material from the ,google ,print project47 ,transcriber's ,notes3 ,variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original4 ,words in italics in the original are surrounded by underscores4 ,ellipses match the original4 ,a few typographical errors have been corrected4 ,a complete list follows the text4 ,the how to ,series ,,how ,,to ,,write ,a ,,novel ---------------------------------------- ---------------------- ,the how to ,series ,i4 ,,how ,,to ,,deal ,,with ,,your ,,banker ,,by ,,henry ,,warren ,author of ,banks and their ,customers ,third ,edition4 ,crown #hvo1 ,cloth1 #es4 #f;d4 ,,ii4 ,,where ,,and ,,how ,,to ,,dine ,,in ,,paris ,,by ,,rowland ,,strong ,fcap4 #hvo1 ,cloth1 ,cover ,designed1 #bs4 #f;d4 ,,iii4 ,,how ,,to ,,write ,,for ,,the ,,magazines ,,by ,l#fjj ,a ,,year ,,from ,,it ,crown #hvo1 ,cloth1 #bs4 #f;d4 ,,iv4 ,,how ,,to ,,choose ,,your ,,banker ,,by ,,henry ,,warren ,crown #hvo1 ,cloth1 #cs4 #f;d4 ,v4 ,,how ,,to ,,write ,a ,,novel3 ,a ,practical ,guide to the ,art of ,fiction4 ,crown #hvo1 ,cloth1 #cs4 #f;d4 ,,vi4 ,,how ,,to ,,invest ,,and ,,how ,,to ,,speculate ,,by ,c4 ,h4 ,,thorpe ,crown #hvo1 ,cloth1 #es4 ,,london3 ,,grant ,,richards #i ,,henrietta ,,street1 ,w4,c4 ---------------------------------------- ---------------------- ,the how to ,series ,,how ,,to ,,write ,a ,,novel ,a ,,practical ,,guide ,,to ,,the ,,art ,,of ,,fiction ,,london ,,grant ,,richards #i ,,henrietta ,,street1 ,,covent ,,garden1 ,w4,c4 #aija ,,preface ,this little book is one which so well explains itself that no introductory word is needed2 and ,i only venture to intrude a sentence or two here with a view to explain the style in which ,i have conveyed my ideas4 ,i desired to be plain and practical1 and therefore chose the direct and epistolary form as being most suitable for the purpose in hand4 ,,contents ,,chapter ,i ,,the ,,object ,,in ,,view ,,page ,an ,inevitable ,comparison #c ,a ,model ,lesson in ,novel-,writing #e ,the ,teachable and the ,unteachable #i ,,chapter ,,ii ,a ,,good ,,story ,,to ,,tell ,where do ,novelists get their ,stories from8 #ab ,is there a ,deeper ,question8 #ad ,what about the ,newspapers8 #ag ,,chapter ,,iii ,,how ,,to ,,begin ,formation of the ,plot #be ,the ,agonies and ,joys of ,plot-,construction #bh ,care in the ,use of ,actual ,events #ca ,the ,natural ,history of a ,plot #ce ,sir ,walter ,besant on the ,evolution of a ,plot #dj ,plot-,formation in ,earnest #dc ,characters first3 ,plot afterwards #de ,the ,natural ,background #dg ,,chapter ,,iv ,,characters ,,and ,,characterisation ,the ,chief ,character #ej ,how to ,portray ,character #eb ,methods of ,characterisation #ee ,the ,trick of ,idiosyncrasies #eh ,,chapter ,v ,,studies ,,in ,,literary ,,technique ,narrative ,art #fc ,movement #ff ,aids to ,description3 ,the ,point of ,view #fg ,selecting the ,main ,features #gj ,description by ,suggestion #gc ,facts to ,remember #ge ,,chapter ,,vi ,,studies ,,in ,,literary ,,technique--,,continued ,colour3 ,local and ,otherwise #gi ,what about ,dialect8 #hd ,on ,dialogue #hf ,points in ,conversation #ia ,atmosphere #id ,,chapter ,,vii ,,pitfalls ,items of ,general ,knowledge #if ,specific ,subjects #ih ,topography and ,geography #ajj ,scientific ,facts #aja ,grammar #ajc ,,chapter ,,viii ,,the ,,secret ,,of ,,style ,communicable ,elements #aje ,incommunicable ,elements #aaj ,,chapter ,,ix ,,how ,,authors ,,work ,quick and ,slow #aaf ,how many ,words a ,day8 #aai ,charles ,reade and ,anthony ,trollope #abb ,the ,mission of ,fancy #abg ,fancies of another ,type #abi ,some of our ,younger ,writers3 ,mr ,zangwill1 ,mr ,coulson ,kernahan1 ,mr ,robert ,barr1 ,mr ,h4 ,g4 ,wells #acb ,curious ,methods #acd ,,chapter ,x ,,is ,,the ,,subject-,,matter ,,of ,,novels ,,exhausted8 ,the ,question ,stated #ach ,change not ,exhaustion #adb ,why we talk about ,exhaustion #ade ,,chapter ,,xi ,,the ,,novel v4 ,,the ,,short ,,story ,practise the ,short ,story #aed ,short ,story ,writers on their ,art #aei ,,chapter ,,xii ,,success3 ,,and ,,some ,,of ,,its ,,minor ,,conditions ,the ,truth about ,success #afd ,minor ,conditions of ,success #afi ,,appendix ,i ,,the ,,philosophy ,,of ,,composition4 ,by ,edgar ,allan ,poe #age ,,appendix ,,ii ,,books ,,worth ,,reading #bja ,,appendix ,,iii ,,magazine ,,article ,,on ,,writing ,,fiction #bje ,,how ,,to ,,write ,a ,,novel ,,chapter ,i ,,the ,,object ,,in ,,view ,i am setting myself a task which some people would call very ambitious2 others would call it by a name not quite so polite2 and a considerable number would say it was positively absurd1 accompanying their criticism with derisive laughter4 ,having discussed the possibility of teaching the art of writing fiction with a good many different kinds of people1 ,i know quite intimately the opinions which are likely to be expressed about this little book2 and although ,i do not intend to burden the reader with an account of their respective merits1 ,i do intend to make my own position as clear as possible4 ,first of all1 ,i will examine the results of a recent symposium on the general question4#a3;,a ,when asked as to the practicability of a ,school of ,fiction1 ,messrs ,robert ,barr1 ,g4 ,manville ,fenn1 ,m4 ,betham ,edwards1 ,arthur ,morrison1 ,g4 ,b4 ,burgin1 ,c4 ,j4 ,c4 ,hyne1 and ,mr ,john ,oliver ,hobbes declared against it2 ,miss ,mary ,l4 ,pendered and ,miss ,clementina ,black--with certain reservations--spoke in favour of such an institution4 ,true1 these names do not include all representatives of the high places in ,fiction1 but they are quite respectable enough for my purpose4 ,it will be seen that the vote is adverse to the object ,i have in view4 ,why8 ,well1 here are a few reasons4 ,mr ,morrison affirms that writing as a trade is far too pleasant an idea2 ,john ,oliver ,hobbes is of opinion that it is impossible to teach anyone how to produce a work of imagination2 and ,mr ,g4 ,b4 ,burgin asserts that genius is its own teacher--a remark characterised by unwitting modesty4 ,now1 with the spirit of these convictions ,i am not disposed to quarrel4 ,this is an age which imagines that everything can be crammed into the limits of an academical curriculum2 and there are actually some people who would not hesitate to endow a chair of ,ideas and ,imagination4 ,we need to be reminded occasionally that there are incommunicable elements in all art4 ,an ,inevitable ,comparison ,but the question arises3 ,if there be an art of literature1 why cannot its principles be taught and practised as well as those of any other art8 ,we have schools of ,painting1 ,sculpture1 and ,music--why not a school of ,fiction8 ,let it be supposed that a would-be artist has conceived a brilliant idea which he is anxious to embody in literature or put on a canvas4 ,in order to do so1 he must observe certain well-established rules which we may call the grammar of art3 for just as in literature a man may express beautiful ideas in ungrammatical language1 and without any sense of relationship or development1 so may the same ideas be put in a picture1 and yet the art be of the crudest4 ,now1 in what way will our would-be artist become acquainted with those rules8 ,the answer is simple4 ,if his genius had been of the first order he would have known them intuitively3 the society of men and women1 of great books and fine pictures1 would have provided sufficient stimuli to bring forth the best productions of his mind4 ,thus ,shakespeare was never taught the principles of dramatic art2 ,bach had an instinctive appreciation of the laws of harmony2 and ,turner had the same insight into laws of painting4 ,these were artists of the front rank3 they simply looked--and understood4 ,but if his powers belonged to the order which is called talent1 he would have to do one of two things3 either stumble upon these rules one by one and learn them by experience--or be taught them in their true order by others1 in which case an ,institute of ,literary ,art would already exist in an embryonic stage4 ,why should it not be developed into a matured school8 ,is it that the dignity of genius forbids it1 or that pupilage is half a disgrace8 ,true genius never shuns the marks of the learner4 ,even ,shakespeare grew in the understanding of art and in his power of handling its elements4 ,professor ,dowden says3 ,in the ',two ,gentlemen of ,verona1' ,porteus1 the fickle1 is set over against ,valentine the faithful2 ,sylvia1 the bright and intellectual1 is set over against ,julia1 the ardent and tender2 ,launce1 the humorist1 is set over against ,speed1 the wit4 ,this indicates a certain want of confidence on the part of the poet2 he fears the weight of too much liberty4 ,he cannot yet feel that his structure is secure without a mechanism to support the structure4 ,he endeavours to attain unity of effect less by the inspiration of a common life than by the disposition of parts4 ,in the early plays structure determines function2 in the later plays organisation is preceded by life4#e3;,a ,a ,model ,lesson in ,novel-,writing ,when certain grumpy folk ask3 ,how do you propose to draw up your lessons on ',the way to find ,local ,colour'2 ',plotting'2 ',how to manage a ,love-,scene1' and so forth8 it is expected that a writer like myself will be greatly disconcerted4 ,not at all4 ,it so happens that a distinguished critic1 now deceased1 once delivered himself on the possibility of teaching literary art1 and ,i propose to quote a paragraph or two from his article4 ,the morning finds the master in his working arm-chair2 and seated about the room which is generally the study1 but is now the studio1 are some half-dozen pupils4 ,the subject for the hour is narrative-construction1 and the master holds in his hand a small ,,ms4 which1 as he slowly reads it aloud1 proves to be a somewhat elaborate synopsis of the story of one of his own published or projected novels4 ,the reading over1 students are free to state objections1 or to ask questions4 ,one remarks that the denouement is brought about by a mere accident1 and therefore seems to lack the inevitableness which1 the master has always taught1 is essential to organic unity4 ,the criticism is recognised as intelligent1 but the master shows that the accident has not the purely fortuitous character which renders it obnoxious to the general objection4 ,while it is technically an accident1 it is in reality hardly accidental1 but an occurrence which fits naturally into an opening provided by a given set of circumstances1 the circumstances having been brought about by a course of action which is vitally characteristic of the person whose fate is involved4 ,then the master himself will ask a question4 ',the students1' he says1 'will have noticed that a character who takes no important part in the action until the story is more than half told1 makes an insignificant and unnoticeable appearance in a very early chapter1 where he seems a purposeless and irrelevant intrusion4' ,they have paper before them1 and he gives them twenty minutes in which to state their opinion as to whether this premature appearance is1 or is not1 justified by the canons of narrative art1 giving1 of course1 the reasons upon which that opinion has been formed4 ,the papers are handed in to be reported upon next morning1 and the lesson is at an end4#g3;,a ,this is ,james ,ashcroft ,noble's idea of handling a theme in fiction2 one of a large and varied number4 ,to me it is a feasible plan emanating from a man who was the sanest of literary advisers4 ,if it be objected that ,mr ,noble was only a critic and not a novelist1 perhaps a word from ,sir ,walter ,besant may add the needful element of authority4 ,i can conceive of a lecturer dissecting a work1 or a series of works1 showing how the thing sprang first from a central figure in a central group2 how there arose about this group1 scenery1 the setting of the fable2 how the atmosphere became presently charged with the presence of mankind1 other characters attaching themselves to the group2 how situations1 scenes1 conversations1 led up little by little to the full development of this central idea4 ,i can also conceive of a ,school of ,fiction in which the students should be made to practise observation1 description1 dialogue1 and dramatic effects4 ,the student1 in fact1 would be taught how to use his tools4 ,a reading-class for the artistic study of great writers could not be other than helpful4 ,one lesson might be devoted to the way in which the best authors foreshadowed crises and important turns in events4 ,an example may be found in ,julius ,caesar1 where1 in the second scene1 the soothsayer says3 ,beware the ,ides of ,march6 --a solitary voice in strange contrast with those by whom he is surrounded1 and preparing us for the dark deed upon which the play is based4 ,or the text-book might be a modern novel--,hardy's ,well-,beloved for instance--a work full of delicate literary craftsmanship4 ,the storm which overtook ,pierston and ,miss ,bencomb is prepared for--first by the conversation of two men who pass them on the road1 and one of whom casually remarks that the weather seems likely to change2 then ,pierston himself observes the evening--louring2 finally1 and most suddenly1 the rain descends in perfect fury4 ,the ,teachable and the ,unteachable ,i hope my position is now beginning to be tolerably clear to the reader4 ,i address myself to the man or woman of talent--those people who have writing ability1 but who need instruction in the manipulation of characters1 the formation of plots1 and a host of other points with which ,i shall deal hereafter4 ,as to what is teachable1 and not teachable1 in writing novels1 perhaps ,i may be permitted to use a close analogy4 ,style1 per se1 is absolutely unteachable simply because it is the man himself2 you cannot teach personality4 ,can ,dickens1 ,thackeray1 and ,george ,meredith be reduced to an academic schedule8 ,never4 ,every soul of man is an individual entity and cannot be reproduced4 ,but although style is incommunicable1 the writing of easy1 graceful ,english can be taught in any class-room--that is to say1 the structure of sentences and paragraphs1 the logical sequence of thought1 and the secret of forceful expression are capable of exact scientific treatment4 ,in like manner1 although no school could turn out novelists to order--a supply of ,stevensons annually1 and a brace of ,hardys every two years--there is yet enough common material in all art-work to be mapped out in a course of lessons4 ,i shall show that the two great requisites of novel-writing are 7#a7 a good story to tell1 and 7#b7 ability to tell it effectively4 ,briefly stated1 my position is this3 no teaching can produce good stories to tell1 but it can increase the power of the telling1 and change it from crude and ineffective methods to those which reach the apex of developed art4 ,of course there are dangers to be avoided1 and the chief of them is that mechanical correctness1 so praiseworthy and so intolerable1 as ,lowell says in his essay on ,lessing4 ,but this need not be an insurmountable difficulty4 ,a truly educated man never labours to speak correctly2 being educated1 grammatical language follows as a necessary consequence4 ,the same is true of the artist3 when he has learned the secrets of literature1 he puts away all thoughts of rule and law--nay1 in time1 his very ideas assume artistic form4 ,,footnotes3 #a3;,a ,the ,new ,century ,review1 vol4 i4 #e3;,a ,shakespeare3 ,his ,mind and ,art1 p4 #fa4 #g3;,a ,article in ,the ,new ,age4 ,,chapter ,,ii ,a ,,good ,,story ,,to ,,tell ,where do ,novelists get their ,stories from8 ,i said a moment ago that no teaching could impart a story4 ,if you cannot invent one for yourself1 by observation of life and sympathetic insight into human nature1 you may depend upon it that you are not called to be a writer of novels4 ,then where1 it may be asked1 do novelists get their stories8 ,well1 they hardly know themselves2 they say the ideas come4 ,for instance1 here is the way ,mr ,baring ,gould describes the advent of ,mehalah4 ,one day in ,essex1 a friend1 a captain in the coastguard1 invited me to accompany him on a cruise among the creeks in the estuary of the ,maldon river--the ,blackwater4 ,i went out1 and we spent the day running among mud flats and low holms1 covered with coarse grass and wild lavender1 and startling wild-fowl4 ,we stopped at a ruined farm built on arches above this marsh to eat some lunch2 no glass was in the windows1 and the raw wind howled in and swept around us4 ,that night ,i was laid up with a heavy cold4 ,i tossed in bed and was in the marshes in imagination1 listening to the wind and the lap of the tide2 and ',mehalah' naturally rose out of it all1 a tragic gloomy tale4#ac3;,a ,exactly4 ,mehalah rose2 that is enough6 ,if ideas1 plots of stories1 and new groupings of character do not rise in your mind1 it is simply because you lack the power to originate them spontaneously4 ,take the somewhat fabulous story of ,newton and the apple4 ,many a man before ,sir ,isaac had seen an apple fall1 but not one of them used that observation as he did4 ,in the same way there are scores of men who have the same experiences and live the same kind of life1 but it occurs to only one among their number to gather up these experiences into an interesting narrative4 ,why should it occur to one and not the others8 ,because the one has literary gifts and literary impetus1 and the others--haven't4 ,is there a ,deeper ,question8 ,having dealt with that side of the subject1 ,i should like to say that all novelists have their own methods of obtaining raw material for stories4 ,by raw material ,i mean those facts of life which give birth to narrative ideas4 ,it is said of ,thomas ,hardy that he never rides in an omnibus or railway carriage without mentally inventing the history of every traveller4 ,one has to beware of fables in writing of such men1 but ,i have no reason to doubt the statement just made4 ,i do not make it with the intention of advocating anybody to go and do likewise1 but as illustrating one way of studying human nature and developing the imaginative faculty4 ,it will be necessary to speak of observation a good many times in the course of these remarks1 and one might as well say what the word really means4 ,does it mean seeing things8 ,a great deal more than that4 ,it is very easy to see things and yet not observe at all4 ,if you want ideas for stories1 or characters with which to form a longer narrative1 you must not only use your eyes but your mind4 ,what is wanted is observation with inference2 or1 to be more correct1 with imagination4 ,make sure that you know the traits of character that are typically human2 those which are the same in a ,boer1 a ,hindu1 or a ,chinaman4 ,it is not difficult to mark the special points of each of these as distinct from the ,englishman2 but your first duty is to know human nature per se4 ,how is that knowledge to be obtained8 do you say6 ,well1 begin with yourself2 there is ample scope in that direction4 ,and when you are tired of looking within--look without4 ,enter a tram-car and listen to the people talking4 ,who talks the loudest8 ,what kind of woman is it who always gives the conductor most trouble8 ,the man who sits at the far end of the car in a shabby coat1 and who is regarding his boots with a fixed1 anxious stare--what is he thinking about8 and what is his history8 ,then a baby begins to yell1 and its mother cannot soothe it4 ,one old man smiles benignly on the struggling infant1 but the old man next to him looks daggers4 ,and why8 ,to see character in action there is no finer vantage-point than the top of a ,london omnibus4 ,watch the way in which people walk2 notice their forms of salutation when they meet2 and study the expressions on their faces4 ,tragedy and comedy are everywhere1 and you have not to go beneath the surface of life in order to find them4 ,it sounds prosaic enough to speak of studying human nature at a railway station1 but such places are brimful of event4 ,i know more than one novelist who has found his motif by quietly watching the crowd on a platform from behind a waiting-room window4 ,wherever humanity congregates there should the student be4 ,not that he should restrict his observations to men and women in groups or masses--he must cover all the ground by including individuals who are to be specially considered4 ,the logician's terms come in handy at this point3 extensive and intensive--such must be the methods of a beginner's analysis of his fellow-creatures4 ,what about the ,newspapers8 ,the daily press is the great mirror of human events4 ,when we open the paper at our breakfast table we find a literal record of the previous day's joy and sorrow--marriages and murders1 failures and successes1 news from afar and news from the next street--they all find a place4 ,the would-be novel writer should be a diligent student of the newspaper4 ,in no other sphere will he discover such a plenitude of raw material4 ,some of the cases tried at the ,courts contain elements of dramatic quality far beyond those he has ever imagined2 and here and there may be found in miniature the outlines of a splendid plot4 ,of course everything depends on the reader's mind4 ,if you cannot read between the lines--that is the end of the matter1 and your novel will remain unwritten2 but if you can--some day you may expect to succeed4 ,i once came across a practical illustration of the manner in which a newspaper paragraph was treated imaginatively4 ,the result is rather crude and unfinished1 but most likely it was never intended to stand as a finished production1 occurring as it does1 in an ,american book on ,american journalism4#ah3;,a ,here is the paragraph3 ,john ,simpson and ,michael ,flannagan1 two railroad labourers1 quarrelled yesterday morning1 and ,flannagan killed ,simpson with a coupling-pin4 ,the murderer is in jail4 ,he says ,simpson provoked him and dared him to strike4 ,now the question arises3 ,what was the quarrel about8 ,we don't know2 so an originating cause must be invented4 ,the inventor whose illustration ,i am about to give conceived the story thus3 ',taint none o' yer business how often ,i go to see the girl4 ,ef ,oi ketch yez around my ,nora's house agin1 ,oi'll break a hole in yer shneakin' head1 d'ye moind thot6 ,you braggin' ,irish coward1 you haint got sand enough in you to come down off'n that car and say that to my face4 ,it was ,john ,simpson1 a yard switchman who spoke this taunt to a section hand4 ,a moment more and ,michael ,flannagan stood on the ground beside him4 ,there was a murderous fire in the ,irishman's eyes1 and in his hand he held a heavy coupling-pin4 ,tut6 tut6 ,mike4 ,throw away the iron and play fair4 ,you can wallup him6 cried the rest of the gang4 ,he's a coward2 he dassn't hit me1 came the wasp-like taunt of the switchman4 ,let him alone1 fellers2 his girl's give him the shake1 and---- ,those were the last words ,simpson spoke4 ,the murderous coupling-pin had descended like a scimitar and crushed his skull4 ,an awed silence fell upon the little group as they raised the fallen man and saw that he was dead4 ,ye'll be hangin' fur this1 ,mikey1 me bye1 whispered one of his horrified companions as the police dragged off the unresisting murderer4 ,oi don't care1 came the sullen reply1 with a dry sob that belied it4 ,then1 with a look of unutterable hatred1 and a nod towards the white1 upturned face of his enemy1 he added under his breath1 ,he'll niver git her now4 ,this is enough to give the beginner an idea of the way in which stories and plots sometimes occur to writers of fiction4 ,it is1 however1 only one of a thousand ways1 and my advice to the novice is this3 ,keep your eyes and ears open2 observe and inquire1 read and reflect2 look at life and the things of life from your own point of view2 and just as a financier manipulates events for the sake of money1 so ought you to turn all your experiences into the mould of fiction4 ,if1 after this1 you don't succeed1 it is evident you have made a mistake4 ,be courageous enough to acknowledge the fact1 and leave the writing of novels to others4 ,,footnotes3 #ac3;,a ,the ,art of ,writing ,fiction1 p4 #dc4 #ah3;,a ,shuman1 ,steps into ,journalism1 p4 #bjh4 ,,chapter ,,iii ,,how ,,to ,,begin ,you have now obtained your story--in its bare outlines1 at least4 ,the next question is1 ,how are you to make a start8 ,well1 that is an important question1 and it cannot be evaded4 ,clarence ,rook1 in a waggish moment1 said two things were necessary in order to write a novel3 7#a7 ,writing ,materials1 7#b7 ,a ,month2 but he seems to have thought that the month should be a month's imprisonment for attempting such an indiscretion4 ,in these pages1 however1 we are serious folk1 and having thanked ,mr ,rook for his pleasantry1 we return to the point before us4 ,first of all1 ,what kind of a novel is yours to be8 ,historical8 ,if so1 have you read all the authorities8 ,do you feel the throb of the life of that period about which you are going to write8 ,are its chief personages living beings in your imagination8 and have you learned all the details respecting customs1 manners1 language1 and dress8 ,if not1 you are very far from being ready to make a start1 even though the story itself is quite clear to you4 ,our great historical novelists devour libraries before they sit down to write4 ,one would like to know how many books ,dr ,conan ,doyle digested before he published ,the ,refugees1 and ,stanley ,weyman before he brought out his ,a ,gentleman of ,france4 ,do not be carried away with the alluring idea that it is easy to take up historical subjects because the characters are there to hand1 and the story practically made4 ,directly you make the attempt1 you will find out your mistake4 ,write about the life you know best--the life of the present day4 ,you will then avoid the necessity of keeping everything in chronological perspective--a necessity which an open-air preacher1 whom ,i heard last week1 quite forgot when he said that the sailors shouted down the hatchway to the sleeping ,prophet of ,nineveh3 ,jonah6 ,we're sinking6 ,come and help us with the pumps6 ,no2 before you begin1 have a clear