Part 9 (1/2)

The boy, for instance, who learns with accuracy the prosody of a Sapphic stanza, and has received through his intelligence a knowledge of its parts, will soon tell by his ear whether a Sapphic stanza be or be not correct Take a girl, endoith gifts of music, well instructed in her art, with perfect ear, and read to her such a stanza with tords transposed, as, for instance--

Mercuri, naistro Movit Amphion _canendo lapides_, Tuque testudo resonare septem Callida nervis--

and she will find no halt in the rhythm But a schoolboy with none of her musical acquirements or capacities, who has, however, become familiar with the metres of the poet, will at once discover the fault And so will the writer become familiar hat is harmonious in prose But in order that familiarity may serve him in his business, he h the rhythm of every word as it falls from his pen This, when it has been done for a time, even for a short time, will become so habitual to him that he will have appreciated the metrical duration of every syllable before it shall have dared to show itself upon paper The art of the orator is the same He knows beforehand how each sound which he is about to utter will affect the force of his clih his readers will probably not kno they have been char a novel the author soon becoes is before him Circuenerally not a very confined space Short novels are not popular with readers generally Critics often coth of novels,--of the three volumes to which they are subjected; but few novels which have attained great success in England have been told in fewer pages The novel-writer who sticks to novel-writing as his profession will certainly find that this burden of length is incumbent on him How shall he carry his burden to the end? How shall he cover his space? Many great artists have by their practice opposed the doctrine which I now propose to preach;--but they have succeeded I think in spite of their fault and by dint of their greatness There should be no episodes in a novel Every sentence, every word, through all those pages, should tend to the telling of the story Such episodes distract the attention of the reader, and always do so disagreeably Who has not felt this to be the case even with _The Curious Impertinent_ and with the _History of the Man of the Hill_ And if it be so with Cervantes and Fielding, who can hope to succeed? Though the novel which you have to write , let it be all one And this exclusion of episodes should be carried down into the smallest details Every sentence and every word used should tend to the telling of the story ”But,” the young novelist will say, ”with so es before me to be filled, how shall I succeed if I thus confine myself;--how am I to know beforehand what space this story of mine will require? There azine pages which I have contracted to supply If I may not be discursive should occasion require, how shall I complete my task? The painter suits the size of his canvas to his subject, and must I in my art stretch my subject to my canvas?” This undoubtedly must be done by the novelist; and if he will learn his business, may be done without injury to his effect He may not paint different pictures on the same canvas, which he will do if he allow himself to wander away toproportion in his work, he may teach himself so to tell his story that it shall naturally fall into the required length

Though his story should be all one, yet it h the plot itself ed as to find its full development in many There may be subsidiary plots, which shall all tend to the elucidation of the main story, and which will take their places as part of one and the saures on a canvas which shall not to the spectator seem to form themselves into separate pictures

There is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of episodes is so coue It is so easy to make any two persons talk on any casual subject hich the writer presumes himself to be conversant! Literature, philosophy, politics, or sport, may thus be handled in a loosely discursive style; and the writer, while indulging hies, is apt to think that he is pleasing his reader I think he can enerally theas it tends in so of the main story It need not seem to be confined to that, but it should always have a tendency in that direction The unconscious critical acuue on extraneouscheated into taking soain to accept when he took up that novel He does not at that moment require politics or philosophy, but he wants his story He will not perhaps be able to say in so ue has deviated from the story; but when it does so he will feel it, and the feeling will be unpleasant Let the intending novel-writer, if he doubt this, read one of Bulwer's novels,--in which there is very much to charm,--and then ask himself whether he has not been offended by devious conversations

And the dialogue, on which thethe taste of his probable readers must depend most, has to be constrained also by other rules The writer may tell much of his story in conversations, but hesuch words into the es as persons so situated would probably use

He is not allowed for the sake of his tale tospeeches, such as are not customarily heard from men and women The ordinary talk of ordinary people is carried on in short sharp expressive sentences, which very frequently are never co educated people is often incorrect The novel-writer in constructing his dialogue e--which would give to his conversation an air of pedantry, and the slovenly inaccuracy of ordinary talkers, which if closely folloould offend by an appearance of grimace--as to produce upon the ear of his readers a sense of reality If he be quite real he will seem to attempt to be funny If he be quite correct he will seem to be unreal And above all, let the speeches be short No character should utter much above a dozen words at a breath,--unless the writer can justify to hier flood of speech by the speciality of the occasion

In all this huuide No doubt effective novels have been written in which huht name _Caleb Williams_ as one and _Adam Blair_ as another But the exceptions are nothuman nature he must remember that he does so with a pen in his hand, and that the reader ill appreciate human nature will also de novelist will probably ask, or more probably bethink hie of human nature which will tell him with accuracy what men and women would say in this or that position He must acquire it as the compositor, who is to print his words, has learned the art of distributing his type--by constant and intelligent practice Unless it be given to him to listen and to observe,--so to carry away, as it were, the manners of people in his memory, as to be able to say to hiht have been said in a given position, and that those other words could not have been said,--I do not think that in these days he can succeed as a novelist

And then let hi tedium! Who has not felt the charm of a spoken story up to a certain point, and then suddenly beco and is the reverse of char It is not only that the entire book may have this fault, but that this fault raphs I know no guard against this so likely to be effective as the feeling of the writer hi has grown upon hirow upon his readers I see the smile of some ill declare to themselves that the words of a writer will never be tedious to himself Of the writer of whom this may be truly said, it may be said with equal truth that he will always be tedious to his readers

