1884.] CM the Art of Fiction. 81 



knife-grinder, to explain that there is no story left at all to tell. 

 Why, the story is everything. I cannot conceive of a world going on 

 at all without stories, and those strong ones, with incident in them, 

 and merriment and pathos, laughter, and tears and the excitement of 

 wondering what will happen next. Fortunately, these new theorists 

 contradict themselves, because they find it impossible to write a 

 novel which shall not contain a story, although it may be but a puny 

 bantling. Fiction without adventure — a drama without a plot — a 

 novel without surprises — the thing is as impossible as life without 

 uncertainty. 



As for the story, then. And here theory and teaching can go no 

 farther. For every Art there is the corresponding science which 

 may be taught. We have been speaking of the corresponding 

 science. But the Art itself can neither be taught nor communicated. 

 If the thing is in a man he will bring it out somehow, well or badly, 

 quickly or slowly. If it is not, he can never learn it. Here, then, 

 let us suppose that we have to do with the man to whom the inven- 

 tion of stories is part of his nature. We will also suppose that he 

 has mastered the laws of his Art, and is now anxious to apply them. 

 To such a man one can only recommend that he should with the 

 greatest care and attention analyze and examine the construction of 

 certain works which are acknowledged to be of the first rank in 

 fiction. Among them, not to speak of Scott, he might pay especial 

 attention from the constructive point of view, to the truly admirable 

 shorter stories of Charles Reade, to George Eliot's ' Silas Marner,* 

 the most perfect of English novels, Hawthorne's 'Scarlet Letter,* 

 Holmes's ' Elsie Venner,' Blackmore's ' Lorna Doone,' or Black's 

 * Daughter of Heth.' He must not sit down to read them " for the 

 story," as uncritical people say : he must read them slowly and care- 

 fully, perhaps backwards, so as to discover for himself how tho 

 author built up the novel, and from what original germ or conception 

 it sprang 



One thing more the Art student has to learn. Let him not only 

 believe his own story before he begins to tell it, but let him 

 remember that in story-telling, as in almsgiving, a cheerful counte- 

 nance works wonders, and a hearty manner greatly helps the teller 

 and pleases the listener. One would not have the novelist make 

 continual efforts at being comic ; but let him not tell his story with 

 eyes full of sadness, a face of woe and a shaking voice. His story 

 may be tragic, but continued gloom is a mistake in Art, even for a 

 tragedy. If his story is a comedy, all the more reason to tell it 

 cheerfully and brightly. Lastly, let him tell it without apparent 

 effort : without trying to show his cleverness, his wit, his powers of 

 epigram, and his learning. Yet let him pour without stint or 

 measure into his work all that he knows, all that he has seen, all 

 that he has observed, and all that he has remembered : all that there 

 is of nobility, sympathy, and enthusiasm in himself. Let him spare 

 nothing, but lavish all that he has, in the full confidence that the 



Vol. XI. (No. 78.) G 



