his name to it, and despatch Jack forthwith to Messrs. Grist. 55 "You'll find it's an im position, " he said, begin ning less to think it so, now that his name was put to the hated monstrous thing; which also now fell to pricking at curiosity. For he was in the early steps of his career, and if his lady, holding to pride, despised him— as, he was tortured into the hypocrisy of con fessing, she justly might— why, then, unless he was the sport of a farceur, here seemed a gilding of the path of duty: he could be serv iceable to friends. His claim on fair young Rose's love had grown in the short while so prodigiously assi- nine that it was a minor matter to constitute himself an old eccentric's puppet. The original version does not present enough motivation to warrant Evan's accepting Tom's offer. In order to preserve Evan’s character as a gentleman, which is crucial to the \, / theme of the novel, Meredith revises the passage so that a maximum amount of pressure is placed on Evan to take the money. The revised passage suggests that if Rose's love must be renounced, then why not accept the money in order to be serviceable to friends, at least?/ ■Ae revision exoner ates Evan from being a mercenary opportunist. (II,' 408) ri, 2481 At the end of Chapter 17, deleted: These remarks appeared to Evan utterly random and dis traught, and he grew impatient. brought wild outcries of "Alarums and Excursions!— hautboys!" from the dra matic reminiscences of Mr. John Raikes. "You'll find it's an im position," said Evan, for having here signed the death- warrant of his love, he pas sionately hoped it might be moonshine. 56 It was perhaps unphilosophical to be so, but who can comprehend the flights of an imaginative mind built upon a mercurial temperament? In rapidity it reveals any force in nature, and weird is the accuracy with which, when it once has an heiress in view, however great the distance separating them, it will hit that rifle-mark dead in the centre. The head whirls describing it. Nothing in Eastern ?:oraance eclipsed the marvels that were possible in the brain of John Raikes. And he, more over, had just been drinking port, and had seen his dream of a miracle verified. When, therefore, Mr. Raikes, with a kindly forlorn smile, full of wistful regret, turned his finger towards the Green Dragon, and said: "Depend upon it, Harrington, there's many a large landed proprietor envies the man who lives at his ease in a comfortable old inn like that!" it was as the wind that blew to Evan; not a lumi nous revelation of character; and he gave Jack a curt good-bye. Whither, with his blood warmed by wine, and his foot upon one fulfilled miracle, had Mr. John Raikes shot? What did he regret? Perhaps it was his nature to cling to anything he was relinquishing, and he accused his invitation to Beckley Court, and the young heiress there, as the cause of it. Now that he had to move, he may have desired to stay; and the wish to stay may have forced him to think that nothing but a great luck could expel from such easy quarters. Magnify these and con secutive considerations immensely, and you approach to a view of the mind of Raikes. But he looked sad, and Evan was sorry for him, and thinking that he had been rather sharp at parting, turned halfway down the street to wave his hand, and lo, John Raikes was circling both arms in air madly: he had undergone a fresh change; for now that they were sepa rated, Mr. Raikes no longer compared their diverse lucks, but joined both in one intoxicating cordial draught; and the last sight of him showed him marching up and down in front of the inn, quick step, with in flated cheeks, and his two fists in the form of a trumpet at his mouth, blowing jubilee. At the beginning of Chapter 18, deleted: The laughable contrast of John Raikes Melancholy and John Raikes revived, lingered with Evan as he rode out of Fallowfield, till he laughed himself into a sombre fit, and read. . . . 57 The most obvious reason for excising the long passage at the end of this chapter is to make a smoother transition to the next scene. The original passage is a rambling description of Raikes1 mercurial temperament, which does not serve as an interesting lead into the next chapter. In the revised version no time is lost in following the adventures of Evan who, with Tom's letter in mind, is on his way back to Beckley to say farewell to Rose. Realizing that his readers were more interested in Evan's adventure than in Raikes1 moods, Meredith revised to end the chapter with a view of Evan: "Console yourself with it or what you can get till we meet— here or in London. But the Dragon shall be the address for both of us," Evan said, and nodded, trotting off. The care with which Meredith made this revision should be noted. He left off the opening lines of the next chapter since logically they no longer applied, the allusion to Raikes' lift of spirits having been deleted. (II, 436) Tl, 265] Following Evan's dispute with Laxley back at Beckley Court, deleted: [Harry Jocelyn is conversing with the Countess de Saldar] Harry continued the praises that won him special con descension from the fascinating dame: "Harrington's a cunning dogl he measures his man be fore he comes to close quarters. He— " "What English you talk! 'Measures his manl1" inter posed the Countess, in a short-breathed whisper. Before 58 she spoke she had caught an inexplicable humorous gleam travelling over Drummond's features: at which her star reddened and beamed ominously on her- She had seen something like it once or twice in company— she had thought it habitual with him: now, and because she could not forget it, the peculiar look interpreted Mrs. Evremonde’s simple words in the Countess's suspicious nature. She drew Harry, nothing loth, from the lawn to the park, and paid him well for what he knew of the pri vate histories of Mrs. Evremonde and Drummond Forth. And again, a few paragraphs later, deleted: The Countess heard that Miss Carrington added: "People one knows nothing about I" and the Countess smiled wickedly, for she knew something about Miss Car rington. By excising the two hints at social scandal, Meredith un clutters the story line, keeping the focus on the quarrel between Evan and Laxley. At the same time, he again lessens the mystery element. (II, 491) Tl, 305] In the scene where the Great Mel becomes the main topic of conversation during a dinner at Beckley Court, added: "Happily Evan was absent, on his peaceful, blessed bed." And a little further on again: "Providence had rescued Evan from this I" These two additions remind the reader that during the scene in which the Great Mel's notoriety is divulged, Evan is absent. Had he been there, the whole drama could not have taken place, because Evan's integrity would have demanded that he vindicate his father's name the moment it was brought up. 59 (II, 546) m , 22] At the end of Chapter 24, when Raikes arrives to tutor Julia at Beckley Court, deleted: He was on the lawn with Rose, when a footman came and handed him a card. He read it, and asked Rose if Mr. Raikes should be shown out to them. Rose nodded. "The gentleman wishes a private interview, sir," said the footman. Evan hurried to welcome Jack, not so much from kind ness as to mask any preliminary eccentricities he might be guilty of, and to give him a few necessary instruc tions . The voice of Mr. Raikes was resonant in the hall. "I thank you, no: her ladyship's fair favour Another day I’ll seek to win, but now Let all men know I am on friendship's mission. Laugh'st thou, vile slave?" It is possible that the presence of three of four of the male domestics somehow suggested the gallery to theatrical Jack. Undignified as it was, he was acting to the footmen of Beckley Court; his cheek was inflated; he stood as one whose calves are shining to the foot lights. Evan, sick with disgust, approached him while he was declaiming, "I tell thee, wretch, that friendship More is than homage to sweet womankind. It is the social cement. Damon, erst, And, as the lawyers say, 'with him another,' These twain have friendship made; these twain You see revived. What hoi a Harrington I" As it was not easy to feel affright at the tragic emphasis and strutting frowns of this very small gentle man, the audience- testified their sense of his merits by meeting his condescension half way, and sniggering. One especially tall footman gazed placidly at the performer, and said "Bravo." He had seen London. Another, whose powder vainly attempted to conceal the shock head of the newly-caught rustic, ventured to remark to his loftier comrade, "What's a affarandship? I ent been to the sea." Taken as a comment on the delivery of Mr. Raikes, it was not so bad. 60 Jack waved his hand to Evan, and was for continuing; but the latter pulled him violently into the dining-room, and crying, "Are you mad? are you drunk?" spun him clean round with an angry twist. Mr. Raikes spun himself back composedly. "Now," said Evan, "you will undertake instantly to behave decently and quietly, or I shall kick you out of the house." "Sir," returned Jack, "your language is unseemly, sir,— most unseemly. But you are acting under a delu sion, my friend, and I forgive you. For in this breast fair Magnanimity is charioteer!— or, doth sit enthroned! metre's good in either case. Oh, I understand your mean ing, my poor boy. In other days no one so aloof, so con centrated, in the presence of the serving-brood as my self. But I happen to be above all petty considerations of that sort now. The great who stoop are like angelic bodies, which, mixed with earth, base earth so elevate, and suffer no defilement. Va! an independent gentle man is one of the great to the plush gentry, I take it?" Laughing at his friend's mystification, Mr. Raikes fell into a chair, muttering of extreme haste and not a minute to lose. He was portentously attired. A magnifi cent frill of fine cambric swayed loosely over a gold- spotted satin waistcoat, and his coat and pantaloons were of the newest cut of the period. He remained for some time perfectly still, gazing up at Evan while the latter questioned him, and letting loose an occasional "ha! ha!" and "ho!" of amusement and derision. Then he got up, and settled his hat by the looking-glass. Jaunt ily shaking it, he came and stood before Evan, saying: "A truce to this. You're an excellent fellow, and I stand by you. Enough that in the solar beams of Luck I shine conspicuous. It's no use asking me for prose. Hanged if I can keep upon my toes. I feel light,— I so'ar. And you, who talk of self-restraint. Why, I only show this before you. To the world, I am a statue,— a petrifaction. Gravely I smile as Fortune's natural heir. And I’m not a lackered monkey, Mr. Harrington. Probably you require facts? Look yonder. The conveyance is called a curricle. You will observe two young gentlemen seated there. They, sir,— do not dispute my possession of it, or of my senses. Likewise, you will observe a gaudy person of the other sex, happily of an age to defy imputations. To her a tale appends. She was crying your name over Fallowfield this morning: 'Mr. Evan Harrington has run away from his mother.' In rushed Friendship, or, in other words, John Raikes. 'Woman! what means this horrid clamour?' Of course she objects to being called woman. 'Man, then, clad in the garments of deception!1 says I. That doesn't please her. 'Oh, that my Wishaw were by to defend me!1 'What,' says I, 'have you mar ried a sneeze?’ Lord, you never heard a thing take so! How the ostler laughed! I hear the echoes still. How ever, it ended in my driving her to Beckley; and as we journeyed, doubtful of the way, we met a carriage, and full short I stopped, and did inquire— but you like prose, old boy. I asked the road to Beckley Court— the bourne of heiresses that want the plucking. The gentle man— a regular nob— was pointing it, when up starts Woman, and addressed the lady sitting by him, as 'Sweet creature, how I rejoice in meeting you! I come straight from your mother.' Threat the lady did, methought, turn pale. By the way, she was rather like you, Harrington. Such a spanker! If I could captivate her! What do you think she replied. And such a voice— and eyes! Oh, sugar and treacle, and candied lemon-peel! But these are base comparisons, that give you no idea of her. She’s a duchess! 'Pray,' says she to me, 'drive as fast as you can to the Asylum;' and her coachman whipped his horses, and Woman falls bang up against me, and cries, 'Oh, you horrid impidence! oh, I never!' and a mass of vulgarity and madness, kicking her feet almost in fits. Feetsi--ahal 'Let's sneeze,' said I aside, thinking to console her by filling her imagination with the notion of her husband. 'A Wishaw,’ we all went. She got worse She abused your family, Harrington,— said you had all been robbing Mr. Wishaw. 'A fondness for snuff, ma'am,' says I, 'is no shame and no disgrace.' I stood up for you manfully. There she sits. She won't come in, and I must drive her back. Now say, am I your friend or not ha! When he had finished his tale Mr. Raikes retired to the looking-glass, to which his final question was ad dressed, and something satisfactory resulting from it in his mind, he asked: "Shall I be introduced to the family now?" "No," said Evan. "You must decidedly wait till you are cooler." "Very well, very well," returned Jack indifferently. "I have press of business." "Sit and explain what you have been doing," continued Evan, whose head was really whirling at Jack's strange fortune. 62 Mr. Raikes objected that he had not a moment, and must be off: his country called him. "I'll make my bow to-morrow, and do the devoirs, Har rington. Any Dukes or Duchesses in the House?" "Yes,- so be on your guard." Mr. Raikes tapped his hat cheerfully. "By the way, I presented that letter," he remarked, and thrusting a bundle of notes into Evan's hand: "There you are. It's rather a pleasant country here," he pursued negligently. "Good hunting, I doubt not. A southerly wind and a cloudy sky— yoicks, hark away, and tally-ho. I must have a suit ready. Good-bye, Harring ton. Expect me to-morrow. Explanations deferred. Ta ta." While Evan was untying the bundle, and gradually ap prehending the fact that it was money he felt, Mr. Raikes turned on his heel, and bade the menials in the hall show him forth. He found Miss Bonner at the gate talking to Mrs. Wishaw, who seeing a young lady pass had suddenly been taken ill, and had consented to the admin istration of wine and water. His friends subsequently told him that Mr. Wishaw had continued to abuse the Har rington family to Miss Bonner, and had entered into a great deal of the history of the family. The hours flew past. Evan held in his pocket the price of his bondage to Tailordom, whilst he was every instant sealing his assumption of the character of Gentleman. He was of dull brain, and it had not yet dawned on him that he might possibly be tailor and gentleman in one: but events were moving to task him. As an instance of the power of Love, it may be related that not even the fact of his holding the money of his eccentric benefactor, nor the astounding revolution in the affairs of his friend Jack, dwelt on his mind half so much as the lighted edge of a mound of cloud against a grand sunset seen by him the day when his heart, burst ing with deep desire, had been half prophetic of the happy night; or half so much as the little Portuguese Medinha sung by Rose: or those sweet solemn words of Ruth: words that conjured up his darling standing among piled sheaves in autumn fields, under stars sorrowful, but firm, brilliant, everlasting. The excised scene is a bad one for a number of reasons. First, Jack Raikes' metrical outbursts when he first appears 63 reach a peak of outlandishness, bearing no resemblance even to the most hyperbolic speech. Meredith's attempt here to imitate the inflated diction of Dickens' Jingle taxes the reader's imagination excessively. Second, the introduction of Mrs. Wishaw for the purpose of burlesque, while affording a few laughs when the Countess coolly commands her to be driven to the lunatic asylum, is fortuitous and purposeless. Third, most of the word play falls flat (e.g., the sneeze). Fourth, the allusion to Raikes' sudden but mysterious good fortune is an obvious attempt to increase suspense at the end of a serial installment, a device no longer necessary in the book version."*"^ Since Meredith disliked such contriv ances anyway, he was probably eager to make the excision. Except for the regrettable loss of the poetic final para graph, the revision makes for a neater and more direct transition between the love scene and the money-lending scene. It should be noted that Meredith is careful to ex cise the following passage in the next chapter to maintain coherence: After Mr. Raikes had driven off, he [Evan] was coming back to Rose, but seeing Laxley at her side, her lover retired. Evan could not understand why Rose had pressed Laxley to remain and assist her with the dogs. He was half jealous: not from any doubt of Rose: from mere lover's willfulness and despotism. Rose certainly gave Laxley most of the messages; she made him fetch and carry, and be out of the way beautifully; but then also ■^Most of the excisions in this chapter were already made for the first English book edition, published in 1861 by Bradbury and Evans. 64 she gave him bright smiles; she spent her divine breath on him; and once or twice he touched her! Meredith then deftly introduces Raikes (who gives Evan the money from Tom) and also Harry in a brief insertion later in the same chapter: On his way to find Rose he was stopped by the announce ment of the arrival of Mr. Raikes, who thrust a bundle of notes into his hand, and after speaking loudly of "his curricle," retired on important business, as he said, with a mysterious air. "I'm beaten in many things, but not in the article Luck, 1 1 he remarked; "you will hear of me, though hardly as a tutor in this academy. This revision allows Meredith quickly to accomplish three things: (1) to warn the reader of Raikes' transaction with Tom (which is unfortunately never clearly explained) with out straining at suspense, (2) to place Tom's money in Evan's hands, and (3) to introduce Harry Jocelyn for the important money-lending incident. The only unnecessary item is the reference to the curricle, since the Wishaw scene has been excised. (II, 571) fll, 23] At the beginning of Chapter 25, deleted: You will think it odd, not to say reprehensible, and a fatal declension from heroics, that Miss Rose Jocelyn should devote the better part of the day following her love-avowal, to dog-breaking; and I doubt not that you wonder how a young man could be inspired by such a per son with transcendent, with holy, and with melting images. It was that Evan felt the soul of Rose, and felt it akin to his own. Her tastes, her habits, could not obscure the bright and perfect steadfastness which was in her, and which Evan worshipped more than her face; and indeed that firm truth of her character gave a charm to all her actions. Among girls you have creatures of the morning, of the night, and of the twilight. Rose was of Aurora's train: soft when you caught her, shy in your 65 shadow,- capable of melting wholly to your kiss, but un troubled, and light-limbed, and brisk, a fresh young maid when you withdrew the charm. Her friend Jenny Graine flitted bat-like round William's figure, and Juliana Bonner loved sombrely. There are some who neither thoroughly sleep nor thoroughly waken, but dream while they walk, and toss while they lie. Rose was a cool sleeper, and the light flowed into her open eyes as into a house that lifts the blinds. Slightly, perhaps, even while dog-breaking, a little thought would thrill her, and move a quivering corner in her lips, but it passed like a happy bird from the bough, and was as in nocent under heaven. This excision is regrettable in that it deprives the reader not only of a delicate description of Rose as a pattern of pure nature, but also of Meredith's keen insight into women in general. His classification of girls as creatures of the morning, of the night, and of the twilight is beautiful prose heightened by poetic imagery. I offer two possible reasons for the excision: (1) Since Meredith created the 12 original dog training passage to please Janet Ross, he may have considered, thirty-six years later, when the personal influence of Janet had diminished, that the scene was too personal, especially the use of the "you" throughout much of the passage. (2) He may have considered the cut necessary because of the tasteless juxtaposition of Rose as a creature of Aurora with Rose the dog trainer. Particularly offensive is the passage, "even, while dog-breaking, a little thought r*' would thrill her, and move a quivering corner in her lips. . . ." The revision does serve the redeeming purpose of making the author less intrusive. 