The San Francisco call., 1895-11-17


poems like "Fifine at the Fair" t'Aurora
Leigh" 'The Princess" and the "ldylls OF the
King"
questionable pre-eminence OF the novel to the
general causes just touched upon-if in partic-
ular we are warranted in concluding that it
owes it's power and position largely to those
qualities of fieXibility and elasticity which
render it singularly apt as q medium OF ex-
preston for the ever increasingly complex
movements of the modern world; then will
ask YOU TO observe one very important corollary
which will be found 10 follow as matter of
course. ! refer to the present extraordinary
differentiation noticeable in our fiction itself.
No one can fail to be struck by. the rapldlty
with which our producers of fiction are break
ing up into schools and sub-Schools so numer-
Gus that it is almost impossible for even the
most industrious and systematic student to
keep pace with them. My point is. that this
breaking up of the novel-this differentiation
of fiction into so many various forms and
branches, is not all accidental or extraneously
produced result. 1t is a result to have been
anticipated from the nature of the novel itself,
and especially from its relation to our nine
teenth-century civilization. The same causes
that have combined to bring about its adoption
as the modern literary medium of self-expres-
sion combine likewise to necesS1tate that ever
growing variety in theme and treatment III
material and handling, by which, as Tune goes
on, the fiction of our day comes more and more
to be marked.
Let us for a moment look at this point
little more closely. The fiction OF our epoch
hibited TO anything like the same extent-an
interest in and sympathy with human lie
in all its forms and phases, IN all
its aspects and conditions. Just think OF
the enormously wide area over which our mod
ern novelists range in quest OF subject and
suggestion, of the Heterogeneous masses OF
material which they lay under contribution.
Manifestly the novel of to-day is broadly and
deeply democratic. 1t studies passion and ac-
ton, emotion and thought in all environments
and from every point OF view. Among the
Twin
who owe their success largely to the revelation
given in their work of hitherto uneXplolted or
but partially exploited regions OF human eX-
istence. The names OF Bret Harte, Cable,
Charles Egbert Craddock, Kipling, Barry Mac
laren, Pierre Lott and dozen others occur to
us at once in this connection. Nor is this ali.
The democratic extension OF interest IN man
as man is shown not merely by the
discovery of new material for artistic
purposes outside the more familiar areas
OF life. 1t is quite as instructlvely shown
by the search for new material within those
familiar areas. 1t would be supertluous to
dwell upon the large place now given in the
novel to classes in our civilized communities
which formerly received no attention or were
employed merely as picturesque and conven-
tional accessories. The tramp, the thief, the
peasant, the socialist and countless other
types thrown up by or surviving amid the
present conditions of civilization. now have a
large body of fictitious literature especially
devoted to their Interpretation. We may
heartily disagree with Zola's artistic methods
significance of his work. The discovery by
Turgenev of the nihilist was only the first of
many such discoveries. Only within very re-
cent years for example, the young English
Hebrew writer, Mr. Zangwill, has annexed the
territory of the J~g, with striking and inter-
estiug results
Meanwhile it is of course inevitable that our
modern interest in social science and its multi
farious problems should make itself more
and more distinctly manifest in a large
part of our fiction. We must, feel convinced,
f1Nr,C 1nx-n ffNf
the novel along these lines. The danger in this
direction is, | take it, two-fold: First, lest
thrown out of due balance by their earnest
ness of purpose, our novelists should lose
sight of the cardinal and fundamental princi-
pies OF fiction as an art; and secondly, lest
they should be misled-as indeed in many
cases seems only too probable, as we may even
go further and say that ZoIa and others have al
ready been misled-into ia tai confusion of the
methods and ends OF science and the methods
and ends OF literature. Among English-speak-
ing peoples. as NJ DaYid-Sauvageot has rightly
insisted, realism is habitually associated with
g strong moral purpose; and the danger with
US, therefore, is lest the novelist should lose
himself, not in the scientist, but in the
preacher. The narrowly didactic novel
threatens, indeed, to become nuisance, and it
should be treated without mercy. We can
tolerate, we can admire, book like "Tess of
the d'Urbevilles," because, although 1t is
fraught with heavy didactic intention, the
writer's craft remains supreme. But when a
man or woman-and unfortunately women
offenders-writes bad novel for the purpose
of eXpound1ng some pet social or ethical
theory, then we have right to insist that, for
the sake OF both purpose and art, the form OF
fiction shall be abandoned and the theory set
before US in some other way. Good intentions
are no excuse for bad art. We are not to be
required-to adopt phrase of Fielding s-to
tolerate dull story on account of q profound
doctrine. Hysterical social and religious re-
formers used to be reminded that the final
test of novel is not, Is its moral new or old,
fn1e lNt,f Il Cft1l vol
fine piece of literary workmanship?
And this leads me to the last point that
now have time to touch upon-the battle at
present raging furiously all around us between
the so-called realists and the so-called roman
ticsts. To this struggle do not myself attach
any profound importance-the questions at
stake seem to me to be currently treated with
undue vehemence and seriousness. From the
point OF view here adopted the breaking up of
fiction into diverse schools must, as l have be-
fore implied, appear not only inevitable, but
desirable; to anticipate that the methods of
any one of these schools will ultimately be
adopted, 10 the abandonment of all others, is
surely only possible TO a critic who studies eX-
isting conditions with the oyerZeal of parti-
san and through the disturbing atmosphere
of heated discussion. Modern criticism, like
modern art, must be eclectic. The realists-I
transcripts from life by throwing separate
elements into unnatural relief, but the true
realists-have ample justification for their
| work, provided only that they bear constantly
/
stated-frst, that the ultimate criterion of a
novel is the art criterion; and secondly, that
there is an everlasting distinction between the
methods and ends CT science and the methods
and ends of literature. If they overlook or
enueaYor of set purpose TO discard these prin-
ciples their work will prove abortive and
sterile; if, as earnest literary craftsmen, they
accept and apply them. they may labor on,
secure OF results. Yet, while speak thus OF
realism, am none the less Tree TO confess that
| regard the present revival of romanticism in
the English novel with feelings Of extreme
satisfaction and hopefulness. Such mark ed
reaction is the most effective answer
to the foolish lucubrations OF ultra-realistic
doctrinaires like w. d. HoWells and the
late Professor Boyesen. There is large need
to-day that we should lay continued and even
increasing stress on what Miss Repplier has hap
PLY called the "heresy of pleasure" Few
things seem to me more grimly indicative OF
our modern strenuous utilitarianism, our
dread of frank, unSophisticated enjoyment,
than the widespread belief-unfortunately
shared by many in the ranks of our writers
| themselves-that the only proper and iustl-
| fable point of view for the novelist and the
dramatist is that furnished by the laboratory,
| the rostrum or the pulpit. There may be-
there certainly is, much to criticize in the pro.
ductions OF the Deo-romanticists who have
| sprung into such prominence during the past
| few years, but their work at least comes as
| protest against the narrow didaeticism, the
| hysterical extravaganza, the bastard science
| by which our broad, genial, wholesome and
| finely imaginative English fiction seemed des
| tined for time to find itself submerged. 1t is