idea of what you are going to do4 ,the type of your story will in many cases decide the kind of treatment required2 but it may be well1 nevertheless1 to say a few words about the various kinds of novels that are written nowadays1 and the differences that separate them one from another4 ,there is the ,realistic novel1 of which ,mr ,maugham's ,liza of ,lambeth and ,mr ,morrison's ,a ,child of the ,jago may be taken as recent examples4 ,these authors attempt to picture life as it is2 they sink their own personalities1 and endeavour to write a literal account of the personalities of other people4 ,very often they succeed1 but absolute realism is impossible unless a man has no objection to appearing in a ,police ,court4 ,in this type of fiction1 plot1 action1 and inter-play of characters are not important3 the main purpose is a sort of literary biograph2 life in action1 without comment or underlying philosophy1 and minus the pre-eminent factor of art4 ,then there is the novel of ,manners4 ,the customs of life1 the social peculiarities of certain groups of men and women1 the humours and moral qualities of life--these are the chief features in the novel of manners4 ,as a form of fiction it is earlier than the realistic novel1 but both are alike in having little or no concern with plot and character development4 ,next comes the novel of ,incident4 ,here the stress is placed upon particular events--what led up to them and the consequences that followed--hence the structure of the narrative1 and the powers of movement and suspense are important factors in achieving success4 ,a ,romance is in a very important sense a novel of incident1 but the incident is specialised in character1 and usually deals with the passionate and fundamental powers of man--hate1 jealousy1 revenge1 and scenes of violence4 ,or it may be incident which has to do with life in other worlds as imagined by the writer1 and occasionally takes on the style of the supernatural4 ,lastly1 there is the ,dramatic novel1 where the chief feature is the influence of event on character1 and of characters on each other4 ,now1 to which class is your projected novel to belong8 ,in fiction you must walk by sight and not by faith4 ,never sit down to write believing that although you can't see the finish of your story1 it will come out all right in the end4 ,it won't4 ,you should know at the outset to which type of fiction you are to devote your energies2 how1 otherwise1 can you observe the laws of art which govern its ideal being8 ,formation of the ,plot ,in one sense your plot is formed already--that is to say1 the very idea of your story involves a plot more or less distinct4 ,as yet1 however1 you do not see clearly how things are going to work out1 and it is now your business to settle the matter so far as it lies in your power to do so4 ,now1 a plot is not made2 it is a structural growth4 ,suppose you wish to present a domestic scene in which the folly of high temper is to be proved4 ,is not the plot concealed in the idea8 ,certainly4 ,hence you perhaps place a man and his wife at breakfast4 ,they begin to talk amiably1 then become quarrelsome1 and finally fall into loving agreement4 ,or you light upon a more original plan of bringing out your point2 but in any case1 the plot evolves itself step by step4 ,wilkie ,collins has left some interesting gossip behind him with reference to ,the ,woman in ,white3 ,my first proceeding is to get my central idea--the pivot on which the story turns4 ,the central idea in ',the ,woman in ,white' is the idea of a conspiracy in private life1 in which circumstances are so handled as to rob a woman of her identity1 by confounding her with another woman sufficiently like her in personal appearance to answer the wicked purpose4 ,the destruction of her identity represents a first division of her story2 the recovery of her identity marks a second division4 ,my central idea next suggests some of my chief characters4 ,a clever devil must conduct the conspiracy4 ,male devil or female devil8 ,the sort of wickedness wanted seems to be a man's wickedness4 ,perhaps a foreign man4 ,count ,fosco faintly shows himself to me before ,i know his name4 ,i let him wait1 and begin to think about the two women4 ,they must be both innocent1 and both interesting4 ,lady ,glyde dawns on me as one of the innocent victims4 ,i try to discover the other--and fail4 ,i try what a walk will do for me--and fail4 ,i devote the evening to a new effort--and fail4 ,experience tells me to take no more trouble about it1 and leave that other woman to come of her own accord4 ,the next morning before ,i have been awake in my bed for more than ten minutes1 my perverse brains set to work without consulting me4 ,poor ,anne ,catherick comes into the room1 and says ',try me4' ,i have now got an idea1 and three of my characters4 ,what is there to do now8 ,my next proceeding is to begin building up the story4 ,here my favourite three efforts must be encountered4 ,first effort3 ,to begin at the beginning4 ,second effort3 ,to keep the story always advancing1 without paying the smallest attention to the serial division in parts1 or to the book publications in volumes4 ,third effort3 ,to decide on the end4 ,all this is done as my father used to paint his skies in his famous sea-pictures--at one heat4 ,as yet ,i do not enter into details2 ,i merely set up my landmarks4 ,in doing this1 the main situations of the story present themselves in all sorts of new aspects4 ,these discoveries lead me nearer and nearer to finding the right end4 ,the end being decided on1 ,i go back again to the beginning1 and look at it with a new eye1 and fail to be satisfied with it4 ,the ,agonies and ,joys of ,plot-,construction ,i have yielded to the worst temptation that besets a novelist--the temptation to begin with a striking incident without counting the cost in the shape of explanations that must and will follow4 ,these pests of fiction1 to reader and writer alike1 can only be eradicated in one way4 ,i have already mentioned the way--to begin at the beginning4 ,in the case of ',the ,woman in ,white1' ,i get back1 as ,i vainly believe1 to the true starting-point of the story4 ,i am now at liberty to set the new novel going1 having1 let me repeat1 no more than an outline of story and characters before me1 and leaving the details in each case to the spur of the moment4 ,for a week1 as well as ,i can remember1 ,i work for the best part of every day1 but not as happily as usual4 ,an unpleasant sense of something wrong worries me4 ,at the beginning of the second week a disheartening discovery reveals itself4 ,i have not found the right beginning of ',the ,woman in ,white' yet4 ,the scene of my opening chapters is in ,cumberland4 ,miss ,fairlie 7afterwards ,lady ,glyde72 ,mr ,fairlie1 with his irritable nerves and his art treasures2 ,miss ,halcombe 7discovered suddenly1 like ,anne ,catherick71 are all waiting the arrival of the young drawing-master1 ,walter ,hartwright4 ,no2 this won't do4 ,the person to be first introduced is ,anne ,catherick4 ,she must already be a familiar figure to the reader when the reader accompanies me to ,cumberland4 ,this is what must be done1 but ,i don't see how to do it2 no new idea comes to me2 ,i and my ,,ms4 have quarrelled1 and don't speak to each other4 ,one evening ,i happen to read of a lunatic who has escaped from an asylum--a paragraph of a few lines only in a newspaper4 ,instantly the idea comes to me of ,walter ,hartwright's midnight meeting with ,anne ,catherick escaped from the asylum4 ',the ,woman in ,white' begins again1 and nobody will ever be half as much interested in it now as ,i am4 ,from that moment ,i have done with my miseries4 ,for the next six months the pen goes on4 ,it is work1 hard work2 but the harder the better1 for this excellent reason3 the work is its own exceeding great reward4 ,as an example of the gradual manner in which ,i reached the development of character1 ,i may return for a moment to ,fosco4 ,the making him fat was an afterthought2 his canaries and his white mice were found next2 and1 the most valuable discovery of all1 his admiration of ,miss ,halcombe1 took its rise in a conviction that he would not be true to nature unless there was some weak point somewhere in his character4 ,care in the ,use of ,actual ,events ,i do not apologise for the lengthiness of this quotation--it is so much to the point1 and is replete with instructive ideas4 ,the beginner must beware of following actual events too closely4 ,there is a danger of accepting actuality instead of literary possibility as the measure of value4 ,picturesque means fit to be put in a picture1 and literatesque means fit to be put in a book4 ,in making your plot1 therefore1 be quite sure you have a subject with these said possibilities in it1 and that in developing them by an ordered and cumulative series of events1 you are following the wise rule laid down by ,aristotle3 ,prefer an impossibility which seems probable1 to a probability which seems impossible4 ,remember always that truth is stranger than fiction4 ,let facts1 newspaper items1 things seen and heard1 suggest as much as you please1 but never follow literally the literal event4 ,then your plot must be original4 ,i was amused some time ago by reading the editorial notice to correspondents in an ,american paper4 ,that editor meant to save the time of his contributors as well as his own1 and he gave a list of the plots he did not want4 ,the paper was one which catered for young people4 ,here is a selection from the list3 #a4 ,a lost purse where the finder is tempted to keep it1 but finally rises to the emergency and returns it4 #b4 ,heaping coals of fire767 #c4 ,saving one's enemy from drowning4 #d4 ,stories of cruel step-mothers4 #e4 ,children praying1 and having their prayers answered through being overheard1 etc41 etc4 ,mr ,clarence ,rook1 to whom ,i have previously referred1 says3 ,there are several plots1 four or five1 at least4 ,here are some of the recipes for them4 ,you may rely on them to give thorough satisfaction4 ,thousands use them daily1 and having tried them once1 use no other4 ,take a heroine4 ,the age of heroes is past1 and this is the age of heroines4 ,she must be noble1 high-souled4 7,souls have been worn very high for the past few seasons47 ,her soul is too high for conventional morality4 ,mix her up with some disgraceful situations1 taking care to add the purest of motives4 ,let her poison her mother and run away with a thoughtful scavenger4 ,when you are tired of her you can pitch her over ,waterloo ,bridge4#cc3;,a ,over against this style of criticism ,i should like to place another which comes from an academical source4 ,speaking of the plots of ,hall ,caine's novels1 ,professor ,saintsbury says that1 with the exception of ',the ,scapegoat1' there is an extraordinary and almost heroic monotony of plot4 ,one might almost throw ,mr ,caine's plots into the form which is used by comparative students of folk-lore to tabulate the various versions of the same legends4 ,two close relations 7if not brothers1 at least cousins7 the relationship being sometimes legal1 sometimes only natural1 fall in love with the same girl 7',shadow1' ',hagar1' ',bondman1' ',manxman'72 in ',the ,deemster' the situation is slightly but not really very different1 the brother being jealous of the cousin's affection4 ,in almost all cases there is renunciation by one2 in all1 including ',the ,deemster1' one has1 if both have not1 to pay more or less heavy penalties for the intended or unintended rivalry4 ,sometimes1 as in ',the ,shadow of a ,crime1' ',a ,son of ,hagar1' and ',the ,bondman1' filial relations are brought in to augment the strife of sentiment in the individual4 ,sometimes 7',shadow1' ',bondman1' and to some extent ',manxman'7 the worsted and renouncing party is self-sacrificing more or less all through2 sometimes 7',hagar1' ',deemster1'7 he is violent for a time1 and only at last repents4 ,in two cases 7',deemster1' ',manxman1'7 the injured one1 or the one who thinks he is injured1 has a rival at his mercy in sleep or disease1 is tempted to take his life and forbears4 ,this might be worked out still further4#ce3;,a ,no2 you must be original or nothing at all4 ,of course your originality may not be striking1 but1 at any rate1 make your own plot1 and let others judge it4 ,it is far better to do that than to copy others weakly4 ,originality and sincerity are pretty much the same thing1 as ,carlyle observed2 and if you want a stimulating essay on the subject1 read ,lewes' ,principles of ,success in ,literature1 a book1 by the way1 which you ought to master thoroughly4 ,the ,natural ,history of a ,plot ,i have quoted already from ,wilkie ,collins as to the growth of plot from its embryo stages1 but that need not deter us from taking an imaginary example4 ,let us suppose that you have been possessed for some time with the idea of treating the great facts of race and religion as a theme for a novel4 ,after casting about for a suitable illustration1 you finally decide that a ,jewish girl1 with strictly orthodox parentage1 shall fall in love with a youth of ,gentile blood1 and ,roman ,catholic in religion4 ,that is the bare idea4 ,you can see at once how many dramatic possibilities it presents2 for the passion of love in each case is pitted against the forces of religious prejudice2 and all the powers of racial exclusiveness are brought into full play4 ,now1 what is the first thing to do8 ,well1 for you as a beginner1 it is to decide how the story shall end4 ,why8 ,because everything depends on that4 ,if you intend them to have a short flirtation1 your course of procedure will be very different to that which must inevitably follow if you intend to make them marry4 ,in the first case1 you will have to provide for the stern and unalterable facts of race and religion2 in the second1 for the possibility of their being overcome4 ,to illustrate further1 let me suppose that the ,jewess and the ,gentile youth are ultimately to marry4 ,how will this affect your choice of characters8 ,it will compel you to choose a ,jewess who1 although brought up in the orthodox fashion1 has enough ability and education to appreciate life and thought outside her own immediate circle1 and you must invent facts to account for these things1 even though she still worships at the synagogue4 ,on the other hand1 the ,gentile ,catholic must be a man of liberal tendencies1 or he would never think twice about the ,jewess with the possibility of marrying her4 ,he may persuade himself that he is a good ,catholic1 but you are bound to prepare your readers for actions which1 to say the least1 are not normal in men of such religious profession4 ,the choice of your secondary characters is also determined by the end in view4 ,because your story has to do with ,jews and ,catholics1 that is no reason why your pages should be full of ,jews and priests4 ,you want just as many other people1 in addition to your hero and heroine1 as are necessary to bring about the denouement3 not one more1 not one less4 ,now1 the end in view is to make these young people triumph over their race and their religion2 and over and above the difficulties they have between themselves1 there are difficulties placed by other people4 ,by whom8 ,here is a chance for your inventiveness4 ,i would suggest as a beginning that you create parents for the girl and for the man--orthodox in each case1 and unyielding to the last degree4 ,give them a name1 and put them down on your list4 ,money is likely to figure in a narrative of this kind1 and you might arrange for the opportune entrance of an uncle on the girl's side1 who threatens to alter his will 7at present made in her interest7 if she encourages the advances of her ,gentile lover4 ,on the man's side1 the priest1 of course1 will have something to say1 and you will be compelled to make a place for him4 ,in this way your characters will grow to their complete number1 and ,i should advise you to draw up a list of them1 and opposite each one write a few notes describing the part they will have to play4 ,one word on nomenclature4 ,there is a mystic suitability--at any rate in novels--between a name and a character4 ,to call your marvellous heroine ,annie is to hoist a signal of distress1 unless you have a unique power of characterisation2 and to speak of your hero as ,william is to handicap his movements from the start4 ,i am not pleading for fancy names1 but just for that distinctiveness in choice which the artistic sense decides is fitting4 ,to return4 ,the end in view will also shape the course of events4 ,instead of arranging that these are to be a series of psychological skirmishes between two people the poles asunder 7as would be the case if their relations were superficial71 you have to arrange for events where the characters are in dead earnest4 ,then1 too1 in order to relieve the tense nature of the narrative1 it will be necessary to provide for happenings which1 though not exactly humorous1 are still light enough to distract the attention from the severer aspects of the story4 ,further1 the natural background should be selected with an eye to the main issue1 and each event should have that cumulative effect which ultimately leads the reader on to the climax4 ,of course1 it is possible to take a quite different denouement to the one here considered4 ,you might make the pair desperately in love1 but foiled by some disaster near the end4 ,in this case1 as in the other1 the narrative will1 or ought to1 change its perspective accordingly4 ,sir ,walter ,besant on the ,evolution of a ,plot ,in order to illustrate the subject still further1 ,i quote the following3-- ,consider--say1 a diamond robbery4 ,very well3 then1 first of all1 it must be a robbery committed under exceptional and mysterious conditions1 otherwise there would be no interest in it4 ,also1 you will perceive that the robbery must be a big and important thing--no little shoplifting business4 ,next1 the person robbed must not be a mere diamond merchant1 but a person whose loss will interest the reader1 say1 one to whom the robbery is all-important4 ,she shall be1 say1 a vulgar woman with an overweening pride in her jewels1 and1 of course1 without the money to replace them if they are lost4 ,they must be so valuable as to be worn only on extraordinary occasions1 and too valuable to be kept at home4 ,they must be consigned to the care of a jeweller who has strong rooms4 ,you observe that the story is now growing4 ,you have got the preliminary germ4 ,how can the strong room be entered and robbed8 ,well1 it cannot4 ,that expedient will not do4 ,can the diamonds be taken from the lady while she is wearing them8 ,that would have done in the days of the gallant ,claude ,duval1 but it will not do now4 ,might the house be broken into by a burglar on a night when a lady had worn them and returned8 ,but she would not rest with such a great property in the house unprotected4 ,they must be taken back to their guardian the same night4 ,thus the only vulnerable point in the care of the diamonds seems their carriage to and from their guardian4 ,they must be stolen between the jeweller's and the owner's house4 ,then by whom8 ,the robbery must somehow be connected with the hero of the love story--that is indispensable2 he must be innocent of all complicity in it--that is equally indispensable2 he must preserve our respect2 he will have to be somehow a victim3 how is that to be managed8 ,the story is getting on in earnest4 4 4 4 ,the only way--or the best way--seems1 on consideration1 to make the lover be the person who is entrusted with the carriage of this precious package of jewels to and from their owner's house4 ,this1 however1 is not a very distinguished role to play2 it wants a very skilled hand to interest us in a jeweller's assistant4 4 4 4 ,we must therefore give this young man an exceptional position4 ,force of circumstances1 perhaps1 has compelled him to accept the situation which he holds4 ,he need not1 again1 be a shopman2 he may be a confidential employe1 holding a position of great trust2 and he may be a young man with ambitions outside the narrow circle of his work4 ,the girl to whom he is engaged must be lovable to begin with2 she must be of the same station in life as her lover--that is to say1 of the middle class1 and preferably of the professional class4 ,as to her home circle1 that must be distinctive and interesting4#dc3;,a ,i need not quote any further for my present purpose1 which is to show mental procedure in plot-formation2 but the whole article is full of sound teaching on this and other points4 ,plot-,formation in ,earnest ,you have now obtained your characters1 and a general outline of the events their actions will compass4 ,what comes next8 ,a carefully written-out statement of the story from the beginning to the end2 that is the next step4 ,this story should contain just as much as you would give in outlining the plot to a friend in the course of conversation4 ,it would briefly detail the characters and circumstances of the hero and heroine1 and the events which led to their first meeting each other4 ,you would then describe the ripening of their friendship1 and the gradual growth of social hostility to the idea of a projected union4 ,the psychological transformations1 the domestic infelicities1 the racial animosities--these will find suitable expression in word and action4 ,at last the season of cruel suspense is over1 and the pair have arrived at their great decision4 ,elaborate preventive plans are arranged to frustrate their purpose1 and there is much excitement lest they should succeed2 but when all have done their best1 the two are happily wedded and the story is ended4 ,the exercise of writing out a plain1 unvarnished statement of what you are going to do is one that will enable you to see whether your story has balance or not1 and it will most certainly test its power to interest2 for if in its bald form there is real story in it1 you may well believe that when properly written it will possess the true fascination of fiction4 ,now1 a plot is much like a drama1 and should have a beginning1 a middle1 and an end2 answering roughly to premiss1 argument1 and conclusion4 ,there is no better training in plot-study than the reading of such a book as ,professor ,moulton's ,shakespeare as a ,dramatic ,artist1 in which the author1 with rare critical skill1 exhibits the construction of plots that are an object of never-ceasing wonder4 ,i will dare to reiterate what ,i have said before4 ,take your stand at the end of the story1 and work it out backwards4 ,for an excellent illustration see ,edgar ,allan ,poe's account of how he came to write ,the ,raven 7,appendix ,i474 ,perhaps you object to this kind of literary dissection8 ,you think it spoils the effect of a work of art to be too familiar with its physiology8 ,i do not grant these points2 but even if they are true1 that is no reason why you yourself should be offended by the sight of ropes and pulleys behind the scenes4 ,no2 work out the details from the end1 and not from the beginning4 ,no character and no action should find a place if it contributes nothing towards the denouement4 ,characters first3 ,plot afterwards ,it must not be supposed that a plot always comes first in the constructing of a novel4 ,very often the characters suggest themselves long before the story is even vaguely outlined4 ,nor is there any reason why such a story should be any worse because it did not originate in the usual way4 ,in fact1 the probabilities are that it will be all the better1 on account of its stress upon character1 and the reaction of various characters on each other4 ,i imagine ,jude the ,obscure grew in this fashion4 ,there is no very striking plot in the book2 at any rate not the plot we have in mind when we think of ,the ,moonstone4 ,but if plot means the inevitable evolution of certain men and women in given circumstances1 then there is plot of a high order4 ,in the usual acceptation of the term1 however1 ,jude the ,obscure is a novel of character2 and most probably ,jude existed as a creature of imagination months before it was ever thought he would go to ,oxford1 or have an adventure with ,sue4 ,to many men1 doubtless1 there is far more fascination in conceiving a group of characters in which there are two or three supreme figures1 and then setting to work to discover a narrative which will give them the freest action1 than in toiling over the bare idea1 the subsequent plot1 followed by a series of actors and actresses who work out the denouement4 ,should you belong to this number1 do not hesitate to act accordingly4 ,nothing wooden in style or method finds a place in these pages1 and since some of the finest creations have arisen in the order indicated at the head of this section1 perhaps you are to be congratulated that the work before you will be a living growth rather than a mechanical contrivance4 ,the ,natural ,background ,since your story will presumably be located somewhere on this planet1 the next thing to do is to obtain a thorough knowledge of the places where your characters will display themselves4 ,if the scenes are laid in a district which you know by heart1 you are not likely to go astray2 but more often than not1 the scenes are largely imaginative1 especially in reference to smaller items such as roads1 rivers1 trees1 and woods4 ,the best plan is to follow the example of ,thomas ,hardy1 and draw a map--both geographical and topographical--of the country and the towns in which your hero and heroine1 and subordinate characters1 will appear for the interest of the reader4 ,that individual does not care to be puzzled with semi-miraculous transmittances through space4 ,i read a novel some time ago1 where on one page the heroine was busy shopping in ,london1 and on the next page was--an hour afterwards--quietly having tea with her beloved somewhere in the ,midlands4 ,but the drawing of a map1 and using it closely1 will not merely render such negative assistance as to avoid mistakes of this kind1 it will act positively as a stimulus to creative suggestion4 ,you can follow the lover's jealous rival along