days　of　destroyed　landmarks；　while　the　ingenious　minds　are　busy
  inventing　the　forms　of　the　new　beacons　which；　it　is　consoling　to
  think；　will　be　set　up　presently　in　the　old　places。　　But　what　is
  interesting　to　a　writer　is　the　possession　of　an　inward　certitude
  that　literary　criticism　will　never　die；　for　man　（so　variously
  defined）　is；　before　everything　else；　a　critical　animal。　　And；　as
  long　as　distinguished　minds　are　ready　to　treat　it　in　the　spirit
  of　high　adventure；　literary　criticism　shall　appeal　to　us　with　all
  the　charm　and　wisdom　of　a　well…told　tale　of　personal　experience。
  For　Englishmen　especially；　of　all　the　races　of　the　earth；　a　task；
  any　task；　undertaken　in　an　adventurous　spirit　acquires　the　merit
  of　romance。　　But　the　critics　as　a　rule　exhibit　but　little　of　an
  adventurous　spirit。　　They　take　risks；　of　courseone　can　hardly
  live　without　that。　　The　daily　bread　is　served　out　to　us　（however
  sparingly）　with　a　pinch　of　salt。　　Otherwise　one　would　get　sick　of
  the　diet　one　prays　for；　and　that　would　be　not　only　improper；　but
  impious。　　From　impiety　of　that　or　any　other　kindsave　us！　　An
  ideal　of　reserved　manner；　adhered　to　from　a　sense　of　proprieties；
  from　shyness；　perhaps；　or　caution；　or　simply　from　weariness；
  induces；　I　suspect；　some　writers　of　criticism　to　conceal　the
  adventurous　side　of　their　calling；　and　then　the　criticism　becomes
  a　mere　〃notice；〃　as　it　were　the　relation　of　a　journey　where
  nothing　but　the　distances　and　the　geology　of　a　new　country　should
  be　set　down；　the　glimpses　of　strange　beasts；　the　dangers　of　flood
  and　field；　the　hair's…breadth　escapes；　and　the　sufferings　（oh；
  the　sufferings　too！　　I　have　no　doubt　of　the　sufferings）　of　the
  traveller　being　carefully　kept　out；　no　shady　spot；　no　fruitful
  plant　being　ever　mentioned　either；　so　that　the　whole　performance
  looks　like　a　mere　feat　of　agility　on　the　part　of　a　trained　pen
  running　in　a　desert。　　A　cruel　spectaclea　most　deplorable
  adventure。　　〃Life；〃　in　the　words　of　an　immortal　thinker　of；　I
  should　say；　bucolic　origin；　but　whose　perishable　name　is　lost　to
  the　worship　of　posterity〃life　is　not　all　beer　and　skittles。〃
  Neither　is　the　writing　of　novels。　　It　isn't　really。　　Je　vous
  donne　ma　parole　d'honneur　that　itisnot。　　Not　all。　　I　am　thus
  emphatic　because　some　years　ago；　I　remember；　the　daughter　of　a
  general。　。　。
  Sudden　revelations　of　the　profane　world　must　have　come　now　and
  then　to　hermits　in　their　cells；　to　the　cloistered　monks　of　Middle
  Ages；　to　lonely　sages；　men　of　science；　reformers；　the　revelations
  of　the　world's　superficial　judgment；　shocking　to　the　souls
  concentrated　upon　their　own　bitter　labour　in　the　cause　of
  sanctity；　or　of　knowledge；　or　of　temperance；　let　us　say；　or　of
  art；　if　only　the　art　of　cracking　jokes　or　playing　the　flute。　　And
  thus　this　general's　daughter　came　to　meor　I　should　say　one　of
  the　general's　daughters　did。　　There　were　three　of　these　bachelor
  ladies；　of　nicely　graduated　ages；　who　held　a　neighbouring
  farmhouse　in　a　united　and　more　or　less　military　occupation。　　The
  eldest　warred　against　the　decay　of　manners　in　the　village
  children；　and　executed　frontal　attacks　upon　the　village　mothers
  for　the　conquest　of　curtseys。　　It　sounds　futile；　but　it　was
  really　a　war　for　an　idea。　　The　second　skirmished　and　scouted　all
  over　the　country；　and　it　was　that　one　who　pushed　a　reconnaissance
  right　to　my　very　tableI　mean　the　one　who　wore　stand…up　collars。
  She　was　really　calling　upon　my　wife　in　the　soft　spirit　of
  afternoon　friendliness；　but　with　her　usual　martial　determination。
  She　marched　into　my　room　swinging　her　stick。　。　。but　noI　mustn't
  exaggerate。　　It　is　not　my　speciality。　　I　am　not　a　humoristic
  writer。　　In　all　soberness；　then；　all　I　am　certain　of　is　that　she
  had　a　stick　to　swing。
  No　ditch　or　wall　encompassed　my　abode。　　The　window　was　open；　the
  door　too　stood　open　to　that　best　friend　of　my　work；　the　warm；
  still　sunshine　of　the　wide　fields。　　They　lay　around　me　infinitely
  helpful；　but　truth　to　say　I　had　not　known　for　weeks　whether　the
  sun　shone　upon　the　earth　and　whether　the　stars　above　still　moved
  on　their　appointed　courses。　　I　was　just　then　giving　up　some　days
  of　my　allotted　span　to　the　last　chapters　of　the　novel　〃Nostromo；〃
