82 Mr. Walter Besant [April 25, 



wells will not be dried up, and that the springs of fancy and imagina- 

 tion will flow again, even though he seem to have exhausted himself 



in this one effort 



Let me say one word upon the present condition of this most 

 delightful Art in England. Eemember that great Masters in every 

 Art are rare. Perhaps one or two appear in a century : we ought not 

 to expect more. 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 posterity, who will have great Masters of their own. 

 I am inclined, however, to think that a few of the nineteenth-century 

 novelists will never be suffered to die, though they may be remem- 

 bered principally for one book — that Thackeray will be remembered 

 for his ' Vanity Fair,' Dickens for ' David Copperfield,' George 

 Meredith for the ' Ordeal of Richard Feverel,' George Eliot for 

 ' Silas Marner,' Charles Eeade for the ' Cloister and the Hearth,' and 

 Blackmore for his ' Lorna Doone.' On the other hand, without 

 thinking or troubling ofirselves at all about the verdict of posterity, 

 which matters nothing to us compared with the verdict of our con- 

 temporaries, let us acknowledge that it is a bad year indeed when we 

 have not produced some good work, work of a very high kind, if not 

 immortal work. An exhibition of the year's novels would generally 

 show two or three, at least, of which the country may be, say reason- 

 ably proud. Does the Royal Academy of Arts show every year more 

 than two or three pictures — not immortal pictures, but pictures of 

 which we may be reasonably proud ? One would like, it is true, to 

 see fewer bad novels published, as well as fewer bad pictures exhi- 

 bited ; the standard of the work which is on the borderland between 

 success and failure should be higher. At the same time I am very 

 sure and certain that there never has been a time when better works 

 of Fiction have been produced, both by men and women. That Art 

 is not declining, but is advancing, which is cultivated on true and 

 not on false or conventional principles. Ought we not to be full of 

 hope for the future, when such women as Mrs. Oliphant and Mrs. 

 Thackeray Ritchie write for us — when such men as Meredith, Black- 

 more, Black, Payn, Wilkie Collins, and Hardy are still at their best, 

 and such men as Louis Stevenson, Christie Murray, Clark Russell and 

 Herman Merivale have just begun ? I think the fiction, and, indeed, 

 all the imaginary work of the future will be far fuller in human in- 

 terest than in the past ; the old stories — no doubt they will still be 

 the old stories — will be fitted to actors who up to recently were only 

 used for the purposes of contrast ; the drama of life which formerly 

 was assigned to kings and princes will be played by figures taken as 

 much from the great struggling, unknown masses. Kings and great 

 lords are chiefly picturesque and interesting on account of their 

 beautiful costumes, and a traditional belief in their power. Costume 

 is certainly not a strong point in the lower ranks, but I thiulc we 

 shall not miss that, and wherever we go for our material, whether to 

 the higher or the lower ranks, we may be sure of finding everywhere 



