The New York herald., 1922-12-10

cfunDle into DUST But the DeSt OF DOCKS
drawing sustenance from the sympathy
and memory of men have lived on the
brink of destruction, for mems memories
are short. and their sympathy is, We must
admit a very fiuctuating, unprincipled
emotion.
II.
OF all books, novels, which the muses.
should love, make a serious claim on eur
compassion. The art of the novelist is
simple At the same time il is the most
elusive of all creative arts the most Liable
to be obscured by the scruples of its ser
wants and votaries, the one preeminently
destined to bring trouble TO the mind and
the heart of the artist. After all, the Gre
alton of world is not a small undertaking
except perhaps to the divinely gifted. II
truth, every novelist must begin by Great
ing for himself world. great or little
in which he can honestly believe Thi:
world cannot be made otherwise than in
his own image: it is fated to remain indi-
vidual and little mysterious. and YET
it must resemble something already
!
and the sensations of his readers
At the heart of fiction, even the leasI
worthy of the name, some sort of truth
can be found-if only the truth of a child
ish theatrical ardor in the game of life
as in the novels of Dumas the father
But the fair truth of human delicacy car
be found in Mr.. Henry James's novels
and the comical, appalling truth of human
rapacity let loose amongst the spoils o
existence lives in the monstrous worlC
created by Balzac. The pursuit of happi-
ness by means lawful and unlawful
through resignation or revolt, by the
clever manipulation of conventions or by
solemn hanging on to the skirts of the
latest scientific theory, is the only theme
that can be legitimately developed by the
novelist who is the chronicler of the ad-
ventures of mankind amongst the danger:
of the kingdom of the earth. And the
kingdom of this earth itself, the ground
upon which his indiyidualities stand
stumble or die, must enter into his scheme
of faithful record. To encompass all this
in one harmonious conception is a grea
feat: and even to attempt it deliberately
with serious intention, not from the sense
less prompting of an ignorant heart, is al
courage to step in calmly where fools may
be eager to rush. AS a distinguished anC
successful French novelist once observed
of fiction. "C'est un art trop difficie."
It is natural that the novelist should
doubt his ability to cope with his task
He imagines it more gigantic than it is
And yet literary creation being only one
of the legitimate forms of human activity
has no value but on the condition of not
excluding the fullest recognition of al
the more distinct forms of action. Thi:
condition is sometimes forgotten by the
man of letters, who often, especially ir
his youth, is inclined to lay a claim o
exclusive superiority for his own amongs
all the other tasks of the human mind
The mass of verse and prose may glim-
mer here and there with the glow of Z
divine spark but in the sum of human
effort it has no special importance Therc
is no iustificative formula for its exist
ence any more than for any other artistic
achievement With the rest of them it i:
destined to be forgotten, without, perhaps
leaving the faintest trace. Where a novel.
list has an advantage over the workers in
other fields of thought is in his privileg,
of freedom-the freedom of expression
and the freedom of confessing his inner
most beliefs-which should console hin
for the hard slavery of the pen.