[_3 Oct. '08_]
It was the commercial genius of Mr. Hall Caine that invented the idea of
publishing important novels during the "off" season. Miss Marie Corelli,
by a sure instinct, followed suit. And now all sorts of stars, from
genuine artists to mere successful artisans, take care to publish in the
off season. Thus within the last few weeks we have had novels from Eden
Phillpotts, Miss Beatrice Harraden, Anthony Hope, Mrs. Humphry Ward, and
Miss Marie Corelli. At this rate the autumn will soon become the slack
time; August will burn and throb with a six-shilling activity; publishers'
clerks will form a union; and the Rt. Hon. W.F.D. Smith, M.P., who has
always opposed an eight hours day, will bring in a Bill for an eight
months year.
* * * * *
That a considerable social importance still attaches to the publication of
a novel by Mrs. Humphry Ward may be judged from the fact that the
_Manchester Guardian_ specially reviewed the book on its leader page. This
strange phenomenon deserves to be studied, because the _Manchester
Guardian_'s reviewing easily surpasses that of any other daily paper,
except, possibly, the _Times_ in its Literary Supplement. The _Guardian_
relies on mere, sheer intellectual power, and as a rule it does not
respect persons. Its theatrical critics, for example, take joy in speaking
the exact truth--never whispered in London--concerning the mandarins of
the stage. Now it is remarkable that the only strictly first-class morning
daily in these isles should have printed the _Guardian_'s review of "Diana
Mallory" (signed "B.S."); for the article respected persons. I do not
object to Mrs. Humphry Ward being reviewed with splendid prominence. I am
quite willing to concede that a new book from her constitutes the matter
of a piece of news, since it undoubtedly interests a large number of
respectable and correct persons. A novel by Miss Marie Corelli, however,
constitutes the matter of a greater piece of news; yet I have seen no
review of "Holy Orders," even in a corner, in the _Guardian_. Surely the
_Guardian_ was not prevented from dealing faithfully with "Holy Orders" by
the fact that it received no review copy, or by the fact that Miss Corelli
desired no review. Its news department in general is conducted without
reference to the desires of Miss Marie Corelli, and it does not usually
boggle at an expenditure of four-and-sixpence. Why, then, Mrs. Humphry
Ward being reviewed specially, is not Miss Marie Corelli reviewed
specially? If the answer be that Mrs. Humphry Ward's novels are better, as
literature, than Miss Corelli's, I submit that the answer is insufficient,
and lacking in Manchester sincerity.
* * * * *
Let me duly respect Mrs. Humphry Ward. She knows her business. She is an
expert in narrative. She can dress up even the silliest incidents of
sentimental fiction--such as that in which the virgin heroine, in company
with a young man, misses the last train home (see "Helbeck of
Bannisdale")--in a costume of plausibility. She is a conscientious worker.
She does not make a spectacle of herself in illustrated interviews. Even
in agitating against votes for women she can maintain her dignity. (She
would be an ideal President of the Authors' Society.) But, then, similar
remarks apply, say, to Mr. W.E. Norris. Mr. W.E. Norris is as accomplished
an expert as Mrs. Humphry Ward. He is in possession of a much better
style. He has humour. He is much more true to life. He has never
compromised the dignity of his vocation. Nevertheless, the prospect of the
_Guardian_ reviewing Mr. W.E. Norris on its leader page is remote, for the
reason that though he pleases respectable and correct persons, he does not
please nearly so many respectable and correct persons as does Mrs. Humphry
Ward. If anybody has a right to the leader page of our unique daily, Mrs.
Humphry Ward is that body. My objection to the phenomenon is that the
_Guardian_ falsified its item of news. It deliberately gave the impression
that a serious work of art had appeared in "Diana Mallory." It ought to
have known better. It did know better. If our unique daily is to yield to
the snobbishness which ranks Mrs. Humphry Ward among genuine artists,
where among dailies are we to look for the shadow of a great rock?
* * * * *
Mrs. Humphry Ward's novels are praise-worthy as being sincerely and
skilfully done, but they are not works of art. They are possibly the best
stuff now being swallowed by the uneducated public; and they deal with the
governing classes; and when you have said that you have said all. Nothing
truly serious can happen in them. It is all make-believe. No real danger
of the truth about life!... I should think not, indeed! The fearful
quandary in which the editor of _Harper's_ found himself with "Jude the
Obscure" was a lesson to all Anglo-Saxon editors for ever more! Mrs.
Humphry Ward has never got nearer to life than, for instance, "Rita" has
got--nor so near! Gladstone, a thoroughly bad judge of literature, made
her reputation, and not on a post card, either! Gladstone had no sense of
humour--at any rate when he ventured into literature. Nor has Mrs. Humphry
Ward. If she had she would not concoct those excruciating heroines of
hers. She probably does not know that her heroines are capable of rousing
temperaments such as my own to ecstasies of homicidal fury. Moreover, in
literature all girls named Diana are insupportable. Look at Diana Vernon,
beloved of Mr. Andrew Lang, I believe! What a creature! Imagine living
with her! You can't! Look at Diana of the Crossways. Why did Diana of the
Crossways marry? Nobody can say--unless the answer is that she was a
ridiculous ninny. Would Anne Elliot have made such an inexplicable fool of
herself? Why does Diana Mallory "go to" her preposterous Radical ex-M.P.?
Simply because she is tiresomely absurd. Oh, those men with strong chins
and irreproachable wristbands! Oh, those cultured conversations! Oh, those
pure English maids! That skittishness! That impulsiveness! That noxious
winsomeness!
* * * * *
I have invented a destiny for Mrs. Humphry Ward's heroines. It is
terrible, and just. They ought to be caught, with their lawful male
protectors, in the siege of a great city by a foreign army. Their lawful
male protectors ought, before sallying forth on a forlorn hope, to provide
them with a revolver as a last refuge from a brutal and licentious
soldiery. And when things come to a crisis, in order to be concluded in
our next, the revolvers ought to prove to be unloaded. I admit that this
invention of mine is odious, and quite un-English, and such as would never
occur to a right-minded subscriber to Mudie's. But it illustrates the mood
caused in me by witnessing the antics of those harrowing dolls.