In spite of the fact that a certain type of mind, common
among publishers, is always apt to complain that novels at a given moment
are either too long or too short, the length of a novel has no influence
whatever on its success or failure. One of the most successful novels of
the present generation, "Ships that Pass in the Night," is barely 60,000
words long. One of the most successful novels of the present generation,
"The Heavenly Twins," is quite 200,000 words long. Both were of the right
length for the public. As for the mid-Victorian novels, most of the
correspondents appear to have a very vague idea of their length. It is
said they "exceed 200,000 words." It would be within the mark to say that
they exceed 400,000 words. There is not one of them, however, that would
not be tremendously improved by being cut down to about half. And even
then the best of them would not compare with "The Mayor of Casterbridge"
or "Nostromo" or "The Way of all Flesh." The damning fault of all
mid-Victorian novels is that they are incurably ugly and sentimental.
Novelists had not yet discovered that the first business of a work of art
is to be beautiful, and its second not to be sentimental.
ARTISTS AND MONEY
[_6 Oct. '10_]
A month ago, apropos of the difficulties of running a high-class literary
periodical, I wrote the following words: "Idle to argue that genuine
artists ought to be indifferent to money! They are not.
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