,illustration3 ,title page          ,the
      ,art of ,fiction        ,by       
,walter ,besant      ,author of ,the    
,orange ,girl1 etc4 etc4          ,a    
,new ,edition          ,london          
,chatto  ,windus    #aijb            ,a 
,lecture delivered at the ,royal        
,institution1 ,april #be1 #ahhd         
,,the ,,art ,,of ,,fiction    ,i desire 
this evening to consider ,fiction as one
 of the ,fine ,arts4  ,in order to do   
this1 and before doing it1 ,i have first
 to advance  certain propositions4      
,they are not new1 they are not likely  
to be  disputed1 and yet they have never
 been so generally received as to  form 
part1 so to speak1 of the national mind4
  ,these propositions are  three1 though
 the last two directly spring from the  
first4  ,they are3    #a4 ,that ,fiction
 is an ,art in every way worthy to be   
called the sister  and the equal of the 
,arts of ,painting1 ,sculpture1 ,music1 
and ,poetry2  that is to say1 her field 
is as boundless1 her possibilities are  

as  vast1 her excellences as worthy of  
admiration1 as may be claimed for  any  
of her sister ,arts4    #b4 ,that it is 
an ,art which1 like them1 is governed   
and directed by  general laws2 and that 
these laws may be laid down and taught  
with as  much precision and exactness as
 the laws of harmony1 perspective1 and  
proportion4    #c4 ,that1 like the other
 ,fine ,arts1 ,fiction is so far removed
 from the  mere mechanical arts1 that no
 laws or rules whatever can teach it to 
those who have not already been endowed 
with the natural and  necessary gifts4  
,these are the three propositions which 
,i have to discuss4  ,it follows  as a  
corollary and evident deduction that1   
these propositions once  admitted1 those
 who follow and profess the ,art of     
,fiction must be  recognised as artists1
 in the strictest sense of the word1    
just as  much as those who have         
delighted and elevated mankind by music 
and  painting2 and that the great       
,masters of ,fiction must be placed on  

the  same level as the great ,masters in
 the other ,arts4  ,in other words1 ,i  
mean that where the highest point1 or   
what seems the highest point1  possible 
in this ,art is touched1 the man who has
 reached it is one of  the world's      
greatest men4    ,i cannot suppose that 
there are any in this room who would    
refuse to  admit these propositions2 on 
the contrary1 they will seem to most    
here self-evident2 yet the application  
of theory to practice1 of  principle to 
persons1 may be more difficult4  ,for   
instance1 so  boundless is the          
admiration for great ,masters such as   
,raphael or  ,mozart1 that if one were  
to propose that ,thackeray should be    
placed  beside them1 on the same level1 
and as an equal1 there would be felt  by
 most a certain shock4  ,i am not       
suggesting that the art of  ,thackeray  
is to be compared with that of ,raphael1
 or that there is  any similarity in the
 work of the two men2 ,i only say that1 
,fiction  being one ,art1 and ,painting 

another and a sister ,art1 those who    
attain the highest possible distinction 
in either are equal4    ,let us1        
however1 go outside this room1 among the
 multitudes by whom a  novelist has     
never been considered an artist at all4 
,to them the  claim that a great        
novelist should be considered to occupy 
the same  level as a great musician1 a  
great painter1 or a great poet1 would   
appear at first a thing ludicrous and   
even painful4  ,consider for a  moment  
how the world at large regards the      
novelist4  ,he is1 in their  eyes1 a    
person who tells stories2 just as they  
used to regard the  actor as a man who  
tumbled on the stage to make the        
audience laugh1  and a musician as a man
 who fiddled to make the people dance4  
,this  is the old way of thinking1 and  
most people think first as they have    
been taught to think2 and next1 as they 
see others think4  ,it is1  therefore1  
quite easy to understand why the art of 
novel-writing has  always been1 by the  

general mass1 undervalued4  ,first1     
while the  leaders in every other branch
 of ,art1 in every department of        
,science1  and in every kind of         
profession1 receive their share of the  
ordinary  national distinctions1 no one 
ever hears of honours being bestowed    
upon novelists4  ,neither ,thackeray nor
 ,dickens was ever1 so far as ,i  know1 
offered a ,peerage2 neither ,king1      
,queen1 nor ,prince in any  country     
throughout the whole world takes the    
least notice of them4  ,i  do not say   
they would be any the better for this   
kind of recognition1  but its absence   
clearly proves1 to those who take their 
opinions from  others1 that they are not
 a class at all worthy of special       
honour4  ,then1 again1 in the modern    
craze which exists for every kind of    
art--so that we meet everywhere1 in     
every household1 amateur actors1        
painters1 etchers1 sculptors1 modellers1
 musicians1 and singers1 all  of them   
serious and earnest in their            

aims--amateur novelists alone  regard   
their ,art as one which is learned by   
intuition4  ,thirdly1  novelists are not
 associated as are painters2 they hold  
no annual  exhibitions1 dinners1 or     
conversazioni2 they put no letters after
  their names2 they have no ,president  
or ,academy2 and they do not  themselves
 seem desirous of being treated as      
followers of a special  ,art4  ,i do not
 say that they are wrong1 or that much  
would be gained  for ,art if all the    
novelists of ,england were invited to   
,court and  created into a ,royal       
,academy4  ,but ,i do say that for these
 three  reasons it is easy to understand
 how the world at large does not even   
suspect that the writing of novels is   
one of the ,fine ,arts1 and why  they   
regard the story-teller with a sort of  
contempt4  ,it is1 ,i  acknowledge1 a   
kindly contempt--even an affectionate   
contempt2 it is  the contempt which the 
practical man feels for the dreamer1 the
  strong man for the weak1 the man who  

can do for the man who can only  look on
 and talk4    ,the general--the         
,philistine--view of the ,profession is1
 first of all1  that it is not one which
 a scholar and a man of serious views   
should  take up3 the telling of stories 
is inconsistent with a well-balanced    
mind2 to be a teller of stories         
disqualifies one from a hearing on      
important subjects4  ,at this very day  
there are thousands of living  people   
who will never understand how the author
 of ,coningsby and  ,vivian ,grey can   
possibly be regarded as a serious       
statesman--all  the ,disraeli           
literature1 even to the comic cartoons1 
expresses the  popular sentiment that a 
novelist must not presume to call       
himself a  statesman3 the intellect of a
 novelist1 it is felt--if he have any   
intellect at all1 which is              
doubtful--must be one of the most       
frivolous and lightest kind2 how can a  
man whose mind is always full  of the   
loves of ,corydon and ,amaryllis be     

trusted to form an opinion  on practical
 matters8  ,when ,thackeray ventured to 
contest the city of  ,oxford1 we know   
what happened4  ,he thought his failure 
was because  the people of ,oxford had  
never even heard of him2 ,i think       
otherwise4  ,i think it was because it  
was whispered from house to house1 and  
was  carried from shop to shop1 and was 
mentioned in the vestry1 that this      
fellow from ,london1 who asked for their
 votes1 was nothing but a  common       
novelist4    ,with these people must not
 be confounded another class1 not so    
large1  who are prepared to admit that  
,fiction is in some qualified sense an  
,art2 but they do this as a concession  
to the vanity of its followers1  and are
 by no means prepared to allow that it  
is an ,art of the first  rank4  ,how can
 that be an ,art1 they might ask1 which 
has no lecturers  or teachers1 no school
 or college or ,academy1 no recognised  
rules1 no  text-books1 and is not taught
 in any ,university8  ,even the ,german 