the road that leads to the meeting-place with increased imaginative power4 ,that measure of realism which makes the ideal both possible and interesting will come all the more easily1 because the map aids you in following the movements of your characters2 in fact1 if you take this second step with serious resolution1 it will go far to add that piquant something which renders your story a series of life-like happenings4 ,the result will be equally beneficial to the reader4 ,it may be a moot question as to how far the map in ,stevenson's ,treasure ,island deepens the interest of those who read this exciting story1 but in my humble opinion it adds an actuality to the events which is most convincing4 ,mr ,maurice ,hewlett has followed suit in his ,forest ,lovers4 ,i do not say publish your map1 but draw one and use it4 ,a poor story accompanied by a good map would be too ridiculous2 so you had better give all your attention to the narrative1 and leave the publication of maps until later days4 ,,footnotes3 #cc3;,a ,hints to ,novelists1 in ,to-,day1 ,may #h1 #ahig4 #ce3;,a ,fortnightly ,review1 vol4 lvii4 ,n4,s4 p4 #ahg4 #dc3;,a ,besant1 ,on the ,writing of ,novels1 ,atalanta1 vol i4 p4 #cgb4 ,,chapter ,,iv ,,characters ,,and ,,characterisation ,the ,chief ,character ,in the plot previously outlined1 which figure is supreme8 ,it depends4 ,in some senses the supremacy is not a matter of choice1 but is decided by the nature of the story4 ,if the man is making the greater sacrifice1 it means that1 whether you like it or not1 his is the struggle that calls for a larger measure of sympathy2 and you must assign him the chief place4 ,still1 there are circumstances which would justify a departure from this law--something after the fashion of respecting the rights of a minority4 ,but in our projected narrative1 the woman is undoubtedly the supreme character2 for the man's battle is mainly one of religious scruple1 and only secondarily a question of race2 whereas1 the ,jewess has a vigorous conflict with both race and religion4 ,well1 what do you know about women8 ,anything8 ,do you know how their minds work8 how they talk8 what they wear8 and the thousand and one trivialities that go to make up character portrayal8 ,if you do not know these things1 it is a poor look-out for the success of your novel1 and you might as well start another story at once4 ,it may be a disputed question as to whether women understand women better than men3 the point is1 do you understand them8 ,perhaps you know enough for the purposes of a secondary character1 but this ,jewess is to be supreme2 you must know enough to meet the highest demands4 ,where to obtain this knowledge8 ,ah6 ,where6 ,only by studying human lives1 human manners1 human weaknesses--everything human4 ,the life of the world must become your text-book2 as for temperaments1 you should know them by heart2 social influences in their effect on action and outlook1 ought to be within easy comprehension2 and even then1 you will still cry ,mystery6 ,how to ,portray ,character ,the first thing is to realise your characters--i4e4 make them real persons to yourself1 and then you will be more likely to persuade the reader that they are real people4 ,unless this is done1 your hero and heroine will be described as puppets or abstractions4 ,i am not saying the task is easy--in fact1 it is one of the most difficult that the novelist has to face4 ,but there is no profit in shirking it1 and the sooner it is dealt with the better4 ,the history of character representation in drama is full of luminous teaching1 and a study of it cannot be other than highly instructive4 ,in the early ,mystery and ,morality plays1 virtues and vices were each apportioned their respective actors--that is to say1 one man set forth ,good ,counsel1 another ,repentance1 another ,gluttony1 and another ,pride4 ,even so late as ,philip ,massinger's ,a ,new ,way to ,pay ,old ,debts1 we have ,wellborn1 ,justice1 ,greedy1 ,tapwell1 ,froth1 and ,furnace4 ,now this seems very elementary to us1 but it has one great merit3 the audience knew what each character stood for1 and could form an intelligent idea of his place in the piece4 ,in these days we have become more subtle--necessarily so4 ,following the lead of the ,shakespearean dramatists1 we have not described our characters by giving them names--virtuous or otherwise--we let them describe themselves by their speech and action4 ,the essential thing is that we should know our characters intimately1 so intimately that1 although they exist in imagination alone1 they are as real to us as the members of our own family4 ,falstaff never had flesh and blood1 but as ,shakespeare portrayed him1 you feel that you have only to prick him and he will bleed4 ,the historical ,hamlet is a mist2 the ,hamlet of the play is a reality4 ,this power of realisation depends on two things3 ,observation with insight1 and ,sympathy with imagination4 ,observation is a most valuable gift1 but without insight it is likely to work mischief by creating a tendency to write down just what you see and hear4 ,zola's novels too often suggest the note-book4 ,avoid photographing life as you would avoid a dangerous foe4 ,the newspaper reporter can beat you hollow1 for that is his special subject3 life as it is4 ,observe what goes on around you1 but get behind the scenes2 study selfishness and otherness1 and the inter-play of motives1 the conflict of interests which causes this tangle of human affairs--in other words1 obtain an insight into them by asking the why and wherefore4 ,above all1 learn to see with other people's eyes1 and to feel with other people's hearts4 ,for instance1 you may find it needful to attend synagogue-worship in order to obtain a first-hand knowledge of the religion of your ,jewish heroine4 ,when you see the men in silk hats1 and praying-shawls over their shoulders1 you may be tempted to despise ,judaism2 the result being that you determine not to cumber your novel with a description of such nonsense4 ,well1 you will lose one of the most picturesque features of your story2 you will fail to see the part which the synagogue plays in your heroine's mental struggle1 and the portrayal of her character will be sadly defective in consequence4 ,no2 a novelist1 as such1 should have no religion1 no politics1 no social creed2 whatever he believes as a private individual should not interfere with the outgoing of sympathy in constructing the characters he intends to set forth4 ,human nature is a compound of the virtuous and the vicious1 or1 to change the figure1 a perpetual oscillation between flesh and spirit4 ,life is half tragedy and half comedy3 men and women are sometimes wise and often foolish4 ,from this maze of mystery you are to develop new creations1 and actual people are your starting-point1 never your models4 ,methods of ,characterisation ,by characterisation is meant the power to make your ideal persons appear real4 ,it is one thing to make them real to yourself1 and quite another thing to make them real to other people4 ,characterisation needs a union of imaginative and artistic gifts4 ,in this respect1 as in all others1 ,shakespeare is pre-eminent4 ,his characters are alike clear in conception and expression1 and their human quality is just as wonderful as the large scale on which they move1 covering1 as they do1 the entire field of human nature4 ,there are certain well-known methods of characterisation1 and to these ,i propose to devote the remainder of this chapter4 ,the first and most obvious is for the author to describe the character4 ,this is generally recognised as bad art4 ,to say ,she was a very wicked woman1 is like the boy who drew a four-legged animal and wrote underneath1 ,this is a cow4 ,if that boy had succeeded in drawing a cow there would have been no need to label it2 and1 in the same way1 if you succeed in realising and drawing your characters there will be no need to talk about them4 ,the best characterisation never says what a person is2 it shows what he or she is by what they do and say4 ,i do not mean that you must say nothing at all about your creations2 the novels of ,hardy and ,meredith contain a good deal of indirect comment of this kind2 but it is a notable fact that ,hardy's weakest work1 ,a ,laodicean1 contains more comment than any of the others he has written4 ,stevenson aptly said1 ,readers cannot fail to have remarked that what an author tells us of the beauty or the charm of his creatures goes for nought2 that we know instantly better2 that the heroine cannot open her mouth but what1 all in a moment1 the fine phrases of preparation fall from her like the robes of ,cinderella1 and she stands before us as a poor1 ugly1 sickly wench1 or perhaps a strapping market-woman4 ,there is another point to be remembered4 ,if you label a character at the outset as a very humorous person1 the reader prepares himself for a good laugh now and then1 and if you disappoint him--well1 you have lost a reader and gained an adverse critic4 ,to announce beforehand what you are going to do1 and then fail1 is to put a weapon into the hands of those who honour you with a reading4 ,often a single significant detail will throw more light on a character than pages of comment4 ,an example in perfection is the phrase in which ,thackeray tells how ,becky ,crawley1 amid all her guilt and terror1 when her husband had ,lord ,steyne by the throat1 felt a sudden thrill of admiration for ,rawdon's splendid strength4 ,it is like a flash of lightning which shows the deeps of the selfish1 sensual woman's nature4 ,it is no wonder that ,thackeray threw down his pen1 as he confessed that he did1 and cried1 ',that is a stroke of genius4' ,the lesson is plain4 ,don't say what your hero and heroine are3 make them tell their own characters by words and deeds4 ,the ,trick of ,idiosyncrasies ,young writers1 who fail to mark off the individuality of one character from another1 by the strong lines of difference which are found in real life1 endeavour to atone for their incompetency by emphasising physical and mental oddities4 ,this is a mere literary trick4 ,to invest your hero with a squint1 or an irritating habit of blowing his nose continually2 or to make your heroine guilty of using a few funny phrases every time she speaks1 is certainly to distinguish them from the other characters in the book who cannot boast of such excellences1 but it must not be called characterisation4 ,it is a bastard attempt to economise the labour that is necessary to discover individuality of soul and to bring it out in skilful dialogues and carefully chosen situations4 ,another form of the trick of idiosyncrasy is the bald realism of the sensationalist4 ,he persuades himself that he is character-drawing4 ,he is doing nothing of the kind4 ,he takes snap-shots with a literary camera and reproduces direct from the negative4 ,the art of re-touching nature so that it becomes ideal1 is not in his line at all3 the commercial instinct in him is stronger than the artistic1 and he sees more business in realism than in idealism4 ,and what is more1 there is less labour--characters exist ready for use4 ,it is easy to listen to a lively altercation between cabbies in a ,london street1 when language passes that makes one hesitate to strike a match1 and then go home and draw a city driver4 ,you have no need to search for contrasts1 for colour1 for sound1 for passion3 you saw and heard everything at once4 ,but the truth still remains--the seeing of things1 and the hearing of things1 are but the raw material3 where are your new creations8 ,the trick of selecting oddities as a method of characterisation is superficial1 simply because oddities lie upon the surface4 ,you can1 without much difficulty1 construct a dialogue between a blacksmith and a student1 showing how the unlettered man exhibits his ignorance and the scholar his taste4 ,but such a distinction is quite external2 at heart the men may be very much alike4 ,it is one thing to paint the type1 and another to paint the individual4 ,take ,sir ,willoughby ,patterne4 ,he is a man who belongs to the type selfish2 but he is much more than a typically selfish man2 he is an individual4 ,there is a turn in his remarks1 a way of speaking in dialogue1 and a style of doing things which show him to be self-centred1 not in a general way1 but in the particular way of ,sir ,willoughby ,patterne4 ,there is one fact in characterisation for which a due margin should always be made4 ,wilkie ,collins1 you will remember1 says of his ,fosco3 ,the making him fat was an afterthought2 his canaries and his white mice were found next2 and the most valuable discovery of all1 his admiration of ,miss ,halcombe1 took its rise in a conviction that he would not be true to nature unless there was some weak point somewhere in his character4 ,you must provide for these afterthoughts by not being too ready to cast your characters in the final mould4 ,let every personality be in a state of becoming until he has actually come--in all the completeness of appearance1 manner1 speech1 and action4 ,your first conception of the ,jewess may be that of one who possesses the usual physique of her class--short and stout2 but afterwards it may suit your purpose better to make her fairer1 taller1 and slighter1 than the rest of her race4 ,if so1 do not hesitate to undo the work of laborious hours by effecting such an improvement4 ,it will go against the grain1 no doubt2 but novel-writing is a serious business1 and much depends on trifles in accomplishing success2 so do not begrudge the extra toil involved4 99 99 99 99 99 ,characterisation is the finest feature of the novelist's art4 ,here you will have your greatest difficulties1 but1 if you overcome them1 you will have your greatest triumphs4 ,here1 too1 the crying need is a knowledge of human nature4 ,acquire a mastership of this subtle quantity1 and then you may hope for genuine results4 ,of course1 knowledge is not all2 it is in artistic appreciation that true character-drawing consists4 ,,chapter ,v ,,studies ,,in ,,literary ,,technique ,narrative ,art ,david ,pryde has summed up the whole matter in a few well-chosen sentences3 ,keeping the beginning and the end in view1 we set out from the right starting-place1 and go straight towards the destination2 we introduce no event that does not spring from the first cause and tend to the great effect2 we make each detail a link joined to the one going before and the one coming after2 we make1 in fact1 all the details into one entire chain1 which we can take up as a whole1 carry about with us1 and retain as long as we please4#fc3;,a ,how many elements are here referred to8 ,there are plot1 movement1 unity1 proportion1 purpose1 and climax4 ,i have already dealt with some of these1 and now propose to devote a few paragraphs to the rest4 ,unity means unity of effect1 and is first a matter of literary architecture--afterwards a matter of impression4 ,it has been said of ,macbeth that the play moves forward with an absolute regularity2 it is almost architectural in its rise and fall1 in the balance of its parts4 ,the plot is a complex one2 it has an ebb and flow1 a complication and a resolution1 to use technical terms4 ,that is to say1 the fortunes of ,macbeth swoop up to a crisis or turning-point1 and thence down again to a catastrophe4 ,the catastrophe1 of course1 closes the play2 the crisis1 as so often with ,shakespeare1 comes in its exact centre1 in the middle of the middle act1 with the ,escape of ,fleance4 ,hitherto ,macbeth's path has been gilded with success2 now the epoch of failure begins4 ,and the parallelisms and correspondences throughout are remarkable4 ,each act has a definite subject3 ,the ,temptation2 ,the ,first1 ,second1 and ,third ,crimes2 ,the ,retribution4 ,three accidents1 if we may so call them1 help ,macbeth in the first part of the play3 the visit of ,duncan to ,inverness1 his own impulsive murder of the grooms1 the flight of ,malcolm and ,donalbain4 ,and in the second half three accidents help to bring about his ruin3 the escape of ,fleance1 the false prophecy of the witches1 the escape of ,macduff4 ,malcolm and ,macduff at the end answer to ,duncan and ,banquo at the beginning4 ,a meeting with the witches heralds both rise and fall4 ,finally1 each of the crimes is represented in the ,retribution4 ,malcolm1 the son of ,duncan1 and ,macduff1 whose wife and child he slew1 conquer ,macbeth2 ,fleance begets a race that shall reign in his stead4#fe3;,a ,from a construction point of view1 a novel and a play have many points in common2 and although the parallelism of events and characters is not necessary for either1 the account of ,macbeth just given is a good illustration of unity of effect and impression4 ,stevenson's ,kidnapped and ,david ,balfour are good examples of unity of structure4 ,movement ,how many times have you put a novel away with the remark3 ,it drags awfully6 ,the narrative that drags is not worthy of the name4 ,there are a few writers who can go into byways and take the reader with them--,mr ,le ,gallienne1 for instance--but1 as a rule1 the digressive novelist is the one whose book is thrown on to the table with the remark just quoted4 ,a story should be progressive1 not digressive and episodical4 ,hence the importance of movement and suspense4 ,keep your narrative in motion1 and do not let it sleep for a while unless it is of deliberate intention4 ,there is a definite law to be observed--namely1 that as feeling rises higher1 sentences become crisp and shorter2 witness ,acts i4 and ii4 in ,macbeth4 ,suspense1 too1 is an agent in accelerating the forward march of a story4 ,there is no music in a pause1 but it renders great service in giving proper emphasis to music that goes before and comes after it4 ,notice how ,stevenson employs suspense and contrast in ,kidnapped4 ,the sea had gone down1 and the wind was steady and kept the sails quiet1 so that there was a great stillness in the ship1 in which ,i made sure ,i heard the sound of muttering voices4 ,a little after1 and there came a clash of steel upon the deck1 by which ,i knew they were dealing out the cutlasses1 and one had been let fall2 and after that silence again4 ,these little touches are capable of affecting the entire interest of the whole story1 and should receive careful attention4 ,aids to ,description ,,the ,,point ,,of ,,view ,so much has been said in praise of descriptive power1 that it will not be amiss if ,i repeat one or two opinions which1 seemingly1 point the other way4 ,gray1 in a letter to ,west1 speaks of describing as an ill habit that will wear off2 and ,disraeli said description was always a bore both to the describer and the describee4 ,to some1 these authorities may not be of sufficient weight4 ,will they listen to ,robert ,louis ,stevenson8 ,he says that no human being ever spoke of scenery for above two minutes at a time1 which makes one suspect we hear too much of it in literature4 ,these remarks will save us from that description-worship which is a sort of literary influenza4 ,the first thing to be determined in descriptive art is the point of view4 ,suppose you are standing on an eminence commanding a wide stretch of plain with a river winding through it4 ,what does the river look like8 ,a silver thread2 and so you would describe it4 ,but if you stood close to the brink and looked back to the eminence on which you stood previously1 you would no longer speak of a silver thread1 simply because now your point of view is changed4 ,the principle is elementary enough1 and there is no need to dwell upon it further1 except to quote an illustration from ,blackmore3 ,for she stood at the head of a deep green valley1 carved from out the mountains in a perfect oval1 with a fence of sheer rock standing round it1 eighty feet or a hundred high1 from whose brink black wooded hills swept up to the skyline4 ,by her side a little river glided out from underground with a soft1 dark babble1 unawares of daylight2 then growing brighter1 lapsed away1 and fell into the valley4 ,then1 as it ran down the meadow1 alders stood on either marge1 and grass was blading out of it1 and yellow tufts of rushes gathered1 looking at the hurry4 ,but further down1 on either bank1 were covered houses built of stone1 square1 and roughly covered1 set as if the brook were meant to be the street between them4 ,only one room high they were1 and not placed opposite each other1 but in and out as skittles are2 only that the first of all1 which proved to be the captain's was a sort of double house1 or rather two houses joined together by a plank-bridge over the river4#fi3;,a ,,selecting ,,the ,,main ,,features ,the fundamental principle of all art is selection1 and nowhere is it seen to better advantage than in description4 ,a battle1 a landscape1 or a mental agony1 can only be described artistically1 in so far as the writer chooses the most characteristic features for presentation4 ,in the following passage ,george ,eliot states the law and keeps it4 ,she had time to remark that he was a peculiar-looking person1 but not insignificant1 which was the quality that most hopelessly consigned a man to perdition4 ,he was massively built4 ,the striking points in his face were large1 clear1 grey eyes1 and full lips4 ,suppose for a moment that the reader were told about the pattern and hang of the hero's trousers1 his waistcoat and his coat1 and that information was given respecting the number of links in his watch-chain1 and the exact depth of his double chin--what would have been the effect from an artistic point of view8 ,failure--for instead of getting a description alive with interest1 we should get a catalogue wearisome in its multiplicity of detail4 ,a certain author once thought ,homer was niggardly in describing ,helen's charms1 so he endeavoured to atone for the great poet's shortcomings in the following manner3--,she was a woman right beautiful1 with fine eyebrows1 of clearest complexion1 beautiful cheeks2 comely1 with large1 full eyes1 with snow-white skin1 quick glancing1 graceful2 a grove filled with graces1 fair-armed1 voluptuous1 breathing beauty undisguised4 ,the complexion fair1 the cheek rosy1 the countenance pleasing1 the eye blooming1 a beauty unartificial1 untinted1 of its natural colour1 adding brightness to the brightest cherry1 as if one should dye ivory with resplendent purple4 ,her neck long1 of dazzling whiteness1 whence she was called the swan-born1 beautiful ,helen4 ,after reading this can you form a distinct idea of ,helen's beauty8 ,we think not4 ,the details are too many1 the language too exuberant1 and the whole too much in the form of a catalogue4 ,it would have been better to select a few of what ,george ,eliot calls the striking points1 and present them with taste and skill4 ,as it is1 the attempt to improve on ,homer has resulted in a description which1 for detail and minuteness1 is like the enumeration of the parts of a new motor-car--indeed1 that is the true sphere of description by detail1 where1 as in all matters mechanical1 fulness and accuracy are demanded4 ,in ,mariana1 ,tennyson refers to no more facts than are necessary to emphasise her great loneliness3 ,with blackest moss the flower-pots ,were thickly crusted1 one and all2 ,the rusted nails fell from the knots ,that held the pear to the gable wall4 ,the broken sheds looked sad and strange3 ,unlifted was the clinking latch2 ,weeded and worn the ancient thatch ,upon the lonely moated grange4 ,in ordering such details as may be chosen to represent an event1 idea1 or person1 it is the rule to proceed from the near to the remote1 and from the obvious to the obscure4 ,homer thus describes a shield as smooth1 beautiful1 brazen1 and well-hammered--that is1 he gives the particulars in the order in which they would naturally be observed4 ,homer's method is also one of epithet3 the far-darting ,apollo1 swift-footed ,achilles1 wide-ruling ,agamemnon1 white-armed ,hera1 and bright-eyed ,athene4 ,now it is but a step from this giving of epithets to what is called ,,description ,,by ,,suggestion ,when ,hawthorne speaks of the black1 moody brow of ,septimus ,felton1 it is really suggestion by the use of epithet4 ,dickens took the trouble to enumerate the characteristics of ,mrs ,gamp one by one2 but he succeeded in presenting ,mrs ,fezziwig by simply saying1 ,in came ,mrs ,fezziwig1 one vast substantial smile4 ,this latter method differs from the former in almost every possible way4 ,the enumeration of details becomes wearisome unless very cleverly handled1 whereas the suggestive method unifies the writer's impressions1 thereby saving the reader's mental exertions and heightening his pleasures4 ,he tells us how things and persons impress him1 and prefers to indicate rather than describe4 ,thus ,dickens refers to a full-sized1 sleek1 well-conditioned gentleman in a blue coat with bright buttons1 and a white cravat4 ,this gentleman had a very red face1 as if an undue proportion of the blood in his body had been squeezed into his head2 which perhaps accounted for his having also the appearance of being rather cold about the heart4 ,lowell says of ,chaucer1 ,sometimes he describes amply by the merest hint1 as where the ,friar1 before sitting himself down1 drives away the cat4 ,we know without need of more words that he has chosen the snuggest corner4 ,notice how succinctly ,blackmore delineates a natural fact1 ,and so in a sorry plight ,i came to an opening in the bushes where a great black pool lay in front of me1 whitened with snow 7as ,i thought7 at the sides1 till ,i saw it was only foam-froth1 4 4 4 and the look of this black pit was enough to stop one from diving into it1 even on a hot summer's day1 with sunshine on the water2 ,i mean if the sun ever shone there4 ,as it was1 ,i shuddered and drew back2 not alone at the pool itself1 and the black air there was about it1 but also at the whirling manner1 and wisping of white threads upon it in stripy circles round and round2 and the centre still as jet4#ge3;,a ,hardy's description of ,egdon ,heath is too well known to need remark2 it is a classic of its kind4 ,robert ,louis ,stevenson possessed the power of suggestion to a high