The young author's first literary efforts were begun at a very early age. "I can scarcely," she says, "remember a time when I did not scribble. My first attempt was a sermon on the text 'God is Love,' and I distinctly recollect how and where I wrote it, crouched behind a long swinging glass in my mother's bed-room, printing it off in capital letters—writing being then far beyond my attainments—and getting very hot and flushed in the effort." Her next attempt was a decided advance. Her sister and two cousins had established a small home newspaper, called the Dorcas Gazette, price one halfpenny, circulation strictly private and confidential, its end and aim being the helping of the "Dorcas Society," a body formed to make clothes for the poor. The circulation amounted to six copies a week, each of which had to be written out in fair round hand on two sheets of foolscap paper. To this ambitious venture she was invited to contribute, and for two years was writer in chief, furnishing serials, short stories, and anecdotes, her sister doing the political and poetical parts. "I have still," says Miss Stevens, smiling, "one or two of those old 'gazettes,' time-stained and yellow; I look on them with the utmost respect, and feel that for harrowing plot and thrilling adventure, my 'serial' in five chapters, called 'Blonde and Brunette,' beats the record of any of my subsequent work!" Her first book, written when she was seventeen, was a small novelette called "Distance." It was published by Appleton, of New York, and was well received and reviewed. On coming to London, Miss de Grasse Stevens was asked by the proprietor of the principal American journal, the New York Times, to prepare for them a series of articles upon English art and artists, and for ten years she filled the position of special art critic to that paper, her letters upon London artists and their studios being the first of the kind ever written, while her account—a two-column article—of the private view and pictures at the Royal Academy, which appeared in the morning edition in New York the next day, was the first "art-cable" sent across the wires. Her first short story, written long ago, appeared in Harper's Magazine. She wrote it secretly, and sent it off furtively. It was called "Auf Wiedersehn," and was subsequently translated into German, and reprinted in many English papers. "After sending it off," she relates, "I waited in sickening suspense for ten long days, and when at last a letter came bearing the well-known Franklin-square stamp, I dared not open it. When I did I fell upon the floor and cried bitterly from bewildering joy! It contained a satisfactory cheque, and a request for 'more matter of the same sort.' From that moment the spell of literature held me as in a vice. I have never known a moment of purer, more unalloyed joy than that, and to it I owe my perseverance in the 'thorny path.'"
Miss De Grasse Stevens's first three-volume novel was called "Old Boston." It was originally published by Sampson Low & Co., and has since been brought out in one volume edition. Its reception was more than flattering, and the reviews upon it were such as a much older and more experienced writer might be pleased to win. The story is partly historical, and is founded on the events just preceding the siege of Boston and the declaration of American Independence. Keenly attracted beyond aught else by history, especially by the history of her own country, in which there is stored away such treasures of romance, of reality, of poetry, and of pathetic prose—the young American writer has, in this delightful romance of a hundred years ago, given clear evidence of her thorough knowledge of her subject; each character is strongly individualised; true pathos and purity of style mark every page; you are carried back a century, yet can feel with unflagging interest that the persons described are living fellow-creatures. The descriptive writing is artistically fine, the love story is tenderly and pathetically told, whilst the whole betokens careful study and research. This book gained for Miss de Grasse Stevens countless kind and flattering letters from old and, as yet, unknown friends. "Some of my dearest and most trusty friendships," she says, "I owe to it; first and foremost in which was that of the late Mr. Kinglake. I had known his family in Taunton for some time, but to 'Old Boston' I owed the friendship of the author, which ended not with his death, for I am certain such friendships are eternal." She contemplates some day writing a sequel to this book, bringing the history part of it down to the famous battle of Valley Forge and the bombardment and surrender of New York.
The author's next work, "Weighed in the Balance," was a short story written for Mr. W. Stevens's Magazine of Fiction, and was of the sensational school. Over a hundred thousand copies were sold, and for this, too, she received so much praise and so many letters that she declares herself to have been "greatly surprised"; among them were two which she prized highly, one from the late Earl Granville and the other from the late Earl Spencer, who both wrote that the scenes being laid at Deal, the book was particularly interesting to them, especially the parts relating to the Goodwin Sands, and the historic, but decayed old town of Sandwich. This book was followed by one that caused a good deal of stir—a historical monograph called "The Lost Dauphin," in which the writer took up the mysterious fate of little Louis XVII., and advanced the theory that he did not die in the Temple but was stolen from there and carried to America, where he was deposited with the Indian tribe of the Iroquois and was eventually taken East, educated and trained as a missionary under the name of Ealeazer Williams. The book is illustrated by three portrait engravings. It called forth a storm of controversy and a great number of reviews amongst all the leading journals, the majority of which frankly accepted her hypothesis. Innumerable letters poured in from all sorts and conditions of people, mostly scholars and men interested in out-of-the-way questions. The late Mr. Kinglake was particularly keen on it, and Miss Stevens has a large packet of highly prized letters from him, devoted to the discussion of the theory that she had advanced and in which he thoroughly believed. This, from so great a scholar as the author of "Eöthen" and "The Crimea," was praise worth having. The late Robert Browning was another litterateur who wrote in commendation of the book, as did Mrs. Gladstone, Henry James, Mr. Russell Lowell, Miss Sewell, Mr. Phelps, and many others.