,universities1 which teach every thing  
else1 do not have ,professors of        
,fiction2 and not one single novelist1  
so far as ,i know1 has ever  pretended  
to teach his mystery1 or spoken of it as
 a thing which may  be taught4          
,clearly1 therefore1 they would go on to
 argue1 such art  as is required for the
 making and telling of a story can and  
must be  mastered without study1 because
 no materials exist for the student's   
use4  ,it may even1 perhaps1 be acquired
 unconsciously1 or by  imitation4  ,this
 view1 ,i am sorry to say1 largely      
prevails among the  majority of those   
who try their chance in the field of    
fiction4  ,any  one1 they think1 can    
write a novel2 therefore1 why not sit   
down and  write one8  ,i would not      
willingly say one word which might      
discourage  those who are attracted to  
this branch of literature2 on the       
contrary1 ,i would encourage them in    
every possible way4  ,one desires1      
however1 that they should approach their

 work at the outset with the  same      
serious and earnest appreciation of its 
importance and its  difficulties with   
which they undertake the study of music 
and  painting4  ,i would wish1 in short1
 that from the very beginning their     
minds should be fully possessed with the
 knowledge that ,fiction is an  ,art1   
and that1 like all other ,arts1 it is   
governed by certain laws1  methods1 and 
rules1 which it is their first business 
to learn4    ,it is1 then1 first and    
before all1 a real ,art4  ,it is the    
oldest1  because it was known and       
practised long before ,painting and her 
sisters were in existence or even       
thought of2 it is older than any of  the
 ,muses from whose company she who tells
 stories has hitherto been  excluded2 it
 is the most widely spread1 because in  
no race of men  under the sun is it     
unknown1 even though the stories may be 
always  the same1 and handed down from  
generation to generation in the same    
form2 it is the most religious of all   

the ,arts1 because in every age  until  
the present the lives1 exploits1 and    
sufferings of gods1  goddesses1 saints1 
and heroes have been the favourite      
theme2 it has  always been the most     
popular1 because it requires neither    
culture1  education1 nor natural genius 
to understand and listen to a story2 it 
is the most moral1 because the world has
 always been taught whatever  little    
morality it possesses by way of story1  
fable1 apologue1  parable1 and allegory4
  ,it commands the widest influence1    
because it  can be carried easily and   
everywhere into regions where pictures  
are  never seen and music is never      
heard2 it is the greatest teaching      
power1 because its lessons are most     
readily apprehended and  understood4    
,all this1 which might have been said   
thousands of years  ago1 may be said    
to-day with even greater force and      
truth4  ,that  world which exists not1  
but is an invention or an               
imitation--that  world in which the     

shadows and shapes of men move about    
before our  eyes as real as if they were
 actually living and speaking among us1 
is like a great theatre accessible to   
all of every sort1 on whose  stage are  
enacted1 at our own sweet will1 whenever
 we please to  command them1 the most   
beautiful plays3 it is1 as every theatre
  should be1 the school in which manners
 are learned3 here the majority  of     
reading mankind learn nearly all that   
they know of life and  manners1 of      
philosophy and art2 even of science and 
religion4  ,the  modern novel converts  
abstract ideas into living models2 it   
gives  ideas1 it strengthens faith1 it  
preaches a higher morality than is  seen
 in the actual world2 it commands the   
emotions of pity1  admiration1 and      
terror2 it creates and keeps alive the  
sense of  sympathy2 it is the universal 
teacher2 it is the only book which the  
great mass of reading mankind ever do   
read2 it is the only way in  which      
people can learn what other men and     

women are like2 it redeems  their lives 
from dulness1 puts thoughts1 desires1   
knowledge1 and even  ambitions into     
their hearts3 it teaches them to talk1  
and enriches  their speech with         
epigrams1 anecdotes1 and illustrations4 
,it is an  unfailing source of delight  
to millions1 happily not too critical4  
,why1 out of all the books taken down   
from the shelves of the public          
libraries1 four-fifths are novels2 and  
of all those that are bought1           
nine-tenths are novels4  ,compared with 
this tremendous engine of  popular      
influence1 what are all the other ,arts 
put together8  ,can we  not alter the   
old maxim1 and say with truth1 ,let him 
who pleases make  the laws if ,i may    
write the novels8    ,as for the field  
with which this ,art of ,fiction        
occupies itself1 it  is1 if you please1 
nothing less than the whole of          
,humanity4  ,the  novelist studies men  
and women2 he is concerned with their   
actions  and their thoughts1 their      

errors and their follies1 their         
greatness  and their meanness2 the      
countless forms of beauty and constantly
  varying moods to be seen among them2  
the forces which act upon them2  the    
passions1 prejudices1 hopes1 and fears  
which pull them this way  and that4  ,he
 has to do1 above all1 and before all1  
with men and  women4  ,no one1 for      
instance1 among novelists1 can be called
 a  landscape painter1 or a painter of  
sea-pieces1 or a painter of fruit  and  
flowers1 save only in strict            
subordination to the group of           
characters with whom he is dealing4     
,landscape1 sea1 sky1 and air1  are     
merely accessories introduced in order  
to set off and bring into  greater      
prominence the figures on the stage4    
,the very first rule in  ,fiction is    
that the human interest must absolutely 
absorb everything  else4  ,some writers 
never permit anything at all in their   
pages which  shall divert our thoughts  
one moment from the actors4  ,when1 for 

instance1 ,charles ,reade--,alas6 that  
we must say the late ,charles  ,reade1  
for he is dead--when this great ,master 
of ,fiction1 in his  incomparable tale  
of ,the ,cloister and the ,hearth1 sends
 ,gerard and  ,denis the ,burgundian on 
that journey through ,france1 it is with
 the  fewest possible of words that he  
suggests the sights and persons met     
with on the way2 yet1 so great is the   
art of the writer1 that1 almost  without
 being told1 we see the road1 a mere    
rough track1 winding  beside the river  
and along the valleys2 we see the silent
 forests  where lurk the routiers and   
the robbers1 the cut-throat inn1 the    
merchants1 peasants1 beggars1 soldiers  
who go riding by2 the writer  does not  
pause in his story to tell us of all    
this1 but yet we feel  it--by the mere  
action of the piece and the dialogue we 
are compelled  to see the scenery3 the  
life of the fifteenth century passes    
before  us1 with hardly a word to       
picture it1 because it is always kept in

  the background1 so as not to interfere
 with the central figure of the  young  
clerk journeying to ,rome4    ,the human
 interest in ,fiction1 then1 must come  
before aught else4  ,it  is of this     
world1 wholly of this world4  ,it might 
seem at first as if  the limitation of  
this ,art to things human placed it on a
 lower level  than the ,arts of         
,painting and ,music4  ,that1 however1  
is not so4  ,the  stupendous subjects   
which were undertaken by the old        
,italian painters  are1 it is true1     
beyond the power of ,fiction to attempt4
  ,it may be  questioned whether they   
are not also1 according to modern ideas1
  beyond the legitimate scope of        
painting4  ,certainly1 just as there is 
nothing in the whole of creation more   
worthy of being studied and  painted    
than the human face and form1 so there  
is nothing more worthy  of              
representation than men and women in    
action and in passion4  ,the  ancient   
poet placed the ,gods themselves upon   

the stage with the  ,furies and the     
,fates4  ,then we had the saints1       
confessors1 and  martyrs4  ,we next     
descended to kings and great lords4  ,in
 our times1  painter1 poet1 and novelist
 alike are contented with plain         
humanity1  whether crowned or in rags4  
,what picture1 let us ask1 what picture 
ever painted of angels and blessed      
souls1 even if they are mounting  the   
hill on which stands the ,four-square   
,city of the jasper wall1 is  able to   
command our interest and sympathy more  
profoundly than the  simple and faithful
 story1 truly and faithfully told1 of a 
lover and  his mistress8    ,it is1     
therefore1 the especial characteristic  
of this ,art that1 since  it deals      
exclusively with men and women1 it not  
only requires of its  followers1 but    
also creates in readers1 that sentiment 
which is  destined to be a most mighty  
engine in deepening and widening the    
civilisation of the world4  ,we call it 
,sympathy1 but it means a great  deal   

more than was formerly understood by the
 word4  ,it means1 in  fact1 what       
,professor ,seeley once called the      
,enthusiasm of ,humanity1  and it first 
appeared1 ,i think1 about a hundred and 
fifty years ago1  when the modern novel 
came into existence4  ,you will find it1
 for  instance1 conspicuous for its     
absence in ,defoe4  ,the modern         
,sympathy  includes not only the power  
to pity the sufferings of others1 but   
also that of understanding their very   
souls2 it is the reverence for  man1 the
 respect for his personality1 the       
recognition of his  individuality1 and  
the enormous value of the one man1 the  
perception  of one man's relation to    
another1 his duties and                 
responsibilities4  ,through the strength
 of this newly born faculty1 and aided  
by the  guidance of a great artist1 we  
are enabled to discern the real         
indestructible man beneath the rags and 
filth of a common castaway1  and the    
possibilities of the meanest            

