rpose. These various elements are worthy of
separate consideration.

(1) The characters of a novel are of prime importance. As in actual
life, they give tone to the society to which we are introduced. They
should be clearly individualized, as in the drama, and maintain
throughout a reasonable consistency. They may be taken from any class of
society; and writers of large creative genius, like Shakespeare, Scott,
Dickens, Balzac, will be distinguished both for the number and for the
variety of their characters. It is not enough that the characters be
described in their outward appearance and experiences. In all profounder
work, as in George Eliot, there will be an unveiling of the hidden
springs of motive and disposition. The great potentialities of human
nature both for good and evil will be brought to light, and thus the
mimic world of the novelist will reflect the life of the great real
world in its more tragic aspects.

(2) By the incidents of a novel we mean the acts and experiences of the
characters. They make up the connected and progressive story. The
incidents may be as varied, as the occurrences of human life, sweeping
the whole range of toil, sorrow, and joy. They may be either comic or
tragic. The interest of a work of fiction depends largely upon its
incidents. Separately they may be entertaining, absorbing, or thrilling;
and taken together in their sequence they may carry us forward
irresistibly to the conclusion. They should be in keeping with the time
and place, and the several acts of the personages should be in harmony
with their character and culture.

(3) As in real life, the personages of a novel or romance live and move
in the midst of an environment. They are placed in the midst of
circumstances, upon which they act and by which they are acted upon.
They may live on land or sea, in the country or in the city, amid the
wildness of unsubdued forests or the culture of long-established
communities. They may be surrounded by intelligence and luxury or by
ignorance and squalor.

The environment is brought before us by description, which necessarily
constitutes no inconsiderable part of every work of fiction. The
descriptive passages should be true to fact, and graphic enough to
enable the reader to picture the scenes in his mind; but they should not
be so long drawn as to encumber or impede the story. Description is
subordinate in fiction; instead of being an end in itself, its purpose
is to throw li