excerpts from THE MONTHLY CHRONICLE
A National Journal of Politics,
Literature, Science and Art
Volume 1: March-June 1838
LONDON: Longman & others
THE CRITIC – No. I [pg 42]
ON ART IN FICTION
PROSE FICTIONS
The Novelist has three departments for his art: MANNERS, PASSIONS, CHARACTER.
MANNERS
The delineation of manners embraces both past and present; the Modern and the
Historical Romance.
The
Historical [pg 43]
We have a right to demand from the writer who professes to illustrate a
former age, a perfect acquaintance with its characteristics and spirit. At the same time, as he intends rather to
interest than instruct us, his art will be evinced in the illustrations he
selects, and the skill with which they are managed. He will avoid all antiquarian dissertations
not essentially necessary to the conduct of his tale. If, for instance, his story should have no
connection with the mysteries of the middle ages, he will take care how he
weary us with an episodical description that changes his character from that of
a narrator into that of a lecturer. In
the tale of Notre Dame de Paris, by Victor Hugo, the description of the
cathedral of Notre Dame is not only apposite, but of the deepest interest; for
the cathedral is, by a high effort of art, made an absolute portion of the
machinery of the tale. But the long superfluous
description of the spectacle with which the story opens is merely a parade of
antiquarian learning, because the Scholars and the Mysteries have no proportionate
bearing whatever in the future development of the tale.
The usual fault of the historical novelist is over minuteness in descriptions
of dress and feasts, of pageants and processions. Minuteness is not accuracy. On the contrary, the more the novelist is
minute, the more likely he is to mar the accurate effect of the whole, either
by wearisome tameness or some individual error.
An over-antiquated phraseology is a common and a most inartistical defect:
whatever diction the delineator of a distant age employs, can never be faithful
to the language of the time, for if so, it would be unintelligible. ..... The
language of a former time should be presented to us in the freest and most
familiar paraphrase we can invent. Thus
the mind is relieved at once from the task of forming perpetual comparisons,
and surrenders itself to the delusion the more easily, from the very candour
with which the author makes demand on its credulity. [At this point Bulwer Lytton takes his illustration from “any story of ancient Greece” but what he
says could be applied to another place and time.] The author will, therefore, agreeably
surprise the reader, if he adopt a style as familiar and easy as that which a
Greek would have used in common conversation; and show the classical spirit
that pervades his diction, by the grace of the poetry, or the lightness of the
wit, with which he can adorn his allusions and dialogue. .....
instead of selecting such specimens and modifications of human nature as
are most different from, and unfamiliar to, the sympathies of modern times, he
will rather prefer to appeal to the eternal sentiments of the heart, by showing
how closely the men of one age resemble those of another. ...
The reader will be interested to see society different, yet men the
same; and the Manners will be relieved from the disadvantage of unfamiliarity
by an entire sympathy with the humours they mask, or the passions on which they
play.
Again, if the author propose to carry his reader to the times of Richard the
First or of Elizabeth, he will have to encounter an universal repugnance from
the thought of an imitation of Ivanhoe or Kenilworth. An author wo was, nevertheless, resolved to
select such a period for his narrative would, accordingly, if an artist of
sufficient excellence, avoid with care touching upon any of the points which
may suggest the recollection of Scott.
He would deeply consider all the features of the time, and select those
neglected by his predecessor; - carefully note all the deficiencies of the
author of Kenilworth, and seize at once upon the ground which that versatile
genius omitted to consecrate to himself.
To take the same epoch, the same characters, even the same narrative, as a
distinguished predecessor is perfectly allowable; and, if successful, a proof
at once of originality and skill. But if
you find the shadow of the previous work flinging itself over your own – if you
have not thoroughly escaped the influence of the first occupant of the soil, -
you will only invest your genius to unnecessary disadvantage, and build
edifices, however graceful and laboured, upon the freehold of another.
CHARACTER
An author once said, “Give me a character, and I will find the play;” and, if
we look to the most popular novels, we shall usually find, that where one
reader speaks of the conduct of the story, a hundred readers will speak of the
excellence of some particular character.
THE
PASSIONS
The
passion of Love is not represented by a series of eloquent rhapsodies, or even
of graceful sentiments. It is
represented, in fiction, by its effects on some particular character: the same
with Jealousy, Avarice, Revenge, &c.
Therefore, in a certain sense of the word, all
representations of passion in fiction may be considered typical. ..... in the novel, as in the drama, it is in the struggle of emotions that the science of
the heart is best displayed.
THE
SENTIMENT.
The Sentiment that pervades a book is often its most effective moral, and its
most universal charm. It is a pervading and indescribable harmony in which the
heart of the author seems silently to address our own. ... Of
all the qualities of fiction, the sentiment is that which we can least subject
to the inquiries or codes of criticism. It emanates from the moral and
predominant quality of the author the perfume from his genius: and by it he
unconsciously reveals himself.
************
What
if Rafael Sabatini’s historical fictions, long and short but chiefly long, were
to be evaluated by the views expressed above? (There are many more in this
article, on other aspects of writing prose fiction.) His earliest short
stories, (reprinted in ROMANTIC PRINCE:
Part Two: READING RAFAEL), would have been torn to shreds by Bulwer Lytton!
It is also interesting to refer to Rafael’s own views on writing historical
fiction. These are set out in Chapter V – The Artist’s Studio – of ROMANTIC PRINCE: Part One: Seeking Sabatini.