gutter-child that steals in the  streets
 for its daily bread4  ,surely that is a
 wonderful ,art which  endows the       
people--all the people--with this power 
of vision and of  feeling4  ,painting   
has not done it1 and could never do it2 
,painting  has done more for nature than
 for humanity4  ,sculpture could not do 
it1 because it deals with situation and 
form1 rather than action1  ,music cannot
 do it1 because ,music 7if ,i understand
 rightly7 appeals  especially to the    
individual concerning himself and his   
own  aspirations4  ,poetry alone is the 
rival of ,fiction1 and in this  respect 
it takes a lower place1 not because     
,poetry fails to teach and  interpret1  
but because ,fiction is1 and must always
 be1 more popular4    ,again1 this ,art 
teaches1 like the others1 by suppression
 and  reticence4  ,out of the great     
procession of ,humanity1 the ,comdie    
,humaine which the novelist sees passing
 ever before his eyes1 single  figures  
detach themselves one after the other1  

to be questioned1  examined1 and        
received or rejected4  ,this process    
goes on  perpetually4  ,humanity is so  
vast a field1 that to one who goes about
  watching men and women1 and does not  
sit at home and evolve figures  out of  
his inner consciousness1 there is not1  
and can never be1 any  end or limit to  
the freshness and interest of these     
figures4  ,it is  the work of the artist
 to select the figures1 to suppress1 to 
copy1  to group1 and to work up the     
incidents which each one offers4  ,the  
daily life of the world is not          
dramatic--it is monotonous2 the         
novelist makes it dramatic by his       
silences1 his suppressions1 and his     
exaggerations4  ,no one1 for example1 in
 fiction1 behaves quite in the  same way
 as in real life2 as on the stage1 if an
 actor unfolds and  reads a letter1 the 
simple action is done with an           
exaggeration of  gesture which calls    
attention to the thing and to its       
importance1 so  in romance1 while       

nothing should be allowed which does not
 carry on  the story1 so everything as  
it occurs must be accentuated1 and yet  
deprived of needless accessory details4 
,the gestures of the  characters at an  
important juncture1 their looks1 their  
voices1 may  all be noted if they help  
to impress the situation4  ,even the    
weather1 the wind and the rain1 with    
some writers1 have been made to         
emphasise a mood or a passion of a      
heroine4  ,to know how to use these     
aids artistically is to the novelist    
exactly what to the actor is the  right 
presentation of a letter1 the handing of
 a chair1 even the  removal of a glove4 
,a third characteristic of ,fiction1    
which should alone be sufficient  to    
give it a place among the noblest forms 
of ,art1 is that1 like  ,poetry1        
,painting1 and ,music1 it becomes a     
vehicle1 not only for the  best thoughts
 of the writer1 but also for those of   
the reader2 so  that a novelist may     
write truthfully and faithfully1 but    

simply1 and  yet be understood in a far 
fuller and nobler sense than was present
  to his own mind4  ,this power is the  
very highest gift of the poet4  ,he has 
a vision and sees a thing clearly1 yet  
perhaps afar off2  another who reads him
 is enabled to get the same vision1 to  
see the  same thing1 yet closer and more
 distinctly4  ,for a lower intellect    
thus to lead and instruct a higher is   
surely a very great gift1 and  granted  
only to the highest forms of ,art4  ,and
 this it is which  ,fiction of the best 
kind does for its readers4  ,it is1     
however1 only  another way of saying    
that ,truth in ,fiction produces effects
 similar  to those produced by ,truth in
 every other ,art4    ,so far1 then1 ,i 
have shown that this ,art of ,fiction is
 the most  ancient of all ,arts1 and the
 most popular2 that its field is the    
whole of humanity2 that it creates and  
develops that sympathy which  is a kind 
of second sight2 that1 like all other   
,arts1 its function is  to select1 to   

suppress1 and to arrange2 that it       
suggests as well as  narrates4  ,more   
might be said--a great deal more--but   
enough has been  said to show that in   
these1 the leading characteristics of   
any ,art1  ,fiction is on exactly the   
same level as her sisters4  ,let me only
 add  that in this ,art1 as in the      
others1 there is1 and will be always1   
whatever has been done already1         
something new to discover1 something    
new to express1 something new to        
describe4  ,surgeons dissect the  body1 
and account for every bone and every    
nerve1 so that the body of  one man1    
considered as a collection of bones and 
nerves1 is so far  exactly like the body
 of another man4  ,but the mind of man  
cannot be  so exhausted3 it yields      
discoveries to every patient student2 it
 is  absolutely inexhaustible2 it is to 
every one a fresh and virgin  field3 and
 the most successful investigator leaves
 regions and tracts  for his successor  
as vast as those he has himself gone    

over4  ,perhaps1 after all1 the greatest
 ,psychologist is not the               
metaphysician1 but the novelist4    ,we 
come next to speak of the ,laws which   
govern this ,art--,i mean1  those       
general rules and principles which must 
necessarily be acquired  by every writer
 of ,fiction before he can even hope for
 success4  ,rules will not make a man a 
novelist1 any more than a knowledge of  
grammar makes a man know a language1 or 
a knowledge of musical  science makes a 
man able to play an instrument4  ,yet1  
the ,rules must  be learned4  ,and1 in  
speaking of them1 one is compelled1 so  
close is  the connection between the    
sister ,arts1 to use not only the same  
terms1 but also to adopt the same rules1
 as those laid down by  painters for    
their students4  ,if these ,laws appear 
self-evident1 it  is a proof that the   
general principles of the ,art are well 
understood4  ,considering1 however1 the 
vast quantity of bad1  inartistic work  
which is every week laid before the     

public1 one is  inclined to think that a
 statement of these principles may not  
be  without usefulness4    ,first1 and  
before everything else1 there is the    
,rule that everything  in ,fiction which
 is invented1 and is not the result of  
personal  experience and observation1 is
 worthless4  ,in some other ,arts1 the  
design may follow any lines which the   
designer pleases3 it may be  fanciful1  
unreal1 or grotesque2 but in modern     
,fiction1 whose sole  end1 aim1 and     
purpose is to portray humanity and human
 character1 the  design must be in      
accordance with the customs and general 
practice of  living men and women under 
any proposed set of circumstances and   
conditions4  ,that is to say1 the       
characters must be real1 and such as    
might be met with in actual life1 or1 at
 least1 the natural  developments of    
such people as any of us might meet2    
their actions  must be natural and      
consistent2 the conditions of place1 of 
manners1  and of thought must be drawn  

from personal observation4  ,to take an 
extreme case3 a young lady brought up in
 a quiet country village  should avoid  
descriptions of garrison life2 a writer 
whose friends  and personal experiences 
belong to what we call the lower middle 
class should carefully avoid introducing
 his characters into ,society2  a       
,south-countryman would hesitate before 
attempting to reproduce the             
,north-country accent4  ,this is a very 
simple ,rule1 but one to which  there   
should be no exception--never to go     
beyond your own  experience4#a          
,remember that most of the people who   
read novels1 and  know nothing about the
 art of writing them1 recognise before  
any  other quality that of fidelity3 the
 greatness of a novelist they  measure  
chiefly by the knowledge of the world   
displayed in his pages2  the highest    
praise they can bestow upon him is that 
he has drawn the  story to the life4    
,it is exactly the same with a picture4 
,if you go  to the ,academy any day1 and

 listen to the comments of the          
crowd--which is a very instructive thing
 to do1 and one recommended  to young   
novelists--you will presently become    
aware that the only  thing they look for
 in a picture is the story which it     
tells1 and  therefore the fidelity with 
which it is presented on the canvas4    
,most of the other qualities of the     
picture1 and of the novel as well1  all 
that has to do with the technique1      
escape the general observer4    ,this   
being so1 the first thing which has to  
be acquired is the art of  description4 
,it seems easy to describe2 any one1 it 
seems1 can set  down what he sees4      
,but1 consider4  ,how much does he see8 
,there is  everywhere1 even in a room1  
such a quantity of things to be seen3   
far1 far more in field and hedge1 in    
mountain and in forest and  beside the  
stream1 are there countless things to be
 seen2 the  unpractised eye sees        
nothing1 or next to nothing4  ,here is a
 tree1  here is a flower1 there is      

