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t as the Master of a High Court and subsequently in the modest but I trust useful office of the Chairman of a Bench of Magistrates； I have done nothing at all at my profession at the Bar。 In an unfortunate hour； considered from this point of view； I employed my somewhat ample leisure in chambers in writing “King Solomon’s Mines。” That； metaphorically； settled my legal hash。 Had it not been for “King Solomon’s Mines；” if even in imagination I may dwell upon such splendour； I might possibly have sat some day where sits my old friend and instructor； Sir Henry Bargrave Deane； as a judge of the Court of Probate and Divorce； in which I proposed to practise like my great…uncle； Doctor John Haggard； famous for his Reports； before me。
Well do I remember how； when one day I was seated in this Division watching a case or devilling for somebody； I unconsciously inscribed my name on the nice white blotting…paper before me。 Presently from behind me I heard a whisper from some solicitor — I think that was his calling — whom business had brought to the Court：
“Are you Rider Haggard； the man who wrote ‘King Solomon’s Mines’？” he said； staring at the tell…tale blotting…paper。
I intimated that such was really my name。
“Then； confound you！ Sir； you kept me up till three o’clock this morning。 But what are you doing here in a wig and gown — what are you doing here？”
Very soon I found cause to echo the question and to answer it in the words； “No good。” The British solicitor； and indeed the British client； cannot be induced to put confidence in anyone who has bee well known as an author。 If he has confined his attention to the writing of law…books； he may be tolerated； though hardly； but if his efforts have been on the imaginative side of literature； then for that man they have no use。 That such a person should bine gifts of imagination with forensic aptitude and sound legal knowledge is to them a thing past all belief。
A page or so back I said that my experience might possibly be of use to others； and already the suggestion seems in the way of proof。 If what I write should prevent even one young barrister who hopes to make a mark in his profession； from being beguiled into the fatal paths of authorship； I shall not have laboured in vain。
Next； I have never been able to gratify a very earnest ambition of my younger years； namely； to enter Parliament and shine as a statesman。 Once I tried： it was at the 1895 election； and I almost carried one of the most difficult seats in England。 But almost is not quite； and the awful expense attendant upon contesting a seat in Parliament （in a county division it costs； or used to cost； over 2000 pounds） showed me clearly that； unless they happen to be Labour members； such a career is only open to rich men。 Also I came to understand that it would be practically impossible for me both to earn a living by the writing of books and to plunge eagerly into Parliamentary work； as I know well that I should have done。 Even if I could have found the time by writing in the mornings — which； where imaginative effort is concerned； has always been distasteful to me — my health would never have borne the double strain。
So that dream had to be abandoned； for which I am sorry。 Indeed； a legislative career is about the only one of which the doors are not shut to the writer of fiction； as is proved by many instances； notably that of Disraeli。
Thus it cames about that on these lines I have failed to make any mark。 Fate has shut those doors in my face。 The truth is that “man knoweth not his own way”： he must go where his destiny leads him。 Either so or he is afloat upon an ocean of chance； driven hither and thither by its waves； till at length his frail bark is overset or sinks worn out。 This； however； I do not believe。 If everything else in the universe is governed by law； why should the lot of man alone be excepted from the workings of law？
However this may be； as heralds say in talking of a doubtful descent； whether through appointment or accidentally； it has so e about that； although I have done other things； I must earn my livelihood by the pen。 Now of this I should not have plained had I been in a position to choose my own subjects。 But unhappily those subjects which attract me； such as agricultural and social research； are quite unremunerative。 Everybody talks of the resulting volumes； which receive full and solemn review in all the newspapers； but very few people buy them in these days。 So far as I am aware； remunerative books may be divided roughly into three classes： （1） School or technical works； which must be purchased by scholars preparing for examinations； or for the purposes of their profession； （2） religious works； purchased by scholars preparing themselves for a prosperous career in another world； and （3） works of fiction； purchased — or rather borrowed from libraries （if they cost more than fourpence…halfpenny1） — by persons wishing to be amused。 It has been my lot to cater for the last of these three classes； and as there is other work which I should have much preferred to do； I will not pretend that I have found； or find； the occupation altogether congenial； perhaps because at the bottom of my heart I share some of the British contempt for the craft of story…writing。
1 Written in 1911。 — Ed。
