[EDGAR] HENRY JAMES AND HIS METHOD 229 



more "beauty" there seems to reside in it, and the relations between 

 Gray and Haughty have a fascination for him proportional to their 

 difficulty. "What glimmers upon me, as I said just now, is the 

 conception of an entire frankness of understanding between the two 



young men on the question of Gray's inaptitudes Yes, there 



glimmers, there glimmers; something really more interesting, I 

 think, than the mere nefarious act, something like a profoundly nefar- 

 ious attitude, or even genius: I see, I really think I see, the real firm 

 truth of the matter in that. With which I keep present to me the 

 whole significance and high dramatic value of the part played in the 

 action by Cissy Foy; have distinct to me her active function as a 

 wheel in the machine But I must put her on her feet per- 

 fectly in order to see her as I should." 



It is obvious that Henry James never committed himself to 

 writing without the clearest articulation of his theme in his mind, 

 although of course his composition is never slavishly tied down to 

 the preconceived plan. "What I want is to get my right Çivm. joints, 

 each working on its own hinge, and forming together the play of my 

 machine: they are the machine, and when each of them is settled 

 and determined it will work as I want it." He has the right creative 

 rapture as each new "joint" is discovered: — "a perfect joint," "a 

 tremendous joint," "a joint of joints!" 



Artful preparation, unity, economy, the careful co-ordination of 

 parts so that no situation, no dialogue, no description is without 

 its functional value — these, one gathers, are the essential things 

 demanded by James in the novel that is engendered in the conscience 

 of the artist, or at least they make possible the supremely essential 

 thing which is to represent life in all its rich complexity and variety. 

 "I cannot imagine composition existing in a series of blocks," he tells 

 us in his essay on "The Art of Fiction," "nor conceive in any novel 

 worth discussing at all, of a passage of description that is not in its 

 intention narrative, a passage of dialogue that is not in its intention 

 descriptive, a touch of truth of any sort that does not partake of the 

 nature of incident, or an incident that derives its interest from any 

 other source than the general and only source of the success of a work 

 of art — that of being illustrative. A novel is a living thing, all one 

 and continuous, like any other organism, and in proportion as it lives 

 will it be found, I think, that in each of the parts there is something 

 of 'each of the other parts." 



The severe discipline to which James subjects his novels may be 

 studied to the best advantage in "The Ambassadors," upon which 

 excellent book he has brought to bear all the resources of his exacting 

 art. His method is productive of undeniable and rare merits, but of 



Sec. I & II, Sig. 16 