sunshine lying on the hill4  ,but to the
  observant and trained eye1 the        
intelligent eye1 there lies before him  
everywhere an inexhaustible and         
bewildering mass of things to see4      
,remember how ,mr4 ,jefferies sits down 
in a coppice with his eyes wide  open to
 see what the rest of us never dreamed  
of looking for4  ,long  before he has   
half finished telling us what he has    
seen--behold6 a  volume1 and one of the 
most delightful volumes conceivable4    
,but1  then1 ,mr4 ,jefferies is a       
profound naturalist4  ,we cannot all    
describe  after his manner1 nor should  
we try2 for the simple reason that      
descriptions of still life in a novel   
must be strictly subordinated  to the   
human interest4  ,but while ,mr4        
,jefferies has his hedge and  ditch and 
brook1 we have our towns1 our villages1 
and our assemblies  of men and women4   
,among them we must not only observe1   
but we must  select4  ,here1 then1 are  
two distinct faculties which the        

intending  novelist must acquire2 viz41 
observation and selection4  ,as for the 
power of observation1 it may be taught  
to any one by the simple  method adopted
 by ,robert ,houdin1 the ,french        
conjurer4  ,this method  consists of    
noting down continually and remembering 
all kinds of  things remarked in the    
course of a journey1 a walk1 or the     
day's  business4  ,the learner must     
carry his note-book always with him1    
into  the fields1 to the theatre1 into  
the streets--wherever he can watch  man 
and his ways1 or ,nature and her ways4  
,on his return home1 he  should enter   
his notes in his commonplace-book4      
,there are places  where the production 
of a note-book would be                 
embarrassing--say1 at a  dinner-party1  
or a street fight2 yet1 the man who     
begins to observe  will speedily be able
 to remember everything that he sees and
 hears  until he can find an opportunity
 to note it down1 so that nothing is    
lost4#b  ,the materials for the         

novelist1 in short1 are not in the      
books upon the shelves1 but in the men  
and women he meets with  everywhere2 he 
will find them1 where ,dickens found    
them1 in the  crowded streets1 in       
trains1 tram-cars1 and omnibuses1 at the
  shop-windows1 in churches and chapels3
 his materials are  everywhere--there is
 nothing too low1 nothing too high1     
nothing too  base1 nothing too noble for
 the novelist4  ,humanity is like a     
kaleidoscope1 which you may turn about  
and look into1 but you will  never get  
the same picture twice--it cannot be    
exhausted4  ,but it may  be objected    
that the broad distinctive types have   
been long since all  used4  ,they have  
been used1 but the comfort is that they 
can never be  used up1 and that they may
 be constantly used again and again4    
,can  we ever be tired of them when a   
master hand takes one of them again  and
 gives him new life8  ,are there to be  
no more hypocrites because  we have     
already had ,tartuffe and ,pecksniff8   

,do we suppose that the  old miser1 the 
young spendthrift1 the gambler1 the     
adventurer1 the  coquette1 the drunkard1
 the soldier of fortune1 are never to   
re-appear1 because they have been       
handled already8  ,as long1 on the      
contrary1 as man shall continue         
story-telling1 so long will these       
characters occur again and again1 and   
look as fresh each time that  they are  
treated by a master's hand as if they   
were newly discovered  types4           
,fidelity1 therefore1 can be only       
assured by acquiring the art of         
observation1 which further assists in   
filling the mind with stored            
experience4  ,i am quite sure that most 
men never see anything at all4  ,i have 
known men who have even gone all round  
the world and seen  nothing--no1 nothing
 at all4  ,emerson says1 very truly1    
that a  traveller takes away nothing    
from a place except what he brought into
  it4  ,now1 the observation of things  
around us is no part of the  ordinary   

professional and commercial life2 it has
 nothing at all to  do with success and 
the making of money2 so that we do not  
learn to  observe4  ,yet it is very easy
 to shake people and make them open     
their eyes4  ,some of us remember1 for  
instance1 the time when  ,kingsley      
astonished everybody with his           
descriptions of the wonders to  be seen 
on the seashore and to be fished out of 
every pond in the  field4  ,then all the
 world began to poke about the seaweed  
and to  catch tritons and keep          
water-grubs in little tanks4  ,it was   
only a  fashion1 and it presently died  
out2 but it did people good1 because  it
 made them understand1 perhaps for the  
first time1 that there  really is a good
 deal more to see than meets the casual 
eye4  ,at  present1 the lesson which we 
need is not that the world is full of   
the most strange and wonderful          
creatures1 all eating each other        
perpetually1 but that the world is full 
of the most wonderful men and  women1   

not one of whom is mean or common1 but  
to each his own  personality is a great 
and awful thing1 worthy of the most     
serious  study4    ,there are1 then1    
abundant materials waiting to be picked 
up by any  who has the wit to see them  
lying at his feet and all around him4   
,what is next required is the power of  
,selection4  ,can this be taught8  ,i   
think not2 at least1 ,i do not know how1
 unless it is by reading4  ,in every    
,art1 selection requires that kind of   
special fitness for the  ,art which is  
included in the much-abused word        
,genius4  ,in ,fiction1  the power of   
selection requires a large share of the 
dramatic sense4  ,those who already     
possess this faculty will not go wrong  
if they bear  in mind the simple ,rule1 
that nothing should be admitted which   
does  not advance the story1 illustrate 
the characters1 bring into stronger     
relief the hidden forces which act upon 
them1 their emotions1 their  passions1  
and their intentions4  ,all descriptions

 which hinder  instead of helping the   
action1 all episodes of whatever kind1  
all  conversation which does not either 
advance the story or illustrate  the    
characters1 ought to be rigidly         
suppressed4    ,closely connected with  
selection is dramatic presentation4     
,given a  situation1 it should be the   
first care of the writer to present it  
as  dramatically1 that is to say as     
forcibly1 as possible4  ,the grouping   
and setting of the fiction1 the due     
subordination of description to         
dialogue1 the rapidity of the action1   
those things which naturally  suggest   
themselves to the practised eye1 deserve
 to be very carefully  considered by the
 beginner4  ,in fact1 a novel is like a 
play3 it may  be divided into scenes and
 acts1 tableaux and situations1         
separated  by the end of the chapter    
instead of the drop scene3 the writer is
  the dramatist1 stage-manager1         
scene-painter1 actor1 and carpenter1    
all in one3 it is his single business to

 see that none of the scenes  flag or   
fall flat3 he must never for one moment 
forget to consider  how the piece is    
looking from the front4    ,the next    
simple ,rule is1 that the drawing of    
each figure must be  clear in outline1  
and1 even if only sketched1 must be     
sketched  without hesitation4  ,this can
 only be done when the writer himself   
sees his figures clearly4  ,characters  
in fiction do not1 it must be           
understood1 spring ,minerva-like from   
the brain4  ,they grow3 they grow       
sometimes slowly1 sometimes quickly4    
,from the first moment of  conception1  
that is to say1 from the first moment of
 their being seen  and caught1 they grow
 continuously and almost without mental 
effort4  ,if they do not grow and become
 every day clearer1 they had better be  
put aside at once1 and forgotten as soon
 as may be1 because that is a  proof    
that the author does not understand the 
character he has  himself endeavoured to
 create4  ,to have on one's hands a     

half-created  being without the power of
 finishing him must be a truly dreadful 
thing4  ,the only way out of it is to   
kill and bury him at once4  ,i  have    
always thought1 for instance1 that the  
figure of ,daniel ,deronda1  whose      
portrait1 blurred and uncertain as it   
is1 has been drawn with  the most       
amazing care and with endless touches   
and re-touches1 must  have become at    
last to ,george ,eliot a kind of awful  
veiled spectre1  always in her brain1   
always seeming about to reveal his true 
features  and his mind1 but never doing 
it1 so that to the end she never        
clearly perceived what manner of man he 
was1 nor what was his real  character4  
,of course1 what the author cannot set  
down1 the reader  cannot understand4    
,on the other hand1 how possible1 how   
capable of  development1 how real       
becomes a true figure1 truly understood 
by the  creator1 and truly depicted6    
,do we not know what they would say and 
think under all conceivable conditions8 