  a　tale　of　an　imaginary　（but　true）　seaboard；　which　is　still
  mentioned　now　and　again；　and　indeed　kindly；　sometimes　in
  connection　with　the　word　〃failure〃　and　sometimes　in　conjunction
  with　the　word　〃astonishing。〃　　I　have　no　opinion　on　this
  discrepancy。　　It's　the　sort　of　difference　that　can　never　be
  settled。　　All　I　know　is　that；　for　twenty　months；　neglecting　the
  common　joys　of　life　that　fall　to　the　lot　of　the　humblest　on　this
  earth；　I　had；　like　the　prophet　of　old；　〃wrestled　with　the　Lord〃
  for　my　creation；　for　the　headlands　of　the　coast；　for　the　darkness
  of　the　Placid　Gulf；　the　light　on　the　snows；　the　clouds　on　the
  sky；　and　for　the　breath　of　life　that　had　to　be　blown　into　the
  shapes　of　men　and　women；　of　Latin　and　Saxon；　of　Jew　and　Gentile。
  These　are；　perhaps；　strong　words；　but　it　is　difficult　to
  characterise　otherwise　the　intimacy　and　the　strain　of　a　creative
  effort　in　which　mind　and　will　and　conscience　are　engaged　to　the
  full；　hour　after　hour；　day　after　day；　away　from　the　world；　and　to
  the　exclusion　of　all　that　makes　life　really　lovable　and　gentle
  something　for　which　a　material　parallel　can　only　be　found　in　the
  everlasting　sombre　stress　of　the　westward　winter　passage　round
  Cape　Horn。　　For　that　too　is　the　wrestling　of　men　with　the　might
  of　their　Creator；　in　a　great　isolation　from　the　world；　without
  the　amenities　and　consolations　of　life；　a　lonely　struggle　under　a
  sense　of　over…matched　littleness；　for　no　reward　that　could　be
  adequate；　but　for　the　mere　winning　of　a　longitude。　　Yet　a　certain
  longitude；　once　won；　cannot　be　disputed。　　The　sun　and　the　stars
  and　the　shape　of　your　earth　are　the　witnesses　of　your　gain；
  whereas　a　handful　of　pages；　no　matter　how　much　you　have　made　them
  your　own；　are　at　best　but　an　obscure　and　questionable　spoil。
  Here　they　are。　　〃Failure〃〃Astonishing〃：　　take　your　choice；　or
  perhaps　both；　or　neithera　mere　rustle　and　flutter　of　pieces　of
  paper　settling　down　in　the　night；　and　undistinguishable；　like　the
  snowflakes　of　a　great　drift　destined　to　melt　away　in　the
  sunshine。
  〃How　do　you　do？〃
  It　was　the　greeting　of　the　general's　daughter。　　I　had　heard
  nothingno　rustle；　no　footsteps。　　I　had　felt　only　a　moment
  before　a　sort　of　premonition　of　evil；　I　had　the　sense　of　an
  inauspicious　presencejust　that　much　warning　and　no　more；　and
  then　came　the　sound　of　the　voice　and　the　jar　as　of　a　terrible
  fall　from　a　great　heighta　fall；　let　us　say；　from　the　highest　of
  the　clouds　floating　in　gentle　procession　over　the　fields　in　the
  faint　westerly　air　of　that　July　afternoon。　　I　picked　myself　up
  quickly；　of　course；　in　other　words；　I　jumped　up　from　my　chair
  stunned　and　dazed；　every　nerve　quivering　with　the　pain　of　being
  uprooted　out　of　one　world　and　flung　down　into　anotherperfectly
  civil。
  〃Oh！　　How　do　you　do？　　Won't　you　sit　down？〃
  That's　what　I　said。　　This　horrible　but；　I　assure　you；　perfectly
  true　reminiscence　tells　you　more　than　a　whole　volume　of
  confessions　a　la　Jean　Jacques　Rousseau　would　do。　　Observe！　　I
  didn't　howl　at　her；　or　start　upsetting　furniture；　or　throw　myself
  on　the　floor　and　kick；　or　allow　myself　to　hint　in　any　other　way
  at　the　appalling　magnitude　of　the　disaster。　　The　whole　world　of
  Costaguana　（the　country；　you　may　remember；　of　my　seaboard　tale）；
  men；　women；　headlands；　houses；　mountains；　town；　campo　（there　was
  not　a　single　brick；　stone；　or　grain　of　sand　of　its　soil　I　had　not
  placed　in　position　with　my　own　hands）；　all　the　history；
  geography；　politics；　finance；　the　wealth　of　Charles　Gould's
  silver…mine；　and　the　splendour　of　the　magnificent　Capataz　de
  Cargadores；　whose　name；　cried　out　in　the　night　（Dr。　Monygham
  heard　it　pass　over　his　headin　Linda　Viola's　voice）；　dominated
  even　after　death　the　dark　gulf　containing　his　conquests　of
  treasure　and　loveall　that　had　come　down　crashing　about　my　ears。
  I　felt　I　could　never　pick　up　the　piecesand　in　that　very　moment
  I　was　saying；　〃Won't　you　sit　down？〃
  The　sea　is　strong　medicine。　　Behold　what　the　quarter…deck
  training　even　in　a　merchant　ship　will　do！　　This　episode　should
  give　you　a　new　view　of　the　English　and　Scots　seamen　（a　much…
  caricatured　folk）　who　had　the　last　say　in　the　formation　of　my
  character。　　One　is　nothing　if　not