"Miss Hildreth" is the name of Miss de Grasse Stevens's next three-volume novel, which, following as it did closely after the sensation made by "The Lost Dauphin," attracted great attention both in France and England. The scenes are laid in St. Petersburg and New York, amidst the society with which she was most familiar. The plot is original, the story is conspicuous by the ability with which it is written, and proves how thoroughly and conscientiously she studies the subject that she has on hand. Very powerfully drawn is the account of the fortress prison of Petropavosk, the descriptions of scenery show how entirely the author is in touch with nature in her every aspect, while the scene of the trial betrays the logical mind and power of argument which she has inherited from her distinguished father. "Miss Hildreth" is moreover from "start to finish" deeply interesting and exciting, and displays the same experienced pen and graceful language, free from any exaggeration or straining after effect that is so conspicuous in "Old Boston." Mr. Gladstone, in his letter to her about "Miss Hildreth," after expressing his deep interest in its motif, writes, "I thank you very much for the work you have been so good as to send me. Both your kindness and the subjects to which it refers, make me very desirous to lose no time in beginning it." The young author has just finished a new novel in one volume, called "The Sensation of a Season," which will shortly be published, and is completing another to be called "A Romantic Inheritance." The former work is absolutely different in style, and deals chiefly with American society in London. Besides fiction, Miss Stevens writes several weekly articles for American syndicates, and is a contributor to a South African magazine on more abstruse subjects. She has written, on and off, special articles, by request, for the Saturday Review since 1885, notably among these, papers on "Old American Customs," and on "The position of needlewomen in London," bearing upon the work depôt established in Cartwright Street, Westminster, by the Hon. Mrs. William Lowther and Miss Burke; also an amusing account of "Christmas in America fifty years ago," in the Christmas number of a weekly paper, and she has for a long time been a regular writer on the Argosy staff. Mention must not be omitted of a particular article called "The Beautiful Madame Grand, Princesse de Talleyrand," for which Mr. Cassell sent specially to Versailles to copy the portrait in the Grand Gallery for the frontispiece of the magazine. This was followed by a series of illustrated biographical sketches in the Lady's Pictorial—"American Ladies at Home in London."
When engaged on a novel Miss Stevens puts no pen to paper. "I think it all out in my head," she says, "before writing a word, chiefly when travelling; the movement of the train has a peculiar fascination for me. I make no notes. When it is all complete in my brain, I write straight away with no effort of memory." But with all her increasing literary work, Miss de Grasse Stevens finds time for a little recreation in exercising her talents for modelling and painting. In both of these arts she is no mean proficient. The gift is inherited from her lamented mother, who painted much for the Royal Family, and who counted among her personal friends H.R.H. Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lorne. Sir Frederick Leighton, another valued friend, used to say that her power of colouring was especially wonderful. The young author is a very early riser, and is up and out of doors every morning before seven. She writes from ten till three, and divides her time between her sister's beautiful country home in Kent and the pretty little house at West Kensington, where she stays with a dear aunt and uncle, Dr. Hand Smith, well known in the scientific world of London for his discovery of the endolithic process, about which the late Sir Edgar Boehm was so enthusiastic an admirer. This little abode may be briefly described as distinctly artistic. The rooms are olive-green in colour, and contain several cherished reminiscences of her mother. The great "Alexandre" American walnut-wood organ—both reed and wind—reaching to the ceiling, is quite unique. On a draped easel stands a large mounted plaque of gorgeous Florida poinsettias, painted by her mother in a method discovered by herself, a replica of the design she furnished to the Queen. Another, almost as beautiful, of different-coloured pansies, by the same beloved hand, adorns the mantelshelf. Many well-used volumes of Tennyson, Browning, Whittier, Thackeray, and of Mrs. Lynn Linton fill the bookshelves. "I delight in Mrs. Lynn Linton's books and papers," says your hostess; "I call her the Modern Crusader, and read everything that she writes with much pleasure." Among these works you notice an "In Memoriam" monograph by Miss Stevens of William Kinglake, illustrated with his portrait, and a picture of his home, Wilton House, Taunton, both of which he gave to her. There are a few good pictures on the walls: two of Morland's are especially attractive, lunette in shape, first proofs before letters engraved by Nutter. Yonder hang a couple of paintings of her sister's Kentish home, an old red-brick Elizabethan building, with the peculiar white facings and low white door belonging especially to the Tudor days, surrounded by park lands, lawns, and very old fruit orchards, which are at this season bright with yellow daffodils. Tradition assigns to it a veritable ghost, whose uneasy spirit walks every All Saints' Eve! A packet of letters from great men lies on a little table near. From them Miss Stevens selects some from Gladstone, Kinglake, and Irving. This last was written on the appearance of her papers in the leading Boston and New York journals on the subject of "Macbeth." She has new and pleasant work now on hand as art editor of the Novel Review, in which her late biographical monograph upon "John Oliver Hobbes" elicited more than ordinary comment from the general press; also a fresh and important post in connection with a smart New York society journal. "I particularly like the prospect opened out in this new field of journalism," remarks Miss de Grasse Stevens quietly, "as it gives me greater freedom of subject as well as of treatment. I am delighted, too," she adds, smiling, "with the mere thought of grappling with any little difficulties that may arise on the subject."
And to these "little difficulties" you leave the bright young American writer, feeling sure that her clever brain will guide her able pen to solve them aright.