,we can dress them as we  will2 we can  
place them in any circumstances of life3
 we can always  trust them1 because they
 will never fail us1 never disappoint   
us1  never change1 because we understand
 them1 so thoroughly4  ,so well do  we  
know them1 that they become our         
advisers1 our guides1 and our best      
friends1 on whom we model ourselves1 our
 thoughts1 and our actions4  ,the writer
 who has succeeded in drawing to the    
life1 true1 clear1  distinct1 so that   
all may understand1 a single figure of a
 true man  or woman1 has added another  
exemplar or warning to humanity4        
,nothing1 then1 it must be insisted upon
 as of the greatest  importance1 should 
be begun in writing until the characters
 are so  clear and distinct in the      
brain1 so well known1 that they will act
  their parts1 bend their dialogue1 and 
suit their action to whatever           
situations they may find themselves in1 
if only they are becoming to  them4  ,of
 course1 clear outline drawing is best  

when it is  accomplished in the fewest  
strokes2 and the greater part of the    
figures in ,fiction--wherein it differs 
from ,painting1 in which  everything    
should be finished--require no more work
 upon them1 in  order to make them      
clear1 than half a dozen bold1          
intelligible lines4    ,as for the      
methods of conveying a clear            
understanding of a character1  they are 
many4  ,the first and the easiest is to 
make it clear by  reason of some        
mannerism or personal peculiarity1 some 
trick of  speech or of carriage4  ,this 
is the worst--as may generally be said  
of the easiest way4  ,another easy      
method is to describe your  character at
 length4  ,this also is a bad1 because a
 tedious1 method4  ,if1 however1 you    
read a page or two of any good writer1  
you will  discover that he first makes a
 character intelligible by a few words1 
and then allows him to reveal himself in
 action and dialogue4  ,on the  other   
hand1 nothing is more inartistic than to

 be constantly calling  attention in a  
dialogue to a gesture or a look1 to     
laughter or to  tears4  ,the situation  
generally requires no such explanation3 
in some  well-known scenes which ,i     
could quote1 there is not a single word 
to  emphasise or explain the attitude1  
manner1 and look of the speakers1  yet  
they are as intelligible as if they were
 written down and  described4  ,that is 
the highest art which carries the reader
 along  and makes him see1 without being
 told1 the changing expressions and  the
 gestures of the speakers1 and hear the 
varying tones of their  voices4  ,it is 
as if one should close one's eyes at the
 theatre1 and  yet continue to see the  
actors on the stage as well as hear     
their  voices4  ,the only writer who can
 do this is he who makes his  characters
 intelligible from the very outset1     
causes them first to  stand before the  
reader in clear outline1 and then with  
every  additional line brings out the   
figure1 fills up the face1 and makes    

his creatures grow from the simple      
outline more and more to the  perfect   
and rounded figure4    ,clearness of    
drawing1 which includes clearness of    
vision1 also  assists in producing      
directness of purpose4  ,as soon as the 
actors in  the story become real in the 
mind of the narrator1 and not before1   
the story itself becomes real to him4   
,more than this1 he becomes  straightway
 vehemently impelled to tell it1 and he 
is moved to tell  it in the best and    
most direct way1 the most dramatic way1 
the most  truthful way possible to him4 
,it is1 in fact1 only when the writer   
believes his own story1 and knows it to 
be every word true1 and feels  that he  
has somehow learned from every one      
concerned the secret  history of his own
 part in it1 that he can really begin to
 write  it4#c  ,we know how sometimes1  
even from a practised hand1 there  comes
 a work marred with the fatal defect    
that the writer does not  believe in his
 own story4  ,when this is the case1 one

 may generally  find on investigation   
that one cause at least of the failure  
is that  the characters1 or some of     
them1 are blurred and uncertain4        
,again1 the modern ,english novel1      
whatever form it takes1 almost  always  
starts with a conscious moral purpose4  
,when it does not1 so  much are we      
accustomed to expect it1 that one feels 
as if there has  been a debasement of   
the ,art4  ,it is1 fortunately1 not     
possible in  this country for any man to
 defile and defame humanity and still be
  called an artist2 the development of  
modern sympathy1 the growing  reverence 
for the individual1 the ever-widening   
love of things  beautiful and the       
appreciation of lives made beautiful by 
devotion  and self-denial1 the sense of 
personal responsibility among the       
,english-speaking races1 the deep-seated
 religion of our people1 even  in a time
 of doubt1 are all forces which act     
strongly upon the artist  as well as    
upon his readers1 and lend to his work1 

whether he will or  not1 a moral purpose
 so clearly marked that it has become   
practically  a law of ,english ,fiction4
  ,we must acknowledge that this is a   
truly  admirable thing1 and a great     
cause for congratulation4  ,at the same 
time1 one may be permitted to think that
 the preaching novel is the  least      
desirable of any1 and may unfeignedly   
rejoice that the old  religious novel1  
written in the interests of ,high       
,church or ,low  ,church or any other   
,church1 has gone out of fashion4       
,next1 just as in ,painting and         
,sculpture1 not only are fidelity1      
truth1 and harmony to be observed in    
,fiction1 but also beauty of            
workmanship4  ,it is almost impossible  
to estimate too highly the  value of    
careful workmanship1 that is1 of style4 
,every one1 without  exception1 of the  
great ,masters in ,fiction1 has         
recognised this  truth4  ,you will      
hardly find a single page in any of them
 which is  not carefully and even       

elaborately worked up4  ,i think there  
is no  point on which critics of novels 
should place greater importance than    
this1 because it is one which young     
novelists are so very liable to  ignore4
  ,there ought not to be in a novel1 any
 more than in a poem1 a  single sentence
 carelessly worded1 a single phrase     
which has not been  considered4         
,consider1 if you please1 any one of the
 great scenes in  ,fiction--how much of 
the effect is due to the style1 the     
balanced  sentences1 the very words used
 by the narrator6  ,this1 however1 is   
only one more point of similarity       
between ,fiction and the sister  ,arts4 
,there is1 ,i know1 the danger of       
attaching too much attention  to style1 
at the expense of situation1 and so     
falling a prey to  priggishness1        
fashions1 and mannerisms of the day4    
,it is certainly a  danger2 at the same 
time1 it sometimes seems1 when one reads
 the  slipshod1 careless ,english which 
is often thought good enough for        

story-telling1 that it is almost        
impossible to over-rate the value of    
style4  ,there is comfort in the thought
 that no reputation worth  having can be
 made without attending to style1 and   
that there is no  style1 however rugged1
 which cannot be made beautiful by      
attention  and pains4  ,how many times1 
a writer once asked a girl who brought  
him her first effort for advice and     
criticism--how many times have  you     
re-written this page8  ,she confessed   
that she had written it  once for all1  
had never read it afterwards1 and had   
not the least  idea that there was such 
a thing as style4  ,is it not           
presumptuous in  the highest degree to  
believe that what one has produced      
without  pains1 thought1 or trouble1    
will give any pleasure to the reader8   
,in fact1 every scene1 however          
unimportant1 should be completely and   
carefully finished4  ,there should be no
 unfinished places1 no sign  anywhere of
 weariness or haste--no scamping4  ,the 

writer must so love  his work as to     
dwell tenderly on every page1 and be    
literally unable  to send forth a single
 page of it without the finishing       
touches4  ,we  all of us remember that  
kind of novel in which every scene has  
the  appearance of being hurried and    
scamped4    ,to sum up these few        
preliminary and general laws4--,the ,art
 of ,fiction  requires first of all the 
power of description1 truth and         
fidelity1  observation1 selection1      
clearness of conception and of outline1 
dramatic grouping1 directness of        
purpose1 a profound belief on the  part 
of the story-teller in the reality of   
his story1 and beauty of  workmanship4  
,it is1 moreover1 an ,art which requires
 of those who  follow it seriously that 
they must be unceasingly occupied in    
studying the ways of mankind1 the social
 laws1 the religions1  philosophies1    
tendencies1 thoughts1 prejudices1       
superstitions of men  and women4  ,they 
must consider as many of the forces     