degree4 ,an ivory-faced and silver-haired old woman opened the door4 ,she had an evil face1 smoothed with hypocrisy1 but her manners were excellent4 ,to advise a young writer to imitate ,stevenson would be absurd1 but perhaps ,i may be permitted to say3 study ,stevenson's method1 from the blind man in ,treasure ,island1 to ,kirstie in ,the ,weir of ,hermiston4 ,,facts ,,to ,,remember ,it is a peculiarity of ,walter ,scott1 says ,goethe1 that his great talent in representing details often leads him into faults4 ,thus in ',ivanhoe' there is a scene where they are seated at a table in a castle-hall1 at night1 and a stranger enters4 ,now he is quite right in describing the stranger's appearance and dress1 but it is a fault that he goes to the length of describing his feet1 shoes and stockings4 ,when we sit down in the evening and someone comes in1 we notice only the upper part of his body4 ,if ,i describe the feet1 daylight enters at once and the scene loses its nocturnal character4 ,and yet ,scott in some respects was a master of description--witness his picture of ,norham ,castle and of the ravine of ,greeta between ,rokeby and ,mortham4 ,but ,goethe's criticism is justified notwithstanding4 ,never write more than can be said of a man or a scene when regarded from the surrounding circumstances of light and being4 ,ruskin is never tired of saying1 ,draw what you see4 ,in the ,fighting ,temeraire1 ,turner paints the old warship as if it had no rigging4 ,it was there in its proper place1 but the artist could not see it1 and he refused to put it in his picture if1 at the distance1 it was not visible4 ,when you see birds fly1 you do not see any feathers1 says ,mr ,w4 ,m4 ,hunt4 ,you are not to draw reality1 but reality as it appears to you4 ,avoid the pathetic fallacy4 ,kingsley1 in ,alton ,locke1 says3 ,they rowed her in across the rolling foam-- ,the cruel crawling foam1 on which ,ruskin remarks1 ,the foam is not cruel1 neither does it crawl4 ,the state of mind which attributes to it these characteristics of a living creature is one in which the reason is unhinged by grief4 ,all violent feelings have the same effect4 ,they produce in us a falseness in all our impressions of external things4 99 99 99 99 99 ,perhaps the secret of all accurate description is a trained eye4 ,do you know how a cab-driver mounts on to the box1 or the shape of a coal-heaver's mouth when he cries ,coal68 ,do you know how a wood looks in early spring as distinct from its precise appearance in summer1 or how a man uses his eyes when concealing feelings of jealousy8 or a woman when hiding feelings of love8 ,observation with insight1 and ,imagination with sympathy2 these are the great necessities in every department of novel-writing4 ,,footnotes3 #fc3;,a ,studies in ,composition1 p4 #bf4 #fe3;,a ,e4 ,k4 ,chambers' ,macbeth1 pp4 #be1 #bf4 ,the ,warwick ,shakespeare4 #fi3;,a ,lorna ,doone4 #ge3;,a ,lorna ,doone4 ,,chapter ,,vi ,,studies ,,in ,,literary ,,technique ,colour3 ,local and ,otherwise ,one morning you opened your paper and found that ,mr ,simon ,st ,clair had gone into ,wales in search of local colour4 ,what does local colour mean8 ,the appearance of the country1 the dress and language of the people1 all that distinguishes the particular locality from others near and remote--is local colour4 ,take ,kipling's ,mandalay as an illustration4 ,he speaks of the ringing temple bell1 of the garlic smells1 and the dawn that comes up like thunder2 there are elephants piling teak1 and all the special details of the particular locality find a characteristic expression4 ,for what reason8 ,well1 local colour renders two services to literature2 it makes very often a pleasing or a striking picture in itself2 and it is used by the author to bring out special features in his story4 ,kipling's underlying idea comes to the surface when he says that a man who has lived in the ,east always hears the ,east a-callin' him back again4 ,there is deep pathos in the idea alone2 but when it is set in the external characteristics of ,eastern life1 one locality chosen to set forth the rest1 and stated in language that few can equal1 the entire effect is very striking4 ,whenever local colour is of picturesque quality there is a temptation to substitute word-painting for the story4 ,the desire for novelty is at the bottom of a good deal of modern extravagance in this direction1 but the truth still remains that local colour has an important function to discharge--namely1 to increase the artistic value of good narrative by suggesting the environment of the dramatis personae4 ,you must have noticed the opening chapters of ,the ,scarlet ,letter4 ,why all this careful detailing of the ,customs ,house1 the manners and the talk of the people8 ,for no other reason than that just given4 ,but there is another use of colour in literary composition4 ,perhaps ,i can best illustrate my purpose by quoting from an interview with ,james ,lane ,allen1 who certainly ought to know what he is talking about4 ,the author of ,the ,choir ,invisible1 and ,summer in ,arcady1 occupies a position in ,fiction which makes his words worth considering4 ,said ,mr ,allen to the interviewer3#ha3;,a ,a friend of mine--a painter--had just finished reading some little thing that ,i had succeeded in having published in the ,century4 ',what do you think of it8' ,i asked him4 ',tell me frankly what you like and what you don't like4' ',it's interestingly told1 dramatic1 polished1 and all that1 ,allen1' was his reply1 'but why in the world did you neglect such an opportunity to drop in some colour here1 and at this point1 and there8' ,it came over me like that1 said the ,kentuckian1 snapping his fingers1 that words indicating colours can be manipulated by the writer just as pigments are by the painter4 ,i never forgot the lesson4 ,and now when ,i describe a landscape1 or a house1 or a costume1 ,i try to put it into such words that an artist can paint the scene from my words4 ,evidently ,mr ,allen learned his lesson long ago1 but it is one every writer should study carefully4 ,mr ,baring ,gould also gives his experience4 ,in one of my stories ,i sketched a girl in a white frock leaning against a sunny garden wall1 tossing guelder-roses4 ,i had some burnished gold-green flies on the old wall1 preening in the sun2 so1 to complete the scene1 ,i put her on gold-green leather shoes1 and made the girl's eyes of much the same hue4 ,thus we had a picture where the colour was carried through1 and1 if painted1 would have been artistic and satisfying4 ,a red sash would have spoiled all1 so ,i gave her one that was green4 ,so we had the white dress1 the guelder-rose-balls greeny-white1 and through the ranges of green-gold were led up to her hair1 which was red-gold4 ,i lay some stress on this formation of picture in tones of colour1 because it pleases myself when writing--it satisfies my artistic sense4 ,a thousand readers may not observe it2 but those who have any art in them will at once receive therefrom a pleasing impression4#hc3;,a ,these two testimonies make the matter very plain4 ,if anything is needed it is a more practical illustration taken direct from a book4 ,for this purpose ,i have chosen a choice piece from ,george ,du ,maurier's ,peter ,ibbetson1 a book that was half-killed by the ,trilby boom4 ,before us lies a sea of fern1 gone a russet-brown from decay1 in which are isles of dark green gorse1 and little trees with scarlet and orange and lemon-coloured leaflets fluttering down1 and running after each other on the bright grass1 under the brisk west wind which makes the willows rustle1 and turn up the whites of their leaves in pious resignation to the coming change4 ,harrow-on-the-,hill1 with its pointed spire1 rises blue in the distance2 and distant ridges1 like the receding waves1 rise into blueness1 one after the other1 out of the low-lying mist2 the last ridge bluely melting into space4 ,in the midst of it all1 gleams the ,welsh ,harp ,lake1 like a piece of sky that has become unstuck and tumbled into the landscape with its shiny side up4 ,what ,about ,dialect8 ,dialect is local colour individualised4 ,ian ,maclaren1 in ,the ,bonnie ,brier ,bush1 following in the wake of ,crockett and ,barrie1 has given us the dialect of ,scotland3 ,baring ,gould and a host of others have provided us with dialect stories of ,english counties2 ,jane ,barlow and several ,irish writers deal with the sister island2 ,wales has not been forgotten2 and the ,american novelists have their big territory mapped out into convenient sections4 ,soon the acreage of locality literature will have been completely written up2 ,i do not say its yielding powers will have been exhausted1 for1 as with other species of local colour1 dialect has had to suffer at the hands of the imitator who dragged dialect into his paltry narrative for its own sake1 and to give him the opportunity of providing the reader with a glossary4 ,the reason why dialect-stories were so popular some time ago is twofold4 ,first1 dialect imparts a flavour to a narrative1 especially when it is in contrast to educated utterances on the part of other characters4 ,but the chief reason is that dialect people have more character than other people--as a rule4 ,they afford greater scope for literary artistry than can be found in life a stage or two higher1 with its correctness and artificiality4 ,st ,beuve said1 ,all peasants have style4 ,yes2 that is the truth exactly4 ,there is an individuality about the peasant that is absent from the town-dweller1 and this fact explains the piquancy of many novels that owe their popularity to the representations of the rustic population4 ,the dialect story1 or novel1 cannot hope for permanency unless it contains elements of universal interest4 ,the emphasis laid on a certain type of speech stamps such a literary production with the brand of narrowness4 ,i understand that ,ian ,maclaren has been translated into ,french4 ,can you imagine ,drumsheugh in ,gallic8 or ,jamie ,soutar8 ,never4 ,only that which is literature in the highest sense can be translated into another language2 hence the life of corners in ,scotland1 or elsewhere1 has no special interest for the world in general4 ,the rule as to dealing with dialect is quite simple4 ,never use the letters of the alphabet to reproduce the sound of such language in a literal manner4 ,suggest dialect2 that is all4 ,have nothing to do with glossaries4 ,people hate dictionaries1 however brief1 when they read fiction4 ,george ,eliot and ,thomas ,hardy are good models of the wise use of county speech4 ,on ,dialogue ,in making your characters talk1 it should be your aim not to reproduce their conversation1 but to indicate it4 ,here1 as elsewhere1 the first principle of all art is selection1 and from the many words which you have heard your characters use1 you must choose those that are typical in view of the purpose you have in hand4 ,i once had a letter from a youthful novelist1 in which he said3 ,it's splendid to write a story4 ,i make my characters say what ,i like--swear1 if necessary--and all that4 ,now you can't make your characters say what you like2 you are obliged to make them say what is in keeping with their known dispositions1 and with the circumstances in which they are placed at the time of speaking4 ,if you know your characters intimately1 you will not put wise words into the mouth of a clown1 unless you have suitably provided for such a surprise2 neither will you write long speeches for the sullen villain who is to be the human devil of the narrative4 ,remember1 therefore1 that the key to propriety and effectiveness in writing is the knowledge of those ideal people whom you are going to use in your pages4 ,windiness and irrelevancy are the twin evils of conversations in fiction4 ,trollope says1 ,it is so easy to make two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer presumes himself to be conversant6 ,literature1 philosophy1 politics1 or sport may be handled in a loosely discursive style2 and the writer1 while indulging himself1 is apt to think he is pleasing the reader4 ,i think he can make no greater mistake4 ,the dialogue is generally the most agreeable part of a novel2 but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to the telling of the main story4 ,it need not be confined to this1 but it should always have a tendency in that direction4 ,the unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe4 ,when a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind1 he at once feels that he is being cheated into taking something that he did not bargain to accept when he took up the novel4 ,he does not at that moment require politics or philosophy1 but he wants a story4 ,he will not1 perhaps1 be able to say in so many words that at some point the dialogue has deviated from the story2 but when it does1 he will feel it4#hh3;,a ,a word or two as to what kind of dialogue assists in telling the main story may not be amiss4 ,return to the suggested plot of the ,jewess and the ,roman ,catholic4 ,what are they to talk about8 ,anything that will assist their growing intimacy1 that will bring out the peculiar personalities of both1 and contribute to the development of the narrative4 ,in a previous section ,i said that the denouement decided the selection of your characters2 in some respects it will also decide the topics of their conversation4 ,certain events have to be provided for1 in order that they may be both natural and inevitable1 and it becomes your duty to create incidents and introduce dialogue which will lead up to these events4 ,with reference to models for study1 advice is difficult to give4 ,quite a gallery of masters would be needed for the purpose1 as there are so many points in one which are lacking in another4 ,besides1 a great novelist may have eccentricities in dialogue1 and be quite normal in other respects4 ,george ,meredith is as artificial in dialogue as he is in the use of phrases pure and simple1 and yet he succeeds1 in spite of defects1 not by them4 ,here is a sample from ,the ,egoist3 ,have you walked far to-day8 ,nine and a half hours4 ,my ,flibbertigibbet is too much for me at times1 and ,i had to walk off my temper4 ,all those hours were required8 ,not quite so long4 ,you are training for your ,alpine tour8 ,it's doubtful whether ,i shall get to the ,alps this year4 ,i leave the ,hall1 and shall probably be in ,london with a pen to sell4 ,willoughby knows that you leave him8 ,as much as ,mont ,blanc knows that he is going to be climbed by a party below4 ,he sees a speck or two in the valley4 ,he has spoken of it4 ,he would attribute it to changes4 ,i need not discuss how far this advances the novelist's narrative1 but it is plain that it is not a model for the beginner4 ,for smartness and point nothing could be better than ,anthony ,hope's ,dolly ,dialogues1 although the style is not necessarily that of a novel4 ,points in ,conversation ,never allow the reader to be in doubt as to who is speaking4 ,when he has to turn back to discover the speaker's identity1 you may be sure there is something wrong with your construction4 ,you need not quote the speaker's name in order to make it plain that he is speaking3 all that is needed is a little attention to the said ,james and replied ,susan of your dialogues4 ,when once these two have commenced to talk1 they can go on in catechism form for a considerable period4 ,but if a third party chimes in1 a more careful disposition of names is called for4 ,beginners very often have a good deal of trouble with their saids1 replieds1 and answereds4 ,here1 again1 a little skilful manoevring will obviate the difficulty4 ,this is a specimen of third-class style4 ,i'm off on ,monday1 said he4 ,not really1 said she4 ,yes1 ,i have only come to say goodbye1 said he4 ,shall you be gone long8 asked she4 ,that depends1 said he4 ,i should like to know what takes you away1 said she4 ,i daresay1 said he1 smiling4 ,i shouldn't wonder if ,i know1 said she4 ,i daresay you might guess1 said he4 ,could anything be more wooden than this perpetual said he1 said she1 which ,i have accentuated by putting into italics8 ,now1 observe the difference when you read the following3-- ,observed ,silver4 ,cried the ,cook4 ,returned ,morgan4 ,said ,another4 ,agreed ,silver4 ,said the fellow with the bandage4 ,there is no lack of suitable verbs for dialogue purposes--remarked1 retorted1 inquired1 demanded1 murmured1 grumbled1 growled1 sneered1 explained1 and a host more4 ,without a ready command of such a vocabulary you cannot hope to give variety to your character-conversations1 and1 what is of graver importance1 you will not be able to bring out the essential qualities of such remarks as you introduce4 ,for instance1 to put a sarcastic utterance into a man's mouth1 and then to write down that he replied with those words is not half so effective as to say he sneered them4#ic3;,a ,probably you will be tempted to comment on your dialogue as you write by insinuating remarks as to actions1 looks1 gestures1 and the like4 ,this is a good temptation1 so far1 but it has its dangers4 ,the ancient ,hebrew writer1 in telling the story of ,hezekiah1 said that ,isaiah went to the king with these words3 ,set thine house in order3 for thou shalt die and not live4 ,and ,hezekiah turned his face to the wall--and prayed4 ,if you can make a comment as dramatic and forceful as that1 make it4 ,but avoid useless and uncalled-for remarks1 and remember that you really want nothing1 not even a fine epigram1 which fails to contribute to the main purpose4 ,atmosphere ,it will not be inappropriate to close this chapter with a few words on what is called atmosphere4 ,the word is often met with in the vocabulary of the reviewer2 he is marvellously keen in scenting atmospheres4 ,perhaps an illustration may be the best means of exposition4 ,the reviewer is speaking of ,maeterlinck's ,alladine and ,palomides1 ,interior1 and ,the ,death of ,tintagiles4 ,he says1 ,we find in them the same strange atmosphere to which we had grown accustomed in ',pelleas' and ',l',intruse4' ,we are in a region of no fixed plane--a region that this world never saw4 ,it is a region such as ,arnold ,boecklin1 perhaps1 might paint1 and many a child describe4 ,a castle stands upon a cliff4 ,endless galleries and corridors and winding stairs run through it4 ,beneath lie vast grottoes where subterranean waters throw up unearthly light from depths where seaweed grows4 ,this is very true1 and put into bald language it means that ,maeterlinck has succeeded in creating an artistic environment for his weird characters2 it is the setting in which he has placed them4 ,in the first scene of ,hamlet1 ,shakespeare creates the necessary atmosphere to introduce the events that are to follow4 ,the soldiers on guard are concerned and afraid2 the reader is thereby prepared1 step by step1 for the reception of the whole situation2 everything that will strengthen the impression of a coming fatality is seized by a master hand1 and made to do service in creating an atmosphere of such expectant quality4 ,an artist by nature will select intuitively the persons and facts he needs2 but there is no reason why a study of these necessities1 a slow and careful pondering1 should not at last succeed in alighting upon the precise and inevitable details which delicately and subtly produce the desired result4 ,in this sense the matter can hardly be called a minor detail1 but the expression has been sufficiently guarded4 ,,footnotes3 #ha3;,a ,shuman1 ,steps into ,journalism1 p4 #bja4 #hc3;,a ,the ,art of ,writing ,fiction1 p4 #dj4 #hh3;,a ,autobiography1 vol4 ii4 p4 #eh4 #ic3;,a ,see ,bates' ,talks on ,writing ,english4 ,an excellent manual1 to which ,i am indebted for ideas and suggestions4 ,,chapter ,,vii ,,pitfalls ,items of ,general ,knowledge ,i propose to show in this chapter that a literary artist can never afford to despise details4 ,he may have genius enough to write a first-rate novel1 and sell it rapidly in spite of real blemishes1 but if a work of art is worth doing at all1 it is worth doing well4 ,no writer is any the better for slovenly inaccuracy4 ,take the details of everyday life4 ,do you suppose you are infallible in these commonplace things8 ,if so1 be undeceived at once4 ,it is simply marvellous with what ease a mistake will creep into your narrative4 ,even ,mr ,zangwill once made a hansom cab door to open with a handle from the inside1 and the mistake appeared in six editions1 escaping the reviewers1 and was quietly altered by the author in the seventh4 ,there is nothing particularly serious about an error of this kind2 but at the same time1 where truth to fact is so simple a matter1 why not give the fact as it is8 ,trivialities may not interfere with the power of the story1 but they often attach an ugliness1 or a smack of the ridiculous1 which cannot but hinder1 to some extent1 the beauty of otherwise good work4 ,mistakes such as that just referred to1 arise1 in most instances1 out of the passion and feeling in which the novelist advances his narrative4 ,the detail connected with the opening of the hansom door 7doors7 was nothing to ,mr ,zangwill1 compared to the person who opened it4 ,i should advise you1 therefore1 to master all the necessary minutiae of travelling1 if your hero and heroine are going abroad2 of city life if you take them to the theatre for amusement--in fact1 of every environment in which imagination may place them4 ,then1 when all your work is done1 read what has been written with the microscopic eyes of a ,flaubert4 ,specific ,subjects ,for instance1 the plot suggested in the previous chapters deals with ,judaism4 ,now1 if you don't know ,jewish life through and through1 it is the height of foolishness to attempt to write a novel about it4 7,the same remark applies to ,roman ,catholicism47 ,you will find it necessary to study the ,bible and ,hebrew history2 and when you have mastered the literature of the subject and caught its spirit1 you will turn your attention to the sacred people as they exist to-day--their isolation1 their wealth1 their synagogues1 and their psychological peculiarities4 ,does this seem to be too big a programme8 ,well1 if you are to present a living and truthful picture of the ,jewess and her surroundings1 you can only succeed by going through such a programme2 whereas1 if you skip the hard preparatory work you will bungle in the use of ,hebrew terms1 and when you make the ,rabbi drop the scroll through absent-mindedness1 you will very likely say that the congregation looked on half-amused and half-wondering4 ,just visit a synagogue when the ,rabbi happens to drop the scroll4 ,the congregation would be horribly shocked4 ,the same law applies whatever be your subject4 ,if you intend to follow a prevailing fashion and depict slum life1 you will have to spend a good deal of time in those unpleasant regions1 not only to know them in their outward aspects1 but to know them in their inward and human features4 ,even then something important may escape you1 with the result that you fall into error1 and the expert enjoys a quiet giggle at your expense2 but you will have some consolation in the thought that you spared no pains in the diligent work of preparation4 ,perhaps your novel will take the reader into aristocratic circles4 ,pray do not make the attempt if you are not thoroughly acquainted with the manners and customs of such circles4 ,ignorance will surely betray you1 and in describing a dinner1 or an ,at ,home1 you will raise derisive laughter by suggesting the details of a most impossible meal1 or spoil your heroine by making her guilty of atrocious etiquette4 ,the remedy is close at hand3 know your subject4 ,topography and ,geography ,watch your topography and geography4 ,have you never read novels where the characters are made to walk miles of country in as many minutes8 ,in fairy tales we rather like these extraordinary creatures--their startling performances have a charm we should be sorry to part with4 ,but in the higher world of fiction1 where ideal things should appear as real as possible1 we decidedly object to miraculous journeys1 especially1 as in most instances1 it is plainly a mistake in calculation on the part of the writer4 ,of course the writer is occasionally placed in an awkward position4 ,a dramatic episode is about to take place1 or1 more correctly1 the author wishes it to take place1 but the characters have been dispersed about the map1 and time and distance conspire against the author's purpose4 ,it is madness to blur the positions and risk the reader's acuteness1 but it is almost equally unfortunate to fail in observing the difficulty1 and write on in blissful ignorance of the fact that nature's laws have been set at defiance4 ,the drawing of a map1 as before suggested1 will obviate all these troubles4 ,should you depict a lover's scene in ,india1 take care not to describe it as occurring in beautiful twilight4 ,it is quite possible to know that darkness follows sunset1 and yet to forget it in the moment of writing2 but a good writer is never caught napping in these matters4 ,if you don't know ,india1 choose ,cairo1 about which1 after half-a-dozen lengthened visits1 you can speak with certainty4 ,scientific ,facts ,what a nuisance the weather is to many novelists4 ,some triumph over their difficulties2 a few contribute to our amusement4 ,the meteorology of fiction would be a fascinating study4 ,in second-rate productions1 it is astonishing to witness the ease with which the weather is ordered about4 ,the writer makes it rain when he thinks the incidents of a downpour will enliven the narrative1 forgetting that the movement of the story1 as previously stated1 requires a blue sky and a shining sun2 or he contrives to have the wind blowing in two or three directions at once4 ,the sun and the moon require careful manipulation4 ,at the beginning of a novel1 the room of an invalid is said to have a window looking directly towards the east2 but at the end of the book when the invalid dies1 the author1 wishing to make him depart this life in a flood of glory1 suffuses this eastern-windowed room with the red glare of the setting sun4 ,the detail may appear unimportant1 but it is not so1 and a few hours devoted to notes on these minor points would save all the unpleasantness and ridicule which such mistakes too frequently bring4 ,the reviewer loves to descant on the peculiar cosmology and physical science of the volume before us4 ,the moon is most unfortunate4 ,mrs ,humphry ,ward confesses that she never knows when to make the moon rise1 and obtains ,miss ,ward's assistance in all astronomical references4 ,this is1 of course1 a pleasant exaggeration1 but it shows that no venture should be made in science without being perfectly sure of your ground4 ,grammar ,grammar is the most dangerous of all pitfalls4 ,suppose you read your novel through1 and check each sentence4 ,after weary toil you are ready to offer a prize of one guinea to the man who can show you a mistake4 ,when the full list of errors is drawn up by an expert grammarian1 you are glad that offer was not made1 for your guineas would have been going too quickly4 ,in everyday conversation you speak as other people do--having a special hatred of painful accuracy1 otherwise called pedantry2 and as you frequently hear the phrase3 ,those sort of people are never nice1 it does not strike you as being incorrect when you read it in your proof-sheets4 ,or somebody refers to a theatrical performance1 and regretting his inability to be present1 says1 ,i should like to have gone1 but could not4 ,so often is the phrase used in daily speech1 that its sound 7when you read your book aloud7 does not suggest anything erroneous4 ,and yet if you wish your reader to know that you are a good grammarian1 you will not be ashamed to revise your grammar and say1 ,i should have liked to go1 but could not4 ,these are simple instances3 there are hundreds more4 ,reviewing all that has been said in this chapter1 the one conclusion is that the novelist must be a man of knowledge2 he must know the ,english language from base to summit2 and whatever references he makes to science1 art1 history1 theology1 or any other subject1 he should have what is expected of writers in these specific departments--accuracy4 ,,chapter ,,viii ,,the ,,secret ,,of ,,style ,communicable ,elements ,one can readily sympathise with the melancholy of a man who1 after reading ,de ,quincey1 ,macaulay1 ,addison1 ,lamb1 ,pater1 and ,stevenson1 found that literary style was still a mystery to him4 ,he was obliged to confess that the secret of style is with them that have it4 ,his main difficulty1 however1 was to reconcile this conviction with the advice of a learned friend who urged him to study the best models if he would attain a good style4 ,was style communicable8 or was it not8 ,now of all questions relating to this subject1 this is the most pertinent1 and1 if ,i may say so1 the only real question4 ,it is the easiest thing in the world to tell a student about ,flaubert and ,guy de ,maupassant1 about ,tolstoi and ,turgenieff1 but no quantity of advice as to reading is of much avail unless the preliminary question just referred to is intelligently answered4 ,the so-called stylists of all ages may be carefully read from beginning to end1 and yet style will not disclose its secret4 ,such a course of reading could not but be beneficial2 to live among the lovely things of literature would develop the taste and educate appreciation2 the reader would be quick to discern beauty when he saw it1 but the art of producing it other than by deliberate imitation of known models would be still a mystery4 ,is style communicable8 ,the answer is ,yes and ,no2 in some senses it is1 in others it is not4 ,let us deal with the affirmative side first4 ,this concerns all points of grammar and composition without which the story would not be clear and forcible4 ,no writer can make a corner in the facts of grammar and composition2 it is impossible to appropriate them individually to the exclusion of everybody else2 and since style depends to some extent on a knowledge of those rules which govern the use of language1 it follows that there are certain elements which are open to all who are willing to learn them4 ,for instance1 there is the study of words4 ,how often do we hear it said of a certain novelist that he uses the right word with unerring accuracy4 ,and this is regarded as an important feature in his style2 therefore words and their uses should have a prominent place in your programme4 ,in ,the ,silverado ,squatters1 ,stevenson represents himself as carrying a pail of water up a hill3 the water lipping over the side1 and a quivering sunbeam in the midst4 ,the words in italics are the exact words wanted2 no others could possibly set forth the facts with greater accuracy4 ,stevenson was a diligent word-student1 and had a certain knowledge of their dynamic and suggestive qualities4 ,the right word6 ,how shall we find it8 ,sometimes it will come with the thought2 more often we must seek it4 ,landor says3 ,i hate false words1 and seek with care1 difficulty1 and moroseness those that fit the thing4 ,what could be stronger than the language of ,guy de ,maupassant8 ,whatever the thing we wish to say there is but one word to express it1 but one verb to give it movement1 but one adjective to qualify it4 ,we must seek till we find this noun1 this verb1 this adjective1 and never allow ourselves to play tricks1 even happy ones1 or have recourse to sleights of language to avoid a difficulty4 ,the subtlest things may be rendered and suggested by applying the hint conveyed in ,boileau's line1 ',he taught the power of a word in the right place4' ,in similar vein1 ,professor ,raleigh remarks1 ,let the truth be said outright3 there are no synonyms1 and the same statement can never be repeated in a changed form of words4 ,the number of words used is another consideration4 ,when ,phil ,may has drawn a picture he proceeds to make erasures here and there with a view to retaining wholeness of effect by the least possible number of lines4 ,there is a similar excellence in literature1 the literature where there is not a superfluous word4 ,oh1 the gasiness of many a modern novel--pages and pages of so-called style1 word-painting1 and description4 ,the conclusion of the matter is this3 the right number of words1 and each word in its place4 ,frederic ,schlegel used to say that in good prose every word should be underlined2 as if he had said that the interpretation of a sentence should not depend on the manner in which it is read4 ,it is also highly necessary that the would-be stylist should be a student of sentences and paragraphs4 ,surprising as it may seem1 it is nevertheless true that many aspirants after literary success never give these matters a thought2 they expect that proficiency will come4 ,proficiency is not an angel who visits us unsolicited2 it is a power that must be paid for with a price1 and the price is laborious study of such practical technique as the following3--,in a series of sentences the stress should be varied continually so as to come in the beginning of some sentences1 and at the end of others1 regard being had for the two considerations1 variation of rhythm1 and grouping of similar ideas together4 ,and this1 ,every paragraph is subject to the general laws of unity1 selection1 proportion1 sequence1 and variety which govern all good composition4 ,the observance of these rules 7and they are specimens of hundreds more7 and the discovery of apt illustrations in literature are matters of time and labour4 ,but the time and labour are well spent--nay1 they are absolutely necessary if the literary man would know his craft thoroughly4 ,for the ordinary man1 something equivalent to a text-book course in rhetoric is indispensable4 ,true1 many writers have learned insensibly from other writers1 but too severe a devotion to the masterpieces of literature may beget the master's weaknesses without imparting his strength4 ,incommunicable ,elements ,the incommunicable element in style is that personal impress which a writer sets upon his work4 ,what is a personal impress8 ,i am asked4 ,can it be defined8 ,scarcely4 ,personality itself is a mysterious thing4 ,we know what it means when it is used to distinguish a remarkable man from those who are not remarkable4 ,he has a unique personality1 we say4 ,now that personality--if the man be a writer--will show itself in his literary offspring4 ,it will be in evidence over and above rule1 regulation1 canons of art1 and the like4 ,if there be such a thing as a mystic presence1 then style is that mystic presence of the writer's personality which permeates the ideas and language in such a way as to give them a distinction and individuality all their own4 ,i will employ comparison as a means of illustration by supposing that the three following passages appeared in the same book in separate paragraphs and without the authors' names3-- ,each material thing has its celestial side1 has its translation into the spiritual and necessary sphere1 where it plays a part as indestructible as any other1 and to these ends all things continually ascend4 ,the gases gather to the solid firmament2 the chemic lump arrives at the plant and grows2 arrives at the quadruped and walks2 arrives at the man and thinks4 99 99 99 99 99 ,he ,daniel ,webster is a magnificent specimen2 you might say to all the world1 ',this is your ,yankee ,englishman2 such limbs we make in ,yankeeland6 ,the tanned complexion2 the amorphous crag-like face2 the dull black eyes under their precipice of brows1 like dull anthracite furnaces1 needing only to be blown2 the mastiff mouth1 accurately closed3--,i have not traced so much silent ,bersekir rage that ,i remember of in any man4' 99 99 99 99 99 ,in the edifices of ,man there should be found reverent worship and following1 not only of the ,spirit which rounds the form of the forest1 and arches the vault of the avenue1--which gives veining to the leaf and polish to the shell1 and grace to every pulse that agitates animal organisation--but of that also which reproves the pillars of the earth and builds up her barren precipices into the coldness of the clouds1 and lifts her shadowy cones of mountain purple into the pale arch of the sky4 ,now1 an experienced writer1 or reader1 would identify these quotations at once2 in some measure from a knowledge of the books from which they are taken1 but mostly from a recognition of style pure and simple4 ,the merest tyro can see that the passages are not the work of one author2 there is1 apart from subject-matter1 a subtle something that lies hidden beneath the language1 informing each paragraph with a style peculiar to itself4 ,what is it8 ,ah6 ,the style is the man4 ,it is composition charged with personality4 ,emerson1 ,carlyle1 and ,ruskin used the ,english language with due regard for the rules of grammar1 and such principles of literary art as they felt to be necessary4 ,and yet when ,emerson philosophises he does it in a way quite different to everybody else2 when ,carlyle analyses a character1 you know without the ,sage's signature that the work is his2 and when ,ruskin describes natural beauties by speaking of shadowy cones of mountain purple being lifted into the pale arch of the sky--well1 that is ,ruskin--it could be no other4 ,in each case language is made the bearer of the writer's personality4 ,style in literature is the breathing forth of soul and spirit2 as is the soul1 and as is the spirit in depth1 sympathy1 and power1 so will the style be rich1 distinctive1 and memorable4 ,professor ,raleigh says that ,all style is gesture--the gesture of the mind and of the soul4 ,mind we have in common1 inasmuch as the laws of right reason are not different for different minds4 ,therefore clearness and arrangement can be taught1 sheer incompetence in the art of expression can be partly remedied4 ,but who shall impose laws on the soul8 4 4 4 ,write1 and after you have attained to some control over the instrument1 you write yourself down whether you will or no4 ,there is no vice1 however unconscious1 no virtue1 however shy1 no touch of meanness or of generosity in your character that will not pass on to paper4 ,hence the oft-repeated call for sincerity on the part of writers4 ,if you try to imitate ,hardy it is a literary hypocrisy1 and your sin will find you out4 ,if you are ,meredith-minded1 and play the sedulous ape to him1 you must expect a similar catastrophe4 ,if the style is the man1 how can you hope to equal that style if you can never come near the man8 ,be true to all you know1 and see1 and feel2 live with the masters1 and catch their spirit4 ,you will then get your own style--it may not be as good as those you have so long admired1 but it will be yours2 and1 truth to tell1 that is all you can hope for4 ,,chapter ,,ix ,,how ,,authors ,,work ,quick and ,slow ,the public has shown a deep interest in all details respecting the way in which writers produce their books2 the food they eat1 the clothes they wear1 their weaknesses and their hobbies1 what pens they use1 and whether they prefer the typewriter or not--all these are items which a greedy public expects to know4 ,so much is this the case to-day that an acrid critic recently offered the tart suggestion that a novelist was a man who wrote a great book1 and spent the rest of his time--very profitably--in telling the world how he came to write it4 ,i do not intend to pander to the literary news-monger in these pages1 but to reproduce as much as ,i know of the way in which novelists work1 in order to throw out hints as to how a beginner may perchance better his own methods4 ,a word of warning1 however1 is necessary4 ,do not1 for ,heaven's sake1 ape anybody4 ,because ,zola darkens his rooms when he writes1 that is no reason why you should go and do likewise2 and if ,john ,fiske likes to sit in a draught1 pray save yourself the expense of a doctor's bill by imitating him4 ,an author's methods are only of service to a novice when they enable him to improve his own2 and it is with this object in view that ,i reproduce the following personal notes4 ,the relative speeds of the writing fraternity are little short of amazing4 ,hawthorne was slow in composing4 ,sometimes he wrote only what amounted to half-a-dozen pages a week1 often only a few lines in the same space of time1 and1 alas6 he frequently went to his chamber and took up his pen only to find himself wholly unable to perform any literary work4 ,bret ,harte has been known to pass days and weeks on a short story or poem before he was ready to deliver it into the hands of the printer4 ,thomas ,hardy is said to have spent seven years in writing ,jude the ,obscure4 ,on the other hand1 ,victor ,hugo wrote his ,cromwell in three months1 and his ,notre ,dame de ,paris in four months and a half4 ,wilkie ,collins1 prince among the plotters1 was accustomed to compose at white heat4 ,speaking of ,heart and ,science1 he says3 ,rest was impossible4 ,i made a desperate effort1 rushed to the sea1 went sailing and fishing1 and was writing my book all the time 'in my head1' as the children say4 ,the one wise course to take was to go back to my desk and empty my head1 and then rest4 ,my nerves are too much shaken for travelling4 ,an arm-chair and a cigar1 and a hundred and fiftieth reading of the glorious ,walter ,scott--,king1 ,emperor1 and ,president of ,novelists--there is the regimen that is doing me good4 ,an enterprising editor1 not very long ago1 sent out circulars to prominent authors asking them how much they can do in a day4 ,the reply in most cases was that the rate of production varied2 sometimes the pen or the typewriter could not keep pace with thought2 at other times it was just the opposite4 ,it is very necessary at this point to draw a distinction between the execution of a work1 and its development in the mind from birth to full perfection4 ,when we read that ,mr ,crockett1 or somebody else1 produced so many books in so many years1 it does not always mean--if ever--that the idea and its expression have been a matter of weeks or months4 ,to write a novel in six weeks is not an impossibility--even a passable novel2 but to sit down and think out a plot1 with all its details of character and event1 and to write it out so that in six weeks1 or two or three months1 the ,,ms4 is on the publisher's desk--well1 don't believe it4 ,no novel worthy of the name was ever produced at that rate4 ,how many ,words a ,day8 ,in nothing do authors differ so much as on the eternal problem of whether it is right to produce a certain quantity of matter every day--inspiration or no inspiration4 ,thomas ,hardy has no definite hours for working1 and1 although he often uses the night-time for this purpose1 he has a preference for the day-time4 ,charlotte ,bronte had to choose favourable seasons for literary work--weeks1 sometimes months1 elapsed before she felt that she had anything to add to that portion of her story which was already written2 then some morning she would wake up and the progress of her tale lay clear and bright before her in distinct vision1 and she set to work to write out what was more present to her mind at such times than actual life was4#abj3;,a ,when writing ,jane ,eyre1 and little ,jane had been brought to ,thornfield1 the author's enthusiasm had grown so great that she could not stop4 ,she went on incessantly for weeks4 ,miss ,jane ,barlow confesses that she is a very slow worker2 indeed1 when ,i consider the amount of work which the majority of writers turn out in a year1 ,i feel that ,i must be dreadfully lazy4 ,even in my quiet life here ,i find it difficult to get a long1 clear space of time for my work1 and the slightest interruption will upset me for hours4 ,it is difficult to make people understand that it is not so much the time they take up1 as causing me to break the line of thought4 ,it may be that somebody only comes into the study to speak to me for a minute1 but it is quite enough4 ,i suppose it is very silly to be so sensitive to interruptions1 but ,i cannot help it4 ,i sometimes say it is as though a box of beads had been upset1 and ,i had to gather them together again2 that is just the effect of anyone speaking to me when ,i am at work4 ,i write everything by hand1 and it takes a long time4 ,i am sure ,i could not use a typewriter1 or dictate2 indeed1 ,i never let anybody see what ,i have written until it is in print4 ,sometimes ,i write a passage over a dozen times before it comes right1 and ,i always make a second copy of everything1 but the corrections are not very numerous4 ,mr ,william ,black was also a slow producer3 ,i am building up a book months before ,i write the first chapter2 before ,i can put pen to paper ,i have to realise all the chief incidents and characters4 ,i have to live with my characters1 so to speak2 otherwise1 ,i am afraid they would never appear living people to my readers4 ,this is my work during the summer2 the only time ,i am free from the novel that-is-to-be is when ,i am grouse-shooting or salmon-fishing4 ,at other times ,i am haunted by the characters and the scenes in which they take part1 so that1 for the sake of his peace of mind1 my method is not to be recommended to the young novelist4 ,when ,i come to the writing1 ,i have to immure myself in perfect quietude2 my study is at the top of the house1 and on the two or three days a week ,i am writing1 ,mrs ,black guards me from interruption4 4 4 4 ,of course1 now and again1 ,i have had to read a good deal preparatory to writing4 ,before beginning ',sunrise1' for instance1 ,i went through the history of secret societies in ,europe4 ,charles ,reade and ,anthony ,trollope ,charles ,reade's habit of working was unique4 ,when he had decided on a new work1 he plotted out the scheme1 situations1 facts1 and characters on three large sheets of pasteboard4 ,then he set to work1 using very large foolscap to write on1 working rapidly1 but with frequent references to his storehouse of facts in the scrap-books which were ready at his hand4 ,the genial novelist was a great reader of newspapers4 ,anything that struck him as interesting1 or any fact which tended to support one of his humanitarian theories1 was cut out1 pasted in a large folio scrap-book1 and carefully indexed4 ,facts of any sort were his hobby4 ,from the scrap-books thus collected with great care1 he used to 'elaborate' the questions treated of in his novels4 ,anthony ,trollope is one of the few men who have taken their readers into their full confidence about book production4 ,the quotation ,i am about to make is rather long1 but it is too detailed to be shortened3 ,when ,i have commenced a new book ,i have always prepared a diary1 divided into weeks1 and carried it on for the period which ,i have allowed myself for the completion of the work4 ,in this ,i have entered day by day the number of pages ,i have written1 so that if at any time ,i have slipped into idleness for a day or two1 the record of that idleness has been there staring me in the face1 and demanding of me increased labour1 so that the deficiency might be supplied4 ,according to the circumstances of the time1 whether any other business might be then heavy or light1 or whether the book which ,i was writing was1 or was not1 wanted with speed1 ,i have allotted myself so many pages a week4 ,the average number has been about forty4 ,it has been placed as low as twenty1 and has risen to one hundred and twelve4 ,and as a page is an ambiguous term1 my page has been made to contain two hundred and fifty words1 and as words1 if not watched1 will have a tendency to straggle1 ,i have had every word counted as ,i went4#abd3;,a ,under the title of ,a ,walk in the ,wood1 ,trollope thus describes his method of plot-making1 and the difficulty the novelist experiences in making the tricksy ,ariel of the imagination do his bidding4 ,i have to confess that my incidents are fabricated to fit my story as it goes on1 and not my story to fit my incidents4 ,i wrote a novel once in which a lady forged a will1 but ,i had not myself decided that she had forged it till the chapter before that in which she confesses her guilt4 ,in another1 a lady is made to steal her own diamonds1 a grand tour de force1 as ,i thought1 but the brilliant idea struck me only when ,i was writing the page in which the theft is described4 ,i once heard an unknown critic abuse my workmanship because a certain lady had been made to appear too frequently in my pages4 ,i went home and killed her immediately4 ,i say this to show that the process of thinking to which ,i am alluding has not generally been applied to any great effort of construction4 ,it has expended itself on the minute ramifications of tale-telling3 how this young lady should be made to behave herself with that young gentleman2 how this mother or that father would be affected by the ill conduct or the good of a son or a daughter2 how these words or those other would be most appropriate or true to nature if used on some special occasion4 ,such plottings as these with a fabricator of fiction are infinite in number1 but not one of them can be done fitly without thinking4 ,my little effort will miss its wished-for result unless ,i be true to nature2 and to be true to nature1 ,i must think what nature would produce4 ,where shall ,i go to find my thoughts with the greatest ease and most perfect freedom8 ,i have found that ,i can best command my thoughts on foot1 and can do so with the most perfect mastery when wandering through a wood4 ,to be alone is1 of course1 essential4 ,companionship requires conversation1 for which1 indeed1 the spot is most fit2 but conversation is not now the object in view4 ,i have found it best even to reject the society of a dog1 who1 if he be a dog of manners1 will make some attempt at talking2 and1 though he should be silent1 the sight of him provokes words and caresses and sport4 ,it is best to be away from cottages1 away from children1 away as far as may be from chance wanderers4 ,so much easier is it to speak than to think1 that any slightest temptation suffices to carry away the idler from the harder to the lighter work4 ,an old woman with a bundle of sticks becomes an agreeable companion1 or a little girl picking wild fruit4 ,even when quite alone1 when all the surroundings seem to be fitted for thought1 the thinker will still find a difficulty in thinking4 ,it is easy to lose an hour in maundering over the past1 and to waste the good things which have been provided1 in remembering instead of creating6 ,the ,mission of ,fancy ,it is not for rules of construction that the writer is seeking1 as he roams listlessly or walks rapidly through the trees4 ,these have come to him from much observation1 from the writings of others1 from that which we call study1 in which imagination has but little immediate concern4 ,it is the fitting of the rules to the characters which he has created1 the filling in with living touches and true colours those daubs and blotches on his canvas which have been easily scribbled with a rough hand1 that the true work consists4 ,it is here that he requires that his fancy should be undisturbed1 that the trees should overshadow him1 that the birds should comfort him1 that the green and yellow mosses should be in unison with him1 that the very air should be good to him4 ,the rules are there fixed--fixed as far as his judgment can fix them--and are no longer a difficulty to him4 ,the first coarse outlines of his story he has found to be a matter almost indifferent to him4 ,it is with these little plottings that he has to contend4 ,it is for them that he must catch his ,ariel and bind him fast1 and yet so bind him that not a thread shall touch the easy action of his wings4 ,every little scene must be arranged so that--if it may be possible--the proper words may be spoken1 and the fitting effect produced4 ,fancies of another ,type ,most authors indulge in little eccentricities when working1 and1 if the time should ever come that your name is brought before the public notice1 it would be advisable to develop some whimsical habit so as to be prepared for the interviewer1 who is sure to ask whether you have one4 ,to push your pen through your hair during creative moments would be a good plan2 it would