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Updated: June 1, 2025
He studied the magazines in the libraries, and racked his wits for new ideas to interest their editors. He haunted editorial-rooms until his presence became a burden, and he brought new agonies and humiliations upon himself. He would part from Corydon in the afternoon, and shut himself in his room; and sitting in bed to keep warm, he would work until midnight at some new variety of pot-boiler.
All the editors who published book-reviews seemed to have a stock on hand; or else to know of people whose style of writing pleased their readers better. And none of them seemed to fancy any ideas for articles that Thyrsis had to suggest. Worst of all, the editor of the "Treasure Chest" turned down the pot-boiler which he had been writing up in the country.
Perhaps it is not what the world means by the artistic temperament. But it is the temperament of the true artist. "Never do a pot-boiler," said Mr. Elliott to a young painter the other day. "Let one of your best things go to boil the pot."
When he had returned the book to the shelf he stepped behind his wife's chair, leaned upon it, and put his cheek against hers. 'Amy! 'Yes, dear? 'Do you still love me a little? 'Much more than a little. 'Though I am sunk to writing a wretched pot-boiler? 'Is it so bad as all that? 'Confoundedly bad. I shall be ashamed to see it in print; the proofs will be a martyrdom. 'Oh, but why? why?
He saw quite clearly now the simple truth it was not a matter of art at all, but a matter of business. It was a business-world, and not an art-world; and he poor fool was trying to be an artist! For three days more he toiled at his pot-boiler; and then, late at night, he went out to get some fresh air, and to try to shake off the load of despair that was upon him. And so came the explosion.
There remains the doing of a sort of work against the grain because the public appreciates it otherwise the pot-boiler. In 1861 Meredith wrote to Mrs Ross: "I am engaged in extra potboiling work which enables me to do this," i.e., to write an occasional long poem. Seventeen years later he wrote to R.L. Stevenson: "Of potboilers let none speak.
And once the hotel bills were paid, what would be left for the journey back to Paris, the looming expenses there, the price of the passage to America? These questions would fling him back on the thought of his projected book, which was, after all, to be what the masterpieces of literature had mostly been a pot-boiler. Well! Why not?
In 1884 he worked at the often rewritten "Prince Otto," and did a pot-boiler "The Black Arrow" which pleased the boy public of the paper much better than "Treasure Island." His time, from January, 1883, to May, 1884, was passed at Hyères.
For a Medical pamphlet: Cant as a means of Prolonging Life. For an Art book: The Complete Pot-boiler; or what to paint and how to paint it, with illustrations reproduced from contemporary exhibitions and explanatory notes. For a Picture: St. Francis preaching to Silenus. Fra Angelico and Rubens might collaborate to produce this picture. The Happy Mistress.
That creature is a prostitute, and one whose depravity can only be compared with that of her infamous and horrible husband. You are the dupe, my lord pot-boiler, of those people; you will be led further by them than you dream of! I speak plainly, for you are at the bottom of a pit."
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