which act upon  classes and upon        
individuals as they can discover2 they  
should be  always trying to put         
themselves into the place of another2   
they must  be as inquisitive and as     
watchful as a detective1 as suspicious  
as a  criminal lawyer1 as eager for     
knowledge as a physicist1 and withal    
fully possessed of that spirit to which 
nothing appears mean1 nothing           
contemptible1 nothing unworthy of study1
 which belongs to human  nature4    ,i  
repeat1 that ,i submit some of these    
laws as perhaps self-evident4  ,if that 
is so1 many novels which are daily      
submitted to the reviewer  are written  
in wilful neglect of and disobedience to
 them4  ,but they  are not really       
self-evident2 those who aspire to be    
artists in  ,fiction almost invariably  
begin without any understanding at all  
of  these laws4  ,hence the lamentable  
early failures1 the waste of good       
material1 and the low level of ,art with
 which both the novel-writer  and the   

novel-reader are too often contented4   
,i am certain that if  these laws were  
better known and more generally studied1
 a very large  proportion of the bad    
works of which our critics complain     
would not  be produced at all4  ,and ,i 
am in great hopes that one effect of the
  establishment of the newly founded    
,society of ,authors will be to keep    
young writers of fiction from rushing   
too hastily into print1 to help  them to
 the right understanding of their ,art  
and its principles1 and  to guide them  
into true practice of their principles  
while they are  still young1 their      
imaginations strong1 and their personal 
experiences as yet not wasted in foolish
 failures4    ,after all these          
preliminary studies there comes the most
 important  point of all--the story4    
,there is a school which pretends that  
there  is no need for a story3 all the  
stories1 they say1 have been told       
already2 there is no more room for      
invention3 nobody wants any longer  to  

listen to a story4  ,one hears this kind
 of talk with the same  wonder which one
 feels when a new monstrous fashion     
changes the  beautiful figure of woman  
into something grotesque and unnatural4 
,men say these things gravely to each   
other1 especially men who have  no story
 to tell3 other men listen gravely2 in  
the same way1 women  put on the newest  
and most preposterous fashions gravely1 
and look  upon each other without either
 laughing or hiding their faces for     
shame4  ,it is1 indeed1 if we think of  
it1 a most strange and  wonderful       
theory1 that we should continue to care 
for ,fiction and  cease to care for the 
story4  ,we have all along been training
  ourselves how to tell the story1 and  
here is this new school which  steps in1
 like the ,needy ,knife-grinder1 to     
explain that there is no  story left at 
all to tell4  ,why1 the story is        
everything4  ,i cannot  conceive of a   
world going on at all without stories1  
and those strong  ones1 with incident in

 them1 and merriment and pathos1        
laughter and  tears1 and the excitement 
of wondering what will happen next4     
,fortunately1 these new theorists       
contradict themselves1 because they     
find it impossible to write a novel     
which shall not contain a story1        
although it may be but a puny bantling4 
,fiction without adventure--a  drama    
without a plot--a novel without         
surprises--the thing is as  impossible  
as life without uncertainty4#d    ,as   
for the story1 then3 and here theory and
 teaching can go no  farther4  ,for     
every ,art there is the corresponding   
science which may  be taught4  ,we have 
been speaking of the corresponding      
science4  ,but  the ,art itself can     
neither be taught nor communicated4  ,if
 the thing  is in a man1 he will bring  
it out somehow--well or badly1 quickly  
or  slowly4  ,if it is not1 he can never
 learn it4  ,here1 then1 let us  suppose
 that we have to do with the man to whom
 the invention of  stories is part of   

his nature4  ,we will also suppose that 
he has  mastered the laws of his ,art1  
and is now anxious to apply them4  ,to  
such a man one can only recommend that  
he should with the greatest  care and   
attention analyse and examine the       
construction of certain  works1 which   
are acknowledged to be of the first rank
 in fiction4  ,among them1 not to speak 
of ,scott1 he might pay especial        
attention1  from the constructive point 
of view1 to the truly admirable shorter 
stories of ,charles ,reade1 to ,george  
,eliot's ,silas ,marner--the most       
perfect of ,english novels ,hawthorne's 
,scarlet ,letter1 ,holmes's  ,elsie     
,venner1 ,blackmore's ,lorna ,doone1 or 
,black's ,daughter of  ,heth4  ,he must 
not sit down to read them for the story1
 as  uncritical people say3 he must read
 them slowly and carefully1  perhaps    
backwards1 so as to discover for himself
 how the author built  up the novel1 and
 from what original germ or conception  
it sprang4  ,let me take another novel  

by another writer to illustrate my      
meaning4  ,it is ,james ,payn's         
,confidential ,agent1 a work showing1 if
 ,i may be  permitted to say so1        
constructive power of the very highest  
order4  ,you have all1 without doubt1   
read that story4  ,as you know1 it turns
  upon a diamond robbery4  ,to the      
unpractised hand it would seem as if    
stories of theft had already been told  
ad nauseam4  ,the man of  experience    
knows better3 he knows that in his hands
 every story  becomes new1 because he   
can place it upon his stage with new    
incidents1 new conditions1 and new      
actors4  ,accordingly1 ,payn  connects  
his diamonds with three or four quite   
ordinary families3 he  does not search  
for strange and eccentric characters1   
but uses the  folk he sees around him1  
plain middle-class people1 to whom most 
of  us belong4  ,he does not try to show
 these people cleverer1 better          
cultured1 or in any respect at all other
 than they really are1 except  that some

 of them talk a little better than in   
real life they would  be likely to do2  
that is to say1 in dialogue he exercises
 the art of  selection4  ,presently1 in 
this quiet household of age and youth1  
love  and happiness1 there happens a    
dreadful thing3 the young husband       
vanishes amid circumstances which give  
rise to the most horrible  suspicions4  
,how this event acts upon the minds of  
the household and  their friends3 how   
the faith1 sorely tried1 of one1 breaks 
down1 and  that of another remains      
steadfast3 how the truth is gradually   
disclosed1 and the innocence of the     
suspected man is made clear--all  this  
should be carefully examined by the     
student as a lesson in  construction and
 machinery4  ,he will not1 one hopes1   
neglect the  other lesson taught him by 
this novel1 which is the art of telling 
the story1 selecting the actors1 and    
skilfully using the plain and  simple   
materials which lie around us everywhere
 ready to our hands4  ,i am quite sure  

that the chief lesson to be learned from
 the study of  nearly all our own modern
 novelists is that adventure1 pathos1   
amusement1 and interest are far better  
sought among lives which seem  dull1 and
 among people who seem at first beyond  
the reach of romance1  than from        
eccentricity and peculiarity of manner1 
or from violent and  extreme reverses   
and accidents of fortune4  ,this is1    
indeed1 only  another aspect of the     
increased value which we have learned to
 attach  to individual life4    ,one    
thing more the ,art student has to      
learn4  ,let him not only  believe his  
own story before he begins to tell it1  
but let him  remember that in           
story-telling1 as in alms-giving1 a     
cheerful  countenance works wonders1 and
 a hearty manner greatly helps the      
teller and pleases the listener4  ,one  
would not have the novelist  make       
continual efforts at being comic2 but   
let him not tell his story  with eyes   
full of sadness1 a face of woe1 and a   

shaking voice4  ,his  story may be      
tragic1 but continued gloom is a mistake
 in ,art1 even  for a tragedy4  ,if his 
story is a comedy1 all the more reason  
to tell  it cheerfully and brightly4    
,lastly1 let him tell it without        
apparent  effort3 without trying to show
 his cleverness1 his wit1 his powers of 
epigram1 and his learning4  ,yet1 let   
him pour without stint or  measure into 
his work all that he knows1 all that he 
has seen1 all  that he has observed1 and
 all that he has remembered3 all that   
there  is of nobility1 sympathy1 and    
enthusiasm in himself4  ,let him spare  
nothing1 but lavish all that he has1 in 
the full confidence that the  wells will
 not be dried up1 and that the springs  
of fancy and  imagination will flow     
again1 even though he seem to have      
exhausted  himself in this one effort4  
,here1 therefore1 we may leave the      
student of this ,art4#e  ,it remains    
for him to show whether he does wisely  
in following it farther4  ,of  one thing

 for his encouragement he may rest      
assured3 in the ,art of  ,fiction1 more 
than in any other1 it is easy to gain   
recognition1 far  easier than in any of 
the sister ,arts4  ,in the ,english     
school of  painting1 for example1 there 
are already so many good men in the     
field1 that it is most difficult to win 
an acknowledged position2 in  the drama1
 it is next to impossible to get a play 
produced1 in spite  of our thirty       
,london theatres2 in poetry1 it seems   
almost hopeless to  get a hearing1 even 
if one has reached the second rank2 but 
in  ,fiction1 the whole of the          
,english-speaking race are always eager 
to  welcome a new-comer2 good work is   
instantly recognised1 and the only      
danger is that the universal cry for    
more may lead to hasty and  immature    
production4  ,i do not mean that ready  
recognition will  immediately bring with
 it a great pecuniary success4          
,unfortunately1  there has grown up of  
late a bad fashion of measuring success 