reveal a line of baldness where you had furrowed the hair off1 and afford ocular proof to all and sundry that you possessed a genuine eccentricity4 ,or if you prefer a habit still more bizarre1 you might put a hammock in a tree1 and always write your most exciting scenes during a rain-storm1 and under the shelter of a dripping umbrella4 ,the fact is1 every penman has his little peculiarities when at work1 but they should be kept as private property4 ,of course1 there are authors who revel in publicity1 and others again have intimate details wormed out of them4 ,the fact remains1 however1 that these details are interesting1 because they are personal2 and they are occasionally helpful1 because they enable one writer to compare notes with others4 ,we have all heard of the methodical habits of ,kant4 ,when thinking out his deep thoughts1 he always placed himself so that his eyes might fall on a certain old tower4 ,this old tower became so necessary to his thoughts1 that when some poplar trees grew up and hid it from his sight1 he found himself unable to think at all1 until1 at his earnest request1 the trees were cropped and the tower was brought into sight again4 ,george ,eliot was very susceptible as to her surroundings4 ,when about to write1 she dressed herself with great care1 and arranged her harmoniously-furnished room in perfect order4#acj3;,a ,hawthorne had a habit of cutting some article while composing4 ,he is said to have taken a garment from his wife's sewing-basket1 and cut it into pieces without being conscious of the act4 ,thus an entire table and the arms of a rocking-chair were whittled away in this manner4 ,upon ,ibsen's writing-table is a small tray containing a number of grotesque figures--a wooden bear1 a tiny devil1 two or three cats 7one of them playing a fiddle71 and some rabbits4 ,ibsen has said3 ,i never write a single line of any of my dramas without having that tray and its occupants before me on my table4 ,i could not write without them4 ,but why ,i use them is my own secret4 ,ouida writes in the early morning4 ,she gets up at five o'clock1 and before she begins1 works herself up into a sort of literary trance4 ,maurice ,jokai always uses violet ink1 to which he is so accustomed that he becomes perplexed when compelled1 outside of his own house1 to resort to ink of another colour4 ,he claims that thoughts are not forthcoming when he writes with any other ink4 ,one of the corners of his writing-desk holds a miniature library1 consisting of neatly-bound note-books which contain the outline of his novels as they originated in his mind4 ,when he has once begun a romance1 he keeps right on until it is completed4 ,some of our ,younger ,writers ,mr ,zangwill has no particular method of working2 he works in spasms4 ,regular hours1 he says1 may be possible to a writer of pure romance1 but if you are writing of the life about you1 such regularity is impossible4#acb3;,a ,coulson ,kernahan works in the morning and in the evening1 but never in the afternoon4 ,he always reserves the afternoon for walking1 cycling1 and exercise generally4 ,he is unable to work regularly2 some days indeed pass without doing a stroke4#acb3;,b ,anthony ,hope is found at his desk every morning1 but if the inspiration does not come1 he never forces himself to write4 ,sometimes it will come after waiting several hours1 and sometimes it will seem to have come when it hasn't1 which means that next morning he has to tear up what was written the day before and start afresh4#acc3;,a ,before ,robert ,barr publishes a novel he spends years in thinking the thing out4 ,in this way ten years were spent over ,the ,mutable ,many1 and two more years in writing it4#acc3;,b ,when ,max ,pemberton has a book in the making he just sits down and writes away at it when in the mood4 ,i find1 he says1 that ,i can always work best in the morning4 ,one's brain is fresher and one's ideas come more readily4 ,if ,i work at night ,i find that ,i have to undo a great deal of it in the morning4 ,in working late at night ,i have done so under the impression that ,i have accomplished some really fine work1 only to rise in the morning and1 after looking at it1 feel that one ought to shed tears over such stuff4#acc3;,c ,h4 ,g4 ,wells1 as might be expected1 has a way of his own4 ,in the morning ,i merely revise proofs and type-written copy1 and write letters1 and1 in fact1 any work that does not require the exercise of much imagination4 ,if it is fine1 ,i either have a walk or a ride on the cycle4 ,we also have a tandem1 and sometimes my wife and ,i take the double machine out2 and then after lunch we have tea about half-past three in the afternoon4 ,it is after this cup of tea that ,i do my work4 ,the afternoon is the best time of the day for me1 and ,i nearly always work on until eight o'clock1 when we have dinner4 ,if ,i am working at something in which ,i feel keenly interested1 ,i work on from nine o'clock until after midnight1 but it is on the afternoon work that my output mainly depends4#acd3;,a ,curious ,methods ,in another interview ,mr ,wells said1 ,i write and re-write4 ,if you want to get an effect1 it seems to me that the first thing you have to do is to write the thing down as it comes into your mind 7slush1 ,mr ,wells calls it71 and so get some idea of the shape of it4 ,in this preliminary process1 no doubt1 one can write a good many thousand words a day1 perhaps seven or eight thousand4 ,but when all that is finished1 it will take you seven or eight solid days to pick it to pieces again1 and knock it straight4 ,the 'slush' effort of ',the ,invisible ,man' came to more than #ajj1jjj words2 the final outcome of it amounts to #ee1jjj4 ,my first tendency was to make it much shorter still4 ,i used to feel a great deal ashamed of this method4 ,i thought it simply showed incapacity1 and inability to hit the right nail on the head4 ,the process is like this3 7#a7 ,worry and confusion4 7#b7 ,testing the idea1 and trying to settle the question4 ,is the idea any good8 7#c7 ,throwing the idea away2 getting another2 finally returning1 perhaps1 to the first4 7#d7 ,the next thing is possibly a bad start4 7#e7 ,grappling with the idea with the feeling that it has to be done4 7#f7 ,then the slush work1 which ,i've already described4 7#g7 ,reading this over1 and taking out what you think is essential1 and re-writing the essential part of it4 7#h7 ,after it has been type-written1 you cut it about1 so that it has to be re-typed4 7#i7 ,the result of your labour finds its way into print1 and you take hold of the first opportunity to go over the whole thing again4#acf3;,a ,contrasted with the pleasant humour of the above is the gravity of ,ian ,maclaren4 ,although the stories ,i have written may seem very simple1 they are very laboriously done4 ,this kind of short story cannot be done quickly4 ,there is no plot1 no incident1 and one has to depend entirely upon character and slight touches1 curiously arranged and bound together1 to produce the effect4 4 4 4 ,each of the ',bonnie ,brier ,bush' stories went through these processes3--7#a7 ,slowly drafted arrangement2 7#b7 draft revised before writing2 7#c7 written2 7#d7 manuscript revised2 7#e7 first proof corrected2 7#f7 revise corrected2 7#g7 having been published in a periodical1 revised for book2 7#h7 first proof corrected2 7#i7 second proof corrected4#acg3;,a 99 99 99 99 99 ,enough4 ,these personal notes will teach the novice that every man must make and follow his own plan of work4 ,experience is the best guide and the wisest teacher4 ,,footnotes3 #abj3;,a ,erichsen3 ,methods of ,authors4 #abd3;,a ,autobiography1 vol4 ii4 #acj3;,a ,erichsen3 ,methods of ,authors4 #acb3;,a ,interview in ,the ,young ,man1 by ,percy ,l4 ,parker4 #acb3;,b ,interview in ,the ,young ,man1 by ,a4 ,h4 ,lawrence4 #acc3;,a ,interview in ,the ,young ,man1 by ,sarah ,a4 ,tooley4 #acc3;,b ,ibid4 #acc3;,c ,interview in ,the ,young ,man1 by ,a4 ,h4 ,lawrence4 #acd3;,a ,interview in ,the ,young ,man1 by ,a4 ,h4 ,lawrence4 #acf3;,a ,interview in ,to-,day1 for ,september #aath1 #ahig1 by ,a4 ,h4 ,lawrence4 #acg3;,a ,interview in ,the ,christian ,commonwealth for ,september #bdth1 #ahif4 ,,chapter ,x ,,is ,,the ,,subject-,,matter ,,of ,,novels ,,exhausted8 ,the ,question ,stated ,this is the way in which the question is most often stated1 but the real question is more intelligently expressed by asking3 ,has the novel1 as a form of literature1 become obsolete8 or is it likely to be obsolete in the near future8 ,to many people the matter is dismissed with a contemptuous ,pshaw62 others think it worthy of serious inquiry1 and a few with practical minds say they don't care whether it is or not4 ,seven years ago ,mr ,frederic ,harrison delivered himself of very pessimistic views as to the present position and prospects of the novelist1 and not long ago ,mr ,a4 ,j4 ,balfour asserted that in his opinion the art of fiction had reached its zenith1 and was now in its decline4 ,these critics may be prejudiced in their views1 but it is worth while considering the remarks of the one who has the greater claim to respect for literary judgment4 ,after exclaiming that we have now no novelist of the first rank1 and substantiating this statement to the best of his ability1 ,mr ,harrison goes on to inquire into the causes of this decay4 ,in the first place1 we have too high a standard of taste and criticism4 ,a highly organised code of culture may give us good manners1 but it is the death of genius4 ,we have lost the true sense of the romantic1 and if ,jane ,eyre were produced to-day it would not rise above a common shocker4 ,secondly1 we are too disturbed in political affairs to allow for the rest that is necessary for literary productiveness4 ,thirdly1 life is not so dramatic as it was--character is being driven inwards1 and we have lost the picturesque qualities of earlier days4 ,i am not at present concerned with the truth or error of these arguments2 my object just now is to state the case1 and before proceeding to an examination of its merits ,i wish to take the testimony of another writer and thinker1 one who is a philosopher quite as much as the author of ,the ,foundations of ,belief or the author of ,the ,meaning of ,history1 and who has a claim upon our attention as an investigator of moving causes4 ,mr ,c4 ,h4 ,pearson1 in his notable book1 ,national ,life and ,character1 has made some confident statements on the subject of the exhaustion of literary products4 ,he is of opinion that a change in social relations has made the drama impossible by dwarfing the immediate agency of the individual1 and that a change in manners has robbed the drama of a great deal of effect4 ,he goes on to say that ,human nature1 various as it is1 is only capable after all of a certain number of emotions and acts1 and these as the topics of an incessant literature are bound after a time to be exhausted4 ,we may say with absolute certainty that certain subjects are never to be taken again4 ,the tale of ,troy1 the wanderings of ,odysseus1 the vision of ,heaven and ,hell as ,dante saw it1 the theme of ',paradise ,lost1' and the story of ,faust are familiar instances4 4 4 4 ,effective adaptations of an old subject may still be possible2 but it is not writers of the highest capacity who will attempt them1 and the reading world1 which remembers what has been done before1 will never accord more than a secondary recognition to the adaptation 7p4 #bii74 ,there is a curious atmosphere of logical conclusiveness about these arguments4 ,they carry with them1 apparently1 an air of certainty which it is useless to question4 ,we know that the novelist has already exploited ,politics1 ,socialism1 ,history1 ,theology1 ,marriage1 ,education1 and a host of other subjects2 indeed1 a perusal of ,dixon's ,index to ,fiction is calculated to provoke the inquiry3 ,is there anything left to write about8 ,we know that everywhere is springing up the literature of locality1 and it would seem as if the resources of this world's experience had been exhausted when writers like ,mr ,h4 ,g4 ,wells and the late ,george ,du ,maurier invade the planet ,mars for fresh material4 ,the heavens above1 the earth beneath1 and the waters under the earth have all been written up4 ,is there anything new8 ,change not ,exhaustion ,there can be no doubt that fiction has undergone great changes during recent years4 ,these changes are the result of deeper changes in our common life4 ,consider for a moment the position of the drama4 ,what is the significance of the problem play on the one hand1 and the cry for a ,static ,theatre on the other hand8 ,it means that life has changed1 and is still changing2 that the national character is not so emphatically external or spontaneous as in those days when ,ben ,jonson killed two men1 and ,marlowe himself was killed in a brawl4 ,we have lost the passion1 the force1 and the brutality of those times1 and have become more contemplative and analytical4 ,the simple law is this3 that literature and the drama are a reflex of life2 hence1 when character has a tendency to be driven inwards1 as is the case to-day1 ,maeterlinck pleads on behalf of a drama without action2 and ,paul ,bourget in ,france and ,henry ,james in ,england embody the spirit of the age in the fiction of psychological minutiae4 ,now there may be symptoms of decay in these manifestations of literary impulse1 but the impulse is part of that new experience which the facts of an increasingly complex civilisation foist upon us4 ,and1 further1 change is not necessarily exhaustion2 in fact1 it is more than surprising that anyone can believe all the stories possible have been told already1 or have been told in the most interesting way4 ,it is a very ancient cry--this cry about exhaustion4 ,the old ,hebrew writer wailed something about wanting to meet with a man who could show him a new thing4 ,a new thing8 ,there is no new thing under the ,sun4 ,but we have found a few since those days1 and the future will give birth to as many more4 ,men and women have written about love from time immemorial1 but have we finished with the theme8 ,is it exhausted8 ,did ,homer satisfy our love of recorded adventure once and for all8 ,there is only one answer--namely1 that human experience is infinite in its possibilities and its capacity for renewal4 ,if human experience--these vague and subtle emotions1 these violently real but inscrutable feelings1 these tremulous questionings of existence encompassed with mystery--if human experience were no more than a hard and dry scientific fact1 well1 our novelists would have a poor time of it4 ,but life knows no finality2 its stream flows on in perennial flood4 ,human nature is said to be much the same the world over1 and yet every personality is absolutely a new thing4 ,goethe might attempt a rough classification by saying we are either ,platonists or ,aristotelians1 but actually a great many of us are neither one nor the other1 and there are infinities of degrees amongst us even then4 ,new character is a necessary outcome of the advancing centuries1 and new personalities are being born every day4 ,no2 the world still loves a story1 and there are stories which have never been told4 ,it is1 perhaps1 true1 that the story-tellers have not found them yet4 ,why8 ,why we talk about ,exhaustion ,the answer is3 ,we are becoming too artificial2 we are losing spontaneity1 and are getting too far away from the soil4 ,have we not noticed over and over again that the first book of a novelist is his best8 ,those which followed are called good1 but they sell because the author is the author of the first book which created a sensation4 ,speaking of the first work of a young writer1 ,anthony ,trollope says3 ,he sits down and tells his story because he has a story to tell2 as you1 my friend1 when you have heard something which has at once tickled your fancy or moved your pathos1 will hurry to tell it to the first person you meet4 ,but when that first novel has been received graciously by the public1 and has made for itself a success1 then the writer1 naturally feeling that the writing of novels is within his grasp1 looks about for something to tell in another4 ,he cudgels his brains1 not always successfully1 and sits down to write1 not because he has something which he burns to tell1 but because he feels it to be incumbent on him to be telling something4 4 4 4 ,so it has been with many novelists1 who1 after some good work1 perhaps after much good work1 have distressed their audience because they have gone on with their work till their work has become simply a trade with them4#adf3;,a ,there is often a good reason for such a change4 ,the first book was written in a place near to ,nature's heart2 the writer was free from the obligations of society as found in city life2 he was thrown back on his own resources1 and fortunately could not spoil his individual view of things by multitudinous references to books and authorities4 ,do we not selfishly wish that ,miss ,olive ,schreiner had never left the veldt1 in the loneliness of which she produced ,the ,story of an ,african ,farm8 ,nearer contact with civilisation has failed to induce an impulse the result of which is at all comparable with this genuine story4 ,it may or may not be of significance that ,mr ,wells1 the creator of a distinct type of romance1 dislikes what is called ,society1 but ,i fancy that a few of those who lament too frequently that everything has been said spend more time in ,society and clubs than is possible for good work4 ,mr ,c4 ,h4 ,pearson1 in a notable chapter on ,dangers of ,political ,development1 says3 ,the world at large is just as reverent of greatness1 as observant of a ,browning1 a ,newman1 or a ,mill1 as it ever was2 but the world of ,society prefers the small change of available and ephemeral talent to the wealth of great thoughts1 which must always be kept more or less in reserve4 ,the result seems to be that men1 anxious to do great work1 find city life less congenial than they did1 and either live away from the ,metropolis1 as ,darwin and ,newman did1 or restrict their intercourse1 as ,carlyle and ,george ,eliot practically did1 to a circle of chosen friends4 ,in further confirmation of the position ,i have taken up1 let me quote the testimony of ,thomas ,hardy as given in an interview4 ,said the interviewer--,in reading ',a ,group of ,noble ,dames1' ,i was struck with the waste of good material4 ,yes1 replied ,mr ,hardy1 ,i suppose ,i was wasteful4 ,but1 there6 it doesn't matter1 for ,i have far more material now than ,i shall ever be able to use4 ,in your note-books8 ,yes1 and in my head4 ,i don't believe in that idea of man's imaginative powers becoming naturally exhausted2 ,i believe that1 if he liked1 a man could go on writing till his physical strength gave out4 ,most men exhaust themselves prematurely by something artificial--their manner of living--,scott and ,dickens for example4 ,victor ,hugo1 on the other hand1 who was so long in exile1 and who necessarily lived a very simple life during much of his time1 was writing as well as ever when he died at a good old age4 ,so1 too1 was ,carlyle1 if we except his philosophy1 the least interesting part of him4 ,the great secret is perhaps for the writer to be content with the life he was living when he made his first success4 ,i can do more work here in ,dorsetshire in six months than in twelve months in ,london4#adh3;,a ,these are the convictions of a strong man1 one who stands at the head of ,english writers of fiction1 and therefore one to whom the beginner especially should listen with respect4 ,a reader of ,,mss4 told me quite recently that there was a pitiable narrowness of experience in the productions which were handed to him for valuation2 nearly all were cast in the city mould1 and showed signs of having been written to say something rather than because the writers had something to say4 ,mr ,hardy has put his finger on the weak spot3 more stories come in the country stillness than in the city's bustle4 ,of course1 a man can be as much of a hermit in the heart of ,london as in the heart of a forest1 but how few can resist the attractions of ,society and the temptation to multiply literary friendships6 ,besides1 it is always a risk to make a permanent change in that environment which assisted in producing the first success4 ,follow ,mr ,hardy's advice and stay where you are4 ,stories will then not be slow to come and ideas to occur2 and the pessimists will be less ready to utter their laments over the decadence of fiction and philosophers to argue that the novel will soon become extinct4 ,i cannot do better than close with the following tempered statement from ,mr ,edmund ,gosse3 ,a question which constantly recurs to my mind is this3 ,having secured the practical monopoly of literature1 what do the novelists propose to do next8 ,to what use will they put the unprecedented opportunity thrown in their way8 ,it is quite plain that to a certain extent the material out of which the ,english novel has been constructed is in danger of becoming exhausted4 ,why do the ,american novelists inveigh against plots8 ,not1 we may be sure1 through any inherent tenderness of conscience1 as they would have us believe2 but because their eminently sane and somewhat timid natures revolt against the effort of inventing what is extravagant4 ,but all the obvious plots1 all the stories that are not in some degree extravagant1 seem to have been told already1 and for a writer of the temperament of ,mr ,howells1 there is nothing left but the portraiture of a small portion of the limitless field of ordinary humdrum existence4 ,so long as this is fresh1 this also may amuse and please2 to the practitioners of this kind of work it seems as though the infinite prairie of life might be surveyed thus for centuries acre by acre4 ,but that is not possible4 ,a very little while suffices to show that in this direction also the material is promptly exhausted4 ,novelty1 freshness1 and excitement are to be sought for at all hazards1 and where can they be found8 ,the novelists hope many things from that happy system of nature which supplies them year by year with fresh generations of the ingenuous young4 ,in this1 however1 ,mr ,gosse is very doubtful of good results3 the fact is1 he is too pessimistic4 ,but in making suggestions as to what kind of novels might be written he almost gives the lie to his previous opinions4 ,he asks for novels addressed especially to middle-aged persons1 and not to the ingenuous young1 ever interested in love4 ,it is supposed that to describe one of the positive employments of life--a business or a profession for example--would alienate the tender reader1 and check that circulation about which novelists talk as if they were delicate invalids4 ,but what evidence is there to show that an attention to real things does frighten away the novel reader4 ,the experiments which have been made in this country to widen the field of fiction in one direction1 that of religious and moral speculation1 have not proved unfortunate4 ,what was the source of the great popular success of ',john ,inglesant1' and then of ',robert ,elsmere1' if not the intense delight of readers in being admitted1 in a story1 to a wider analysis of the interior workings of the mind than is compatible with the mere record of billing and cooing of the callow young8 4 4 4 ,all ,i ask for is a larger study of life4 ,have the stress and turmoil of a political career no charm8 ,why1 if novels of the shop and counting-house be considered sordid1 can our novels not describe the life of a sailor1 of a game-keeper1 of a railway porter1 of a civil engineer8 ,what capital central figures for a story would be the whip of a leading hunt1 the foreman of a colliery1 the master of a fishing-smack1 or a speculator on the ,stock ,exchange8#aeb3;,a ,since these words were written1 the novel of politics1 for example1 has come to the fore2 but does that mean that the subject is exhausted8 ,it has only been touched upon as yet4 ,there were plenty of dramas before ,shakespeare but there were no ,shakespeares2 and to-day there are thousands of novels but how many real novelists8 ,once again let it be said that exhausted subject-matter is a misnomer2 what we wait for is creative genius4 ,,footnotes3 #adf3;,a ,autobiography1 vol4 ii4 pp4 #de-f4 ,there is no harm in telling stories as a trade provided the stories are good4 #adh3;,a ,interview in ,the ,young ,man4 #aeb3;,a ,questions at ,issue1 ,the ,tyranny of the ,novel4 ,,chapter ,,xi ,,the ,,novel v4 ,,the ,,short ,,story ,practise the ,short ,story ,the beginner in fiction often asks3 ,is it not best to prepare for novel-writing by writing short stories8 ,the question is much to the point1 and merits a careful answer4 ,first of all1 what is the difference between a novel and a short story8 ,the difference lies in the point of view4 ,the short story generally deals with one event in one particular life2 the novel deals with many events in several lives1 where both characters and action are dominated by one progressive purpose4 ,to put it another way3 the short story is like a miniature in painting1 whilst the novel demands a much larger canvas4 ,a suggestive paragraph from a review sets forth clearly the difference referred to3 ,the smaller your object of artistry1 the nicer should be your touch1 the more careful your attention to minutiae4 ,that1 surely1 would seem an axiom4 ,you don't paint a miniature in the broad strokes that answer for a drop curtain1 nor does the weaver of a pocket-handkerchief give to that fabric the texture of a carpet4 ,but the usual writer of fiction1 when it occurs to him to utilise one of his second best ideas in the manufacture of a short story1 will commonly bring to his undertaking exactly the same slap-dash methods which he has found to serve in the construction of his novels4 4 4 4 ,where he should have brought a finer method1 he has brought a coarser2 where he should have worked goldsmithwise1 with tiny chisel1 finishing exquisitely1 he has worked blacksmithwise1 with sledge hammer and anvil2 where1 because the thing is little1 every detail counts1 he has