12See p. 27. 66 (III, 30) ril, 771 In the scene where Tom Cogglesby arrives at Beckley Court in a donkey cart, deleted: "First-ratei" was the unanimous response from the curricle: nor was Old Tom altogether displeased at the applause of his audience. The receiver of the sixpenny bit gratified his contempt by spinning it in the air, and remarking to his comrade, as it fell: "Do for the beggars." "Must be a lord! interjected Old Tom. "Ain't that their style?" Mr. Raikes laughed mildly. "When I was in Town, sir, on my late fortunate expedition, I happened to be driv ing round St. Paul's. Rather a crush. Some particular service going on. In my desire to study humanity in all its aspects, I preferred to acquiesce in the blockade of carriages and avoid manslaughter. My optics were at tracted by several effulgent men that stood and made a blaze at the lofty doors of the cathedral. Nor mine alone. A dame with an umbrella— she likewise did regard the pageant show. 'Sir,1 says she to me. I leaned over to her, affably— as usual. 'Sir, can you be so good as to tell me the names of they noblemen there?' Atrocious grammar is common among the people, but a gentleman passes it by: it being his duty to understand what is meant by the poor creatures. You laugh, sir I You agree with me. Consequently I looked about me for the repre sentatives of the country's pride. 'What great lords are they?' she repeats. I followed the level of her um brella, and felt— astonishment was uppermost. Should I rebuke her? Should I enlighten her? Never I said to myself: but one, a wretch, a brute, had not these scruples, 'Them 'ere chaps, ma'am?' says he. 'Lords, ma'am? why, Lor' bless you, they're the Lord Mayor's footmen!' The illusion of her life was scattered! I mention the circumstance to show you, sir, that the mis take is perfectly possible. Of course, the old dame in question, if a woman of a great mind, will argue that supposing Lord Mayor's footmen to be plumed like es- tridges— gorgeous as the sun at Midsummer, what must the Lord Mayors be, and semperannual Lords, and so on to the pinnacle?— the footmen the basis of the aristocratic edi fice. Then again she may say, Can nature excel that magnificent achievement I behold, and build upon it? She may decide that nature cannot. Hence democratic leanings in her soul! For me, I know and can manage them." 67 This badly-articulated joke about the Lord Mayor's pageant advances neither the plot nor the character of Raikes. Even as a development of the theme, it is too poorly integrated into the narrative to be effective. A mildly humorous story, it is detached from the rest of the plot, as if Meredith had heard it one day and decided somehow to incor porate it, for laughs, into his novel. In the same scene, deleted: [Raikes is speaking] "M. P. let us hope we may shortly append," pursued Jack. "Methinks 'tis a purer ambition to have a tail than a handle to one's name. Sir John P. Raikes were well. John P. Raikes, M. P., is to the patriotic intel ligence better. I have heard also— into mine ear it hath been whispered— that of yon tail a handle may be made." "If your gab was paid by the yard, you'd have a good many thousands a year," Old Tom interrupted this mono logue . "You flatter me," returned Jack, sincerely. "The physiologists have said that I possess an elo quent feature or so. Ciceronic lips." "How was it you got away from the menagerie— eh?" said Old Tom. "By the assistance of the joiliest old bear in the word [sic], I believe," Mr. Raikes replied. "In life I ride on his broad back: he to posterity shall ride on mine." "Hal that'll do," .said Old Tom, for whom Mr. Raikes was too strong. "May we come to an understanding before we part, sir?" continued the latter. "Youraliusion to a certain endroit— surely I am not wrong? Indiscreet, perhaps, but the natural emotions of gratitude!— a word would much relieve me." 68 "Go about your business," cried Old Tom? and was at that moment informed that her ladyship would see him, and begged Mr. Raikes to make himself at home. "ArtfulI" mused Mr. Raikes, as Old Tom walked away: "ArtfulI but I have thee by a clue, my royal Henry. Thy very secret soul I can dissect. Strange fits of gener osity are thine, beneath a rough exterior; and for me, I'd swear thee client of the Messrs. Grist." Mentally delivering this, Mr. Raikes made his way towards a company he perceived on the lawn. His friend Harrington chanced to be closeted with Sir Franks: the Countess de Saldar was in her chamber: no one was pres ent whom he knew but Miss Jocelyn, who welcomed him very cordially, and with once glance of her eyes set the mer curial youth thinking whether they ought to come to ex planations before or after dinner; and of the advantages to be derived from a good matrimonial connexion, by a young member of our Parliament. He soon let Miss Jocelyn see that he had wit, affording her deep indications of a poetic soul; and he as much as told her, that, though merry by nature, he was quite capable of the melancholy fascinating to her sex, and might shortly be seen under that aspect. He got on remarkably well till Laxley joined them; and then, despite an excessive condescension on his part, the old Fallowfield sore was rubbed, and in a brisk passage of arms between them, Mr. John Raikes was compelled to be the victor--to have the last word and the best, and to win the laughter of Rose, which was as much to him as a confession of love from that young lady. Then Juliana came out, and Mr. Raikes made apolo gies to her, rejecting her in the light of a spouse at the first perusal of her face. Then issued forth the swimming Countess de Saldar, and the mutual courtesies between her and Mr. Raikes were elaborate, prolonged, and smacking prodigiously of Louis Quatorze. But Rose suffered laughter to be seen struggling round her mouth? and the Countess dismayed Mr. Raikes by telling him he would be perfect by-and-by, and so dislocating her fair self from the ridicule she opened to him: a stroke which gave him sharp twinges of uneasiness, and an immense re spect for her. The Countess subsequently withdrew him, and walked him up and down, and taught him many new things, and so affected him by her graces, that Mr. John Raikes had a passing attack of infidelity to the heiress. The purpose of the excision is obviously to hasten the plot by leaving Jack and following Tom to his interview with Lady Jocelyn. However, in this and subsequent revisions, 69 Meredith commits a serious editorial error in connection with the tin plate mystery, hinted at for some time. Raikes1 words to Tom, "May we come to an understanding be™ fore we part, sir? . . . Your allusion to a certain en- droit— surely I am not wrong? Indiscreet, perhaps, but the natural emotions of gratitudei— a word would much relieve me" are significant clues to the mystery. So is Raikes1 sly reference to having "M. P." tacked on to his name. What actually happened is that Tom gave Raikes money and prom ised to make him a member of Parliament on the condition that he wear a tin plate bearing the title "John F. Raikes, Gentleman" sewn to his breeches. Even with the original passages left in, the mystery remains problematic. Just where is the tin plate located so that it can be seen only when Raikes is dancing or in a high wind? Probably under his coattail, but this is never stated. While the excised passages do not entirely clarify the mystery, the revised version leaves the reader hopelessly in the dark. Appar ently Meredith decided that the whole conception of this I mystery was bad and in poor taste; thus he deleted or changed the following allusions to it in the novel: (III, 144) Til, 153] "Eh?" quoth Evan, "a tin Evan stared a moment at the plate? Is that the founda- wretched object, whose dream tion of your fortune? Oh, of meeting a beneficent old change your suit, and re- gentleman had brought him to nounce the curricle." be the sport of a cynical farceur. He had shivers on "Will you measure me?" his own account, seeing 70 "Jack! Jack!" said Evan softly. "There, pardon me, Har rington, pray. It's bile. My whole digestion's seri ously deranged." "You seemed happy this morning?" "Yes, but there was still the curst anticipation of its oozing out. I confess I didn't think I should feel it so acutely. But I'm awfully sensitive. And now it's known, I don't seem to live in front. My spirit somehow seems to have faced about. Now I see the malignant na ture of that old wretch! I told him over a pint of port — and what noble stuff is that Aurora port!— I told him--I amused him till he was on the point of bursting— I told him I was such a gentle man as the world hadn't seen— minus money. So he deter mined to lauch me. And he has! Harrington, I'm like a ship. Literally I carry my name be hind. 'John F. Raikes, Gentleman.' I see the eyes of the world directed on it. It completely blasts my gen ius. Upon my honour— I got it in your service— and you ought to claim part proprie torship. Oh! I shall give up Fallowfield. Fancy hust ings. It would be like hell! Ungenerous old man! Oh! why didn't I first— ass that I was!— stipulate for silence. I should never have been in danger then, except when dancing, or in a high wind. All my bright visions are faded. something of himself magni fied, and he loathed the fellow, only to feel more acutely what a stigma may be. "It's a case I can't ad vise in," he said, as gently as he could. "I should be off the grounds in a hurry." "And then I'm where I was before I met the horrid old brute!" Raikes moaned. "I told him over a pint of port— and noble stuff is that Aurora port!--I told him— I amused him till he was on the point of bursting — I told him I was such a gentleman as the world hadn't seen— minus money. So he determined to launch me. He said I should lead the life of such a gentleman as the world has not yet seen— on the simple condi tion, which appeared to me childish, a senile whim; rather an indulgence of his." 71 (III, 199) I'll, 1801 Deleted: "Will you believe it, my dear fellow? I haven't a single pair [of breeches] without the T.P.i" Substituted: "apparently forgetting how he stood," for : "apparently forgetting his tin plate." Deleted: And whose extremest burden was the attachment of a tin plate. (Ill, 226) fll, 2041 Deleted: "ha I ha! I must carry on my suit I I must be tied to tin! Think I'm merry, if you like but I doubt an thou'dst be capable of sacrifice so vast! I doubt it indeed!" (III, 229) [II, 207] Deleted: "Tomorrow I shall wear an independent pair— 'gad, a rhyme! I'd borrow of you, but your legs are too long. I'm in earnest." (III, 282) fll, 236] Deleted: "or, as you grossly call it— my tincome, hal hal" And the final clarification: 72 (III, 310) ril, 252] "Would you have thought it possible that a small circu lar bit of tin on a man's person could produce such total changes in him?" "You are a donkey to wear it," said Evan. "I pledged my word as a gentleman, and thought it small for the money!" said Raikes. This is the first coach I ever travelled on, without making the old whip burst with laughing. I'm not myself. I'm haunted. I'm somebody else." It is possible that Meredith intended to modify the whole drift of the tin plate joke for the 1896 version, but neglected to follow through on this plan. In any case, the final product is a mass of confusion and ambiguity. (Ill, 89) m , 121] In the scene where the Countess plots a revenge for her humiliation at Beckley Court, deleted: "That fortunate man is a foreignere!" exclaimed Mr. Raikes. "Anglicised."— anglicised!" said the Countess. "Will you do this? You know how interested I am in the man. If he is not my husband, some one ought to be!" "Capital!" cried Jack. "Lord! how that would tell on the stage. ‘Some one ought to be!'" "Away, and do my hest," the Countess called to him with the faint peep of a theatrical manner. It captivated Mr. John Raikes: "Yea, to the letter, though I perish for it," he pronounced, departing, and "I suppose," said Evan, "it's just as natural to you as the effect produced by a small circular tube of brass." "Ugh! here we are," Jack returned, as they drew up under the sign of the hos pitable Dragon. "This is the first coach I ever travelled with without making the old whip burst with laughing. I ain't myself. I'm haunted. I'm somebody else!" 73 subsequently appending, "nor yet the damned reason can perceive." The excised passage interrupts an intense situation. The Countess is hatching her most spectacular intrigue, a plan to revenge herself for being exposed as a tradesman's daughter by revealing Harry Jocelyn's illegitimate child and Mrs. Evremonde's demented husband. The dramatic force of the scene is ruined by the levity of the theatrical word match between Raikes and the Countess. Changes in Characterization Whatever weakness Meredith evinced as an architect of plot, he more than balanced by his strength as a sculptor of character. At the heart of his novels is always the truth ful, well-rounded presentation of human nature. His finest characters have been so intensely imagined that their vital ity captivates our imagination and holds it effortlessly. Several critics, among them J. B. Priestley, Constantin Photiades, and Walter Jerrold, have compared Meredith's characters to those of Shakespeare in that they are human, yet larger than life. Photiades stressed Meredith's ability, like Shakespeare's, to avoid flat characters while creating universal types: Let us at once £ay they are not personages; still less types in the ordinary sense of the word; but rather epitomes of types, animated by a life altogether uncre- ate, as Alceste, the melancholy Jacques, Harpagon or Shylock. We have never seen them; there is,no probabil ity of our ever meeting them— although we know them well. They may well be incompatible with a society such as ours. However, although occasionally they do resemble 74 certain definite individuals, they are wondrously typi cal of their class as a body.13 Ang again: Like Shakespeare's creations, they live beyond time and space. They are, in the true sense, characteristic. They are the offspring only of the very highest art. (p. 197) As a general rule, Meredith’s characters are developed dramatically rather than by authorial comment. In other words, whenever Meredith wants to tell us something about their souls, he immediately places them in a situation that will permit them to act or speak out in a way that exposes their inner life to us. As J. A. Newton-Robinson observed: "The exposition is not doctrinaire or dogmatic, but rather empirical and living," proceeding inductively to reveal 14 character. This is doubtless what Meredith meant when, m writing to G. P. Baker, he claimed that his method was to prepare his readers "for a crucial exhibition of the per sonae , and then to give the scene in the fullest of their 15 blood and brain under stress of a fiery situation," or when, in Chapter Six of The Tragic Comedians he referred to 16 "human blood in motion." 13 George Meredith: sa vie, son imagination, son art, sa doctrine, trans. Arthur Price, p. 197. ■^"A Study of Mr. George Meredith," Murray's Magazine, December 1891, pp. 859-868. 15Letters, II, 398. 16New York, 1910, p. 62. 75 Ten years after his troubles with Lucas over the hand ling of plot, Meredith was still irritated about readers who demanded only froth and superficiality from a novel. To his friend Jessopp he confided: "You must not paint either man or woman; a surface view of the species flat as a wafer is 17 acceptable.” But Meredith rarely surrendered to the pres sure for easily understood characters. "My way, 1 1 he con fessed , is like a Rhone island in the summer drought, stony, un attractive and difficult, between the two forceful streams of the unreal and the over-real. My people are actual, yet uncommon. It is the clock-work of the brain that they are directed to set in motion.18 In Evan Harrington the gallery of portraits is particu larly lavish. With sureness of touch Meredith presents and develops his central characters, skillfully causing them to act and to react. At the heart of the conflict is Evan, the positive hero in action against a negative environment con trolled by snobbish vulgarity. His ordeal consists in main taining integrity in the face of ostracism and isolation. From first to last Evan insists on proving that birth and money are not above character and ability. But while Evan is the hero of the novel, the charmingly unscrupulous Countess de Saldar occupies most of the limelight. Jerrold suggests that she is delineated with an elaboration of ^In Ellis, p. 267. 1 ft Beauchamp1s Career (New York, 1910), pp. 236-237. 76 detail which Meredith might have learned from his friends of 19 the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Confident and even brutal in self-defense, she has lived a whole life of social pre tense, so is an experienced fighter in the social battle to defend her rank. Then there is Rose, the sweet, candid baronet's daughter, prototype of the well-bred, innocent English girl. Other personages include the eccentrics, John Raikes and the Cogglesby brothers, one an impostor, the other two iconoclasts; Mrs. Mel, the self-sufficient, inflexible widow of the high-spirited Great Mel, who, though dead, fills the entire novel with his presence; Lady Jocelyn, a paragon of common sense; Ferdinand Laxley and Harry Jocelyn, in marked contrast to Evan, boys with social rank but with out genuine civility; Caroline Strike, the weakest and most beautiful daughter of Melchizedek; and so on, in a long, colorful parade. Critics have drawn attention to two main faults in Meredith's creation of character, both of which deserve to be mentioned because they are apparent in Evan Harrington, and because in his revisions Meredith applied himself to the task of correcting them. The first is a lack of balance which causes many of Meredith's characters to appear either too mechanical or too philosophical. According to Priestley, either we see them as "little puppets illuminated by light- 19 George Meredith: An Essay Toward Appreciation (London, 1902), p. 105. 