too  much by the money it seems to      
command4  ,it is not always1 remember1  
the voice of the people which elects the
 best man1 and though in most  cases it 
follows that a successful novelist      
commands a large sale of  his works1 it 
may happen that the ,art of a great     
writer is of such a  kind that it may   
never become widely popular4  ,there    
have been among  us two or three such   
writers4  ,one case will immediately    
occur to  most of us here4  ,it is that 
of a man whose books are filled with    
wisdom1 experience1 and epigram3 whose  
characters are most admirably  studied  
from the life1 whose plots are          
ingenious1 situations fresh1  and       
dialogues extraordinarily clever4  ,yet1
 he has never been widely  popular1 and1
 ,i am sure1 never will be4  ,one may be
 pretty certain  that this writer's     
money value in the market is            
considerably less  than that of many    
another whose genius is not half so     
great1 but his  popularity twice as     

large4  ,so that a failure to hit the   
popular  taste does not always imply    
failure in ,art4  ,how1 then1 is one to 
know1 when people do not ask for his    
work1 if he has really failed or  not8  
,i think he must know1 without being    
told1 if he has failed to  please4  ,if 
a man sings a song1 he can tell in a    
moment1 even before  he has finished1 if
 he has pleased his audience4  ,so1 if a
 man writes  a novel1 he can tell by the
 criticisms in the journals1 by reading 
between the lines of what his friends   
tell him1 by the expression of  their   
eyes1 by his own inner consciousness1 if
 he has succeeded or  failed4  ,and if  
the latter1 let him find out as quickly 
as may be  through what causes4  ,the   
unlucky dramatist can complain that his 
piece was badly mounted and badly acted4
  ,the novelist cannot1  because he is  
sure not to be badly read4  ,therefore1 
if a novelist  fail at first1 let him be
 well assured that it is his own fault2 
and  if1 on his second attempt1 he      

cannot amend1 let him for the future be 
silent4  ,one is more and more          
astonished at seeing the repeated       
efforts of writers whose friends should 
make them understand that  they have not
 the least chance of success1 unless    
they unlearn all  that they have        
learned1 and begin again upon entirely  
different  methods and some knowledge of
 the science4  ,it must be a cruel blow1
  after all the work that goes to make  
even a bad novel1 after all the  trouble
 of getting it published1 to see it drop
 unnoticed1  still-born1 thought hardly 
worthy to receive words of contempt4    
,if  the disappointment leads to        
examination and self-amendment1 it may  
prove the greatest blessing4  ,but he   
who fails twice1 probably  deserves to  
fail1 because he has learned nothing1   
and is incapable of  learning anything1 
from the lessons of his first failure4  
,let me say one word upon the present   
condition of this most  delightful ,art 
in ,england4  ,remember that great      

,masters in every ,art  are rare4       
,perhaps one or two appear in a century3
 we ought not to  expect more4  ,it may 
even happen that those modern writers of
 our own  whom we have agreed to call   
great ,masters will have to take lower  
rank among posterity1 who will have     
great ,masters of their own4  ,i am     
inclined1 however1 to think that a few  
of the nineteenth-century  novelists    
will never be suffered to die1 though   
they may be  remembered principally for 
one book--that ,thackeray will be       
remembered for his ,vanity ,fair1       
,dickens for ,david ,copperfield1       
,george ,meredith for ,the ,ordeal of   
,richard ,feverel1 ,george ,eliot for   
,silas ,marner1 ,charles ,reade for ,the
 ,cloister and the ,hearth1 and         
,blackmore for his ,lorna ,doone4  ,on  
the other hand1 without thinking  or    
troubling ourselves at all about the    
verdict of posterity1 which  matters    
nothing to us compared with the verdict 
of our  contemporaries1 let us          

acknowledge that it is a bad year indeed
 when  we have not produced some good   
work of a very high kind1 if not        
immortal work4  ,an exhibition of the   
year's novels would generally  show two 
or three1 at least1 of which the country
 may be1 say1  reasonably proud4  ,does 
the ,royal ,academy of ,arts show every 
year  more than two or three            
pictures--not immortal pictures1 but    
pictures  of which we may be reasonably 
proud8  ,one would like1 it is true1 to 
see fewer bad novels published1 as well 
as fewer bad pictures  exhibited2 the   
standard of the work which is on the    
borderland  between success and failure 
should be higher4  ,at the same time1 ,i
 am  very sure and certain that there   
never has been a time when better  works
 of ,fiction have been produced1 both by
 men and women4  ,that ,art  is not     
declining1 but is advancing1 which is   
cultivated on true and  not on false or 
conventional principles4  ,ought we not 
to be full of  hope for the future1 when

 such women as ,mrs4 ,oliphant and ,mrs4
  ,thackeray ,ritchie write for us--when
 such men as ,meredith1 ,blackmore1     
,black1 ,payn1 ,wilkie ,collins1 and    
,hardy are still at their best1 and     
such men as ,louis ,stevenson1 ,christie
 ,murray1 ,clark ,russell1 and  ,herman 
,merivale have just begun8  ,i think the
 fiction and1 indeed1  all the imaginary
 work of the future will be far fuller  
in human  interest than in the past2 the
 old stories--no doubt they will still  
be the old stories--will be fitted to   
actors who up till recently  were only  
used for the purposes of contrast2 the  
drama of life which  formerly was       
assigned to kings and princes will be   
played by figures  taken as much from   
the great struggling1 unknown masses4   
,kings and  great lords are chiefly     
picturesque and interesting on account  
of  their beautiful costumes1 and a     
traditional belief in their power4      
,costume is certainly not a strong point
 in the lower ranks1 but ,i  think we   

shall not miss that2 and wherever we go 
for our material1  whether to the higher
 or the lower ranks1 we may be sure of  
finding  everywhere love1 sacrifice1 and
 devotion for virtues1 with             
selfishness1 cunning1 and treachery for 
vices4  ,out of these1 with  their      
endless combinations and changes1 that  
novelist must be poor  indeed who cannot
 make a story4    ,lastly1 ,i said at   
the outset that ,i would ask you to     
accord to  novelists the recognition of 
their place as artists4  ,but after what
  has been said1 ,i feel that to urge   
this further would be only a  repetition
 of what has gone before4  ,therefore1  
though not all who  write novels can    
reach the first1 or even the second1    
rank1 wherever  you find good and       
faithful work1 with truth1 sympathy1 and
 clearness  of purpose1 ,i pray you to  
give the author of that work the praise 
as  to an ,artist--an ,artist like the  
rest--the praise that you so readily    
accord to the earnest student of any    

other ,art4  ,as for the great  ,masters
 of the ,art--,fielding1 ,scott1        
,dickens1 ,thackeray1 ,victor           
,hugo--,i1 for one1 feel irritated when 
the critics begin to appraise1  compare1
 and to estimate them3 there is nothing1
 ,i think1 that we can  give them but   
admiration that is unspeakable1 and     
gratitude that is  silent4  ,this       
silence proves more eloquently than any 
words how  great1 how beautiful an ,art 
is that of ,fiction4        #a ,it has  
been objected to this ,rule that1 if    
followed1 it would  entirely shut out   
the historical novel4  ,not at all4     
,the interest of  the historical novel1 
as of any other novel1 depends upon the 
experience and knowledge which the      
writer has of humanity1 men and  women  
being pretty much alike in all ages4    
,it is not the setting  that we regard1 
so much as the acting of the characters4
  ,the setting  in an historical novel  
is very often absurd1 incorrect1 and    
incongruous2 but the human interest1 the

