September

[89]September

OneIt is of no use beginning to air one’s views until one has collected an audience.TwoA man whom fate had pitched into a canal might accomplish miracles in the way of rendering himself amphibian: he might stagger the world by the spectacle of his philosophy under amazing difficulties; people might pay sixpence a head to come and see him; but he would be less of a nincompoop if he climbed out and arranged to live definitely on the bank.ThreeThe contemplation of hills is uplifting to the soul; it leads to inspiration and induces nobility of character.FourPlot is the primary thing in fiction. Only a very clever craftsman can manipulate a feeble plot so as to make it even passably interesting. Whereas, the clumsiest bungler in narration cannot altogether spoil a really sound plot.FiveIt cannot be too clearly understood that the professional author, the man who depends entirely on his pen for the continuance of breath, and whose income is at the mercy of an illness or a headache, is eternally compromising between glory and something more edible and warmer at nights. He labours, in the first place, for food, shelter, tailors, a woman, European travel, horses, stalls at the opera, good cigars, ambrosial evenings in restaurants; and he gives glory the best chance he can. I am not speaking of geniuses with a mania for posterity; I am speaking of human beings.SixThe average man flourishes and finds his ease in an atmosphere of peaceful routine. Men destined for success flourish and find their ease in an atmosphere of collision and disturbance.SevenThere are simply thousands of agreeable and good girls who can accomplish herring-bone, omelettes, and simultaneous equations in a breath, as it were. They are all over the kingdom, and may be seen in the streets and lanes thereof about half-past eight in the morning and again about five o’clock in the evening. But the fact is not generally known. Only the stern and base members of School Boards or Education Committees know it. And they are so used to marvels that they make nothing of them.EightIn the sea of literature every part communicates with every other part; there are no land-locked lakes.NineWith an obedient, disciplined brain a man may live always right up to the standard of his best moments.TenA prig is a pompous fool who has gone out for a ceremonial walk, and, without knowing it, has lost an important part of his attire, namely, his sense of humour.ElevenIf I have an aptitude for anything at all in letters, it is for criticism. Whenever I read a book of imagination, I am instantly filled with ideas concerning it; I form definite views about its merit or demerit, and, having formed them, I hold those views with strong conviction. Denial of them rouses me; I must thump the table in support of them; I must compel people to believe that what I say is true; I cannot argue without getting serious, in spite of myself.TwelveThe great convenience of masterpieces is that they are so astonishingly lucid.ThirteenIt is as well not to chatter too much about what one is doing, and not to betray a too-pained sadness at the spectacle of a whole world deliberately wasting so many hours out of every day, and therefore never really living. It will be found, ultimately, that in taking care of one’s self one has quite all one can do.FourteenThink as well as read. I know people who read and read, and, for all the good it does them, they might just as well cut bread-and-butter. They take to reading as better men take to drink. They fly through the shires of literature on a motor-car, their sole object being motion. They will tell you how many books they have read in a year.FifteenThe mass could not, and never at any period of history did, appreciate fine art, but could and would appreciate and support passable deteriorations of fine art.SixteenHonesty, in literature as in life, is the quality that counts first and counts last.SeventeenNo author ever lived who could write a page without giving himself away.EighteenTo be one’s natural self is the most difficult thing in literature. To be one’s natural self in a drawing-room full of observant eyes is scarcely the gift of the simple debutant, but rather of the experienced diner-out. So in literature: it is not the expert but the unpractised beginner who is guilty of artificiality.NineteenMuch nonsense has been talked about the short story. It has been asserted that Englishmen cannot write artistic short stories, that the short story does not come naturally to the Anglo-Saxon. Whereas the truth is that nearly all the finest short-story writers in the world to-day are Englishmen, and some of the most wonderful short stories ever written have been written by Englishmen within the last twenty years.TwentyIf a book really moves you to anger, the chances are that it is a good book.Twenty-oneIn the cultivation of the mind one of the most important factors is precisely the feeling of strain, of difficulty, of a task which one part of you is anxious to achieve and another part of you is anxious to shirk.Twenty-twoThe very greatest poetry can only be understood and savoured by people who have put themselves through a considerable mental discipline. To others it is an exasperating weariness.Twenty-threeSamuel Johnson’s BirthdayEven Johnson’s Dictionary is packed with emotion.Twenty-fourAll blame, uttered or unexpressed, is wrong. I do not blame myself. I can explain myself to myself. I can invariably explain myself.Twenty-fiveWhen one has thoroughly got imbued into one’s head the leading truth that nothing happens without a cause, one grows not only large-minded, but large-hearted.Twenty-sixIf an editor knows not peace, he knows power. In Fleet Street, as in other streets, the population divides itself into those who want something and those who have something to bestow; those who are anxious to give a lunch, and those who deign occasionally to accept a lunch; those who have an axe to grind, and those who possess the grindstone.Twenty-sevenRegard, for a moment, the average household in the light of a business organisation for lodging and feeding a group of individuals; contrast its lapses, makeshifts, delays, irregularities, continual excuses with the awful precision of a city office. Is it a matter for surprise that the young woman who is accustomed gaily to remark, “Only five minutes late this morning, father,” or “I quite forgot to order the coals, dear,” confident that a frown or a hard word will end the affair, should carry into business (be it never so grave) the laxities so long permitted her in the home?Twenty-eightThis I know and affirm, that the average woman-journalist is the most loyal, earnest, and teachable person under the sun. I begin to feel sentimental when I think of her astounding earnestness, even in grasping the live coal of English syntax. Syntax, bane of writing-women, I have spent scores of ineffectual hours in trying to inoculate the ungrammatical sex against your terrors!Twenty-nineI have never refused work when the pay has been good.ThirtyThere is no logical answer to a guffaw.