77 ning flashes of wit," or we are suddenly introduced to the deepest recesses of their minds, "swayed hither and thither by their lightest emotions. Compared with the world of the ordinary novelist his is a world revealed to us either by sudden glimpses through a camera obscura, or by x-rays, 20 but never by common sight." A possible explanation for this lack of middle distance is Meredith's reluctance to deal with ordinary, daily events. Whereas such writers as Dickens, Thackeray, Jane Austen, and Henry James placed their characters in settings of definite time and place, where they could perform easily-documented, easily- recognized actions, such as going to the bank, .attending a garden tea, or getting involved in a legal suit, Meredith left this middle distance blank. "Never was there a less documented fiction," said Priestley (p. 162). In other words, Meredith lacks the qualities of historian, reporter, and close observer. He does not require tangled streets, crowded courtrooms, or scandal-filled boudoirs for his pur poses. All he needs are a few clearly delineated charac ters, such as Evan, Rose, or the Countess de Saldar, and he is off into an absorbing crisis— enacted against the sim plest background in "a trim world emptied of most of its interests and relationships . . ." (p. 163). Meredith's best art often takes place where the routine human occupa 20 George Meredith, p. 161. 78 tions are entirely missing; however, in Evan Harrington this lack of middle distance produces a distracting kind of in consistency and implausibility. Because Meredith rarely allows Evan, Rose, or Raikes to be seen in ordinary circum stances, free from the stress of high drama, they sometimes appear curiously abstract or wooden. In revising Evan- Harrington Meredith succeeded in lending a greater air of reality to several of his characters, especially Raikes, Evan, and Rose. By lessening the stress of "the fiery situ ation," and emphasizing normal behavior, he increases the sense of life and truth of these characters. The second fault is Meredith's poor sense of balance, a fault which caused him to spend disproportionate time on minor characters and their situations. Parsons Lathrop, writing for The Atlantic Monthly, compares this sense of disproportion in Meredith with the same effect found in cer tain Russian and English painters: Meredith tries to give an epic largeness to every his tory that he undertakes. The result is a want of pro portion; just as it is when painters choose a canvas too large for their composition, or, conversely, paint figures which are too large for the canvas on which they are placed.21 An egregious example of this imbalance is the character of Raikes, whom Meredith radically trimmed down in his revi sions. But several other minor characters, too, take up more space than their contribution to the story warrants. ^"George Meredith," February 1888, pp. 178-193. 79 Who would not greet the deletion of Dandy, for instance, or of Mrs. Fiske, George Uploft, Miss Carrington, Miss Current, and- Lady Roseley with relief rather than regret? Meredith's revisions affecting character are more art fully handled than those affecting plot— again indicating that to Meredith the characters in his novel were more important than the story line. His main thrusts are: (1) to strengthen, within the bounds of realism, the heroic qualities of Evan and Rose? (2) to lessen the preposterous role of Raikes; (3) to adjust the behavior of certain other minor characters to the demands of the theme. Since in the revisions themselves we can best observe Meredith's method at work, I shall present each character individually, in the order of importance in the changes made. Changes Affecting John Raikes Of all the characters in Evan Harrington, John Raikes was emended the most completely. This is not surprising when one considers that numerous admirers of Evan Harrington deplored him as a total failure, a Dickensian character manque. The tricks played on this ridiculous young man are diverse but never interesting. That is the problem with Raikes. Meredith gets him into all kinds of scrapes, but because his personality is unreal, his situation never draws the reader into it. Every scene in which Raikes appears seems too long and too artificial. Again and again we 'are told that Raikes likes to talk in the rhyme and rhythm of 80 poetry. • This in itself could be amusing, but because Mere dith never succeeds in selling us on the comic value of this idea, Raikes is left with a blown-up vocabulary that at best seems torturously silly and tiring. Henley considered Raikes "one of the most flagrant unrealities ever perpe- 22 trated in the name of fiction by an artist of genius." Most critics objected to Raikes on the basis of his being, what Allan N. Monkhouse called, "dangerously near the line 23 which separates the fantastical from the preposterous," and most of them assumed that he was simply a bad imitation of Dickens’ Jingle or Tappertit. Meredith's 1896 revisions concentrate heavily on diminishing Raikes1 role as a picaro in general and his influence on Evan in particular. Several additions in 1896 underline the fact that Evan is painfully aware of Jack's wearisome folly, and that he sees in him reflected some of his own pretensions to gentility. But some grave problems occur in connection with the revisions. For instance, if Evan saw so clearly that he must dissociate himself from Raikes, why then did he procure him the job of tutoring at Beckley Court? Also, there is the problem of blurred mysteries and loose ends, already discussed in con nection with changes in plot. One correspondent for The National Observer remarked: 22 Views and Reviews: Essays in Appreciation, p. 46. O T "Mr. Meredith's Novels," The Manchester Quarterly, October 1890, p. 308. 81 Raikes was a necessary agent in the plot, and his loss will, I think, be felt here and there by new readers in a certain dissatisfaction as to the sequence of events, which will disturb the balance of the whole . . .24 The following emendations establish that Meredith had three aims in changing the character of Raikes: first, to lessen his Dickensian eccentricity? second, to tone down his ex cessively poetic verbal flings; third, to reduce his influ ence on Evan. While in the earlier version the author writes famil iarly of "Jack," or more gradiloquently, of the mock-heroic "Mr. John Raikes,” in 1896 he has become simply "Mr. Raikes," or "Raikes." (II, 267) ri, 138] In the scene where Raikes first appears and joins Evan in the farmer's wagon, emended: "I did, sir. Yes; one does not court those deso late regions wittingly. I am for life and society. The embraces of Diana do not agree with my constitution. My belief— I don't know whether you have ever thought on the point— but I don't hesitate to say I haven't the slightest doubt Endymion was a madman I I go farther: I say this: that the farmer who trusted that young man with his muttons was quite as bad. And if classics there be who differ from me, and do not reserve all their sympathy "I did, sir. Yes; one does not court those deso late regions wittingly. I am for life and society. The embraces of Diana do not agree with my constitution. If classics there be who differ from me, and do not reserve all their sympathy for those hapless animals, I beg them to take six hours on the downs alone with the moon, and the last prospect of bread and cheese, and a chaste bed, seemingly utter ly extinguished. I am cured of romance. Of course, sir, when I say bread and cheese, 24 January 2, 1897, p. 186. 82 for those hapless animals, I beg them to take six hours on the downs along with the moon, and the last prospect of bread and cheese, and a chaste bed, seemingly utter ly extinguished. I am cured of my romance. Of course, sir, when I say bread and cheese, I speak figuratively. Pood is implied." Evan stole a glance at his companion. "Besides, sir," the other continued, with an inflexion of grandeur, "for a man ac customed to his hunters, it is, you will confess, some what unpleasant for such a man— I speak hypothetically— to be reduced to his legs to that extent that it strikes him shrewdly he will run them into stumps. Nay, who shall say but that he is stumped?" The stranger laughed, as if he knew the shrewdness of his joke, and questioned the moon aloud: "What sayest thou, 0 Queen of lunatics?" The fair lady of the night illumined his face, like one who recognised a subject. Evan thought, too, that he knew the voice. A curious, unconscious struggle therein between native facetiousness and an attempt at dignity, appeared to Evan not unfa miliar; and the egregious failure of ambition and tri umph of the instinct, helped him to join the stranger in his mirth. I speak figuratively. Food is implied.” Evan stole a glance at his companion. "Besides, 1 1 the other con tinued, with an inflexion of grandeur, "for a man accus tomed to his hunters, it is, you will confess, somewhat unpleasant for such a man— I speak hypothetically— to be reduced to his legs to that extent that it strikes him shrewdly he will run them into stumps." The stranger laughed. The fair lady of the night illumined his face, like one who recognised a subject. Evan thought he knew the voice. A curious, unconscious struggle therein between native facetiousness and an attempt at dignity, appeared to Evan not unfa miliar; and the egregious failure of ambition and tri umph of the instinct, helped him J:o join the stranger in his mirth. "Jack Raikes?" he said: "Surely?" "The manl" It was ans wered to him. "But you?— and near our old school, Viscount Harrington? These marvels occur, you see— we meet again by night." Evan, with little grati fication at the meeting, fell into their former com radeship; tickled by a rec ollection of his old school fellow' s india-rubber mind. "Pardon me," cried the latter, suddenly. "That laugh! Will you favour me by turning your face to the moon?" "Just a trifle more. She kisses you. ’Twill do!" Evan smiled at him. He was silent for some paces, and then cried, in brave simplicity: "Won't you give your fist to a fel low?" It needed but a word or two further for two old schoolmates to discover one another. Evan exclaimed, "Jack Raikes! Sir John!" while he himself was ad dressed as "Sir Amadis, Viscount Harrington!" In which, doubtless, they re vived certain traits of their earlier days, and with a brisk shaking of hands, and interrogation of countenances, caught up the years that had elapsed since they parted company. These emendations serve three purposes: 1. They make the recognition take place faster. 2. They lessen Raikes1 poetical hyperbolics by deleting the ineffectual pun on "stumped," and by abbreviating the allusion to Endymion. 3. They indicate, by introducing the phrase "with little gratification at the meeting," that Evan is superior to Raikes and not of his kind. He 84 is merely tickled by the memory of Raikes’ India-rubber mind, that is, his rogueries. Meredith, however, had allowed two incoherences to take place. First, by keeping the words "Viscount Harrington" and "Amadis" in the revised version, he creates ambiguity because the reader cannot possibly know that these were nicknames that Raikes and Evan called one another in school. Second, the reference to "those hapless animals," and, fur ther on, the sentence "Endymion watched the sheep that bred that mutton," retained in the revised version, no longer make sense because the allusion to Endymion and the sheep has been deleted. In the same scene, emended: "Me, then, you remember," said Jack, cordially. "You are doubtful concerning the hat and general habiliments? I regret to inform you that they are the same." He gave a melodramatic sigh. "Yes; if there is any gratification in out-living one's hat, that gratification should be mine. In this hat, in this coat, I dined you the day before you voyaged to Lisboa's tide. Changes have since ensued. We complain not; but we do deplore. Fortune on Jack has turned her back I You might know it, if only by my regard for the nice distinctions of language. The fact is, I've spent my money. A mercurial temperament makes quicksilver of any amount of cash. Mine uncle died ere I had wooed the maiden, Pleasure, and How he had come there his elastic tongue explained in tropes and puns and lines of dramatic verse. His patri mony spent, he at once be lieved himself an actor, and he was hissed off the stage of a provincial theatre. 85 transformed her into the hag, Experience 1" The hand of Mr. Raikes fell against his thigh with theatrical impressiveness. "But how," said Evan— "it's the oddest thing in the world our meeting like this-- how did you come here?" "You thought me cut out for an actor— didn't you?" asked Jack. Evan admitted that it was a common opinion at school. "It was a horrible delu sion, Harrington I My patri mony gone, naked I sought the stage— as the needle the pole. Alas I there is no needle to the pole. I was hissed off the boards of a provincial theater, and thus you see me!" "Why," said Evan, "you don11 mean to say you have been running over the downs ever since." Mr. Raikes punned bitterly. "No, Harrington, not in your sense. Spare me the particu lars . By drastically condensing Raikes' rehearsal of his past mis fortunes, Meredith avoids a monologue filled with tiresome euphuisms, overly dramatic expressions, and a useless pun [downs]. He also leaves out the allusion to Raikes' old hat, deleted in numerous later passages. All the essential information concerning Raikes is adequately contained in the revision. 86 (II, 269) fl, 139] In the same scene, deleted: . .1 am the victim of my antecedents!" Mr. Raikes uttered this with a stage groan, and rapped his breast. "So you were compelled to go to old Cudford, and he rejected you— poor Jack!" Evan interjected commiserat- ingly. "Because of my antecedents, Harrington. I laid the train in boyhood that blew me up as man. I put the case to him clearly. But what's the use of talking to an old fellow who has been among boys all his life? All his arguments are prepositions. I told him that, as became a manly nature, I, being stripped, preferred to stand up for myself like a bare stick, rather than act the para site— the female ivy, or the wanton hop! I joked— he smiled. Those old cocks can't see you're serious through a joke. What do you think! He reminded me of that night when you and I slipped out to hear about the prize-fight, and were led home from the pot-house in glory. Well! I replied to him— 'Had you educated us on beer a little stiffer in quality, sir— ' 'Yes, yes,1 says he; 'I see you're the same John Raikes whom I once knew.' I ans wered with a quotation: he corrected my quantity, and quoted again: I capped him. I thought I had him. 'Glad,' says he, 'you bear in your head some of the fruits of my teaching.' 'Fruits, sir,' says I, 'egad! they're more like nails than fruits; I can feel now, sir, on a portion of my person, which is anywhere but the head, your praiseworthy perseverance in knocking them in.‘ There was gratitude for him, but he would treat the whole affair as a joke." Here Meredith is obviously dissociating Evan from Raikes by deleting the allusions to their joint escapades at school. He also deletes the facetious reference to paddlings, prob ably because he considered it indecorous. 87 (II, 289) fl, 149] In the scene where Evan and Raikes attend Tom Cogglesby's birthday party at the Green Dragon, deleted: [Although the revision calls for a comparison of texts, the excisions are so lengthy that I shall avoid the two-column method and shall list first the original version, immedi ately followed by the revised.] Jack made a wry face, but regained his equanimity, say ing: "Well, we can't be knights of chivalry and alder men too. The thing was never known. Let me see. I've almost forgotten how to reckon. Beds, a shilling a piece— the rest for provender. To-morrow we die. That's a consolation to the stumped! Come along, Har rington; let us look like men who have had pounds in their pockets!" Mr. Raikes assumed the braver features of this repre sentation, and marched into the room without taking off his hat, which was a part of his confidence in company. He took his seat at a small table, and began to whistle. His demeanour signified: "I am equal to any of you." His thoughts were: "How shall I prove it upon three shillings?" "I see you’re in mourning as well as myself, Jack," said Evan, calling attention to his hat. Mr. Raikes did not displace it, as he replied, "Yes," with the pre-occupied air of a man who would be weeping the past had he not to study the present. Eyes were on him, he could feel. It appeared to him that the company awaited his proceedings; why they should he did not consider; but the sense of it led him to stalk with affected gravity to the bell, which he rang conse quentially; and, telling Evan to leave the ordering to him, sat erect, and scanned the measure and quality of the stuff in the glasses. "Mind you never mention about my applying to old Cudford," he whispered to Evan, hurriedly. "Shouldn't like it known, you know— one's family!— Here, waiter!" 88 Mark, the waiter, scudded past, and stopped before the chairman to say: "If you please, sir, the gentlemen upstairs send their compliments, and will be happy to accept." "Ha!" was the answer. "Thought better of it, have they! Lay for three more, then. Pretty nearly ready?" "It will be another twenty minutes, sir." "Oh, attend to that gentleman, then." Mark presented himself to the service of Mr. Raikes. "R-r-r-r— a— " commenced Jack, "what have you got-a- that you can give a gentleman for supper, waiter?" "Receive the gentleman's orders!" shouted the chair man to a mute interrogation from Mark, who capitulated spontaneously: "Cold veal, cold beef, cold duck, cold— " "Stop!" cried Mr. Raikes. "It's summer, I know; but cold, cold, cold!— really! And cold duck! Cold duck and old peas, I suppose! I don't want to come the epi cure exactly, in the country. One must take what one can get, I know that. But some nice little bit to cap tivate the appetite?" Mark suggested a rarebit. Mr. Raikes shook his head with melancholy. "Can you let us have some Maintenon cutlets, waiter? --or Soubise?