 skill and knowledge of  character shown
 by the writer1 may make us forget the  
errors of the  setting4  ,for instance1 
,romola is undoubtedly a great novel1   
not  because it contains a true1 and    
therefore valuable1 reproduction of     
,florentine life in the time of the     
early ,renaissance1 for it does  not2   
nor because it gives us the ideas of the
 age1 for it does  not--the characters1 
especially that of the heroine1 being   
full of  nineteenth-century ideas3 but  
it is great as a study of character4    
,on the other hand1 in ,the ,cloister   
and the ,hearth1 we do really  have a   
description of the time and its ideas1  
taken bodily1 sometimes  almost         
literally1 from the pages of the man who
 most truly represents  them--,erasmus4 
,so that here is a rule for the         
historical  novelist--when he must      
describe1 he must borrow4  ,if it be    
objected1  again1 that he may do the    
same thing with contemporary life1 ,i   
reply  that he may1 if he please1 but he

 will most assuredly be found out       
through some blunder1 omission1 or      
confusion caused by ignorance4  ,no     
doubt the same blunders are perpetrated 
by the historical novelist2  but these  
are not so readily found out except by  
an archologist4  ,of  course1 one who   
desires to reproduce a time gone by1    
would not go to  the poets1 the divines1
 the historians1 so much as to the      
familiar  literature1 the letters1      
comedies1 tales1 essayists1 and         
newspapers4    #b ,i earnestly recommend
 those who desire to study this ,art to 
begin  by daily practice in the         
description of things1 even common      
things1  that they have observed1 by    
reporting conversations1 and by         
word-portraits of their friends4  ,they 
will find that the practice  gives them 
firmness of outline1 quickness of       
observation1 power of  catching         
important details1 and1 as regards      
dialogue1 readiness to  see what is     
unimportant4  ,preliminary practice and 

study of this kind  will also lead to   
the saving of a vast quantity of        
valuable material1  which is only wasted
 by being prematurely worked up into a  
novel  written before the elements of   
the ,art have been acquired4    #c      
,hardly anything is more important than 
this--to believe in your  own story4    
,wherefore1 let the student remember    
that1 unless the  characters exist and  
move about in his brain1 all separate1  
distinct1  living1 and perpetually      
engaged in the action of the story1     
sometimes  at one part of it1 sometimes 
at another1 and that in scenes and      
places which must be omitted in the     
writing1 he has got no story to  tell1  
and had better give it up4  ,i do not   
think it is generally  understood that  
there are thousands of scenes which     
belong to the  story and never get      
outside the writer's brain at all4      
,some of these  may be very beautiful   
and touching2 but there is not room for 
all1  and the writer has to select4     

#d ,a correspondent asks me if ,i do not
 like the work of ,mr4 ,howells4  ,of   
course1 one cannot choose but like his  
writing4  ,but one cannot  also avoid   
comparing his work with that of his     
countryman1 ,nathaniel  ,hawthorne1 who 
added to the charm of style the interest
 of a romantic  and exciting story4     
#e ,see ,appendix4          ,,appendix  
,i have been asked not to leave the     
young novelist at this point4  ,let  me1
 therefore1 venture upon a few words of 
advice4  ,i do this without  apology1   
because1 like most men who write1 ,i    
receive1 every week1  letters from young
 beginners asking for counsel and       
guidance4  ,to all  these ,i recommend  
the consideration of the rules ,i have  
laid down1  and1 above all1 attention to
 truth1 reality1 and style4    ,i was   
once asked to read a ,,ms4 novel written
 by a young lady4  ,the  work was       
hurried1 scamped1 unreal--in fact1 it   
had every fault4  ,yet1  there was      
something in it which made me think that

 there was hope for  her4  ,i therefore 
wrote to her1 pointing out the faults1  
without  sparing her4  ,i added that1 if
 she was not discouraged1 but would     
begin again1 and would prepare carefully
 the scenario of a novel1  fitted with  
characters duly thought out1 ,i would   
give her such  further advice as was in 
my power4  ,the very next day she sent  
me  five scenarios4  ,i have not heard  
from her since1 and ,i hope she  has    
renounced the ,art whose very elements  
she could not understand4    ,let me    
suppose1 then1 that the writer has got  
his novel completed4  ,here begins the  
trouble1 as the ,americans say4  ,and at
 this point  my advice may be of use4   
,remember that all publishers are eager 
to get good work3 they are  prepared to 
consider ,,mss4 carefully--most of them 
pay men on whose  judgment they rely1   
men of literary standing1 to read and   
taste for  them2 therefore1 it is a     
simple and obvious piece of advice that 
the  writer should send his work to some

 good publisher1 and it is  perfectly   
certain that1 if the work is good1 it   
will be accepted and  published4  ,there
 is1 as ,i have said in the ,lecture1   
little or no  risk1 even with an unknown
 author1 over a really good novel4      
,but1  then1 the first work almost      
always contains immaturities and errors 
which prevent it from being really good4
  ,more often than not1 it is  on the   
border line--not so good as to make its 
publication desirable  by a firm which  
will only issue good work1 or by any    
means safe to  pay its expenses4  ,what 
then8  ,i would advise the author never1
 from  any considerations of vanity or  
self-confidence1 to pay money to a      
publisher for bringing out his book4    
,there are certain publishing  houses1  
not the best1 which bring out yearly    
quantities of novels1  nearly every one 
of which is paid for by the author1     
because they are  not good enough to pay
 their own expenses4  ,do not1 ,i would 
say1  swell the ranks of those who give 

the enemy reason to blaspheme this      
,art4  ,refuse absolutely to publish on 
such ignominious terms4  ,remember that 
to be asked for money to pay for the    
expense of  publication is to be told   
that your work is not good enough to be 
published4  ,if you have tried the      
half-dozen best publishers1 and  been   
refused by all1 realise that the work   
will not do4  ,then1 if  you can1 get   
the advice of some experienced man of   
letters upon it1  and ponder over his   
judgment4    ,if you cannot1 reconsider 
the whole story from the beginning1 with
  special reference to the rules which  
are here laid down4  ,if  necessary1    
rewrite the whole2 or1 if necessary1 put
 the whole into  the fire1 and1 without 
being disheartened1 begin again with    
another  and a better story4  ,do not   
aim at producing an absolutely new plot4
  ,you cannot do it4  ,but persevere1 if
 you feel that the root of the  matter  
is in you1 till your work is accepted2  
and never1 never1  ,,never pay for      

publishing a novel4    ,let me end with 
a little piece of personal history4     
,a good many years ago1 there was a     
young man of four- or  five-and-twenty1 
who ardently desired before all things  
to become a  novelist4  ,he spent a     
couple of years1 giving to the work all 
his  unemployed hours1 over a novel of  
modern life4  ,he took immense pains    
with it1 rewrote some of the scenes half
 a dozen times1 and spared  neither     
labour nor thought to make it as good as
 he could make it4  ,when he really felt
 that he could do nothing more with it1 
he rolled  it up and sent it to a friend
 with the request that he would place it
  anonymously in ,mr4 ,macmillan's      
hands4  ,mr4 ,macmillan had it carefully
  read1 and sent the author1 still      
through the friend1 his reader's        
opinion4  ,the reader did not sign his  
opinion1 but he was a ,cambridge  man1 a
 critic of judgment1 a man of taste1 a  
kindly man1 and he had  once been1 if he
 was not still1 a mathematician4  ,these

 things were  clearly evident from his  
handwriting1 as well as from the wording
 of  his verdict4  ,this was to the     
effect that the novel should not be     
published1 for certain reasons which he 
proceeded to give4  ,but he  laid down  
his objections with very great          
consideration for the  writer1          
indicating for his encouragement what he
 considered points of  promise1         
suggesting certain practical rules of   
construction which had  been violated1  
and showing where ignorance of the ,art 
and  inexperience of life had caused    
faults such as to make it most          
undesirable for the author1 as well as  
impossible for a publisher of  standing1
 to produce the work4  ,the writer1     
after the first pangs of                
disappointment1 plucked up heart1 and   
began to ponder over the  lessons       
contained in that opinion4  ,the young  
man has since become a  novelist1 of a  
sort1 and he takes this opportunity of  
returning his  most sincere thanks to   

,mr4 ,macmillan for his kindness in     
considering  and refusing to publish an 
immature novel1 and to his anonymous    
critic for his invaluable letter4       
,would that all publishers' readers     
were like unto that reader1 as          
conscientious and as kindly1 and as     
anxious to save beginners from putting  
forth bad work6          ,printed by    
,,ballantyne1 ,,hanson  ,co    ,london  
,edinburgh