1890-03 to Clara Lanza

Typed transcript signed, University of Washington, 589 words

[Edited for paragraph breaks, capitalization, spelling and punctuation.]

8 Kings Bench Walk, Temple

[March 1890]

Dear Clara Lanza

Your last letter interested me more than even those that preceded it; it was so delightfully personal — you seem to have spilt your soul out on the pages. The human soul is what is most interesting in literature, I might even add in love — we cannot go to bed with souls, it is true, but — well, a soul and a good figure go far to make the hours less, less harsh.

I see that my brother has got your story into type and I suppose he will use it soon — probably within the next few weeks. It is too long for his paper and he asked me if I could cut a bit out of it. I said I did not care for the responsibility but that, if it had to be done, I should prefer to do it myself. It is a very excellent story.

Have you read La Bête humaine? You will have read my article on the book before you receive this.

I am sorry to say that Ward and Downey raised moral objections to your book. I will take it to Routledge.

My play is finished. I will send you a copy next week. Someday or another you will meet a clever young actor who wants a big part

and then you will speak to him about it.

The first thing to do is to ask Wilson Barrett to produce it. I say Wilson Barrett because I do not know the names of your leading actors, but I’d just as soon another. If the play strikes you as first rate, try to get it done. It is a pleasure to bring first rate work forward, but it is a bore and nothing is gained by trying to push forward mediocrity.

About your own play, or should I say our play, I do not feel so sure. I do not think that, under any circumstances, it could ever prove more than a succes d’estime. It might interest for a short time, but it could command no wide measure of popular support. Do not bother about it; wait until you meet someone who wants to startle and has no play to appear in. You will meet that kind of woman one of these days.

To say that the end of the first act is stronger in the scenario than in the play is superficial criticism. In the scenario the whole play is given away. If you say that the priest yields at the end of the first act you have told the audience what it wants to know. At least so it appears to me.

Lately I have made a curious literary discovery. I have discovered that, although I can sometimes describe a scene in a novel, I cannot write a scene in dialogue. Had it not been for the assistance of Arthur Kennedy I never could have written The Strike at Arlingford. To write a scene in a novel is like painting, to write a scene in a play is like drawing an outline with a lead pencil.

If I write another line I shall miss the post. Good-bye, my dear friend. I will write again next week — a long chatty letter. Thanks for the article on the Flirt. There were some good things in it, the end was especially good.

Most sincerely yours,

GEORGE MOORE