— I ask for some dressing, that's all— something to make a man eat." He repeated to Evan: "Maintenon? Soubise?" whispering: "Anything will do!" "I think you had better order bread and cheese," said Evan, meaningly, in the same tone. "You think, on the whole, you prefer Soubise?" cried Jack. "Very well. But can we have it? These out-of- the-way places— we must be modest! Now, I'll wager you don't know how to make an omelette here, waiter? Plain English cookery, of course!" "Our cook has made 'em, sir^said 'Mark. 89 "Oh, that’s quite enough!" returned Jack. "Oh, dear me! Has made an omelette! That doesn't by any means sound cheerful." Jack was successful in the effect he intended to pro duce on the company. The greater number of the sons of Britain present gazed at him with the respectful antago nism peculiar to them when they hear foreign words, the familiarity with which appears to imply wealth and dis tinction . "Chippolata pudding, of course, is out of the ques tion," he resumed. "Fish one can't ask for. Vain were the call! A composition of eggs, flour, and butter we dare not trust. What are we to do?" Before Evan could again recommend bread and cheese, the chairman had asked Mr. Raikes whether he really liked cutlets for supper; and, upon Jack replying that they were a favourite dish, sung out to Mark: "Cutlets for two!" and in an instant Mark had left the room, and the friends found themselves staring at one another. "There's three shillings at a blow!" hissed Jack, now taking off his hat, as if to free his distressed mind. Evan, red in the face, reproached him for his folly. Jack comforted him with the assurance that they were in for it, and might as well comport themselves with dig nity till the time for payment. "I shall do nothing of the sort,” said Evan, getting up to summon Mark afresh. "I shall sup on bread and cheese." "My lord! my lord!" cried Jack, laying hold of his arm, and appearing to forget some private necessity for an incognito. "Well," he added, as the bell rang, "perhaps at this late hour we ought to consider the house. We should bear in mind that a cook, however divine in bounties, is mortal, like the rest of us. We are not at Trianon. I'm not the Abbd Dubois, nor you the Due d'Orleans. Since they won't let us cook for ourselves, which I hold that all born gentlemen are bound to be able to do, we'll e'en content ourselves with modest fare." "My good Jack," cried Evan, less discreetly than it pleased his friend to hear, "haven't you done playing 90 at 'lords’ yet? It was fun-when we were boys at school. But, let me tell you, you don't look a bit like a lord." "I'm the son of a gentleman," returned Jack, angrily. "I'm sorry you find yourself compelled to tell every body of it," said Evan, touched by a nettle. "But what's the use of singing small before these fellows?" Jack inquired. The chairman was doubled in his seat with laughter. A paragraph later, deleted: Evan countermanded the cutlets, and substituted an order for bread and cheese, Jack adding, with the nod of a patron to the waiter: "We think— since it's late— we won't give you the trouble to-night. We'll try the effect of bread and cheese for once in a way. Nothing like new sensations!" At this the chairman fell right forward, grasping the arms of his chair, and shouting. Jack unconsciously put on his hat, for when you have not the key to ^current laughter— and especially when you are acting a part, and acting it, as you think, with admirable truth to nature— it has a hostile sound, and suggests devilries. The lighter music of mirth had succeeded the chair man 's big bursts, by the time the bread and cheese ap peared . Two paragraphs later, deleted: "What a place!" he muttered. "Nothing but bread and cheese! Well! We must make the best of it. Content ourselves with beer, too! A drink corrupted into a likeness of wine! Due to our Teutonic ancestry, no doubt. Let fancy beguile us!" And Mr. Raikes, with a grand air of good-nature, and the lofty mind that makes the best of difficulties, offered Evan a morsel of cheese, saying: "We dispense with soup. We commence with the entries. May I press a patty upon you." "Thank you," said Evan, smiling, and holding out his plate. 91 "Yes, yes; I understand you," continued Mr. Raikes. "We eat, and eke we swear. We'll be avenged for this. In the interim let sweet fancy beguile us I 1 1 Before helping himself, a thought appeared to strike him. He got up hastily, and summoned Mark afresh. "R-r-r-r— a— what are the wines here, waiter?" he demanded to know. It was a final effort at dignity and rejection of the status to which, as he presumed, the sight of a gentle man, or the son of one, pasturing on plain cheese, de graded him. It was also Jack's way of repelling the tone of insolent superiority in the bearing of the three young cricketers. "What are the wines in this establishment? he repeated peremptorily, for Mark stood smoothing his mouth, as if he would have enjoyed the liberty of a grin. "Port, sir, --sherry.1 1 "Ah— the old story," returned Mr. Raikes. "Dear! dear I dear i" "Perhaps, sir," insinuated Mark, "you mean foreign wines?" "None of your infamous home-concoctions, waiter. Port I I believe there's no Port in the country, except in half-a-dozen private cellars— of which I know three. I do mean foreign wines." Now Mark had served in a good family, and in a London hotel. He cleared his throat, and mutely begging the attention of the chairman, thus volubly started: "For eign wines, sir, yes! Rhine wines! we have Rudesham; we have Maregbrun; we have Steenbug— Joehannisbug— Libefromil— Asmyhous, and several others. Claret!— we hkve Lafitte; we have Margaw; we have Rose;— 'Fitte- Margaw— Rose— Julia— Bodo. At your disposal, sir." Jack, with a fiery face, blinked wildly under the torrent of vintages. Evan answered his plaintive look: "l_ shall drink ale. " "Then I suppose I must do the same," said Jack, with a miserable sense of defeat and provoked humiliation. 92 "Thank you, waiter, it goes better with cheese. A pint of ale." "Yes, sir," said Mark, scorning to stop and enjoy his victory. Heaving a sad "Heigh!" and not daring to glance at the buzzing company, Mr. Raikes cut a huge bit of crust off the loaf, and was preparing to encounter it. The melancholy voracity in his aspect was changed in a minute to surprise, for the chairman had started out of a fit of compressed merriment to arrest his hand. 1 1 Let me offer you vengeance on the spot, sir." "How?" cried Jack, angrily; "enigmas?" Two paragraphs later, deleted: "Sir," said Jack, by this time quite recovered, "the alternative decides me. The alternative is one I should so deeply grieve to witness, that, in short, I— a— give in my personal adhesion, with thanks." "You are not accustomed to this poor fare, sir," re marked the chairman. "You have aptly divined the fact, sir," said Jack; "nor I, nor this, my friend. The truth is, that where cometh cheese, and nothing precedeth it, there is, the— the cultivated intelligence, the sense of hiatus— a sort of vocative 'caret,' as we used to say at school--which may promote digestion, but totally at the expense of satisfaction. Man, by such means, is sunk below the level of the ruminating animal. He cheweth— " The stentorian announcement of supper interrupted Mr. Raikes; and the latter gentleman, to whom glibness stood for greatness of manner, very well content with the effect he conceived he had produced on the company, set about persuading Evan to join the feast. For sev eral reasons, Evan would have preferred to avoid it. He was wretched, inclined to enjoy a fit of youthful misanthropy; Jack’s dramatic impersonation of the lord had disgusted him; and bread and cheese symbolled his condition. The chairman, catching indications of re luctance, stooped forward, and said: "Sir! must I put it as a positive favour?" "Pray, do not," replied Evan, and relinquished the table with a bow. 93 In the 1896 version the lengthy scene above is condensed to the following: "I can beat my friend at that reckoning," said Mr. Raikes; and they entered the room. Eyes were on him. This had ever the effect of caus ing him to swell to monstrous proportions in the his trionic line. Asking the waiter carelessly for some light supper dish, he suggested the various French, with "not that?" and the affable naming of another. "Not that?" "Dear me, we shall have to sup on chops, I be lieve 1 " Evan saw the chairman scrutinizing Raikes, much as he himself might have done, and he said: "Bread and cheese for me." Raikes exclaimed: "Really? Well, my lord, you lead, and your taste is mine." A second waiter scudded past, and stopped before the chairman to say: "If you please, sir, the gentlemen upstairs send their compliments, and will be happy to accept." "Hal" was the answer. "Thought better of it, have they! Lay for three more, then. Five more, I guess." He glanced at the pair of intruders. Among a portion of the guests there had been a return to common talk, and one had observed that he could not get that "Good Evening," and "Good Night," out of his head: which had caused a friend to explain the meaning of these terms of salutation to him: while another, of a philosophic turn, pursued the theme: "Ye see, when we meets, we makes a night of it. So, when we parts, it's Good Night— naturalI ain't it?" A proposition as sented to, and considerably dilated on; but whether he was laughing at that, or what had aroused the fit, the chairman did not say. Gentle chuckles had succeeded his laughter by the time the bread and cheese arrived. In the rear of the Provision came three young gentle men, of whom the foremost lumped in, singing to one be hind him,— "And you shall have little Roseyi" They were clad in cricketing costume, and exhibited the health and manners of youthful Englishmen of sta tion. Frolicsome young bulls bursting on an assemblage of sheep, they might be compared to. The chairman 94 welcomed them a trifle snubbingly. The colour mounted to the cheeks of Mr. Raikes as he made incision in the cheese, under their eyes, knitting his brows fearfully, as if at hard work. The chairman entreated Evan to desist from the cheese; and, pulling out his watch, thundered: "Time11 1 The company generally jumped on their legs; and, in the midst of a hum of talk and laughter, the chairman informed Evan and Jack, that he invited them cordially to supper up-stairs, and would be pleased if they would partake of it, and in a great rage if they would not. The above condensation represents a considerable reduction in Raikes' role. In the original passage Raikes takes the lead in ordering a meal, and his outlandish behavior becomes the center of attention while Evan takes a back seat. In the 1896 version Evan is the controling figure; he makes the major decisions without first listening embarrassedly to Raikes1 lordly pretensions. Although the excision deprives us of a comic disquisition on French food by Raikes and of an exhibition of rustic savoir faire by Mark the waiter, it strengthens Evan by placing him in control of the situation, allowing his judgment immediately to supercede Raikes'. Also, Meredith retains in this scene the delightful atmos phere of conviviality at the village tavern as well as a sense of Evan's innate good judgment. The following addi tion in the 1896 version is another attempt to dissociate Evan from Raikes: [Tom has just invited Evan and Jack to dinner] Raikes was for condescending to accept. Evan sprang up and cried: "Gladly, sir," and gladly would he have cast his cockney schoolmaster to the winds 95 in the presense of these young cricketers; for he had a prognostication. (II, 406) [I, 241] In the scene where Evan meets Raikes back at the Green Dragon, deleted: "You've been lonely, I suppose, Jack?" "Have I? Oh, that's it I" Mr. Raikes ironically laughed, in the pride of a malady that defied penetration. "Wake up, old boy! wake up 11 1 said Evan. "The cock bids me do the same at two A.M., punctually every morning, and I comply!" returned Jack. "It's afternoon, now!" Evan dismounted, and gave him a shake, which he en dured with the stolidity of a dummy. "Why, where's old Jack? I've capital news for you, Jack, capital news." "Then if you don’t want to see me burst— give it me by degrees," Mr. Raikes roared out the latter part of his sentence. "Instil it. Don't remove my brain pan and put it all in at once." In the excised passage Raikes is teasingly familiar with Evan, thus depriving the latter of a certain dignified bearing. (II, 407) fl, 245] In the same scene, deleted: "Will you speak seriously, Jack?" said Evan. "What is your idea of this letter?" "I have," returned Mr. Raikes, beginning to warm to his wine, "typified my ideas eloquently enough, Harring ton, if you weren't the prosiest old mortal that ever hoodwinked Fortune. I tell you you may marry the girl: I kick out the crown of my hat. I can do no more." 96 The excised passage makes Evan too dependent on Raikes1 judgment. Twice he asks him for his opinion of Tom’s let ter. Doubtless Meredith felt that once was enough. (III. 60) ril, 96] In the conversation between Harry and Raikes, deleted: . . . and in a small speech, in which he [Raikes] con trived to introduce the curricle, remarked that the Hampshire air suited his genius, and that the friendship of Mr. Harry Jocelyn would be agreeable to him. "Where's the tailor?" cried Harry, laughing. "Tailor!" Jack exclaimed, reprovingly, "oh! now, my dear fellow, you must positively drop that. Harring ton's sisters! consider! superb women! unmatched for style! No, no; Harrington's father was an officer. I know it. A distant relative of Sir Abraham Harrington, the proud baronet of Torquay, who refused to notice them. Why? Because of the handle to his name. One could understand a man of genius!— a member of parliament! but proud of a baronetcy! His conduct was hideous. The Countess herself informed me." "Ha! ha!" laughed Harry, "I was only joking. I shall see you again." And Mr. Raikes was left to fresh meditation. Raikes' defense, in the original version, of Evan as a gentleman is superfluous because in the previous scene it has been made clear to most members of the Jocelyn family that Evan is the son of a tailor. Since the speech also, places Raikes in the role of Evan's protector, Meredith saw an ideal opportunity to lessen Raikes while cutting out deadwood. 97 Changes Affecting Evan Despite his handsome face, his stately bearing, and his pleasant manner, Evan is essentially a weak hero, who hesi tates too long before committing his gentlemanly actions. As Lynch points out, he is like many of Scott's heroes: So long as he is handsome, has the art of using his voice, his mouth, and his eyes, carries his doublet and hose gracefully, twangs the guitar of loverhood musi cally, and recites his sonnets to advantage--we behold the virtues we demand of him.25 At the end of Evan Harrington we are left to wonder, by way of justice, just what superior qualities caused Evan to deserve his extremely good fortune. And the answer is never satisfactorily given, either in the original or in the re vised version of the novel. Evan's abhorrence of the Countess's ruthless ambitions and his realization that a true gentleman must demonstrate a spirit of honesty develop so slowly that we are never convinced Evan is a genuine hero. In fact, if it were not for his generosity, his sen sitivity, and his ability to be self-critical, we would probably consider him simply a fainthearted parasite. Meredith was aware of the weak strain in Evan, as can be seen from his revisions, which are an attempt to bring Evan's character in line with the requirements of Meredith's idea of a true gentleman. While the revisions do not en tirely save Evan from weakness, they do strengthen him ^ George Meredith, p. 154. 98 considerably. The following selection of revisions indi cates that Meredith's aim was to delete any words or pas sages that, in the original version, tended to make Evan appear loutish, cowardly, or opportunistic. Furthermore, by sharpening the contrast between Evan the gentleman and Raikes the impostor, Meredith fortifies Evan's position as a fighter in the conflict between the upper and lower levels of society. (II, 333) fl, 2011 In the Countess de Saldar's letter to Harriet, inserted: [alluding to Evan] By the way, as to hands and feet, comparing him with the Jocelyn men, he has every mark of better blood. Not a question about it. As Papa would say— we have Nature's proof. An interesting addition, seemingly indicating Meredith's view that certain physical features are earmarks of gentle manly breeding. (II, 408) [I, 247] In the scene where, back at the Green Dragon with Raikes, Evan pities a horse whom Raikes has neglected to feed, deleted: "Poor brute, indeed!" echoed Mr. Raikes, indignantly; for to have leisure to pity an animal, one must, accord ing to his ideas, be on a lofty elevation of luck, and Evan's concealment of his exultation was a peace of hypocrisy that offended him. "Poor brute! yes; we're all poor brutes to him now. His coolness is disgusting! And look at me! No hat!" Mr. Raikes surveyed his garments— thought of his re fit, and the shining new hat, flew to the heiress await ing him, and was soon drawn into pleasanter sensations. Correspondence with Lucas reveals that Meredith kept resist- 2 6 ing the temptation to turn Evan into a snob. The above excision seems a further attempt to avoid this tendency, especially the deletion of "'Ppor brute I yes; we're all poor brutes to him now. His coolness is disgusting!1" (II, 436) ri, 2661 In the scene where the Jocelyns, William Harvey, and Drummond meet to consult about Laxley, emended: They paid Evan the compli ment of appealing to his com mon sense, and Evan was now cool: for which reason he resolved that he would have all that his hot blood had precipitated him to forfeit he knew how much for; in other words, he insisted upon the value for his lie. "I bear much up to a cer tain point," he said; beyond it I allow no one to step." It sounded well. Though Harry Jocelyn cried, "Oh, humbug!" he respected the man who held such cavalier prin ciples . Drummond alone seemed to understand the case. He said (and his words were carried faithfully to the Countess by ^Coolidge, p. 93. the fight between Evan and Evan was placable enough, but dogged; he declined to make any admission, though within himself he admitted that his antagonist was not in the position of an im postor; which he for one honest word among them would be exposed as being, and which a simple exercise of resolution to fly the place would save him from being further. 100 her dog): "Harrington has been compelled by Laxley to say he's a gentleman. He can't possibly retract it without injuring his ances tors. Don't you comprehend his dilemma? You must get Ferdinand to advance a step closer." Ferdinand refused; and the men acknowledged themselves at a dead lock, and had re course to the genius of the women. In the original version Evan insists on the "value for his lie"; in other words, he takes advantage of the fact that Laxley wants him to admit that at the inn he had said that his father was a tailor in order to avoid having to fight. Since this is not true, he need not admit it; however, by this rationalization he avoids the main problem, which is the fact that he really is not by birth a gentleman. In the revised version Evan is more honest because he admits to himself that he is an impostor and a coward for hiding from the residents of Beckley his involvement in trade. (II, 437) n, 2671 In the scene where Evan makes peace with Laxley, emended: The young men, sounded on both sides, were accord ingly lured to the billiard- room, and pushed together: and when he had succeeded in thrusting the idea of Rose from the dispute, it did seem such folly to Evan's common sense that he spoke The young men, sounded on both sides, were accord ingly lured to the billiard- room, and pushed together: and when he had succeeded in thrusting the idea of Rose from the dispute, it did seem such folly to Evan's common sense that he spoke 101 with pleasant bonhommie about it, saying, as he shook Laxley's hand: "Is this my certificate of ad mission into your ranks?" Laxley thought it suffi cient to reply that he was quite satisfied; which, con sidering the occasion, and his position in life, was equal to a repartee. Then Evan, to wind up the affair good-humouredly, said: "It would be better if gentlemen were to combine to put an end to the blackguards, I fancy. They're not too many, for them to begin kill ing each other yet;" and Sey mour Jocelyn for the sake of conviviality, said: "Gad, a good ideal" and Harry called Evan a trump, and Laxley, who had even less relish for com merce in ideas than in cloths, began to whistle and look dis tressfully easy. The revision furthers Meredith's theme that titles and prop erty are not alone what constitute a gentleman. Evan, the son of a tailor, outshines the aristocrats by sheer presence and bearing. The original passage hampers the theme by por traying Evan as eager to be admitted into the aristocratic society. His question, "Is this my certificate of admission into your ranks?" (spoken without irony) smacks of social climbing, a degrading quality in one who is to typify the ideal gentleman. with pleasant bonhommie about it. That done, he entered into his acted part, and towered in his conceit considerably above these aristocratic boors, who were speechless and graceless, but tigers for their privi leges and advantages. 