鈥業 was going to say that, only you always interrupt me,鈥?she said. 鈥楾hen when our guests are gone, you bring her in here, just as if she was Julia Fyson, into my drawing-room. And Alice鈥攚ell, Alice would think it very odd too, just as Mrs Fyson did. Of course it was not that which Mrs Fyson thought odd: I know you will try to catch me up, and ask me how Mrs Fyson knew, but that is always your way, Thomas. I know quite well that Mrs Fyson had gone away before you brought her in here.鈥? 鈥業f you think it best, I will,鈥?she said. 鈥榃hatever we do, don鈥檛 let us waste time here.鈥? OH, OLD THOUGHTS THEY CLING, THEY CLING! 北京赛车怎么玩才能赢 鈥業f you think it best, I will,鈥?she said. 鈥榃hatever we do, don鈥檛 let us waste time here.鈥? It is, I think, the defect of George Eliot that she struggles too hard to do work that shall be excellent. She lacks ease. Latterly the signs of this have been conspicuous in her style, which has always been and is singularly correct, but which has become occasionally obscure from her too great desire to be pungent. It is impossible not to feel the struggle, and that feeling begets a flavour of affectation. In Daniel Deronda, of which at this moment only a portion has been published, there are sentences which I have found myself compelled to read three times before I have been able to take home to myself all that the writer has intended. Perhaps I may be permitted here to say, that this gifted woman was among my dearest and most intimate friends. As I am speaking here of novelists, I will not attempt to speak of George Eliot鈥檚 merit as a poet. Alice made a large blot on her paper in agitation at hearing this allusion, and took another sheet of paper. He held out his hand. There are many who would laugh at the idea of a novelist teaching either virtue or nobility 鈥?those, for instance, who regard the reading of novels as a sin, and those also who think it to be simply an idle pastime. They look upon the tellers of stories as among the tribe of those who pander to the wicked pleasures of a wicked world. I have regarded my art from so different a point of view that I have ever thought of myself as a preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one which I could make both salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do believe that no girl has risen from the reading of my pages less modest than she was before, and that some may have learned from them that modesty is a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth has been taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the road to manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it is to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought it might best be done by representing to my readers characters like themselves 鈥?or to which they might liken themselves. I do not hesitate to name Thackeray the first. His knowledge of human nature was supreme, and his characters stand out as human beings, with a force and a truth which has not, I think, been within the reach of any other English novelist in any period. I know no character in fiction, unless it be Don Quixote, with whom the reader becomes so intimately acquainted as with Colonel Newcombe. How great a thing it is to be a gentleman at all parts! How we admire the man of whom so much may be said with truth! Is there any one of whom we feel more sure in this respect than of Colonel Newcombe? It is not because Colonel Newcombe is a perfect gentleman that we think Thackeray鈥檚 work to have been so excellent, but because he has had the power to describe him as such, and to force us to love him, a weak and silly old man, on account of this grace of character. It is evident from all Thackeray鈥檚 best work that he lived with the characters he was creating. He had always a story to tell until quite late in life; and he shows us that this was so, not by the interest which be had in his own plots 鈥?for I doubt whether his plots did occupy much of his mind 鈥?but by convincing us that his characters were alive to himself. With Becky Sharpe, with Lady Castlewood and her daughter, and with Esmond, with Warrington, Pendennis, and the Major, with Colonel Newcombe, and with Barry Lynon, he must have lived in perpetual intercourse. Therefore he has made these personages real to us. Rapport is the establishment of common ground, of acomfort zone where two or more people can mentallyjoin together. When you have rapport, each of youbrings something to the interaction鈥攁ttentiveness,warmth, a sense of humor, for example鈥攁nd eachbrings something back: empathy, sympathy, maybe acouple of great jokes. Rapport is the lubricant thatallows social exchanges to flow smoothly. I say this here, because it is my purpose as I go on to state what to me has been the result of my profession in the ordinary way in which professions are regarded, so that by my example may be seen what prospect there is that a man devoting himself to literature with industry, perseverance, certain necessary aptitudes, and fair average talents, may succeed in gaining a livelihood, as another man does in another profession. The result with me has been comfortable but not splendid, as I think was to have been expected from the combination of such gifts. 鈥業f you think it best, I will,鈥?she said. 鈥榃hatever we do, don鈥檛 let us waste time here.鈥? Framley Parsonage 鈥?or, rather, my connection with the Cornhill 鈥?was the means of introducing me very quickly to that literary world from which I had hitherto been severed by the fact of my residence in Ireland. In December, 1859, while I was still very hard at work on my novel, I came over to take charge of the Eastern District, and settled myself at a residence about twelve miles from London, in Hertfordshire, but on the borders both of Essex and Middlesex 鈥?which was somewhat too grandly called Waltham House. This I took on lease, and subsequently bought after I had spent about 锟?000 on improvements. From hence I was able to make myself frequent both in Cornhill and Piccadilly, and to live, when the opportunity came, among men of my own pursuit.