ay, who have brought into their story men and
women who really lived and events which have really taken place--you
will find one rule strictly observed, and no single infringement of it
that has been followed by success. This rule is that the historical
characters and events should be mingled with poetical characters and
events, and _made subservient to them_. And it holds of books as
widely dissimilar as _La Vicomte de Bragelonne_ and _La Guerre et la
Paix_; _The Abbot_ and _John Inglesant_. In history Louis XIV. and
Napoleon are the most salient men of their time: in fiction they fall
back and give prominence to D'Artagnan and the Prince Andre. They may
be admirably painted, but unless they take a subordinate place in the
composition, the artist scores a failure.

A Disability of "Historical Fiction."

The reason of this is, of course, very simple. If an artist is to
have full power over his characters, to know their hearts, to govern
their emotions and sway them at his will, they must be his own
creatures and the life in them derived from him. He must have an
entirely free hand with them. But the personages of history have an
independent life of their own, and with them his hand is tied.
Thackeray has a freehold on the soul of Beatrix Esmond, but he takes
the soul of Marlborough furnished, on a short lease, and has to render
an account to the Muse of History. He is lord of one and mere occupier
of the other. Nor will it do to say that an artist by sympathetic and
intelligent study can master the motives of any group of historical
characters sufficiently for his purpose. For, since they have
anticipated him and lived their lives without his help, they leave him
but a choice between two poor courses. If he narrate their lives and
adventures as they really befel, he is writing history. If, on the
other hand, he disregard historical accuracy, he might just as well
have used another set of characters or have given his characters other
names. Indeed, it would be much better. For if Alcibiades went as a
matter of fact to Sparta and as a matter of fiction you make him stay
at home, you merely advertise to the world that there was something in
Alcibiades you don't understand. And if you are writing about an
Alcibiades whom you don't quite understand, you will save your readers
some risk of confusion by calling him Charicles.

Now Jonathan Swift and Esther Johnson and Esther Vanhomrigh really
lived; and by living, became