the days of my life

第2部分 (第4/7頁)

a　few　years　ago　discussing　this　matter　fully　with　my　friend　Mr。　Rudyard　Kipling；　a　most　eminent　practitioner　of　that　craft；　and　finding　that　our　views　upon　it　were　very　similar；　if　not　identical。　He　pointed　out；　I　recollect；　that　all　fiction　is　in　its　essence　an　appeal　to　the　emotions；　and　that　this　is　not　the　highest　class　of　appeal。　Here；　however；　we　have　a　subject　that　might　be　argued　interminably　and　from　many　points　of　view；　especially　when　we　bear　in　mind　that　there　are　various　classes　of　imaginative　literature。　So　far　as　I　am　concerned　the　issue　is　that　though　I　feel　myself　more　strongly　drawn　to　other　pursuits；　such　as　administration　or　politics　or　even　law；　I　have　been　called　upon　to　earn　the　bread　of　myself　and　others　out　of　a　kind　of　by…product　of　my　brain　which　chances　to　be　saleable；　namely；　the　writing　of　fiction。

It　is　fortunate　for　writers　that　they　do　not　depend　wholly　upon　the　verdict　of　a　hundred　or　so　of　contemporary　critics。　The　history　of　literature　and　art　goes　to　show　that　contemporary　criticism　seldom　makes　and　never　can　destroy　a　reputation；　in　short；　that　Time　is　the　only　true　critic；　and　that　its　verdict　is　the　one　we　have　to　fear。　It　is　in　the　light　of　this　axiom　that　I　proceed　to　consider　my　own　humble　contributions　to　the　sum　of　romantic　literature。　I　can　assure　the　reader　that　I　approach　this　not　unamusing　task　without　any　prejudice　in　my　own　favour。　The　test　of　work　is　whether　it　will　or　will　not　live；　whether　it　contains　within　itself　the　vital　germ　necessary　to　a　long…continued　existence。

Now；　although　it　may　seem　much　to　claim；　my　belief　is　that　some　of　my　tales　will　live。　Possibly　this　belief　is　quite　erroneous；　in　which　case　in　years　to　e　I　may　be　laughed　at　for　its　expression。　It　is　obvious　also　that　a　great　deal　of　w