1886-07 to William Archer

Autograph letter signed, British Library, 736 words

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

Care of Mrs. Feist, The Green, Southwick. Near Brighton

[July 1886]

Dear Mr. Archer

Had I had the power to choose my critic, I would have chosen you; had I had the power to choose the article, I would have chosen the one you wrote. Hitherto I have had it all my own way. The critics who have come across my way have been of three sorts: stupid, weak, or utterly blinded to my faults. I liked your notice because it was serious criticism and I had not read half of it before I began to feel like Bidel.

Then why do I not accept your criticism as final? Because you were often mistaken, because you once were tricky and once puerile. Now Mr. Archer, you are our only critic and it is too bad that our only critic should condescend to writing trickily. My charge is a serious one but I will prove it.

You say, "Here is a description of a Galway girl,” you quote^[1] and you add Ouida might turn green with envy on reading this. By suppressing the fact that the Galway girl is not only asleep but asleep in the moonlight you make me look ridiculous. This is not worthy of you, — you know as well as I do that sleep poetizes, that the moonlight glorifies, consequently a description of a girl walking about in a drawing [room] would not be a description of a girl asleep in the moonlight.

Now I do not defend my description. I merely say, and I say what you will not attempt to deny, that it was grossly unjust to make the suppression I complain of.

I have not your article before me but I remember something about those extremely literary locutions: "nor can I," "nor can she." Now on this head I cannot even remotely imagine what you mean, and to be candid with you no one else can.

You charge me with bad grammar because I say (I quote from memory): “but if I should get to know that the tale of Eternity’s delights should be ceaselessly sung to lute and lyre without ever syllabling the sweet name of Alice"^[2] — The reason you urge for this being bad grammar is that a tale cannot syllable a name. Really! do you not know what Carlyle says about all language being either directly or indirectly metaphorical? Did you never hear the phrase “History speaks” — Mr. Archer, your grammar is governess grammar.

Later on you quote a sentence in which the printer printed fatality for finality.^[3] You might have guessed that this was a misprint.

Once you do catch me tripping. I admit my phrase is not [a] correct one.^[4]

Now we come to the moral question — I am as moral as the Bible, Shakespeare or the newspapers. All writers whose works have lived are more immoral and more coarse than I am. You know what I mean by all, 90 percent. That's quite good enough for me.

A work of art has nothing to do with morality or immorality, human sympathy or a want of human sympathy; it is neither realistic nor idealistic; it is everything and it is nothing. When I make Olive speak, I report the words I heard a girl make use of; when I make Cecilia speak, I give her sentences to speak that no human being could speak unless they were learnt by heart — I do all this and I am right... you think I believe in realism?... la la.

One word more of reproof and I am done — When you speak of describing nasty things pleasantly you are puerile. You are a very clever fellow, I admire you, but believe me that "describing nasty things pleasantly”^[5] is weak — Bayswater-tea-table-talk.

I have spoken to you as frankly as you spoke to me and I have done so because you are worth speaking frankly to. But you must not misunderstand me; if you do, all will be lost. I am not angry, on the contrary I am very well satisfied with your article. And to be quite candid with you I learnt something from it — I was beginning to suspect that I was going in for fine writing and your article transmuted a suspicion into a belief.

Yours very truly

George Moore

I hope you will not misunderstand this letter.