It is of no use beginning to air one’s views until one has collected an audience.

A man whom fate had pitched into a canal might accomplish miracles in the way of rendering himself amphibian: he might stagger the world by the spectacle of his philosophy under amazing difficulties; people might pay sixpence a head to come and see him; but he would be less of a nincompoop if he climbed out and arranged to live definitely on the bank.

The contemplation of hills is uplifting to the soul; it leads to inspiration and induces nobility of character.

Plot is the primary thing in fiction. Only a very clever craftsman can manipulate a feeble plot so as to make it even passably interesting. Whereas, the clumsiest bungler in narration cannot altogether spoil a really sound plot.

It cannot be too clearly understood that the professional author, the man who depends entirely on his pen for the continuance of breath, and whose income is at the mercy of an illness or a headache, is eternally compromising between glory and something more edible and warmer at nights. He labours, in the first place, for food, shelter, tailors, a woman, European travel, horses, stalls at the opera, good cigars, ambrosial evenings in restaurants; and he gives glory the best chance he can. I am not speaking of geniuses with a mania for posterity; I am speaking of human beings.

The average man flourishes and finds his ease in an atmosphere of peaceful routine. Men destined for success flourish and find their ease in an atmosphere of collision and disturbance.

There are simply thousands of agreeable and good girls who can accomplish herring-bone, omelettes, and simultaneous equations in a breath, as it were. They are all over the kingdom, and may be seen in the streets and lanes thereof about half-past eight in the morning and again about five o’clock in the evening. But the fact is not generally known. Only the stern and base members of School Boards or Education Committees know it. And they are so used to marvels that they make nothing of them.

In the sea of literature every part communicates with every other part; there are no land-locked lakes.

With an obedient, disciplined brain a man may live always right up to the standard of his best moments.

A prig is a pompous fool who has gone out for a ceremonial walk, and, without knowing it, has lost an important part of his attire, namely, his sense of humour.

If I have an aptitude for anything at all in letters, it is for criticism. Whenever I read a book of imagination, I am instantly filled with ideas concerning it; I form definite views about its merit or demerit, and, having formed them, I hold those views with strong conviction. Denial of them rouses me; I must thump the table in support of them; I must compel people to believe that what I say is true; I cannot argue without getting serious, in spite of myself.

The great convenience of masterpieces is that they are so astonishingly lucid.

It is as well not to chatter too much about what one is doing, and not to betray a too-pained sadness at the spectacle of a whole world deliberately wasting so many hours out of every day, and therefore never really living. It will be found, ultimately, that in taking care of one’s self one has quite all one can do.

Think as well as read. I know people who read and read, and, for all the good it does them, they might just as well cut bread-and-butter. They take to reading as better men take to drink. They fly through the shires of literature on a motor-car, their sole object being motion. They will tell you how many books they have read in a year.

The mass could not, and never at any period of history did, appreciate fine art, but could and would appreciate and support passable deteriorations of fine art.

Honesty, in literature as in life, is the quality that counts first and counts last.

No author ever lived who could write a page without giving himself away.

To be one’s natural self is the most difficult thing in literature. To be one’s natural self in a drawing-room full of observant eyes is scarcely the gift of the simple debutant, but rather of the experienced diner-out. So in literature: it is not the expert but the unpractised beginner who is guilty of artificiality.

Much nonsense has been talked about the short story. It has been asserted that Englishmen cannot write artistic short stories, that the short story does not come naturally to the Anglo-Saxon. Whereas the truth is that nearly all the finest short-story writers in the world to-day are Englishmen, and some of the most wonderful short stories ever written have been written by Englishmen within the last twenty years.

If a book really moves you to anger, the chances are that it is a good book.

In the cultivation of the mind one of the most important factors is precisely the feeling of strain, of difficulty, of a task which one part of you is anxious to achieve and another part of you is anxious to shirk.

The very greatest poetry can only be understood and savoured by people who have put themselves through a considerable mental discipline. To others it is an exasperating weariness.

Even Johnson’s Dictionary is packed with emotion.

All blame, uttered or unexpressed, is wrong. I do not blame myself. I can explain myself to myself. I can invariably explain myself.

When one has thoroughly got imbued into one’s head the leading truth that nothing happens without a cause, one grows not only large-minded, but large-hearted.

If an editor knows not peace, he knows power. In Fleet Street, as in other streets, the population divides itself into those who want something and those who have something to bestow; those who are anxious to give a lunch, and those who deign occasionally to accept a lunch; those who have an axe to grind, and those who possess the grindstone.

Regard, for a moment, the average household in the light of a business organisation for lodging and feeding a group of individuals; contrast its lapses, makeshifts, delays, irregularities, continual excuses with the awful precision of a city office. Is it a matter for surprise that the young woman who is accustomed gaily to remark, “Only five minutes late this morning, father,” or “I quite forgot to order the coals, dear,” confident that a frown or a hard word will end the affair, should carry into business (be it never so grave) the laxities so long permitted her in the home?

This I know and affirm, that the average woman-journalist is the most loyal, earnest, and teachable person under the sun. I begin to feel sentimental when I think of her astounding earnestness, even in grasping the live coal of English syntax. Syntax, bane of writing-women, I have spent scores of ineffectual hours in trying to inoculate the ungrammatical sex against your terrors!

I have never refused work when the pay has been good.

There is no logical answer to a guffaw.

Back to Index Next