102 (II, 575) Til, 331 In the scene where Evan writes a letter to Rose, con fessing his imposture, emended: Materially, he was bound to Tailordom before; now he was bound in honour. At the thought he turned cold; it shot him in an instant mil lions of miles away from sun ny Rose. And he must speak to her and tell her all. How would she look? The glass brought Polly Wheedle somehow to his mind; and then came that horrible image of Rose mouthing the word "snip, 1 1 and shuddering at the hag- like ugliness it reduced her to. Speak to her, and see that aspect with his own eyes? Impossible. Besides, there was no necessity. A letter would explain every thing fully. Evan walked up and down the room, rejoicing in the inspired idea of the letter, and not aware that it was the suggestion of his cowardice. The pains and aches of the word snip, too, set him thinking of his mer its. He brought that mighty host to encounter the obnox ious epithet, and quite over whelmed it; he all but stifled it. Unfortunately, it would give a faint squeak still. And in company his merits evaporated; and though there was talk of tailors, Snip arose in its might, and was dominant. I am doing the young man a certain injustice in thus baring to you his secret soul, for he made him self agreeable, and talked affably and easily, while within him the morbid conflict was going on; but if you care He was clutched by a benefi cent or a most malignant magician. The former seemed due to him considering the cloud on his fortunes. This enigma might mean, that by submitting to a temporary humiliation, for a trial of him— in fact, by his acknowl edgement of the fact, loathed though it was,— he won a secret overlooker 1s esteem, gained a powerful ally. Here was the proof, he held the proof. He had read Arabian Tales and could be lieve in marvels; especially could he believe in the friendliness of a magical thing that astounded without hurting him. He sat down in his room at night and wrote a fairly manful letter to Rose; and it is to be said of the wretch he then saw himself, that he pardoned her from turning from so vile a pre tender . 103 for him at all, you should know the springs of his con duct . That night the letter was written. When written, Evan burned to have Rose reading it to the end, just as con demned criminals long for instant execution. In the original version Evan emerges as a coward. He finds it impossible to speak to Rose face to face when he imagines how the word Snip will fill her with horror. He decides to write his confession in a letter. To make matters worse, in the original passage Evan is not even aware that his deci sion to write a letter is the result of cowardice. In the revised version, the letter is the natural outcome of deci siveness rather than fear. Since no other method of confes sion is proposed, and since Rose has retired for the night, writing a 1 1 fairly manful letter" is an acceptable way for Evan to absolve himself. (Ill, 3) I'll, 69] In the scene where Rose argues with her aunt, Mrs. Shorne, deleted: Rose had not relinquished Evan's arm. She clung to it ostentatiously, with her right hand stuck in her side. "Do you find support necessary?" inquired Mrs. Shorne. "No, aunt," Rose answered, immoveably. "Singular habit!" Mrs. Shorne interjected. "No habit at all, aunt. A whim." 104 "More suitable for public assemblies, I should think." "Depends almost entirely upon the gentleman; doesn't it, aunt?" Anger at her niece's impertinence provoked the riposte: "Yes, upon its being a gentleman." Mrs. Shorne spoke under her breath, but there was an uneasy movement through the company after she had spoken. Seymour Jocelyn screwed his moustache: Mr. George Up- loft tugged at his waistcoat: Laxley grimaced: and the ladies exchanged glances: all very quietly and of the lightest kind— a mere ruffle of the surface. It was enough for Evan. The excised passage is an effective portrayal of Rose as a strong-willed girl who can counter venom with sharp verbal wit, but in this same passage Evan is made to look like a milksop. For him to stand by mutely while he is openly in sulted and to have Rose do all the defending is intolerable. In the revised version, Mrs. Shorne takes Rose aside and their verbal sparring does not begin until they are out of Evan's hearing. Nothing important is lost through the exci sion since there is plenty of dialogue left in which we can rejoice over Rose's pert behavior to her status-conscious aunt. (Ill, 173) ril, 174,51 In the scene where Evan explains to Caroline the neces sity for assuming the blame for the Countess's forged letter, emended: "The dishonour of my fam- My family's dishonor is mine, ily, Caroline, is mine, and Caroline. Say nothing more— 105 on me the public burden of it don't think of me. I go to rests. Say nothing more— Lady Jocelyn tonight. don't think of me. I will not be moved from what I have resolved. I go to Lady Jocelyn tonight. The whole scene in which Evan takes the blame for the Countess's forged defamation of Laxley's character borders on the ludicrous because of its melodramatic overtones. By changing Evan's flowery declaration to a simple statement of intent, Meredith saves him from sounding like a burlesque of the medieval knight defending his lady's virtue. (Ill, 227) [II, 197] In the scene where Raikes tells Evan about his romance with Polly, added: Evan got up and burst Evan got up and burst into laughter at this bur- into damnable laughter at lesque of himself. this burlesque of himself. Raikes has been recounting his romance with Polly, making of it a reversed burlesque of Evan's relationship with Rose. By inserting the word damnable (meaning condemnable), Mere dith indicates that Evan reproves Raikes for making light of his love for Rose. The change, however, does not seem help ful, since a "damnable" laughter is bound to be somewhat infantile. 106 Chancres Affecting Rose Rose Jocelyn is the conventional romantic heroine, bathed in an aura of loveliness rather than individuality. In stature she falls far below such later Meredith heroines as Diana Merion, Rhoda Fleming, or Clara Middleton. Even her ability as an equestrian and her habit of candidly speaking her mind are not enough to make her really differ ent from the other popular, well-bred young ladies of fic tion. Then, too, her naive willingness to believe all people without carefully sifting the evidence is a defect not glossed over by her spicy naturalness and her basic good will. While she serves adequately to point out the arti ficiality and snobbery of the landed gentry to whose class she belongs, she lacks the mature depth that would make her a unique creature. She is exquisite without being excep tional . Rose1s thoughts and actions are convincing up to the point where Evan confesses his trade to her, but from there on, she is annoyingly inconsistent, a fault which Meredith in his revisions tried to correct, but did so only parti ally. In the 1896 version we still find her vacillating, hesitating, and hedging spasmodically. 107 (II. 155) ri, 34] In the scene on board the Iocasta, deleted: "There goes another dear old "There goes another." She gull! I'm sure they're not tossed up her nose again ex- like foreign ones! Do you claiming: "I'm sure I smell think they are?" England nearer and nearer! I smell the fields, and the Without waiting for a re- cows in them. I'd have ply, she tossed up her nose given anything to be a again, exclaiming: dairymaid for half an hour!" "I'm sure I smell England nearer and nearer! Don't you? I smell the fields, and the cows in them. I declare I'd have given anything to be a dairymaid for half an hour! In the original version Rose is vexingly naive. Her remarks about the sea gull, her rhetorical questions to Evan, and her general exuberance are inappropriately childish for a girl who will that same summer become engaged. The revision lends maturity to Rose. (II, 269) ri. 1411 In the scene where Evan and Raikes first meet in the farmer's wagon, deleted: [Jack has alluded to "a fair horsewoman" whom he met on the downs] "What was she like?" said Evan, with forced gentle ness. "My dear fellow! there's not the remotest chance of our catching her now. She's a-bed and asleep, if she's not a naughty girl." "She went on to Beckley, you said?" Jack dealt him a slap. r "Are you going to the Bar?" 108 "I only wanted to know," Evan observed, meditatively progressing. He was sure that the young lady Jack had met was his own Rose, and if Jack thought himself an unlucky fellow, Evan's opinion of him was very different. "Did you notice her complexion?" This remark, feebly uttered after a profound stillness caused Jack to explode. "Who called you Amadis, Harrington? I met a girl on horseback, I tell you a word or two she says, and you can't be quiet about her. Why, she was only passably pretty— talked more like a boy than a girl— opened her mouth wide when she spoke— rather jolly teeth." Mr. Raikes had now said enough to paint Rose accur ately to the lover's mind and bring contempt on his per sonal judgment. Raikes' description of Rose is anything but flattering. She is only passably pretty, is masculine, and talks with her mouth wide open, exposing her teeth. We visualize her rather as a grinning Cheshire cat, or worse, a gaping, not- so-bright child. The excision is a relief. (Ill, 201) Til, 190] In the scene where Rose discusses with Juliana whether or not Evan is guilty, added: "Believe nothing, dear, till you hear it from his own lips. If he can look in your face and say that he did it . . . . well, then! But of course he cannot. It must be some wonderful peace of generosity to his rival." "So I thought, Juleyl so I thought," cried Rose, at the new light, and Juliana smiled contemptuously, and "Believe nothing, dear, till you hear it from his own lips. If he can look in your face and say that he did it . . . . Well, then! But of course he cannot. It must be some wonderful peace of generosity to his rival." "So I thought, Juleyl So I thought," cried Rose, at the new light, and Juliana smiled contemptuously, and 109 the light flickered and died, the light flickered and died, and all was darker than be- and all was darker than be fore in the bosom of Rose. fore in the bosom of Rose. She had borne so much that this new drop was poison. The addition of the last sentence is an attempt to give a valid psychological reason for Rose's mercurial vacillations between belief and disbelief in Evan's integrity. The case, however, seems overstated. We have not witnessed any over powering burden placed on Rose. (Ill, 341) ril, 2931 In the scene where, upon hearing of Juliana's will, Rose encounters Laxley, deleted: That evening Ferdinand had another chance. He begged her [Rose] not to be upset by the family misfortune, assuring her that his own position would shield her from considerations of that kind. She listened to him, under standing him well. Perhaps— for he was coaxing soft under evening influences— the fatal kiss might then have been given, but he, bending his head to her just as the moon slipped over an edge of cloud, the tides of an old emotion began to roll in her bosom, and, by a sudden turn of the head, she received his lips on the shield of her cheek. Love saw the danger. To Ferdinand's amaze ment and disgust, Rose grasped his hand, and in her frankest voice wished him good-night. The excision saves Rose from seeming a coquette who cannot resist using her feminine powers. The intimate moonlight rendez-vous with Laxley makes her appear superficial in her devotion to Evan. Also, Laxley's offer to save her family from ruin attributes to him unnecessary heroism. Structur ally, too, the excision is an improvement because it avoids an undeveloped scene and ends the chapter with the themati- 110 cally important question of whether or not a person can be a gentleman without having aristocratic blood. Changes Affecting the Cogglesby Brothers To most readers of Evan Harrington, Andrew and Tom Cogglesby are sources of irritation rather than pleasure. In them the Dickensian element comes to an exaggerated peak. Despite the fact that Meredith portrays them with affection, their beetling brows, twitching limbs, and exuberant "By jingo's" place them in the gallery of caricatures rather than of human beings. Priestley observed: The trouble with these eccentric-humorous characters is not only that they are Dickens, but that they are also bad Dickens, reproducing what is most irritating, in credible, and mechanical in him.2V In his revisions Meredith cut down considerably on the farcical eccentricity with which he had originally endowed the Cogglesby Brothers. As a result, the distasteful Dickensian element is reduced, but the purpose of the two brothers becomes more blurred even than in the original ver sion. In their reduced capacity they lie in wait for im postors and they correct pretense, but we build neither affection nor admiration for them. In them Meredith still strains after laughs, and in so doing he is not comical at all. Now, Meredith can be genuinely humorous, but his best humor lies in the comedy of characters who are obviously not 27 George Meredith, p. 176. trying to be humorous. Por instance, when the Countess de Saldar rattles off her euphuisms and aphorisms, she is not intending to be laughed at, yet we laugh unreservedly. But when Tom Cogglesby self-consciously plays the farceur, he never extracts from us so much as a snicker. Thus it seems fair to state that Meredith's revisions of the Cogglesby Brothers is perhaps an improvement in style by reducing the Dickensian burlesque, but it i acterization. (II, 178) ri, 58] In the scene where Andrew return from Portugal, deleted: "What, Van, my boyi how are you? Quite a foreigner ! By jingo, what a hat I" Mr. Andrew bounced back two or three steps to regard the dusky sombrero. "How do you do, sir?" said Evan. "Sir to you! Mr. Andrew briskly replied. "Don't they teach you to give your fist in Portugal, eh? I'll 'sir' you. Wait till I'm Sir Andrew, and than 'sir' away. 'Gad! the women'll be going it then. Sir Malt and Hops, and no mistake! I say, Van, how did you get on with the boys in that hat? Aha! it’s a plucky thing to wear that hat in London! And here's a cloak! You do speak English still, Van eh? Quite jolly, eh, my boy?" not an improvement m char- greets Evan upon the latter's "What, Van, my boy! how are you? Quite a foreigner! By George, what a hat!" Mr. Andrew bounced back two or three steps to regard the dusky sombrero. "How do you do, sir?" said Evan. "Sir to you! Mr. Andrew briskly replied. "Don't they teach you to give your fist in( Portugal, eh? I'll 'sir' you. Wait till I'm Sir Andrew, and then 'sir' away. You do speak English still, Van, eh? Quite jolly, my boy?" 112 The revision is an obvious toning down of Andrew's quaint exuberance, as the deletion of "By jingo," "Gad," "Aha," and "Eh," indicates. (II, 221) [I, 97] In the scene where Tom dines at the Aurora, deleted: And his wig, tool his blue coat and brass buttons, and his dear old brown wig! It made the landlady very un happy to think of that wig. Was it faithless? or was it laid low? Should he have gone to his final account, poor dear, the landlady said, his ghost might like to see it [the madeira]. (II, 222) ri, 1001 In the same scene, deleted: -v "Forty seconds! That's enough. Men are hung for what's done in forty seconds. Mark the hour, sir! mark the hour, and read the newspaper attentively for a year I" With which stern direction the old gentleman inter laced his fingers on the table, and sounded three em phatic knocks, while his chin, his lips, nose, and eye brow were pushed up to a regiment of wrinkles. "We'll put it right, sir, presently," murmured Jonathan, in soothing tones; "I'll attend to it myself." The above excisions tone down the caricature element in Tom Cogglesby, particularly his eccentric clothing, his ludi crous gestures, and his exaggerated grimaces. . (II, 603) Til, 571 In the scene outside of Tom's door at the Dolphin, deleted: "Go away." "Go away." 113 "X am so sorry, sir I" "If you don't go away, ma'am, I shall think your intentions are improper." "Oh, my goodness I" cried poor Mrs. Hawkshaw. "What can you do with him? I never was suspected of such a thing." "And I'll open the door, ma'am, and then--hai Then! — though I am the only man in the house— Mrs. Mel put Mrs. Hawk shaw behind her. "Are you dressed?" she called out. The revision indicates Meredith's general trend in 1896 toward conservatism in matters of sex. Presumably in the original version Tom was too lecherous for Meredith's matured taste. (Ill, 310) ril, 251] In the scene where Tom and Andrew are pretending to be bankrupt, deleted: Evan said: "You know, Andrew, that if your brother will come to me with you for a time--l am in his debt doubly: I owe him both for the money, and a lesson? if he doesn't mind coming, I shall be very happy to receive him." Andrew drew his hand tightly down his cheeks and chin, and nodded: "Thank you, Van, thank you, I'm sure. Never doubted your good heart, my boy. Very kind of you." "And you are certain to come?" "Hem! women in the case, you know, Van!" "I am so sorry, sir!" "If you don't go away ma'am, I shall think your intentions are improper." "Oh, my goodness!" cried poor Mrs. Hawkshaw. "What can you do with him?" Mrs. Mel put Mrs. Hawk shaw behind her. "Are you dressed?" she called out. 114 "Well, if I may work for you and yours, Andrew, I shall thank my destiny, whatever it is." Andrew's mouth twitched, and his eyelids began blink ing fast. With a desperate effort, he avoided either crying or laughing, but at the expense of Evan's ribs, into which he drove his elbow with a "pooh" and an apol ogy, and then commenced a conversation with the coachman. Andrew Cogglesby's twitchings, blinkings, and nudgings are too Dickensian for Meredith's mature taste. However, the excision increases the reader's difficulty (already con siderable) in understanding that the Cogglesby brothers are trying to teach the Harrington sisters a lesson by pretend ing to be bankrupt and to depend for a living on Evan, a mere tailor. (Ill, 367) m , 2821 In the scene where Harriet has taken the bankruptcy seriously, forcing Andrew to eat a sparse meal, emended: [The Countess is eulogizing a certain parson] "You may vilify and vic timise Mr. Duffian, and strip him of the honours of his birth, but, like the Martyrs, he will still continue the perfect nobleman. Stoned, I assure you that Mr. Duffian would preserve his breeding." "Eh? like toraatas?" quoth Andrew, in the same fit of distraction, and to