generosity, that novelist is H.G. Wells.
Astounding width of observation; a marvellously true perspective; an
extraordinary grasp of the real significance of innumerable phenomena
utterly diverse; profound emotional power; dazzling verbal skill: these
are qualities which Mr. Wells indubitably has. But the qualities which
consecrate these other qualities are his priceless and total sincerity,
and the splendid human generosity which colours that sincerity. What above
all else we want in this island of intellectual dishonesty is some one who
will tell us the truth "and chance it." H.G. Wells is pre-eminently that
man. He might have told us the truth with cynicism; he might have told it
meanly; he might have told it tediously--and he would still have been
invaluable. But it does just happen that he has combined a disconcerting
and entrancing candour with a warmth of generosity towards mankind and an
inspiring faith in mankind such as no other living writer, not even the
most sentimental, has surpassed. And yet in the immediate past we have
heard journalists pronouncing coldly: "This thing is not so bad." And we
have heard journalists asserting in tones of shocked reprehension: "This
thing is not free from faults!" Who the deuce said it was free from
faults? But where in fiction, ancient or modern, will you find another
philosophical picture of a whole epoch and society as brilliant and as
honest as "The New Machiavelli"? Well, I will tell you where you will find
it. You will find it in "Tono-Bungay." H.G. Wells is a bit of sheer luck
for England. Some countries don't know their luck. And as I do not believe
that England is worse than another, I will say that no country knows its
luck. However, as regards this particular bit, there are now some clear
signs of a growing perception.

* * * * *

The social and political questions raised in "The New Machiavelli" might
be discussed at length with great advantage. But this province is not
mine. Nor could the rightness or the wrongness of the hero's views and
acts affect the artistic value of the novel. On purely artistic grounds
the novel might be criticized in several ways unfavourably. But in my
opinion it has only one fault that to any appreciable extent impairs its
artistic worth. The politically-creative part, as distinguished from the
politically-shattering part, is not convincing. The hero's change of
party, and his popular success with the po