31h 



DISCOVERY 



travelled to New Orleans instead. Viewing this with 

 the wisdom that comes after the event, we see it was a 

 bad mistake. Like Conrad's Lord Jim, he made one fatal 

 mistake at the supreme crisis of his life, a mistake from 

 wliich he could never recover. 



From New Orleans he sailed to Honduras with the 

 intention of settling down somewhere in Central America, 

 but after some months' sojourn in " that land of drowsy 

 caliphs," he returned to Texas owing to the serious illness 

 of his wife. The following year (i8g8 — his wife had died 

 in the meantime) he stood his trial and received a sentence 

 of five years, which, by a process of multiplying by two 

 and dividing by three, was subsequently reduced to three 

 years and a few months. This period (1898-1901) was 

 passed at Columbus, Ohio. This gaoling of O. Henrj' was 

 a peculiar business. There seems to be no doubt in the 

 minds of those who know the facts that O. Henry Wcis 

 innocent. He said so himself, and always maintained so. 

 One of the charges preferred against him referred to a 

 time when he had left the employment of the bank, but 

 O. Henry, perhaps unwiselj', refused to put up any kind 

 of a defence at all. 



In the gaol, of course, he got lots of copy. The Gentle 

 Grafter, probably the best of his books, was worked up 

 from material gleaned there, and one of his best stories, 

 the storj' of the reformed burglar who gave away his 

 former occupation by opening a safe to release a little 

 girl who had accidentally shut herself in, was suggested 

 by a story told him by a fellow-prisoner, who, although 

 guilty of many crimes, was actually doing time for some- 

 thing he had never done. Life was made more tolerable 

 also by the kindness of the prison doctor. This man 

 gave O. Henrj' a job as drug clerk, and later recommended 

 him for a post in which he was more a servant than a 

 prisoner. One of the most enjoyable things in the 

 book under review is the collection of letters that O. 

 Henry wrote from prison to his motherless daughter. 

 They were lively, humorous, affectionate, and care-free 

 epistles, and there was no word in them which would 

 lead his daughter to suspect that her separation from 

 her father was due to his being in gaol. 



In prison O. Henry commenced writing the short 

 stories that were afterwards to bring him fame. In his 

 previous journalistic work he had written under his real 

 name, but a desire to break with the past on his release 

 led him to adopt his nom de guerre. To conceal himself 

 further he posted his contributions to a friend in New 

 Orleans, who reposted them to the editors in New York. 

 Most of his stories were accepted and paid for, and their 

 publication attracted notice at once. On being released 

 in 1 90 1 he went to New York, and there began the great 

 creative period of his life. He became a recluse. His 

 New York friends did not know his past history. His 

 friends in North Carolina and New Orleans did not 

 identify the Will Porter of their experience with the 

 O. Henry of New York, variously styled the American 

 Kipling, the Y.M.C.A. Boccaccio, the Homer of the 

 Tenderloin, and the twentieth-century HarounAl-Raschid, 

 until photographs appearing in the literary papers gave 

 him away. 



O. Henry wrote short stories only. At first these 

 dealt with his experiences in Texas, the West, and Central 

 America. Later, New York — the little village on Father 

 Knickerbocker's farm with the shady lane running down 

 the centre — bscame his principal theme. Of 115 stories 

 written in 1904 and 1905, all bit sixteen deal directly or 

 indirectly with New York City. With one paper he had 

 a contract for a story each week, and for this he received 

 ,/2o. Professor Smith thinks that were he writing now 

 O. Henry would get about ,^200 a story. Whatever sura 

 he might have received, his bank balance would not have 

 been great. He did not believe in treasuring up the 

 things of this world. Money passed through his hands 

 like water through a sieve. He initiated a system of 

 giving tips to waiters which were twice as large as the 

 biU itself. Frequently he got down to his last dollar, 

 but this he was always ready to share. He gave away to 

 the poor clothes that he needed himself, and, like a real 

 Christian, even asked the beggars to call again. 



Professor Smith says that if ever the man and the place 

 met, it was when O. Henry strolled for the first time 

 along the streets of New York. In a letter to his (second) 

 wife O. Henry writes : "I could look at these mountains 

 a hundred years and never get an idea, but just one 

 block down town and I catch a sentence, see something 

 in a face — and I've got my story." New York, and the 

 people in it, and all about them, were the things he loved 

 and the things he could describe best. The Voice of the 

 City and The Four Million, which deal with New York, con- 

 tain the finest short stories since the days of Hawthorne 

 and Bret Harte. 



" In the Big City large and sudden things happen. 

 You round a comer and thrust the rib of your umbrella 

 into the eye of your old friend from Kootenai Falls. 

 You stroll out to pluck a sweet-william in the park — 

 and lo ! bandits attack you — you are ambulanced to the 

 hospital — you marry your nurse ; are divorced — stand 

 in the bread line — marry an heiress — take out your 

 laundry and pay your club dues — seemingly all in the 

 wink of an eye. You travel the streets, and a finger 

 beckons to you, a handkerchief is dropped for you, a 

 brick is dropped upon you, the elevator-cable or your 

 bank breaks, a table d'hote or your wife disagrees with 

 you, and Fate tosses you about like cork crumbs in wine 

 opened by an untipped waiter. The City is a sprightly 

 youngster, and you are red paint upon its toy, and you 

 get licked off." 



He died as he had lived, happy, easy-going, optimistic, 

 with the catcliwords of the street and the refrain of a 

 music-hall song on his lips. " Turn up the lights," he 

 said. " I don't want to go home in the dark." 



A. S. R. 



Other Books Received 

 The Psychology of Dreams. By Dr. Wm. S. Welch. 



(Kegan Paid, 12s. 6d.) 

 The History of Social Development. By Dr. F. Muller- 



Lyer. Translated by E. C. and H. A. L.\KE. 



(George Allen & Unwin, iSs. net.) 