the same deaf audience. "You may vilify and vic timise Mr. Duffian, and strip him of the honours of his birth, but, like the Martyrs, he will still con tinue the perfect nobleman. Stoned, I assure you that Mr. Duffian would preserve his breeding. In character he is exquisite; a polish to defy misfortune." By deleting Andrew's distracted pun on breeding and by ex tending the Countess's euphemistic speech, Meredith adds 115 sophistication and wit to the scene while at the same time he lessens the burlesque. Changes Affecting Laxley The only revision affecting Laxley takes place in the scene where he and Evan quarrel at Beckley Court. (II, 435) fl, 264] In the above scene, emended: As Laxley was turning away, Evan stood before him, and spoke sharply: "Which of us two is to leave this house?" Laxley threw up ''his head, and let his eyes descend on Evan. "Don't understand," he observed, removing his cigar, and swinging round carelessly. "I'll assist your intelli gence," said Evan. "You must go, or I will: if I go I will wait for you." "Wait for me?" "Which implies that I in tend to call you to account for your very silly conduct, and that you shall not escape it. " Laxley vented an impatient exclamation, and seeming to command a fit of anger by an effort of common sense, mut tered some words, among which Evan heard, "Appeal to a magistrate;" and catching at the clue, a cloud came over his reason. As Laxley turned away, Evan stood before him. The unhappy fellow was precipi tated by the devil of his false position. "I think one of us two must quit the field; if I go I will wait for you," he said. "Oh; I understand," said Laxley. "But if it's what I suppose you to mean, I must decline." "I beg to know your grounds." "You have tied my hands." "You would escape under cover of superior station?" "Escape! • You have only to unsay— tell me you have a jright to demand it." The battle of the sophist victorious within him was done in a flash, as Evan measured his qualities be side this young man's and without a sense of lying, said: "I have." 116 "You will appeal to a magistrate if a man beneath your own rank horsewhips you? You will be famous, Mr. Laxley! But remember, I give you a chance of saving your reputation by offering you first the weapons of gentle men . " "Of gentlemen!" returned Laxley, who, in spite of the passion arising within him, could not forbear the enjoy ment of his old advantage. "And," continued Evan, "I will do this for the honour of your family. I will speak to the Duke and two or three others here to get them to bring you to a sense of what is due to your name, before I proceed to ulterior measures." Laxley*s eyes grew heavy with blood. The sarcasm was just on a level with his wits, but above his poor efforts at a retort. "What gentleman fights tailors?" was so very poor and weakly uttered, that Evan in his rage could laugh at it; and the laughter convinced Laxley that his ground was untenable. He, of all others, was in reality the last to suspect Evan of having spoken truth that night in Fallow- field; otherwise would he have condescended to overt hostility, small jealousies, and the shadows of hatred? "You really would not ob ject to fight a gentleman?" said Evan. He spoke firmly. He looked the thing he called himself now. The Countess, too, was a dazzling shield to her brother. The beauti ful Mrs. Strike was a com pleter vindicator of him; though he had queer associ ates, and talked oddly of his family that night in Fallowfield. "Very well, sir: I admit you manage to annoy me," said Laxley. "I can give you a lesson as well as another, if you want it." Presently the two youths were seen bowing in the stiff curt style of those cavaliers who defer a pas sage of temper for an ap pointed statement. Harry rushed off to them with a shout, and they separated; Laxley speaking a word to Drummond, Evan— most judi ciously, the Countess thought— joining his fair sister Caroline, whom the Duke held in converse. 117 Laxley flung down his cigar. "By Jove! as a gentleman you owe it me— you shall fight me." "I thank you," said Evan. "You require the assurance? I give it you. Now, will you tell me what you propose to do? " A shout of derision inter rupted the closing of the pretty quarrel. It had been seen by two or three on the lawn that a matter was in hand between the youths. Drummond stood by, and Harry Jocelyn pitched against them, clapping them both the shoul ders . "Thought you'd be on to each other before the day was over, you pair of bantam- cocks! Welcome the peace maker. Out with your paw, Harrington— Ferdinand, be magnanimous, my man." Harry caught hold of their hands. At this moment the Duke, holding Mrs. Strike in con versation, hove in sight. The impropriety of an open squabble became evident. Laxley sauntered off, and Evan went to meet his sister. (II, 436) rI, 265] A few paragraphs later, deleted: In the afternoon the Jocelyns, William Haryey, and Drummond met together to con sult about arranging the dis pute; and deputations went to Laxley and to Evan. The for mer was the least difficult In the afternoon the Jocelyns, William Harvey, and Drummond met together to consult about arranging the dispute; and deputa tions went to Laxley and to Evan. The former demanded 118 to deal with. He demanded an apology for certain ex- an apology for certain ex- pressions that day. pressions that day. In the original version Laxley is not a worthy opponent for Evan. Such statements as "Laxley1s eyes grew heavy with blood," or "The sarcasm was just on a level with his wits, but above his poor efforts at retort," and the repeated allusions to Laxleyls tempestuous disposition make him seem a blustering farmer rather than the titled gentleman that he is. Since it would be no victory for Evan to win Rose away from such a barbarous, stupid lout, Meredith changes him into a suave and cultured person, allowing Evan's final tri umph to be the more admirable. Although in his revision, Meredith may have sacrificed a few guffaws from readers who love farcical humor, he has given Evan the chance to exhibit his true mettle by subjugating a proper antagonist. This is also the reason for deleting the passage "The former was the least difficult to deal with." Meredith did not wish to dismiss Laxley as a person of no consequence. Changes Affecting Other Minor Characters It seems best to present under this general heading the remaining revisions affecting character. Though few, they add consistency to the novel. 119 .(II, 437) [1, 2661 The following bracketed addition stresses the basic common sense of Lady Jocelyn: There would have been a dispute to arrange between Lady Jocelyn and Mrs. Shorne, had not her ladyship been so firmly established in her phlegmatic philosophy. She said: "Quelle enfantillageI I dare say Rose was the bottom of it: she can settle it best. [Defer the encounter between the boys until they see they are in the form of donkeys. They will; and then they'll run on together, as long as their goddess permits.]" Lady Jocelyn refuses to take seriously the quarrel between Laxley and Evan. Also, her order to defer the encounter between the two boys gives plausibility to the sudden truce several paragraphs later. (II, 545) Til, 191 The following bracketed deletion clears up two dis crepancies in the original version: Lady Jocelyn chuckled. [Friendship between the sexes was her doctrine, and the arrant British wife aroused therefore her strong aversion.] First, a strong aversion is not usually accompanied by chuckles. Second, it is incompatible with Lady Jocelyn's even temperament to allow a simpering woman like Mrs. Mel ville to unsettle her. (II, 573) [II, 29] The following addition in the scene where Evan lends Harry money stresses Harry's ironic lack of self-awareness. He patronizingly calls Evan "one of us," when Evan is in the 120 very process of paying for Harry's most ungentlemanly be havior . "'Pon my soul, Harring- "'Pon my soul, Harring ton, you make me remember I ton, you make me remember I once doubted whether you once doubted whether you were a gentleman," said were one of us— rather your Harry. "You'll bury that, own fault, you know," said won't you?" Harry. "Bury that, won't you?" One major character remains virtually untouched by Meredith's revisions— the Countess de Saldar. This is understandable, for she is the most thoroughly imagined character in the novel. Although she constantly upstages Evan and Rose, the intrusion is, due to its delightful comic effect, not annoying. Meredith claims our sympathy for this charlatan with the grand manners of a queen. We cannot re sist admiring the pluck so evident in her willingness to charm the greatest bores and give a sympathetic ear to the whiners and wall flowers at Beckley Court— all in an effort to belong to the aristocracy. Surely the Countess is one of the most unforgettable rouees in literature, rivaling Thackeray's Becky Sharp and Trollope's Signora Vesey Neroni. Only a few insignificant revisions in connection with her can be cited: "0 mio Deus1" and "Diachol" are added to the list of the Countess’s exclamations, probably in an effort to stress her religious piety as well as her knowledge of Portuguese. "Many days becomes "a lengthened period" in order to keep her euphuistic language consistent. The words "scenting prey" are deleted in an effort to tone down her 121 rapaciousness. The comment "she was unaware of what passed in the world" is deleted because unawareness is incongruous with the Countess's systematic scheming. Changes in Style and Tone The July 28, 1804, issue of Punch featured a cartoon in which Meredith appeared as the wild bull charging into a china shop. On the broken pieces of china scattered across the floor were written the words "construction," "form," "Grammar," and "syntax." This satirical jab at Meredith's style accurately labels the areas that 'occasioned distress and discord among Meredith critics. As Richard Le Gallienne perceived: . . . while it is really Mr. Meredith's stories for which critics have no taste, it is about his style that they make most fuss; it is even a stumbling block to the wise, at times.28 Even though most critics agree that Meredith's style is dif-r.. ficult and that a touch of that conscious deliberation found in other great novelists might well have improved the sense of form in his work, they by no means agree on their general evaluation of his style. He had detractors as well as champions. J. M. Robertson, in an article entitled "Con cerning Preciosity," written for The Yellow Book in 1897, roundly denounced what he thought was a continuous deterio ration of style in Meredith's writings. He felt that the 28 George Meredith: Some Characteristics (London, 1890), p. 168. 122 earlier novels contained some "signal beauties of phrase" as well as some sentences "in which the strain towards utter ance was transmuted into fire and radiance." But in the later works he saw only bad verbal affectation: Hardly once, so far as I have read, do we find an import ant sentence really well written; never a paragraph; for the perpetual grimace of expression, twisting the face of speech into every shape but those of beauty and re pose, is in no sense admirable.29 Priestley, whose general opinion of Meredith was highly laudatory, condemned his loose, rough paragraphs in which the sentences, phrases, and words tumbled over each other as if a strong wind had blown through them. Comparing his style to his manner of creating a scene— that is, presenting only the essentials and cutting the obvious ruthlessly away— Priestley observed: . . . his actual style closely follows his manner of observation, for it gives us a succession of rapid direct statements that are entirely disconnected and without the usual links and logical forms. The reader is pelted with impressions and observations that he must synthe sise himself.30 Lady Butcher has recorded an amusing anecdote regarding Meredith's reaction to complaints about his style: I suggested to Mr. Meredith that we should all enjoy reading his books so much more if he would condescend to make the language less involved and difficult to follow, and the story more easy to understand; and I quoted to him the saying of another well-known writer: ■"I am sure I should enjoy Meredith's novels, but I have no time to read shorthand." In answer to this cool suggestion on 29April 1897, pp. 79-106. 30 George Meredith, p. 192. 123 my part, he replied: "Yes, I know what you would like me to say: 'She went upstairs, her heart was as heavy as lead,' and so on with various other conventional phrases."31 The main complaint levelled against Meredith's style, then, is its obvious effort to avoid the commonplace by being self-consciously complicated. Now, as many critics have pointed out, the worst aspects of Meredith's style originate from what is basically a positive quality. His often-noted use of imagery-gone-wild, for instance, issues from his poetic nature, which, when it comes off, is brilliant. His use of dynamic metaphors, sharp word pictures, and concen trated descriptions make for a rich texture in passage after passage; yet, unfortunately it is this very poetic urge that also gets out of hand to frustrate the reader and to leave Meredith wide open to critical attacks. Sitwell compared Meredith's style to the "thick inspissated,-and at times perfumed" make-up of a stage actress, observing that whereas we may wish that it were less heavy, it does not stop a cer- 32 tain kind of society from being revealed to us. Other defenders of Meredithese are not lacking. Henry James re ferred to that bright particular genius of our own day, George Meredith, who so strikes us as hitching winged horses to the chariot of his prose--steeds who prance and dance 31 Memories of George Meredith, p. 43. 3 2 The English Association Presidential Address, p. 9. 124 and caracole, who strain the traces, attempt to quit the ground, and yearn for the upper air.33 Photiadfes was impatient with the sluggish minds of people who did not appreciate Meredith's three-pronged style, unit ing the poet, novelist, and philosopher. He accused them of being too simple-minded to appreciate Meredith's unusual combination of lyricism and prose— his vigorous style in which words are stretched to the limit of their meaning. Photiades found it quite natural that any novelist attempt ing, as Meredith did, "to juggle with fancies, speculations, humour and melodrama," should have to indulge in the most terrible stylistic twists and turns. In fact, he excused Meredith1s syntactical defects on the grounds that he com mitted them out of excessive care rather than out of care lessness : Through dislike of the superfluous, and in order to ob tain the essence of things, he cuts short his transi tions, omits adjectives, withdraws the verb, suppresses the pronoun, excludes the article and breaks up the con junction. . . . He is like the strange rivers of Illyria, which are swallowed up under the earth only to appear again at some distance, bubbling to the surface and stretching out into noble streams.34 Chislett particularly admired the balance of Anglo-Saxon and Latin in Meredith's style: 3 3 The House of Fiction (Essays on the Novel), ed. Leon Edel (London, 1957), p. 67. 34 George Meredith: sa vie, son imagination, son art, sa doctrine, pp. 17,7, 178. 125 His manner of hurling Latin and Saxon alternately at the page is one of the secrets of his brilliant e f f e c t s . ^5 That Meredith himself was fully conscious of the importance of maintaining that balance can be seen from the following passage in his essay on Mrs. Meynell, whose style he par ticularly admired: Simple Saxon is too much a brawler; and emotion, imagin ation, the eyes on things, will be shrouded by obtrusive Latin. The voice we know is not the familiar voice when we hear it through a horn. But seasonable notes of the horn will help elevation and the more embracing dis course. Latin offers that advantage if the words are discreetly chosen. The greater suppleness in a tongue of long usage by many races must, as Litr^ argues, make it an instrument of expression for the larger meanings and the delicate— the voluble semitones that the Teutonic cannot reveal. By linking the words of these two schools— the Anglo-Saxon and Latin— a writer, Meredith .felt,, could bring a special rhythm, grace, and color into his work. George S. Street saw Meredith's complex style as a challenge rather than as a barrier. In Quales Ego he wrote: As a manipulator of words to express complexity of thought he has no peer. It was by this complexity, this subtlety of penetration of his, that he was valuable to me when first I read him. I imagine there must be many in my case, to whom he was, above all things, an edu cator. It was his very obscurity— another name, so often, for a higher intelligence— that was the stimulating force in him for such as myself.37 35 George Meredith: A Study and Appraisal, p. 119. "Mrs. Meynell's Two Books of Essays," Miscellaneous Prose (New York, 1910), pp. 130-131. ^"Mr. Meredith in Little," Quales Ego (London, 1896), pp. 3-23. 126 J. M. Barrie had expressed a similar notion some years earlier in The Contemporary Review; He reaches his thoughts by means of ladders which he kicks away, letting his readers follow as best they can, a way of playing the game that leaves him comparatively free from pursuit. Too sluggish to climb, the public sit in the rear, flinging his jargon at his head, yet aware, if they have heads themselves, that one of the great intellects of the age is on in front. 8 One of the most distinctive features of Meredith's style is his use of figurative language. Often he will pre sent several images in flying succession, and occasionally metaphor is piled upon metaphor in a fantastic array that may confuse the reader who is not able to keep pace with the artist. George Macaulay Trevelyan compares Meredith's pil ing of metaphors to fierce animals in a pit "who strive, one on the back of the other," to deal each other "dismembering 39 wounds in the struggle for existence." Often Meredith's prose is so crowded with imagery that the reader feels smothered by it. While Evan Harrington is relatively free from such crowding, Meredith's later novels are replete with it. In The Egoist, for instance, Meredith often creates image after image without a pause. The egotism of Sir Willoughby Patterne, for example, is reflected in four suc cessive metaphors: Q "Mr. George Meredith's Novels," October 1888, pp. 575-586. 3 9 The Poetry and Philosophy of George Meredith (London, 1906), p., 13. 127 None n o t i c e d t h e w ord, y e t t h i s word was h e r m e d ic a l Q ie r b ^ > h e r illu m in a tin g C jLam ^) th^Tcey^fco him (and, a l a s , b u t sh e t h o u g h t i t b y f e e l i n g h e r n eed o f o n e ) , t h e Cgdvocat^) p l e a d i n g i n a p o lo g y f o r h e r . E g o i s t : She b e h e l d Kim . . , 40 And again, several images are squeezed into one short pas sage describing Clara Middleton: She was andmgeX? born supple; she was a heavenlyCsouT^) with half a dozen of the tricks of earth. Skittish ClLilly)was among his phrases, but she had a bearing and a gaze that forbade theCHip in the common guttepfor wherewithal to<pairv£> the creature she was . (pT 214) Priestley blames this occasional disconcerting accumulation of imagery on Meredith's dual role of philosopher and poet: Had he been more of a philosopher and less of a poet, he would have distrusted figurative language and taken refuge in abstractions. Had he been more of a poet and less of a thinker and wit, he would have dallied longer with his images, exploring, as it were, their sensuous beauty. But as it is, his imagination pours out images while his thought presses forward, and we see him leap ing from metaphor to metaphor, like a man jumping from log to log across a river. Despite numerous complaints about Meredith's imagery, most critics agree that the passages in which extravagant or obscure images appear seem insignificant when set alongside the countless well-wrought passages, where the imagery is ordered and apt. Metaphors and similes such as the follow ing remain indelible in the reader's memory. Regarding an unwanted embrace: The gulf of a caress hove in view like an enormous billow hollowing under the curled ridge. 