I remember a few years ago discussing this matter fully with my friend Mr。 Rudyard Kipling； a most eminent practitioner of that craft； and finding that our views upon it were very similar； if not identical。 He pointed out； I recollect； that all fiction is in its essence an appeal to the emotions； and that this is not the highest class of appeal。 Here； however； we have a subject that might be argued interminably and from many points of view； especially when we bear in mind that there are various classes of imaginative literature。 So far as I am concerned the issue is that though I feel myself more strongly drawn to other pursuits； such as administration or politics or even law； I have been called upon to earn the bread of myself and others out of a kind of by…product of my brain which chances to be saleable； namely； the writing of fiction。
It is fortunate for writers that they do not depend wholly upon the verdict of a hundred or so of contemporary critics。 The history of literature and art goes to show that contemporary criticism seldom makes and never can destroy a reputation； in short； that Time is the only true critic； and that its verdict is the one we have to fear。 It is in the light of this axiom that I proceed to consider my own humble contributions to the sum of romantic literature。 I can assure the reader that I approach this not unamusing task without any prejudice in my own favour。 The test of work is whether it will or will not live； whether it contains within itself the vital germ necessary to a long…continued existence。
Now； although it may seem much to claim； my belief is that some of my tales will live。 Possibly this belief is quite erroneous； in which case in years to e I may be laughed at for its expression。 It is obvious also that a great deal of what I have written is doomed to swift oblivion； since； even if it were all equally good； in the crowded days that are to e； days even more crowded than our own； posterity will not need much of the work of any individual。 If he is remembered at all it will be by but a few books。 The present question is； What chance have I of being so remembered； and I can only hope that my belief in the vitality of at any rate some of my books may be justified。
As it happens with reference to this question of the possible endurance of my work； I am in the position of having a second string to my bow。 Years ago I turned my attention to agriculture and to all the group of problems connected with the land。 First I wrote “A Farmer’s Year。” My object in piling that record — which； if I live； I hope to amplify some day by the addition of a second volume on the same plan — was that in its pages future generations might see a picture of the conditions under which agriculture was practised in England at the end of the nieenth century。
Afterwards I attempted something much more ambitious； namely； a full account of agricultural and social researches carried out during the years 1901 and 1902； which was published under the title of “Rural England。” To be frank； this description is perhaps a little too inclusive； seeing that all England is not described in the multitudinous pages of my book。 It deals； however； with twenty…seven counties and the Channel Islands； or one more than were treated of by Arthur Young a century or so earlier。 After this prolonged effort exhaustion overtook me； and I retired to spend an arduous year or so in classifying and writing down my experiences。 Even now I have not abandoned the hope of dealing with the remaining counties； and after these with Wales； Scotland； and Ireland； but at my present age I feel that it grows a little faint。 The work is too tremendous and； I may add； too costly； since what can be earned from the sale of such volumes will not even suffice to pay their expenses and that of the necessary journeys。
Still I hope that my work may help to show to posterity through the mouths of many witnesses what was the state of the agriculture and the farmers of England at the mencement of the twentieth century。 I trust； therefore； that should my novels be forgotten in the passage of years； “Rural England” and my other books on agriculture may still serve to keep my memory green。
Now I will close this introduction and get to my story。 I fear that the reader may think it all somewhat egotistical； but unfortunately that is a fault inherent in an autobiography； and one without which it would be more or less futile。
Ditchingham：
August 10； 1911。
Chapter 1 CHILDHOOD
Danish origin of the Haggards — Early history in Herts and Norfolk — H。 R。 H。‘s father and mother — His birth at Bradenham； Norfolk — Early characteristics — First school — Garsington Rectory； Oxon； and Farmer Quatermain — Lively times at Dunkirk — Adventure at Treport — Cologne — His uncle Fowle。
There has always been a tradition in my family that we sprang from a certain Sir Andrew Ogard； or Agard； or Haggard （I believe his name is spelt in all three ways in a single contemporaneous document）； a Danish gentleman of the famous Guildenstjerne family whose seat was at Aagaard in Jutland。
About a year ago I visited this place while I was making researches for my book； “Rural Denmark。” It is a wild； wind…swept plain dotted with tumuli dating from unknown times。 There by the old manor house stand the moated ruins of the castle which was burnt in the Peasant’s War； I believe when Sir Andrew’s elder brother was its lord。 Here the Guildenstjerne family remained for generations and in the neighbouring church their arms； which are practically the same as those we bear today； are everywhere to be seen。
This Sir Andrew was a very remarkable man。 He appears to have e from Denmark with nothing and to have died possessed of manors in eleven English counties； besides much money and the Danish estate which he seems to have inherited。2 Also he distinguished himself greatly in the French wars of the time of Henry VI； where he held high mand under the Duke of Bedford； whose