CHAPTER XIII

ON ENGLISH NOVELISTS OF THE PRESENT DAY

In this chapter I will venture to name a few successful novelists of my own time, hose works I am acquainted; and will endeavour to point whence their success has come, and why they have failed when there has been failure

I do not hesitate to nae of human nature was supres, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been within the reach of any other English novelist in any period I know no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, hom the reader becoreat a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! Hoe admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there any one of e feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel Newcoentleman that we think Thackeray's work to have been so excellent, but because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force us to love hirace of character

It is evident from all Thackeray's best work that he lived with the characters he was creating He had always a story to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was so, not by the interest which he had in his own plots,--for I doubt whether his plots did occupyus that his characters were alive to hihter, and with Eston, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and with Barry Lyndon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse Therefore he hasall our novelists his style is the purest, as to ured by a slight touch of affectation, by little conceits which se is always lucid The reader, without labour, knohat he means, and knows all that he means As well as I can remember, he deals with no episodes I think that any critic, exa his work minutely, would find that every scene, and every part of every scene, adds so all his stories there is not one which does not leave on theof distress that women should ever be immodest or men dishonest,--and of joy that women should be so devoted and men so honest Hoe hate the idle selfishness of Pendennis, the worldliness of Beatrix, the craft of Becky Sharpe!--hoe love the honesty of Colonel Newcombe, the nobility of Esmond, and the devoted affection of Mrs Pendennis! The hatred of evil and love of good can hardly have coood

Late in Thackeray's life,--he never was an old man, but towards the end of his career,--he failed in his power of char, because he allowed his mind to becoe which he used, I do not know that there is any perceptible change; but in _The Virginians_ and in _Philip_ the reader is introduced to no character hich heacquaintance And this, I have no doubt, is so because Thackeray himself had no such intimacy His mind had come to be weary of that fictitious life which is always de the labour of new creation, and he troubled hiinians and his Philip only when he was seated at his desk

At the present lish novelists, and I am disposed to place her second of those of my time She is best known to the literary world as a writer of prose fiction, and not improbably whatever of permanent fame she may acquire will come from her novels But the nature of her intellect is very far removed indeed froination is no doubt strong, but it acts in analysing rather than in creating Everything that comes before her is pulled to pieces so that the inside of it shall be seen, and be seen if possible by her readers as clearly as by herself This searching analysis is carried so far that, in studying her latter writings, one feels oneself to be in company with some philosopher rather than with a novelist I doubt whether any young person can read with pleasure either _Felix Holt_, _Middlemarch_, or _Daniel Deronda_ I know that they are very difficult to

Her personifications of character have been singularly terse and graphic, and froh by no reatest effect which she has produced The lessons which she teaches reh it is not for the sake of the lessons that her pages are read Seth Bede, Adaie and Tom Tulliver, old Silas Marner, and, much above all, tito, in _Romola_, are characters which, when once known, can never be forgotten I cannot say quite so much for any of those in her later works, because in thereatly overtops the portrait-painter, that, in the dissection of the otten In her, as yet, there is no symptom whatever of that weariness of mind which, when felt by the reader, induces him to declare that the author has written himself out It is not from decadence that we do not have another Mrs Poyser, but because the author soars to things which seeher than Mrs

Poyser

It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too hard to do work that shall be excellent She lacks ease Latterly the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always been and is singularly correct, but which has becoent It is iets a flavour of affectation In _Daniel Deronda_, of which at this moment only a portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to take home to myself all that the writer has intended Perhaps Ihere of novelists, I will not attee Eliot's merit as a poet

There can be no doubt that the most popular novelist of lish novelist of any time--has been Charles dickens He has now been dead nearly six years, and the sale of his books goes on as it did during his life The certainty hich his novels are found in every house--the fa countries--the popularity of such characters as Mrs Gamp, Micawber, and Pecksniff, and e and becorief of the country at his death, and the honours paid to him at his funeral,--all testify to his popularity

Since the last book he wrote himself, I doubt whether any book has been so popular as his biography by John Forster There is no withstanding such testio for very , in criticism on the work of a novelist The primary object of a novelist is to please; and this man's novels have been found ht of course be objected to this, that though the books have pleased they have been injurious, that their tendency has been i vicious; but it is alainst dickens His teaching has ever been good From all which, there arises to the critic a question whether, with such evidence against him as to the excellence of this writer, he should not subordinate his own opinion to the collected opinion of the world of readers Toto place dickens after Thackeray and George Eliot, knowing as I do that so great a majority put him above those authors

My own peculiar idiosyncrasy in the e that Mrs Gamp, Micawber, Pecksniff, and others have becoh they were hus, nor are any of the characters human which dickens has portrayed It has been the peculiarity and the marvel of this man's power, that he has invested his puppets with a charm that has enabled him to dispense with human nature There is a drollery about them, in my estimation, very much below the humour of Thackeray, but which has reached the intellect of all; while Thackeray's humour has escaped the intellect of ey and melodramatic But it is so expressed that it touches every heart a little There is no real life in Smike His misery, his idiotcy, his devotion for Nicholas, his love for Kate, are all overdone and incompatible with each other But still the reader sheds a tear Every reader can find a tear for Smike dickens's novels are like Boucicault's plays He has kno to draw his lines broadly, so that all should see the colour