40New York, 1963, p. 98. 4.1 George Meredith, pp. 106, 107. 128 42 She stooped to a butter cup; the monster swept by. Describing Sir Willoughby's narcissism: The anxious question permitted him to read deeply in her eyes. He found the man he sought there, squeezed him passionately, and let her go. . . . (p. 31) Commenting on two people conversing: He was about as accordantly coupled with Dr. Middle ton in discourse as a drum duetting with a bass-viol. (p. 187) Describing the language of an excited young boy: . . . in a lingo of dashes and asterisks [he] related how. . . . (p. 276) Satirizing a pedant: He pores over a little inexactitude in phrases and pecks at it like a domestic fowl. (p. 327) Portraying a father's anxiety: Where a certain air of anxiety in his daughter's presence produced the semblance of a raised map at inter vals on his forehead. (p. 210) Most of the time, as in the above examples, Meredith uses figurative language to simplify a complex idea or to pictorialize a generalization, and the result, for the reader, is in reality simplification, not obscuration. Le Gallienne suggests that in the use of figurative language— "that one quality of flashing a picture in a phrase, or, so to say, writing in lightning"— Meredith should be ranked an 43 equal with Shakespeare. 42 The Egoist, p. 128- 43 George Meredith. Some Characteristics, p. 168. 129 But it is Meredith's comic tone that won him his high est laurels among critics, the majority of whom admired him for a comic spirit without rival. W. J. Dawson's opinion is representative: The two great weapons in which Meredith excels are satire and humour. The satire is never less than excel lent, for in the mere literary finish of his biting epi grams he is unsurpassed by any writer of English, either past or present. Dawson was particularly acute in his appraisal of the wide range of humor in Meredith: His humour . . . runs through a hundred variations, from the keenest to the broadest; it smacks of Jingle and of Falstaff; it is sometimes roaring farce, at others fin ished comedy; it is acute, genial, caustic; it is now hilarious with boyish buoyancy and good spirits, now the product of masculine good sense and piercing insight, now a shaft of laughter playing round a fountain of tears: and, widely as it differs, running through the gamut from the verbal quip to the profoundly human de lineation, from merely comic to half tragic laughter, it is a persuasive element with which all his books are lavishly endowed. As a mere humorist Meredith is as superior to those ephemeral writers who pass as such to day as Shakespeare to Douglas Jerrold.^ The wide range to which Dawson alluded is clearly recogniz able in Evan Harrington, where Meredith goes from the brawl ing farce that takes place in the various inn scenes to the sophisticated comedy of manners associated with the Countess de Saldar. As a direct outcome of Meredith's view of the Comic Spirit, Evan Harrington is a good example. How well this novel fits Meredith's own definition of the duty of the ^"George Meredith: His Method and His Teaching," The Young Man, February 1892, pp. 49-50. 130 Comic Spirit we can best assess by relating it to the fol lowing passage in Meredith's famous lecture: Men’s future upon earth does not attract it; their honesty and shapeliness in the present does; and when ever they wax out of proportion, overblown, affected, pretentious, bombastical, hypocritical, pedantic, fan tastically delicate; whenever it sees them self-deceived or hoodwinked, given to run riot in idolatries, drifting into vanities, congregating in absurdities, planning shortsightedly, plotting dementedly; whenever they are at variance with their professions, and violate the un written but perceptible laws binding them in considera tion one to another; whenever they offend sound reason, fair justice; are false in humility or mined with con ceit, individually, or in the bulk— the Spirit overhead will look humanely malign and cast an oblique light on them, followed by volleys of silvery laughter. That is the Comic Spirit. 5 In the words "hypocritical" and "affected" we recognize the Countess; "overblown," "bombastical” and "out of proportion" suggests Raikes; "self-deceived," "planning shortsightedly" applies to Evan; "congregating in absurdities" reminds us of the Cogglesby brothers. And, as Meredith tells us, the Comic Spirit follows them all with silvery laughter. Perhaps because Evan Harrington is an early novel, neither its style nor its comic tone is always successful. Although it is less complicated than some of Meredith's later works, critics have generally agreed that the style does not always progress logically, and that the comedy occasionally falls flat. The most annoying aspect of the style in Evan Harrington is Meredith's manner of inter- ^ An Essay on Comedy and the Uses of the Comic Spirit (Westminster, 1897), pp. 89-90. 131 rupting the progression of his narrative by surging onward in elliptical bounces. We never quite follow all the impli cations or hints given along the way, and find it difficult to excuse the enigmatical passages by terming them "intel lectual swiftness" or "wit." We wonder why Meredith annoys his audience with such elementary rhetorical errors as miss ing connectives, awkwardly inverted clauses, nouns used as adjectives and adjectives as nouns, or digressions just when the action is beginning to jell. The general impression is that sometimes the story is pleasantly lucid whereas at other times it is irritatingly veiled (although less so than in Meredith's later novels). Some of the words are orderly and systematically alligned, but others are thrown at us haphazardly. Occasionally, too, the novel becomes over loaded with witty, epigrammatical talk. Raikes' conversa tions, for example, strain to be clever, even in their re vised form. Unfortunately his elaborate form does not make up for his meaningless content. And even the delightful Countess de Saldar loses our attention when she turns what should have been a plain statement into a long baroque barmecide. Meredith's revisions with respect to style and tone show a definite trend away from cluttered prose toward unen cumbered writing. In terms of syntax, Meredith contented himself with cutting out deadwood in the form of meaningless adjectives, repetitious elements, and ornamental phrases. 132 He did very little about ellipses or exaggerated imagery. What trimming he did was done erratically, leaving some of the most entangled syntactical spots untouched, but revising lesser offenses considerably. Thus his editorial policy is somewhat confusing. In terms of tone he revised more con sistently in a thorough attempt to get away from rodomon tade, sentimentality, and Dickensian burlesque. The 1896 version is considerably toned down, so much so that one critic observed: ". . . some of us are irrational enough to 46 sigh for the exuberance of thirty-five years since." In analyzing Meredith's revisions affecting style and tone, I shall follow my original method of proceeding chronologically through the novel. (II, 224) ri, 1041 In the scene where Andrew finds Tom at the Aurora, deleted: .. "Ha! ha! Well, I don't do much mischief, then." "No. Thank your want of capacity!" Mr. Andrew laughed good-humouredly. "Capital place to let off gas in, Tom." "Thought so. I shouldn't be safe there." "Eh? Why not?" Mr. Andrew expected the grim joke, and encouraged it. 46The National Observer, January 2, 1897, p. 187. It had been thirty-six years since the serial publication. The writer refers to the 1861 London edition. 133 "I do carry some light about," the old gentleman em phasised, and Mr. Andrew called him too bad; and the old gentleman almost consented to smile. "Gad, you blow us up out of the House. What would you do in? Smithereens, I think!" The old gentleman looked mild promise of Smithereens, in that contingency, adding: "No danger." The double entendre on gas has crude overtones which Mere dith decided to leave out as part of his general effort to tone down the low farcical element. to see— if they see at all— that some plan is working out. The original passage is incoherent due to the pronoun shift from "we" to "them." In the original version the "them" referred to a remote antecedent, but became ambiguous when following "wild particles." The revision is a move toward simple lucidity. In the author's digression on the British inn patron, deleted: (II. 265) n, 1311 In the scene where Evan discovers Polly, emended: WhenCS^have cast off the scale sbf^h ope and fancy, and surrenctejriour claims on mad chance: when the wild particles of thishiMverse consent to march as rhev art directed, it is aivenCtherru) WhenCvye^have cast off the scales ofTitipe^and fancy, and surrender our~~bl^iias on mad chance, it is giverQis to see that some plan is working out. (II. 288) Tl, 145] Of old the Sybarite com plained. Not so our self- helpful islanders. Since Of old the Sybarite com plained. Not so our self helpful islanders. Since 134 they could not, now that work was done, and jollity the game, take off their legs (a mechanical contriv ance overlooked by Nature, who should have made Britons like the rest of her child ren in all things, if unable to suit us in all), they got away from them as far as they might. . . . In the revision Meredith not only cuts out deadwood, but also he minimizes a rather preposterous image— that of man being able to shed his legs at will through a mechanical contrivance. (II, 407) TI, 244] In the scene where Evan meets Raikes back at the Green they could not, now that work was done, and jollity the game, take off their legs, they got away from them as far as they might. Dragon, emended: "... I was resigned till I heard my friend 'to-lootl' this morning. He kindled recollection. I drank a pint of ale bang off to drown him, and still do feel the wretch's dying kicks. But, heml this is a tidy port, and that was a freshish sort of girl that you were riding with when we parted last I She laughs like the true metal. I suppose you know it's the identical damsel I met the day before, and owe it to for the downs— I've a compliment ready made for her. Well, you can stick up to her now." ". . .'I was resigned till I heard my friend 'to-lootl' this morning. He kindled recollection. But, this i's a tidy port, and that was a delectable sort of girl that you were riding with when we parted last I She laughs like the true metal. I sup pose you know it!s the identical damsel I met the day before, and owe it to for my run on the downs— I've a compliment ready made for her. By deleting the slang expressions "bang off," "heml" "fresh ish," and "stick up to her," and by simultaneously getting 135 rid of the bad pun on down, Meredith lessens the Dickensian burlesque. (II, 432) 1~I, 250] In the scene where a storm begins as Evan has encoun tered Polly, emended: The elements undoubtedly had matter for volleys of laughter, for the moment the faint squeal had ceased, they crashed deep and long from end to end, like a table of Titans passing a jest. In several critical passages Meredith has indicated that he deplored the use of the Pathetic Fallacy, on one occasion writing to Stevenson: I remember "On the Oise," you speak of the river hurry ing on, "never pausing to take breath." This, and a touch of excess in dealing with the reeds, whom you de prive of their beauty by overinforming them with your sensations, I feel painfully to be levelled at the Saxon head. It is in the style of Dickens. ^ The above emendation saves Meredith from the same kind of sentimentality. The elements thereupon crashed deep and long from end to end, like a table of Titans passing a jest. (II, 493) n, 313] In the scene where the Great Mel becomes the topic of conversation during dinner at Beckley Court, The women smiled vacantly, and had a common thought that it was ill-bred of her [Lady Jocelyn] to hold forth in that way at table, and deleted: The women smiled vacantly, and had a common thought that it was ill-bred of her [Lady Jocelyn] to hold forth in that way at table, and 47 Letters, I, 290. 136 unfeminine of any woman to unfeminine of any woman to speak continuously anywhere— speak continuously anywhere, except, perhaps, in bed. The deletion is typical of Meredith's conservative attitude toward matters of sex in the 1896 version. (II, 518) m , 10] In the love scene between "Rose! beloved! I love you! " Her hand, her arm, her waist, he seized, bending over her. And like the flower of his nightly phan tasy bending over the stream, he looked and saw in her sweet face the living wonders that encircled his image; she murmuring: "No, no; you must hate me. I know it." Anything but a denial, and he might have retrieved his step, but that she should doubt his strong true love plunged him deeper. "I love you, Rose. I have not a hope to win you; but I love you. My heaven! my only darling! I hold you a moment— and I go; but know that I love you and would die for you. Beloved Rose! do you forgive me?" She raised her face to him. "Forgive you for loving me?" she said, smiling the soft inward smile of rarest bliss. Rose and Evan, deleted: "Rose! beloved!" Like the flower of his nightly phantasy bending over the stream, he looked and saw in her sweet face the living wonders that encircled his image; she murmuring: "No, no; you must hate me." "I love you, Rose, and dare to say it— and it's un pardonable. Can you forgive me?" She raised her face to him. "Forgive you for loving me?" she said. A marked toning down of sentimentality is discernible in the revised passage. The original version, with its numerous 137 exclamations, reflects the exuberance of a young novelist caught up in the melodrama of a love scene whereas the excised version reflects the disciplined approach of the professional. Omitting the "smiling the soft inward smile of rarest bliss" gives Rose’s question a quality of simple power, more moving than the artificial sweetness of the original lines. Several paragraphs later in the same scene, deleted: She was then warm beneath his mouth, and one eternal kiss hung ripe for him. The force of his passion plucked him down, but his lips rested on her forehead. Again, an attempt at restraint. In the revised version Rose simply offers Evan her hands. (II, 572) ril. 261 In the scene where Evan discusses his love for Rose with Caroline, deleted: She kissed him convulsively. She kissed him. Another attempt at restraint. It does seem extravagant to have a sister kiss her brother convulsively. (II, 572) In the same scene, deleted: Love her? Love Rose? _ Love her? Love Rose? It Let the sky lark go up and became an endless carol with sing of her. It became an Evan, endless carol with Evan. The revision lessens the excessively poetic nature of the passage and also gives it consistency by making Evan the sole caroler. 138 (II, 577) Til, 27] In the love scene between Evan and Rose, deleted: At this arch question he seized her and kissed her. The sweet, fresh kiss! She let him take it as his own. Ah, the darling prize I Her cheeks were a little redder, and her eyes softer, and softer her voice, but all about her looked to him as her natural home. And several lines later, deleted: "Noi though all the ills on earth were heaped on me, I swear I could not surrender you. Nothing shall separate us." Meredith consistently tones down the love scenes between Evan and Rose— perhaps not so much because of their sensu ality as because of their sentimentality. Such words as "the sweet, fresh kiss!" and "the darling prize" are embar rassingly precious. (Ill, 5) ril, 74] In the scene where the Countess de Saldar confesses to Harriet that she told Juliana that Evan loved her, deleted: "Should Juliana ever re proach me, I can assure the child that any man is in love with any woman— which is really the case. It is, you dear humdrum! what the dictionary calls 'nascent.1 I never liked the word, but it stands for a fact, though I would rather have had it 1 sweet scent.1" "Should Juliana ever re proach me, I can assure the child that any man is in love with any woman--which is really the case. It is, you dear humdrum! what the dictionary calls 'nascent.' I never liked the word, but it stands for a fact." The excision is typical of Meredith's attempt in 1896 to get rid of the many bad puns in the original version. And cer tainly this particular pun strains after laughs. I 139 (III, 58) I'll, 881 In the scene where Sir Franks finds Lady Jocelyn in her study reading a book, emended: . . . the worthy gentleman hurried for consolation to Lady Jocelyn, whom he found reading a book of French memoirs, in her usual atti tude with her feet stretched out, as if she made a foot stool of trouble. . . . the worthy gentleman hurried for consolation to Lady Jocelyn, whom he found reading a book of French memoirs, in her usual atti tude with her feet stretched out, and her head thrown back, as in a distant survey of the lively people screen ing her from a trouble world. The revision is an improvement in the use of metaphor. The idea Meredith wants to stress is that Lady Jocelyn uses books as a protection against the problems of the real world. In the original passage the footstool image is im proper because a footstool is something you place under your feet. But the screen image is perfect, since books are held up at eye level and can be said to screen off the outside world. (III, 114) Til, 128] In the author's comments on champagne in the dinner scene at Beckley Court, emended: I admit that I myself am not insensible to the ef fects of that first glass of champagne. I feel the earthly muse escaping me, and a desire for the larger- eyed heavenly muse. The poetry of my Countess's achievements waxes rich in manifold colours. I admit that the hand here writing is not insen sible to the effects of that first glass of champagne. The poetry of our Countess's achievements waxes rich in manifold colours. 140 The elderly Meredith was probably embarrassed by the refer- ence to himself as drunk on champagne. The change from "I myself” to "the hand here writing," and from "my countess" to "our countess" is part of Meredith's general move in 1896 toward fewer personal obtrusions into the narrative. (Ill, 115) Til, 131-1321 In the scene where Raikes delivers a speech on the advantages of being a doctor of sore throats, emended: "But the traps of a Quinsey- doctor are even lighter. Say twenty good jokes, and two or three of a practical kind. A man most enviable !