been slovenly in detail4#aee3;,a ,it has been said that the novel deals with life from the inside1 and short stories with life from the outside2 but this is not so4 ,guy de ,maupassant's ,the ,necklace opens out to us a state of soul just as much as ,tess does1 even though it may be but a glimpse as compared with the prolonged exhibition of ,mr ,hardy's pure woman4 ,returning to the question previously referred to1 one may well hesitate to advise a novice to commence writing short stories which demand such infinite care in conception and execution4 ,the tendency of young writers is to verbosity--longwindedness in dialogues1 in descriptions1 and in delineations of character1--whereas the chief excellence of the story is the extent and depth of its suggestions as compared with its brevity in words4 ,should not a man perfect himself in the less minute and less delicate methods of the novel before he attempts the finer art of the short story8 ,there is a sound of good logic about all this1 but it is not conclusive4 ,some men have a natural predilection for the larger canvas and some for the smaller1 so that the final decision cannot be forced upon anyone on purely abstract grounds2 we must first know a writer's native capacity before advising him what to do4 ,if you feel that literary art on a minute scale is your forte1 then follow it enthusiastically1 and work hard2 if otherwise1 act accordingly4 ,but1 after all1 there are certain abstract considerations which lead me to say that the short story should be practised before the novel4 ,take the very material fact of size4 ,have those who object to this recommendation ever thought of what practising novel-writing means8 ,how long does it take to make a couple of experiments of #hj1jjj words each8 ,a good deal1 no doubt1 depends on the man himself1 but a quick writer would not do much to satisfy others at the rate of #afj1jjj words in twelve months4 ,no1 time is too precious for practising works of such length as these1 and since the general principles of fiction apply to both novel and short story alike1 the student cannot do better than practise his art in the briefer form4 ,moreover1 if he is wise1 he will seek the advice of experts1 and 7a further base consideration7 it will be cheaper to have #djjj words criticised than a ,,ms4 containing #hj1jjj4 ,further1 the foundation principles of the art of fiction cannot be learned more effectively1 even for the purpose of writing novels1 than in practising short stories4 ,all the points brought forward in the preceding pages relating to plot1 dialogue1 proportion1 climax1 and so forth1 are elements of the latter as well as of the former4 ,if1 as has been said1 windiness is the chief fault of the beginner1 where can he learn to correct that error more quickly8 ,the art of knowing what to leave out is important to a novelist2 it is more important to the short story writer2 hence1 if it be studied on the smaller canvas1 it will be of excellent service when attempting the larger4 ,the attention to detail1 the obliteration of the unessential1 the concentration in expression1 which the form of the short story demands1 tends to a beneficent influence on the style of fiction4 ,no one doubts that many of the great novelists of the past are somewhat tedious and prolix4 ,the style of ,richardson1 ,scott1 ,dumas1 ,balzac1 and ,dickens1 when they are not at their strongest and highest1 is often slipshod and slovenly2 and such carelessly-worded passages as are everywhere in their works will scarcely be found in the novels of the future4 ,the writers of short stories have made clear that the highest literary art knows neither synonyms1 episodes1 nor parentheses4#aei3;,a ,short ,story ,writers on their ,art ,i cannot pretend to give more than a few hints as to the best way of following out the advice laid down in the foregoing paragraphs1 and prefer to let some writers speak for themselves4 ,of course1 it does not follow that ,mr ,wedmore can instruct a novice in literary art1 simply because he can write exquisite short stories himself2 indeed1 it often happens that such men do not really know how they produce their work2 but ,mr ,wedmore's article on ,the ,short ,story in his volume called ,books and ,arts is most profitable reading4 ,some time ago a symposium appeared in a popular journal1#afj3;,a on the subject ,how to ,write a ,short ,story4 ,mr ,robert ,barr could be no other than pithy in his recipe4 ,he says3 ,it seems to me that a short story writer should act1 metaphorically1 like this--he should put his idea for a story into one cup of a pair of balances1 then into the other he should deal out words--five hundred1 a thousand1 two thousand1 three thousand1 as the case may be--and when the number of words thus paid in causes the beam to rise on which his idea hangs1 then his story is finished4 ,if he puts a word more or less he is doing false work4 4 4 4 ,my model is ,euclid1 whose justly celebrated book of short stories entitled ',the ,elements of ,geometry' will live when most of us who are scribbling to-day are forgotten4 ,euclid lays down his plot1 sets instantly to work at its development1 letting no incident creep in that does not bear relation to the climax1 using no unnecessary word1 always keeping his one end in view1 and the moment he reaches the culmination he stops4 ,mr ,walter ,raymond is apologetic4 ,he fences a good deal1 and pleads that the mention of short story is dangerous to his mental sequence1 so much and so painfully has he tried to solve the problem of how one is written4 ,finally1 however1 he delivers himself of these pregnant sentences3 ,show us the psychological moment2 give us a sniff of the earth below2 a glimpse of the sky above2 and you will have produced a fine story4 ,it need not exceed two thousand words4 ,the author of ,tales of ,mean ,streets says3 ,the command of form is the first thing to be cultivated4 ,let the pupil take a story by a writer distinguished by the perfection of his workmanship--none could be better than ,guy de ,maupassant--and let him consider that story apart from the book as something happening before his eyes4 ,let him review mentally everything that happens--the things that are not written in the story as well as those that are--and let him review them1 not necessarily in the order in which the story presents them1 but in that in which they would come before an observer in real life4 ,in short1 from the fiction let him construct ordinary1 natural1 detailed1 unselected1 unarranged fact1 making notes1 if necessary1 as he goes4 ,then let him compare his raw fact with the words of the master4 ,he will see where the unessential is rejected2 he will see how everything is given its just proportion in the design2 he will perceive that every incident1 every sentence1 and every word has its value1 its meaning1 and its part in the whole4 ,mr ,morrison's ideas are endorsed by ,miss ,jane ,barlow1 ,mr ,g4 ,b4 ,burgin1 ,mr ,g4 ,m4 ,fenn1 and ,mrs ,l4 ,t4 ,meade4 ,mr ,joseph ,hocking does not seem to care for the brevity of short story methods4 ,he cites eight lines which he heard some children sing3 ,little boy1 ,pair of skates1 ,broken ice1 ,heaven's gates4 ,little girl ,stole a plum1 ,cholera bad1 ,kingdom come1 and remarks3 ,many of our short stories are constructed on the principle of these verses4 ,so few words are used1 that the reader does not feel he is reading a story1 but an outline4 ,mr ,hocking has the ,british ,public on his side1 no doubt1 but the great ,british ,public is not always right1 as he appears to believe4 ,i think if the reader will study the short stories of ,guy de ,maupassant and ,mr ,frederic ,wedmore1 and digest the advice given above1 he will know enough to begin his work4 ,each experiment will enlarge his vision and discipline his pen1 so that when he has accomplished something like tolerable success1 he may safely attempt the larger canvas on the lines laid down in the preceding chapters4 ,,footnotes3 #aee3;,a ,daily ,chronicle1 ,june #bb1 #ahii4 #aei3;,a ,the ,international ,monthly1 vol4 i4 #afj3;,a ,the ,young ,man4 ,,chapter ,,xii ,,success3 ,,and ,,some ,,of ,,its ,,minor ,,conditions ,the ,truth about ,success ,there are two kinds of success in fiction--commercial and literary2 and sometimes a writer is able to combine the two4 ,thomas ,hardy is an example of the writer who produces literature and has large sales4 ,on the other hand1 there are many writers who succeed in one direction1 but not in the other4 ,the works of ,marie ,corelli have an amazing circulation1 but they are not regarded as literature2 whereas such genuine work as that of ,mr ,quiller ,couch has to be content with sales far less extensive4 ,now ,thomas ,hardy1 ,marie ,corelli1 and ,quiller ,couch have all succeeded1 but in different ways4 ,no doubt the reader would prefer to succeed in the manner of ,hardy1 but if he can't do it1 he must be content to succeed in the best way he can4 ,it is easy to talk about ,miss ,corelli's rot and bosh and high falutin1 but long columns of figures in a publisher's ledger mean something after all4 ,they do not necessarily mean literary merit1 delicate insight1 or beautiful characterisation2 they probably mean a keen sense of what the public likes1 and a power to tickle its palate in an agreeable manner4 ,still1 not every man or woman is able to do this1 and although such a success may not rank as one of the first order1 it is a success which nobody can gainsay4 ,literary journals have been instituting inquiries into the cases of men like ,mr ,silas ,hocking and the ,rev4 ,e4 ,p4 ,roe3 why have they a circulation numbered by the million8 ,no inquiry is needed4 ,they are literary merchantmen who have studied the book-market thoroughly1 and as a result they know what is wanted and supply it4 ,let them have their reward without mean and angry demur4 ,however one may try to explain the fact1 it is none the less true that genuine literature often fails to pay the expenses of publication2 at any rate1 if it accomplishes more than that1 it is infinitesimal as compared with the huge sales of inferior work4 ,i do not know the circulation of ,mr ,henry ,harland's ,comedies and ,errors--possibly it has been moderate--but ,i would rather be the author of this volume of beautiful workmanship than of all the works of ,marie ,corelli--the bags of gold notwithstanding4 ,of course1 this is merely a personal preference with which the reader may have no sympathy2 but the fact remains that1 if a writer produces real literature and it does not sell1 he has not therefore failed in his purpose2 he may not receive many cheques from his publisher1 but it is real compensation to have an audience1 fit though few4 ,on the general question of literary success1 ,george ,henry ,lewes says3 ,we may lay it down1 as a rule1 that no work ever succeeded1 even for a day1 but it deserved that success2 no work ever failed but under conditions which made failure inevitable4 ,this will seem hard to men who feel that1 in their case1 neglect arises from prejudice or stupidity4 ,yet it is true even in extreme cases2 true even when the work once neglected has since been acknowledged superior to the works which for a time eclipsed it4 ,success1 temporary or enduring1 is the measure of the relation1 temporary or enduring1 which exists between a work and the public mind4#afg3;,a ,failure has a still more fruitful cause--namely1 the misdirection of talent4 ,men are constantly attempting1 without special aptitude1 work for which special aptitude is indispensable4 ',on peut etre honnete homme et faire mal des vers4' ,a man may be variously accomplished and yet be a feeble poet4 ,he may be a real poet1 yet a feeble dramatist4 ,he may have dramatic faculty1 yet be a feeble novelist4 ,he may be a good story-teller1 yet a shallow thinker and a slip-shod writer4 ,for success in any special kind of work1 it is obvious that a special talent is requisite2 but obvious as this seems1 when stated as a general proposition1 it rarely serves to check a mistaken presumption4 ,there are many writers endowed with a certain susceptibility to the graces and refinements of literature1 which has been fostered by culture till they have mistaken it for native power2 and these men being destitute of native power are forced to imitate what others have created4 ,they can understand how a man may have musical sensibility1 and yet not be a good singer2 but they fail to understand1 at least in their own case1 how a man may have literary sensibility1 yet not be a good story-teller or an effective dramatist4#afh3;,a ,the conclusion of the whole matter is this3 determine what your projected work is to do2 if you are going to offer it in a popular market1 give the public plenty for its money1 and spice it well2 if you are going to offer a sacrifice to the ,goddess of ,art1 be content if you receive no more applause than that which comes from the few worshippers who surround the sacred shrine4 ,,footnotes3 #afg3;,a ,the ,principles of ,success in ,literature1 p4 #aj4 #afh3;,a ,the ,principles of ,success in ,literature1 p4 #g4 ,,success ,minor ,conditions of ,success #a4 ,good literature has the same value in manuscript as in typescript1 but from the standpoint of author and publisher1 it can hardly be said to have the same chances4 ,penmanship does not tend to improve1 and some of the scrawly ,,mss4 sent in to publishers are enough to create dismay in the stoutest heart4 ,it is pure affectation to pretend to be above such small matters4 ,just as a dinner is all the more appetising because it is neatly and daintily served1 so a ,,ms4 has better chances of being read and appreciated when set out in type-written characters4 #b4 ,be sure that you are sending your ,,ms4 to the right publisher4 ,novels with a strongly developed moral purpose are not exactly the kind of thing wanted by ,mr ,heinemann2 and if you have anything like ,the ,woman ,who ,did1 don't send it to a ,sunday ,school ,publishing ,company4 ,these suppositions are no doubt absurd in the extreme1 but they will serve my purpose in pointing out the careless way in which many beginners dispose of their wares4 ,nearly all publishers specialise in some kind of literature1 and it is the novelist's duty to study these types from publishers' catalogues1 providing1 of course1 he does not know them already4 ,the commercial instinct is proverbially lacking in authors2 if it were not we should witness less frequently the spectacle of portly ,,mss4 being sent out haphazard to publisher after publisher4 #c4 ,perhaps my third point ought to have come first4 ,it relates to the obtaining of an expert's views on the matter and form of your story4 ,this will cost you a guinea1 perhaps more1 but it will save your time and hasten the possibilities of success4 ,you can easily spend a guinea in postage and two or three more in having the ,,ms4 re-typed1--and yet the tale be ever the same--,declined with thanks4 ,spare yourself many disappointments by putting your literary efforts before a competent critic1 and let him point out the crudities1 the digressions1 and those weaknesses which betray the 'prentice hand4 ,it will not be pleasant to see a pen line through your glorious passages1 or two blue pencil marks across a favourite piece of dialogue1 but it is better to know your defects at once than to discover them by painful and constant rejections4 #d4 ,be willing to learn2 have no fear of hard work2 do the best1 and write the best that is in you2 and never ape anybody1 but be yourself4 ,,appendices ,,appendix ,i ,,the ,,philosophy ,,of ,,composition#age3a ,by ,,edgar ,,allan ,,poe ,charles ,dickens1 in a note now lying before me1 alluding to an examination ,i once made of the mechanism of ,barnaby ,rudge1 says--,by the way1 are you aware that ,godwin wrote his ',caleb ,williams' backwards8 ,he first involved his hero in a web of difficulties1 forming the second volume1 and then1 for the first1 cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done4 ,i cannot think this the precise mode of procedure on the part of ,godwin--and indeed what he himself acknowledges1 is not altogether in accordance with ,mr4 ,dickens' idea--but the author of ,caleb ,williams was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivable from at least a somewhat similar process4 ,nothing is more clear than that every plot1 worth the name1 must be elaborated to its denouement before anything be attempted with the pen4 ,it is only with the denouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air of consequence1 or causation1 by making the incidents1 and especially the tone at all points1 tend to the development of the intention4 ,there is a radical error1 ,i think1 in the usual mode of constructing a story4 ,either history affords a thesis--or one is suggested by an incident of the day--or1 at best1 the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative--designing1 generally1 to fill in with description1 dialogue1 or authorial comment1 whatever crevices of fact1 or action1 may1 from page to page1 render themselves apparent4 ,i prefer commencing with the consideration of an effect4 ,keeping originality always in view--for he is false to himself who ventures to dispense with so obvious and so easily attainable a source of interest--,i say to myself1 in the first place1 ,of the innumerable effects1 or impressions1 of which the heart1 the intellect1 or 7more generally7 the soul is susceptible1 what one shall ,i1 on the present occasion1 select8 ,having chosen a novel1 first1 and secondly a vivid effect1 ,i consider whether it can be best wrought by incident or tone--whether by ordinary incidents and peculiar tone1 or the converse1 or by peculiarity both of incident and tone--afterward looking about me 7or rather within7 for such combinations of event1 or tone1 as shall best aid me in the construction of the effect4 ,i have often thought how interesting a magazine paper might be written by any author who would--that is to say1 who could--detail1 step by step1 the processes by which any one of his compositions attained its ultimate point of completion4 ,why such a paper has never been given to the world1 ,i am much at a loss to say--but1 perhaps1 the authorial vanity has had more to do with the omission than any one other cause4 ,most writers--poets in especial--prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy--an ecstatic intuition--and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes1 at the elaborate and vacillating crudities of thought--at the true purposes seized only at the last moment--at the innumerable glimpses of idea that arrived not at the maturity of full view--at the fully matured fancies discarded in despair as unmanageable--at the cautious selections and rejections--at the painful erasures and interpolations--in a word1 at the wheels and pinions--the tackle for scene-shifting--the stepladders1 and demon-traps--the cock's feathers1 the red paint and the black patches1 which1 in ninety-nine cases out of the hundred1 constitute the properties of the literary histrio4 ,i am aware1 on the other hand1 that the case is by no means common1 in which an author is at all in condition to retrace the steps by which his conclusions have been attained4 ,in general1 suggestions1 having arisen pell-mell1 are pursued and forgotten in a similar manner4 ,for my own part1 ,i have neither sympathy with the repugnance alluded to1 nor1 at any time1 the least difficulty in recalling to mind the progressive steps of any of my compositions2 and1 since the interest of an analysis1 or reconstruction1 such as ,i have considered a desideratum1 is quite independent of any real or fancied interest in the thing analysed1 it will not be regarded as a breach of decorum on my part to show the modus operandi by which some one of my own works was put together4 ,i select ,the ,raven as most generally known4 ,it is my design to render it manifest that no one point in its composition is referable either to accident or intuition--that the work proceeded1 step by step1 to its completion with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem4 ,let us dismiss1 as irrelevant to the poem1 per se1 the circumstance--or say the necessity--which1 in the first place1 gave rise to the intention of composing a poem that should suit at once the popular and the critical taste4 ,we commence1 then1 with this intention4 ,the initial consideration was that of extent4 ,if any literary work is too long to be read at one sitting1 we must be content to dispense with the immensely important effect derivable from unity of impression--for1 if two sittings be required1 the affairs of the world interfere1 and everything like totality is at once destroyed4 ,but since1 caeteris paribus1 no poet can afford to dispense with anything that may advance his design1 it but remains to be seen whether there is1 in extent1 any advantage to counterbalance the loss of unity which attends it4 ,here ,i say no1 at once4 ,what we term a long poem is1 in fact1 merely a succession of brief ones--that is to say1 of brief poetical effects4 ,it is needless to demonstrate that a poem is such1 only inasmuch as it intensely excites1 by elevating1 the soul2 and all intense excitements are1 through a psychal necessity1 brief4 ,for this reason1 at least one half of the ,paradise ,lost is essentially prose--a succession of poetical excitements interspersed1 inevitably1 with corresponding depressions--the whole being deprived1 through the extremeness of its length1 of the vastly important artistic element1 totality1 or unity1 of effect4 ,it appears evident1 then1 that there is a distinct limit1 as regards length1 to all works of literary art--the limit of a single sitting--and that1 although in certain classes of prose composition1 such as ,robinson ,crusoe 7demanding no unity71 this limit may be advantageously overpassed1 it can never properly be overpassed in a poem4 ,within this limit1 the extent of a poem may be made to bear mathematical relation to its merit--in other words1 to the excitement or elevation--again1 in other words1 to the degree of the true poetical effect which it is capable of inducing2 for it is clear that the brevity must be in direct ratio of the intensity of the intended effect3--this1 with one proviso--that a certain degree of duration is absolutely requisite for the production of any effect at all4 ,holding in view these considerations1 as well as that degree of excitement which ,i deemed not above the popular1 while not below the critical1 taste1 ,i reached at once what ,i conceived the proper length for my intended poem--a length of about one hundred lines4 ,it is1 in fact1 a hundred and eight4 ,my next thought concerned the choice of an impression1 or effect1 to be conveyed2 and here ,i may as well observe that1 throughout the construction ,i kept steadily in view the design of rendering the work universally appreciable4 ,i should be carried too far out of my immediate topic were ,i to demonstrate a point upon which ,i have repeatedly insisted1 and which1 with the poetical1 stands not in the slightest need of demonstration--the point1 ,i mean1 that ,beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem4 ,a few words1 however1 in elucidation of my real meaning1 which some of my friends have evinced a disposition to misrepresent4 ,that pleasure which is at once the most intense1 the most elevating1 and the most pure1 is1 ,i believe1 found in the contemplation of the beautiful4 ,when1 indeed1 men speak of ,beauty1 they mean1 precisely1 not a quality1 as is supposed1 but an effect--they refer1 in short1 just to that intense and pure elevation of soul--not of intellect1 or of heart--upon which ,i have commented1 and which is experienced in consequence of contemplating the beautiful4 ,now ,i designate ,beauty as the province of the poem1 merely because it is an obvious rule of ,art that effects should be made to spring from direct causes--that objects should be attained through means best adapted for their attainment--no one as yet having been weak enough to deny that the peculiar elevation alluded to1 is most readily attained in the poem4 ,now the object ,truth1 or the satisfaction of the intellect1 and the object ,passion1 or the excitement of the heart1 are1 although attainable1 to a certain extent1 in poetry1 far more readily attainable in prose4 ,truth1 in fact1 demands a precision1 and ,passion a homeliness 7the truly passionate will comprehend me7 which are absolutely antagonistic to that ,beauty which1 ,i maintain1 is the excitement1 or pleasurable elevation1 of the soul4 ,it by no means follows from anything here said1 that passion1 or even truth1 may not be introduced1 and even profitably introduced1 into a poem--for they may serve in elucidation1 or aid the general effect1 as do discords in music1 by contrast--but the true artist will always contrive1 first1 to tone them into proper subservience to the predominant aim2 and1 secondly1 to enveil them1 as far as possible1 in that ,beauty which is the atmosphere and the essence of the poem4 ,regarding1 then1 ,beauty as my province1 my next question referred to the tone of its highest manifestation--and all experience has shown that this tone is one of sadness4 ,beauty of whatever kind1 in its supreme development1 invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears4 ,melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones4 ,the length1 the province1 and the tone1 being thus determined1 ,i betook myself to ordinary induction1 with the view of obtaining some artistic piquancy which might serve me as a key-note in the construction of the poem--some pivot upon which the whole structure might turn4 ,in carefully thinking over all the usual artistic effects--or more properly points1 in the theatrical sense--,i did not fail to perceive immediately that no one had been so universally employed as that of the refrain4 ,the universality of its employment sufficed to assure me of its intrinsic value1 and spared me the necessity of submitting it to analysis4 ,i considered it1 however1 with regard to its susceptibility of improvement1 and soon saw