-- ’Gad," our mercurial friend added, in a fit of profound earnestness, "I know nothing I should like so much!1 1 But lifting his head, and seeing in the face of the ladies that it was not the profes sion of a gentleman, he ex claimed: "I have better prospects, of course I" and drank anew, inwardly cursing his betraying sincerity. "It appears," he remarked aloud to one of the Conley girls, "that quinsey is needed before a joke is properly appreciated." "I like fun," said she. Mr. Raikes looked at her with keen admiration. "I can laugh at a monkey all day long," she continued. Mr. Raikes drifted leagues away from her. The harangue on curing sore throats by laughter is tire- somely long in the original version. Meredith judiciously "But the traps of a Quinsey- doctor are even lighter. Say twenty good jokes, and two or three of a practical kind. A man most enviable!" "It appears," he remarked aloud to one of the Conley girls, "that quinsey is needed before a joke is properly appreciated." "I like fun," said she, but had not apparently dis covered it. 141 cuts it down so as to retain the ironic humor without creat ing tedium. The Conley girl's saucy repartee is deleted because it is blatantly trite. (Ill, 117) ril, 139] In the scene where Mrs. Mel arrives at Beckley Court, Intensely bright with the gem-like light of her gal lant spirit, Rose's eyes fixed on Evan. He met them and smiled. The words of Ruth passed through his heart. The excision is another example of how Meredith tones down the gushing sentimentality of Evan and Rose's love in the original version. deleted: Intensely bright with the gem-like light of her gal lant spirit, Rose's eyes fixed on Evan. He met them and smiled. The words of Ruth passed through his heart, nourishing him. With this angel lifting him up, what need he fear? If he reddened, the blush was taken up by love. (Ill, 170) m , 163] In the scene where the Countess de Saldar begs Evan not to return to the shop, deleted. "Oh, Evan I the eternal con- "Oh, Evan I the eternal con templation of gentlemen's templation of gentlemen's legs! Think of that! Think legs! Think of that I Think of yourself sculptured in of yourself sculptured in that attitude! A fine young that attitude!" man 1 " The excision achieves a more subtle rhetorical effect by avoiding the anticlimactic exclamation "A fine young man!" We see the same editorial principle at work in the following excision connected with the Countess: 142 But was this enjoyment to But was this enjoyment to the Countess?— this dreary the Countess?— this dreary station in the background! station in the background! No creatures grinding their teeth with envy of her! None bursting with admira tion and the ardent passions! "No creatures grinding their teeth with envy of her" and "None bursting with admiration and the ardent passions" are trite hyperboles. By deleting them Meredith again avoids a rhetorical anticlimax. (Ill, 365) I'll, 276] In the scene where Andrew Cogglesby receives a summary ejection notice, the following bracketed passage deleted: But not the Countess de Saldar, scaling the embattled fortress of Society; or Rose, tossing its keys to her lover from' the shining turret-tops; or Evan keeping bright the lamp of self-respect in his bosom against south wind and east; or Mr. John Raikes, consenting to a plate of tin that his merits and honours may be the bet ter propagated, the more surely acknowledged; none excel friend Andrew Cogglesby, who, having fallen into Old Tom's plot to humiliate his wife and her sisters, simply for Evan's sake, and without any distinct notion of the terror, confusion, and universal upset he was bringing on his home, could yet persevere in treacherously out raging his lofty wife, [though the dread of possible consequences went far to knock him down sixty times an hour, could yet (we must have a climax) maintain his naughty false bankrupt cheerfulness to that injured lady behind the garrulous curtains!] The syntax of the original sentence— with its numerous qual ifications and parenthetical elements— is impossible. Even the revised version is still torturous. 143 Accidentals and Other Minor Changes To this last section I am relegating the remaining re visions not discussed under any of the preceding headings. Though few in number, they were very evidently made for the sake of literary atmosphere. Most of them are one-word or one-phrase substitutions designed to increase either the logic, the precision, or the coherence of the writing. Meredith made certain logical changes in an effort to increase the plausibility of the narrative.— An allusion to "Azrael," the Jewish angel of death, is deleted because the landlady of the Aurora would not likely be familiar with this mythical creature. "As he finished his Port" is changed to "as he finished his glass" because later in the same scene Tom Cogglesby orders more Port. "The- c h a r a c t e r of her awful rod" becomes "the character of her awful rule" since a rod is not usually said to have character. "Who's to carry up my trunk, Ma'am? No men here?" becomes "Who's to carry up my trunk, Ma’am? No man here?” because Mrs. Mel, a mere woman alone, ends up carrying the trunk. "He was by this time on a level with the Duke" becomes "He was by this time on a level with the Duke in his own mind" in order to clarify that Raikes' opinion of himself is an illusion. "An excellent London band" becomes "an excellent county band" because having a band brought from London to Fallowfield would be farfetched. "A man proved guilty of writing an anonymous letter would not have been allowed to ) 144 sit long by her side" becomes "A man proved guilty of writ ing an anonymous letter would not have been allowed to stand long by her side" in order to be consistent with the state ment at the beginning of the scene— "She did not bid him be seated." "She departed in a terror of distrust becomes 1 1 She moaned in a terror of distrust" because Rose in actu ality does not depart, but proceeds to have a long conversa tion with Julia. "My lord," becomes "Your grace," in keep ing with the requirements of etiquette in addressing a duke (not consistently carried through, however). "Mr. Evan Harrington transfers the whole of the property bequeathed to him to Mr. Harry Jocelyn, in reversion from my lady, his mother" becomes "Mr. Evan Harrington transfers the whole of the property bequeathed to him to Lady Jocelyn"— an effort to simplify the legal maneuver involved. Meredith made certain dictional changes in an effort to be more precise.— "The concluding sister" becomes "the re maining sister"; -"The embassy" becomes "Your English em bassy"; "a few steps further" becomes "a few steps farther"; "doubleshores" becomes "double-shore"; "of the two he was the foolishest" becomes "of the two he was the foolisher"; "when anything is said 6f him" becomes "when he has the sus picion of malicious tongues at their work"; "so he thought becomes "so he now imagined"; "she would have liked to have known" becomes "she would have liked to know"; "I should s like to shake his fists again" becomes "I should like to 145 shake his fist again"; "The moon was a silver ball high up through the aspen" becomes "The moon was a silver ball high up through the aspen leaves"; "guet a pens" (a French term most readers would not be familiar with) becomes "trap"; "the old Dip" becomes "the old diplomat"7 "alone together" becomes "alone with her." Meredith made several changes in the spelling of words spoken in the Hampshire dialect in an effort to facilitate the reader's comprehension. — 1 1 1 eraldry" becomes "heraldry"; "ma'am" becomes "marm"; "my mat1 Garge Stoakes" becomes "my mate Gearge Stoakes"; "succus" becomes "circus"; "asks" becomes "axes"; "awaah" becomes "aware"; "aimmediate" is deleted. Only the accidental changes remain to be noted.— Since none of them is far-reaching in their effect on the novel, and since more than likely they were made by the printer rather than by Meredith, I shall mention them only in a brief, general way. Occasionally the semicolon is substituted for the colon— a more modern approach. Exclamation marks are deleted when not necessary and occasionally added for emphasis. Question marks are added when necessary (often to cor rect a printing error). Italics are added for emphasis. 146 Commas are inserted for clarity. Ciphers are written out {e.g., "10,000B" becomes "ten thousand pounds"). Double quotation marks (") become single quotation marks ('). A few minor changes in spelling occur: "Foreignised" becomes "foreignized" (the "s" in many other words is like wise changed to "z"), "mamma" becomes "Mama," "ephemerae" becomes "ephemerals." Occasional printing errors are corrected. v CONCLUSION The title of this study suggests two proposals: First, a comparative study of the original serialized and final book version of Evan Harrington, and second, a consideration of the reasons for and the significance of the changes made in that novel. I have, to the best of my ability, accom plished both proposals, and in so doing, I have encroached upon the premises of a third— passing judgment on how well the revisions were executed. I have occasionally indicated when the revision was especially skillful and when marked by clumsiness. For instance, in my analysis of the changes made in connection with Raikes, I made clear my view that the changes left many inconsistencies, unanswered mysteries, and unmotivated actions. In judging the revisions as a whole, I cannot overlook the fact that no revisions were made in many spots where they seemed urgently required. Obvious attempts at cliff- hanger serial endings are not changed; unwieldy sentences are not improved; ambiguous pronoun references are not cor rected; incoherences as a result of excised passages are not cleared up; and the denouement of the novel leaves us with numerous unanswered questions about such things as Tom Cogglesby's involvement with Raikes, about Susan's 147 148 involvement with Harry Jocelyn, and about the Duke's in volvement with Caroline. However, since, as with the case of negative authorship, the reasons for the omissions remain a matter of speculation rather than proof, I have thought it best not to pursue this line of questioning. Despite the constant temptation to make a case for Evan Harrington as a neglected work of merit, I leave that task to another, basing the soundness of this particular work on the justification that since Meredith is_ a major novelist, his compositional procedures are worth attention even in his lesser works. In comparing my study with a similar study of Hardy's serialized novels,^ I was interested to note that the two novelists moved in diametrically opposed directions. Whereas Hardy's purpose was to adapt the book version of his novel to the demands of magazine serialization, Meredith's purpose was to adapt the serialized version of his novel to the demands of proper book form. Consequently, Hardy's changes, on one hand, either eliminated the extremely un orthodox, the unconventional, and the improper in order not to offend the public, or they added sensationalism and sus pense to his story in order to captivate his readers' atten tion. Meredith's changes, on the other hand, were made mostly in order to tighten up the plot, to give plausibility i Mary Ellen Chase, Thomas Hardy from Serial to Novel (Minneapolis, 1927). 149 to his characters, or to improve the literary atmosphere and precision of his work. In short, Meredith's revisions, un like Hardy's, are not bowdlerizations or embellishments to please an editor or the public, but rather they are reflec tions of the author's personal desire to improve the lite rary quality of his novel before that novel should be per manently handed to posterity. Despite the uneven quality of the revisions, students of Meredith will feel grateful that the "Dean of English Novelists" has in his revisions shared with them the full advantage of his mature judgment and literary taste. f BIB LI OG R AP H Y 150 BIBLIOGRAPHY Collected Works of George Meredith Chapman and Hall Edition. 12 vols. London: Messrs. Chapman & Hall, 1885-1895. Edition de Luxe. 36 vols. Westminster, S.W.: Archibald Constable and Company, 1896-1912. Memorial Edition. 27 vols. London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1909-1911. Books Bowers, Fredson. Bibliography and Textual Criticism. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964. Butcher, Alice Mary (Lady). Memories of George Meredith. London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1919. Chislett, William, Jr. George Meredith: A Study and Appraisal. Boston: Richard G. Badger, 1925. Coolidge, Bertha. A Catalogue of the Altschul Collection of George Meredith. Yale University: Privately printed, 1931. Ellis, Stewart Marsh. George Meredith: His Life and Friends in Relation to His Work. London: Grant Richards, Ltd., 1899. Esdaile, Arundell. Bibliography of the Writings in Prose and Verse of George Meredith, P.M. London: Walter T. Spencer, 1907. __________________ . A Chronological List of George Mere dith 's Publications. London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1914. . T. Forman, Maurice Buxton. A Bibliography of the Writings in Prose and Verse of George Meredith. Edinburgh: Dunedin Press, 1922. 151 152 Forman, Maurice Buxton. George Meredith: Some Early Appre ciations . London: Chapman & Hall, Ltd., 1909. ________________________. Meredithiana. Edinburgh: Dunedin Press, 1924. Galland, Rene. George Meredith and British Criticism. Paris, 1923. Gretton, Mary Sturge. The Writings and Life of George Meredith: A Centenary Study. London: Oxford University Press, 1925. Hammerton, J. A. George Meredith in Anecdote and Criticism. London: Grant Richards, 1909. Harper, J. Henry. The House of Harper. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1912. Henley, W. E. Views and Reviews: Essays in Appreciation Literature. London: David Nutt, 1890. Hicks, Arthur C. "The Structure of Meredith's Novels and the Comic Spirit." University of Oregon Thesis Series No. 7, 1939. James, Henry. The House of Fiction: Essays on the Novel, ed. Leon Edel. London: Rupert Hart-David, 1957. Jerrold, Walter. George Meredith: An Essay Towards Appre ciation . London: Greening & Company, Ltd., 1902. Kelvin, Norman. A Troubled Eden: Nature and Society in the Works of George Meredith. Stanford, California: Stan ford University Press, 1961. Le Gallienne, Richard. George Meredith: Some Character istics . Elkin Matthews, 1890. Lindsay, Jack. George Meredith: His Life and Work. London: The Bodley Head, 195 6. Livingston, Luther S. First Editions of George Meredith. New York: Dodd & Livingston, n.d. Lynch, Hannah. George Meredith. London: Methuen and Com pany, 1891. Meredith, George. Beauchamp1s Career. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1910. 153 Meredith, George. The Egoist. New York: The New American Library, 1963. _________________ . Evan Harrington. Westminster, S-W.: Archibald Constable and Company, 1896. _________________ . Letters of George Meredith, ed. William Maxse Meredith. 2 vols. London: Constable and Com- pany Ltd., 1912. . "Mrs. Meynell's Two Books of Essays," Miscellaneous Prose. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1910, pp. 130-131. _________________ . The Tragic Comedians. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1910. Moffatt, James. ' George Meredith: A Primer to the Novels. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1909. Photiades, Constantin. George Meredith: sa vie, son imagi nation, son art, sa doctrine. Paris, 1910. London trans. by Arthur Price for Constable and Company, Ltd., 1913. Priestley, John Boynton. George Meredith. London: MacMillan and Co., Ltd., 1926. Ross, Janet. Early Days Recalled. London: Chapman and Hall, Ltd., 1891. ____________. The Fourth Generation. London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1912. Sacco, Lillian. "The Significance of George Meredith's Revisions of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel," unpub. diss. University of Southern California, Los Angeles, 1967. Sassoon, Siegfried. Meredith. London: Constable and Com pany, Ltd., 1948. Sencourt, Robert Esmonde. The Life of George Meredith. London: Chapman and Hall, Ltd., 1929. Spencer, Walter T. Forty Years in My Bookshop. ■ London: Constable and Company, Ltd., 1923., Stevenson, Lionel. The Ordeal of George Meredith. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1953. 154 Trevelyan, George Macaulay. The Poetry and Philosophy of George Meredith. London: Archibald Constable and Com pany, Ltd., 1906. Newspapers and Periodicals Barrie, J. M. "Mr. George Meredith's Novels," The Contem porary Review, October 1888, pp. 575-586. Cartoon of Meredith in Punch, July 28, 1804. Dawson, W. J. "George Meredith," The Young Man, February and March 1892-,- pp. 49-52; 88-91. "The Dean of English Novelists," Munsey's Magazine, March 1908, p. 798. "The Doyen of Literature," The Birmingham Gazette and Express, February 12, 1908, p. 4. Evan Harrington. Anon, rev., The Examiner, March 23, 1861, p. 183. Evan Harrington. Anon, rev., The Literary Gazette, August 11, 1860, pp. 88-89. Evan Harrington. Anon. rev., The Saturday Review, January 19, 1861, pp. 76-77. Evan Harrington. Anon. rev., The Spectator, January 19, 1861, p. 66. "George Meredith’s Blue-Pencil," The National Observer, December 5, 1896, pp. 63-64, and January 2, 1897, pp. 186-187. "George Meredith as Editor," The National Observer, June 6, 1896, pp. 102-103. Gettman, Royal A. "Serialization and Evan Harrington," PMLA, 64:963-975, December 1949. __________________. "The Serialization of Reade' s Good Fight, " Nineteenth-Century Fiction, 6:21-32, June 1951. "The Grand Old Man of English Letters," The Birmingham Dis patch, February 12, 1908, p. 4. Hergenhan, L. T. "The Reception of George Meredith’s Early Novels," Nineteenth-Century Fiction, 19:225-229, 234- 235, December 1964. 155 Hergenhan, L. T. "Meredith’s Use of Revision: A Considera tion of the Revisions of Richard Feverel and Evan Harrington," The Modern Language Review, 59:539-544, October 1964. "The Last of the Giants," The North Mail, February 11, 1908, p . 4. Lathrop, George Parsons. "George Meredith," The Atlantic Monthly, February 1888, pp. 178-183. Lucas, Samuel. Rev. of Thackeray's Miscellanies, The Times (London), December 25, 1856. Meredith, George. "On the Idea of Comedy, and of the Uses of the Comic Spirit," The Quarterly Magazine, April 1877, pp. 1-40. Monkhouse, Allan. "Mr. Meredith's Novels," The Manchester Quarterly, October 1890, pp. 293-322. "The Nestor of English Letters," The Church Family Newspaper, February 14, 1908, p. 121. Newman, Ernest. "George Meredith," The Free Review, August 1894, pp. 398-418. Newton-Robinson, J. A. "A Study of Mr. George Meredith," Murray's Magazine, December 1891, pp. 859-868. "The Novelists' Novelist," The London Chat, February 22, 1908, p. 195.’ "Our Greatest Living Novelist," The Evening Telegraph and Post, February 15, 1908, p. 6. Portrait of George Meredith in The Illustrated London News, March 21, 1908, p. 413. Robertson, John M. "Concerning Preciosity," The Yellow Book, 13:79-106, April 1897. Sitwell, Sir Osbert. "The Novels of George Meredith," The English Association Presidential Address, 1947. Street, G. S. "Mr. Meredith in Little," The Yellow Book, 11:174-185, April 1895. Wilde, Oscar. "The Decay of Lying: A Dialogue," The Nine teenth Century, January 1888, pp. 35-36.
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'Evan Harrington': An Analysis Of George Meredith'S Revisions
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