it to be in a primitive condition4 ,as commonly used1 the refrain1 or burden1 not only is limited to lyric verse1 but depends for its impression upon the force of monotone--both in sound and thought4 ,the pleasure is deduced solely from the sense of identity--of repetition4 ,i resolved to diversify1 and so heighten1 the effect1 by adhering1 in general1 to the monotone of sound1 while ,i continually varied that of thought3 that is to say1 ,i determined to produce continuously novel effects1 by the variation of the application of the refrain--the refrain itself remaining1 for the most part1 unvaried4 ,these points being settled1 ,i next bethought me of the nature of my refrain4 ,since its application was to be repeatedly varied1 it was clear that the refrain itself must be brief1 for there would have been an insurmountable difficulty in frequent variations of application in any sentence of length4 ,in proportion to the brevity of the sentence1 would1 of course1 be the facility of the variation4 ,this led me at once to a single word as the best refrain4 ,the question now arose as to the character of the word4 ,having made up my mind to a refrain1 the division of the poem into stanzas was1 of course1 a corollary3 the refrain forming the close to each stanza4 ,that such a close1 to have force1 must be sonorous and susceptible of protracted emphasis1 admitted no doubt3 and these considerations inevitably led me to the long o as the most sonorous vowel1 in connection with r as the most producible consonant4 ,the sound of the refrain being thus determined1 it became necessary to select a word embodying this sound1 and at the same time in the fullest possible keeping with that melancholy which ,i had pre-determined as the tone of the poem4 ,in such a search it would have been absolutely impossible to overlook the word ,nevermore4 ,in fact1 it was the very first which presented itself4 ,the next desideratum was a pretext for the continuous use of the one word nevermore4 ,in observing the difficulty which ,i at once found in inventing a sufficiently plausible reason for its continuous repetition1 ,i did not fail to perceive that this difficulty arose solely from the pre-assumption that the word was to be so continuously or monotonously spoken by a human being--,i did not fail to perceive1 in short1 that the difficulty lay in the reconciliation of this monotony with the exercise of reason on the part of the creature repeating the word4 ,here1 then1 immediately arose the idea of a non-reasoning creature capable of speech2 and1 very naturally1 a parrot1 in the first instance1 suggested itself1 but was superseded forthwith by a ,raven1 as equally capable of speech1 and infinitely more in keeping with the intended tone4 ,i had now gone so far as the conception of a ,raven--the bird of ill omen--monotonously repeating the one word1 ,nevermore1 at the conclusion of each stanza1 in a poem of melancholy tone1 and in length about one hundred lines4 ,now1 never losing sight of the object supremeness1 or perfection1 at all points1 ,i asked myself--,of all melancholy topics1 what1 according to the universal understanding of mankind1 is the most melancholy8 ,death--was the obvious reply4 ,and when1 ,i said1 is this most melancholy of topics most poetical8 ,from what ,i have already explained at some length1 the answer1 here also1 is obvious--,when it most closely allies itself to ,beauty3 the death1 then1 of a beautiful woman is1 unquestionably1 the most poetical topic in the world--and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover4 ,i had now to combine the two ideas1 of a lover lamenting his deceased mistress and a ,raven continuously repeating the word ,nevermore4--,i had to combine these1 bearing in mind my design of varying1 at every turn1 the application of the word repeated2 but the only intelligible mode of such combination is that of imagining the ,raven employing the word in answer to the queries of the lover4 ,and here it was that ,i saw at once the opportunity afforded for the effect on which ,i had been depending--that is to say1 the effect of the variation of application4 ,i saw that ,i could make the first query propounded by the lover--the first query to which the ,raven should reply ,nevermore--that ,i could make this first query a commonplace one--the second less so--the third still less1 and so on--until at length the lover1 startled from his original nonchalance by the melancholy character of the word itself--by its frequent repetition--and by a consideration of the ominous reputation of the fowl that uttered it--is at length excited to superstition1 and wildly propounds queries of a far different character--queries whose solution he has passionately at heart--propounds them half in superstition and half in that species of despair which delights in self-torture--propounds them not altogether because he believes in the prophetic or demoniac character of the bird 7which1 reason assures him1 is merely repeating a lesson learned by rote71 but because he experiences a frenzied pleasure in so modelling his question as to receive from the expected ,nevermore the most delicious because the most intolerable of sorrow4 ,perceiving the opportunity thus afforded me--or1 more strictly1 thus forced upon me in the progress of the construction--,i first established in mind the climax1 or concluding query--that query to which ,nevermore should be in the last place an answer--that query in reply to which this word ,nevermore should involve the utmost conceivable amount of sorrow and despair4 ,here then the poem may be said to have its beginning--at the end1 where all works of art should begin--for it was here1 at this point of my pre-considerations1 that ,i first put pen to paper in the composition of the stanza3 ',prophet6' said ,i1 'thing of evil6 prophet still1 if bird or devil6 ,by that heaven that bends above us--by that ,god we both adore1 ,tell this soul with sorrow laden1 if1 within the distant ,aidenn1 ,it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name ,lenore-- ,clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name ,lenore8' ,quoth the ,raven1 ',nevermore4' ,i composed this stanza1 at this point1 first that1 by establishing the climax1 ,i might the better vary and graduate1 as regards seriousness and importance1 the preceding queries of the lover--and1 secondly1 that ,i might definitely settle the rhythm1 the metre1 and the length and general arrangement of the stanza--as well as graduate the stanzas which were to precede1 so that none of them might surpass this in rhythmical effect4 ,had ,i been able1 in the subsequent composition1 to construct more vigorous stanzas1 ,i should1 without scruple1 have purposely enfeebled them1 so as not to interfere with the climacteric effect4 ,and here ,i may as well say a few words of the versification4 ,my first object 7as usual7 was originality4 ,the extent to which this has been neglected1 in versification1 is one of the most unaccountable things in the world4 ,admitting that there is little possibility of variety in mere rhythm1 it is still clear that the possible varieties of metre and stanza are absolutely infinite--and yet1 for centuries1 no man1 in verse1 has ever done1 or ever seemed to think of doing1 an original thing4 ,the fact is1 that originality 7unless in minds of very unusual force7 is by no means a matter1 as some suppose1 of impulse or intuition4 ,in general1 to be found1 it must be elaborately sought1 and although a positive merit of the highest class1 demands in its attainment less of invention than negation4 ,of course1 ,i pretend to no originality in either the rhythm or metre of the ,raven4 ,the former is trochaic--the latter is octameter acatalectic1 alternating with heptameter catalectic repeated in the refrain of the fifth verse1 and terminating with tetrameter catalectic4 ,less pedantically--the feet employed throughout 7trochees7 consist of a long syllable followed by a short3 the first line of the stanza consists of eight of these feet--the second of seven and a half 7in effect two-thirds7--the third of eight--the fourth of seven and a half--the fifth the same--the sixth three and a half4 ,now1 each of these lines1 taken individually1 has been employed before1 and what originality the ,raven has1 is in their combination into stanza2 nothing even remotely approaching this combination has ever been attempted4 ,the effect of this originality of combination is aided by other unusual1 and some altogether novel effects1 arising from an extension of the application of the principles of rhyme and alliteration4 ,the next point to be considered was the mode of bringing together the lover and the ,raven--and the first branch of this consideration was the locale4 ,for this the most natural suggestion might seem to be a forest1 or the fields--but it has always appeared to me that a close circumscription of space is absolutely necessary to the effect of insulated incident3--it has the force of a frame to a picture4 ,it has an indisputable moral power in keeping concentrated the attention1 and1 of course1 must not be confounded with mere unity of place4 ,i determined1 then1 to place the lover in his chamber--in a chamber rendered sacred to him by memories of her who had frequented it4 ,the room is represented as richly furnished--this in mere pursuance of the ideas ,i have already explained on the subject of ,beauty1 as the sole true poetical thesis4 ,the locale being thus determined1 ,i had now to introduce the bird--and the thought of introducing him through the window1 was inevitable4 ,the idea of making the lover suppose1 in the first instance1 that the flapping of the wings of the bird against the shutter1 is a tapping at the door1 originated in a wish to increase1 by prolonging1 the reader's curiosity1 and in a desire to admit the incidental effect arising from the lover's throwing open the door1 finding all dark1 and thence adopting the half-fancy that it was the spirit of his mistress that knocked4 ,i made the night tempestuous1 first1 to account for the ,raven's seeking admission1 and secondly1 for the effect of contrast with the 7physical7 serenity within the chamber4 ,i made the bird alight on the bust of ,pallas1 also for the effect of contrast between the marble and the plumage--it being understood that the bust was absolutely suggested by the bird--the bust of ,pallas being chosen1 first1 as most in keeping with the scholarship of the lover1 and1 secondly1 for the sonorousness of the word1 ,pallas1 itself4 ,about the middle of the poem1 also1 ,i have availed myself of the force of contrast1 with a view of deepening the ultimate impression4 ,for example1 an air of the fantastic--approaching as nearly to the ludicrous as was admissible--is given to the ,raven's entrance4 ,he comes in with many a flirt and flutter4 ,not the least obeisance made he--not a moment stopped or stayed he1 ,but1 with mien of lord or lady1 perched above my chamber door4 ,in the two stanzas which follow1 the design is more obviously carried out3-- ,then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling ,by the grace and stern decorum of the countenance it wore1 ',though thy crest be shorn and shaven1 thou1' ,i said1 'art sure no craven1 ,ghastly1 grim1 and ancient ,raven wandering from the ,nightly shore-- ,tell me what thy lordly name is on the ,night's ,plutonian shore8' ,quoth the ,raven1 ',nevermore4' ,much ,i marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly1 ,though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore2 ,for we cannot help agreeing that no living human being ,ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-- ,bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door1 ,with such name as ',nevermore4' ,the effect of the denouement being thus provided for1 ,i immediately drop the fantastic for a tone of the most profound seriousness3--this tone commencing in the stanza directly following the one last quoted1 with the line1 ,but the ,raven1 sitting lonely on that placid bust1 spoke only1 etc4 ,from this epoch the lover no longer jests--no longer sees any thing even of the fantastic in the ,raven's demeanour4 ,he speaks of him as a grim1 ungainly1 ghastly1 gaunt1 and ominous bird of yore1 and feels the fiery eyes burning into his bosom's core4 ,this revolution of thought1 or fancy1 on the lover's part1 is intended to induce a similar one on the part of the reader--to bring the mind into a proper frame for the denouement--which is now brought about as rapidly and as directly as possible4 ,with the denouement proper--with the ,raven's reply1 ,nevermore1 to the lover's final demand if he shall meet his mistress in another world--the poem1 in its obvious phase1 that of a simple narrative1 may be said to have its completion4 ,so far1 every thing is within the limits of the accountable--of the real4 ,a raven1 having learned by rote the single word ,nevermore1 and having escaped from the custody of its owner1 is driven at midnight1 through the violence of a storm1 to seek admission at a window from which a light still gleams--the chamber-window of a student1 occupied half in poring over a volume1 half in dreaming of a beloved mistress deceased4 ,the casement being thrown open at the fluttering of the bird's wings1 the bird itself perches on the most convenient seat out of the immediate reach of the student1 who1 amused by the incident and the oddity of the visitor's demeanour1 demands of it1 in jest1 and without looking for a reply1 its name4 ,the raven addressed1 answers with its customary word1 ,nevermore--a word which finds immediate echo in the melancholy heart of the student1 who1 giving utterance aloud to certain thoughts suggested by the occasion1 is again startled by the fowl's repetition of ,nevermore4 ,the student now guesses the state of the case1 but is impelled1 as ,i have before explained1 by the human thirst for self-torture1 and in part by superstition1 to propound such queries to the bird as will bring him1 the lover1 the most of the luxury of sorrow1 through the anticipated answer ,nevermore4 ,with the indulgence1 to the extreme1 of this self-torture1 the narration1 in what ,i have termed its first or obvious phase1 has a natural termination1 and so far there has been no overstepping of the limits of the real4 ,but in subjects so handled1 however skilfully1 or with however vivid an array of incident1 there is always a certain hardness or nakedness1 which repels the artistical eye4 ,two things are invariably required--first1 some amount of complexity1 or more properly1 adaptation2 and1 secondly1 some amount of suggestiveness--some under-current1 however indefinite1 of meaning4 ,it is this latter1 in especial1 which imparts to a work of art so much of that richness 7to borrow from colloquy a forcible term7 which we are too fond of confounding with the ideal4 ,it is the excess of the suggested meaning--it is the rendering this the upper instead of the under current of the theme--which turns into prose 7and that of the very flattest kind7 the so-called poetry of the so-called transcendentalists4 ,holding these opinions1 ,i added the two concluding stanzas of the poem--their suggestiveness being thus made to pervade all the narrative which has preceded them4 ,the under-current of meaning is rendered first apparent in the lines-- ',take thy beak from out my heart1 and take thy form from off my door6' ,quoth the ,raven1 ',nevermore6' ,it will be observed that the words1 from out my heart1 involve the first metaphorical expression in the poem4 ,they1 with the answer ,nevermore1 dispose the mind to seek a moral in all that has been previously narrated4 ,the reader begins now to regard the ,raven as emblematical--but it is not until the very last line of the very last stanza1 that the intention of making him emblematical of ,mournful and ,never-ending ,remembrance is permitted distinctly to be seen3-- ,and the ,raven1 never flitting1 still is sitting1 still is sitting1 ,on the pallid bust of ,pallas1 just above my chamber door2 ,and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming1 ,and the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor2 ,and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor ,shall be lifted--nevermore6 ,,footnotes3 #age3a ,i do not hold myself responsible for ,poe's literary judgments3 my purpose in reproducing this essay is to reveal ,poe's methods4 ,,appendix ,,ii ,,books ,,worth ,,reading #a4 ,the ,art of ,fiction4 ,by ,sir ,walter ,besant4 ,lecture delivered at the ,royal ,institution1 ,april #beth1 #ahhd4 #b4 ,le ,roman ,naturaliste4 ,by ,f4 ,brunetiere4 ,paris1 #ahhc4 #c4 ,the ,novel3 ,what it is4 ,by ,f4 ,marion ,crawford4 ,new ,york1 #ahid4 #d4 ,the ,development of the ,english ,novel4 ,by ,w4 ,l4 ,cross4 ,london1 #ahii4 #e4 ,style4 ,by ,t4 de ,quincey4 ,works4 ,edinburgh1 #ahij4 #f4 ,the ,limits of ,realism in ,fiction1 and ,the ,tyranny of the ,novel 7in ,questions at ,issue74 ,by ,edmund ,gosse4 #g4 ,the ,house of ,seven ,gables4 ,by ,n4 ,hawthorne4 ,see ,preface4 #h4 ,confessions and ,criticisms4 ,by ,julian ,hawthorne4 #i4 ,criticism and ,fiction4 ,by ,w4 ,d4 ,howells4 ,new ,york1 #ahia4 #aj4 ,the ,art of ,fiction 7in ,partial ,portraits74 ,by ,henry ,james4 ,london1 #ahhh4 #aa4 ,the ,art of ,thomas ,hardy4 ,by ,lionel ,johnson4 #ab4 ,the ,principles of ,success in ,literature4 ,by ,g4 ,h4 ,lewes4 ,london1 #ahih4 #ac4 ,the ,english ,novel and the ,principles of its ,development4 ,new ,york1 #ahhc4 #ad4 ,the ,philosophy of the ,short ,story 7in ,pen and ,ink74 ,by ,brander ,matthews4 ,new ,york1 #ahhh4 #ae4 ,pierre and ,jean4 ,by ,guy de ,maupassant4 ,see ,preface4 #af4 ,four ,years of ,novel ,reading4 ,by ,professor ,moulton4 ,london1 #ahie4 #ag4 ,the ,british ,novelists and their ,styles4 ,by ,david ,masson4 ,london1 #ahei4 #ah4 ,appreciations1 with an ,essay on ,style4 ,by ,walter ,pater4 ,london1 #ahij4 #ai4 ,the ,english ,novel4 ,by ,walter ,raleigh4 ,london1 #ahid4 #bj4 ,style4 ,by ,walter ,raleigh4 ,london1 #ahig4 #ba4 ,the ,logic of ,style4 ,by ,w4 ,renton4 ,london1 #ahgd4 #bb4 ,the ,philosophy of ,fiction4 ,by ,d4 ,g4 ,thompson4 ,new ,york1 #ahij4 #bc4 ,a ,humble ,remonstrance1 and ,a ,gossip on ,romance 7in ,memories and ,portraits74 ,by ,r4 ,l4 ,stevenson4 #bd4 ,the ,present ,state of the ,english ,novel 7in ,miscellaneous ,essays74 ,by ,george ,saintsbury4 ,london1 #ahib4 #be4 ,notes on ,style 7in ,essays3 ,speculative and ,suggestive74 ,by ,j4 ,a4 ,symonds4 ,london1 #ahij4 #bf4 ,the ,philosophy of ,style4 ,by ,herbert ,spencer4 ,london1 #ahgb4 #bg4 ,introduction to the ,study of ,english ,fiction4 ,by ,w4 ,e4 ,simonds4 ,boston1 ,u4,s4,a41 #ahid4 #bh4 ,le ,roman ,experimental4 ,paris1 #ahha4 #bi4 ,how to ,write ,fiction4 ,published by ,george ,redway4 #cj4 ,the ,art of ,writing ,fiction4 ,published by ,wells ,gardner4 #ca4 ,on ,novels and the ,art of ,writing ,them4 ,by ,anthony ,trollope4 ,in his ,autobiography1 vol4 ii4 ,,appendix ,,iii ,,magazine ,,articles ,,on ,,writing ,,fiction ,one ,way to ,write a ,novel4 ,by ,julian ,hawthorne4 ,cosmopolitan1 vol4 ii p4 #if4 ,names in ,novels4 ,blackwood1 vol cl4 p4 #bcj4 ,naming of ,novels4 ,macmillan1 vol4 lxi4 p4 #cgb4 ,fiction as a ,literary ,form4 ,by ,h4 ,w4 ,mabie4 ,scribner's ,magazine1 vol4 v4 p4 #fbj4 ,candour in ,english ,fiction4 ,by ,w4 ,besant1 ,mrs ,lynn ,linton1 and ,thomas ,hardy4 ,new ,review1 vol4 ii4 p4 #f4 ,the ,future of ,fiction4 ,by ,james ,sully4 ,forum1 vol4 ix4 p4 #fdd4 ,names in ,fiction4 ,by ,g4 ,saintsbury4 ,macmillan1 vol4 lix4 p4 #aae4 ,real ,people in ,fiction4 ,by ,w4 ,s4 ,walsh4 ,lippincott1 vol4 xlviii4 p4 #cji4 ,the ,relation of ,art to ,truth4 ,by ,w4 ,h4 ,mallock4 ,forum1 vol4 ix p4 #cf4 ,success in ,fiction4 ,by ,m4 ,o4 ,w4 ,oliphant4 ,forum1 vol vii4 p4 #cad4 ,great ,writers and their ,art4 ,chambers's ,journal1 vol4 lxv4 p4 #dfe4 ,the ,jews in ,english ,fiction4 ,london ,quarterly ,review1 vol4 xxviii4 #ahig4 ,heroines in ,modern ,fiction4 ,national ,review1 vol4 xxix4 #ahig4 ,a ,claim for the ,art of ,fiction4 ,by ,e4 ,g4 ,wheelwright4 ,westminster ,review1 vol4 cxlvi4 #ahif4 ,the ,speculations of a ,story-,teller4 ,by ,g4 ,w4 ,cable4 ,atlantic ,monthly1 vol4 lxxviii4 #ahif4 ,a ,novelist's ,views of ,novel ,writing4 ,by ,e4 ,s4 ,phelps4 ,m',clure's ,magazine1 vol4 viii4 #ahif4 ,hints to ,young ,authors of ,fiction4 ,by ,grant ,allen4 ,great ,thoughts1 vol4 vii4 #ahif4 ,novels ,without a ,purpose4 ,north ,american ,review1 vol4 clxiii4 #ahif4 ,the ,fiction of the ,future4 ,symposium4 ,ludgate ,monthly1 vol4 ii4 #ahif4 ,the ,place of ,realism in ,fiction4 ,humanitarian1 vol4 vii4 #ahie4 ,by ,dr ,w4 ,barry1 ,a4 ,daudet1 ,miss ,e4 ,dixon1 ,sir ,g4 ,douglas1 ,g4 ,gissing1 ,w4 ,h4 ,mallock1 ,richard ,pryce1 ,miss ,a4 ,sergeant1 ,f4 ,wedmore1 and ,w4 ,h4 ,wilkins4 ,the ,influence of ,idealism in ,fiction4 ,by ,ingrad ,harting4 ,humanitarian1 vol4 vi4 #ahie4 ,novelists on their ,works4 ,ludgate ,monthly1 vol4 i4 #ahie4 ,novel ,writing and ,novel ,reading4 ,interview with ,baring ,gould4 ,cassell's ,family ,magazine1 vol4 xxii4 #ahid4 ,the ,women ,characters of ,fiction4 ,by ,h4 ,schutz ,wilson4 ,gentleman's ,magazine1 vol4 cclxxvii4 #ahid4 ,school of ,fiction ,series4 ,in ,atalanta1 vol4 vii4 #ahid3 #a4 ,the ,picturesque ,novel1 as represented by ,r4 ,d4 ,blackmore4 ,by ,k4 ,macquoid4 #b4 ,the ,autobiographical ,novel1 as represented by ,c4 ,bronte4 ,by ,dr ,a4 ,h4 ,japp4 #c4 ,the ,historical ,novel1 as represented by ,sir ,walter ,scott4 ,by ,e4 ,l4 ,arnold4 #d4 ,the ,ethical ,novel1 as represented by ,george ,eliot4 ,by ,j4 ,a4 ,noble4 #e4 ,the ,satirical ,novel1 as represented by ,w4 ,m4 ,thackeray4 ,by ,h4 ,a4 ,page4 #f4 ,the ,human ,novel1 as represented by ,mrs ,gaskell4 ,by ,maxwell ,gray4 #g4 ,the ,sensational ,novel1 as represented by ,mrs ,henry ,wood4 ,by ,e4 ,c4 ,grey4 #h4 ,the ,humorous ,novel1 as represented by ,oliver ,goldsmith4 ,by ,dr ,a4 ,h4 ,japp4 ,the ,shudder in ,literature4 ,by ,jules ,claretie4 ,north ,american ,review1 vol4 clv4 #ahib4 ,the ,profitable ,reading of ,fiction4 ,by ,thomas ,hardy4 ,forum1 vol4 v4 p4 #eg4 ,the ,picturesque in ,novels4 ,chambers's ,journal1 vol4 lxii4 #ahib4 ,realism in ,fiction4 ,by ,e4 ,f4 ,benson4 ,nineteenth ,century1 vol4 xxxiv4 #ahic4 ,great ,characters in ,novels4 ,spectator1 vol4 lxxi4 #ahic4 ,the ,modern ,novel4 ,by ,a4 ,e4 ,barr4 ,north ,american ,review1 vol4 clix4 #ahid4 ,the ,novels of ,adventure and ,manners4 ,quarterly ,review1 vol4 clxxix4 #ahid4 ,the ,women of ,fiction4 ,by ,h4 ,s4 ,wilson4 ,gentleman's ,magazine1 new series1 vol4 liii4 #ahid4 ,why do ,certain ,works of ,fiction ,succeed8 ,by ,m4 ,wilcox4 ,new ,scientific ,review1 vol4 i4 #ahid4 ,magazine ,fiction1 and ,how not to ,write ,it4 ,by ,f4 ,m4 ,bird4 ,lippincott's ,magazine1 vol4 liv4 #ahid4 ,the ,picaresque ,novel4 ,by ,j4 ,f4 ,kelly4 ,new ,review1 vol4 xiii4 p4 #ei4 ,the ,irresponsible ,novelist4 ,macmillan's ,magazine1 vol4 lxxii4 p4 #gc4 ,great ,realists and ,empty ,story ,tellers4 ,by ,h4 ,h4 ,boyesen4 ,forum1 vol4 xviii4 p4 #gbd4 ,motion and ,emotion in ,fiction4 ,by ,r4 ,m4 ,doggett4 ,overland ,monthly1 new series1 vol4 xxvi4 p4 #fad4 ',tendencies' in ,fiction4 ,by ,a4 ,lang4 ,north ,american ,review1 vol4 clxi4 p4 #aec4 ,the ,two ,eternal ,types in ,fiction4 ,by ,h4 ,w4 ,mabie4 ,forum1 vol4 xix4 p4 #da4 ,the ,problem of the ,novel4 ,by ,a4 ,n4 ,meyer4 ,arena1 vol xvii4 #ahig4 ,my ,favourite ,novel and ,novelist4 ,the ,munsey ,magazine1 vols4 xvii4-xviii4 #ahig4 ,by ,w4 ,d4 ,howells1 ,b4 ,matthews1 ,f4 ,b4 ,stockton1 ,mrs ,b4 ,harrison1 ,s4 ,r4 ,crockett1 ,p4 ,bourget1 ,w4 ,c4 ,russell1 and ,a4 ,hope ,hawkins4 ,hard ,times among the ,heroines of ,novels4 ,by ,e4 ,a4 ,madden4 ,lippincott's ,magazine1 vol4 lxix4 #ahig4 ,on the ,theory and ,practice of ,local ,colour4 ,by ,w4 ,p4 ,james4 ,macmillan's ,magazine1 vol4 lxxvi4 #ahig4 ,the ,writing of ,fiction4 ,by ,f4 ,m4 ,bird4 ,lippincott's ,magazine1 vol4 lx4 #ahig4 ,novelists' ,estimates of their own ,work4 ,national ,magazine 7,boston1 ,u4,s4,a471 vol4 x4 #ahig4 ,fundamentals of ,fiction4 ,by ,b4 ,burton4 ,forum1 vol4 xxviii4 #ahii4 ,on the ,future of ,novel ,writing4 ,by ,sir ,walter ,besant4 ,the ,idler1 vol4 xiii4 #ahih4 ,the ,short ,story4 ,by ,f4 ,wedmore4 ,nineteenth ,century1 vol4 xliii4 #ahih4 ,the ,complete ,novelist4 ,by ,james ,payn4 ,strand1 vol4 xiv4 #ahig4 ,what is a ,realist8 ,by ,a4 ,morrison4 ,new ,review1 vol4 xvi4 #ahig4 ,the ,historical ,novel4 ,by ,b4 ,matthews4 ,forum1 vol4 xxiv4 #ahig4 ,the ,limits of ,realism in ,fiction4 ,by ,paul ,bourget4 ,new ,review1 vol4 viii4 p4 #bja4 ,new ,watchwords in ,fiction4 ,by ,hall ,caine4 ,contemporary ,review1 vol4 lvii4 p4 #dgi4 ,the ,science of ,fiction4 ,by ,paul ,bourget1 ,walter ,besant1 and ,thomas ,hardy4 ,new ,review1 vol4 iv4 p4 #cjd4 ,the ,dangers of the ,analytic ,spirit in ,fiction4 ,by ,paul ,bourget4 ,new ,review1 vol4 vi4 p4 #dh4 ,cervantes1 ,zola1 ,kipling1 and ,coy4 ,by ,brander ,matthews4 ,cosmopolitan1 vol4 xiv4 p4 #fji4 ,on ,style in ,literature4 ,by ,r4 ,l4 ,stevenson4 ,contemporary ,review1 vol4 xlvii4 p4 #deh4 ,the ,apotheosis of the ,novel4 ,by ,herbert ,paul4 ,contemporary ,review1 vol4 xli4 #ahig4 ,vacant ,places in ,literature4 ,by ,w4 ,robertson ,nicoll4 ,british ,weekly1 ,march #bj1 #ahie4 ,what ,makes a ,novel ,successful8 ,by ,w4 ,robertson ,nicoll4 ,british ,weekly1 ,june #af1 #ahif4 ,the ,use of ,dialect in ,fiction4 ,by ,f4 ,h4 ,french4 ,atalanta1 vol4 viii4 p4 #abe4 ,,the ,,riverside ,,press ,,limited1 ,,edinburgh ,,transcriber',s ,,notes ,the word manoevring has an oe ligature in the original4 ,the following corrections have been made to the text3 ,page #gg3 says ,mr ,w4 ,m4 ,hunt4original has comma ,page #hg3 ,if you know your charactersoriginal has chararacters ,page #aja3 and risk the reader's acuteness1original has cuteness ,page #aac3 in a way quite different toillegible in the original everybody else ,page #abf3 for which1 indeed1 the spotillegible in the original--confirmed in other sources is most fit ,page #bjb3 #i4 ,criticism and ,fiction4quotation mark missing in original ,by ,w4 ,d4 ,howells4 #abj3;,a ,erichsen3 ,methods of ,authors4period missing in original