And what—­I thought—­is Realism?  What is the meaning of that word so wildly used?  Is it descriptive of technique, or descriptive of the spirit of the artist; or both, or neither?  Was Turgenev a realist?  No greater poet ever wrote in prose, nor any one who more closely brought the actual shapes of men and things before us.  No more fervent idealists than Ibsen and Tolstoy ever lived; and none more careful to make their people real.  Were they realists?  No more deeply fantastic writer can I conceive than Dostoievsky, nor any who has described actual situations more vividly.  Was he a realist?  The late Stephen Crane was called a realist.  Than whom no more impressionistic writer ever painted with words.  What then is the heart of this term still often used as an expression almost of abuse?  To me, at all events—­I thought—­the words realism, realistic, have no longer reference to technique, for which the words naturalism, naturalistic, serve far better.  Nor have they to do with the question of imaginative power—­as much demanded by realism as by romanticism.  For me, a realist is by no means tied to naturalistic technique—­he may be poetic, idealistic, fantastic, impressionistic, anything but—­romantic; that, in so far as he is a realist, he cannot be.  The word, in fact, characterises that artist whose temperamental preoccupation is with revelation of the actual inter-relating spirit of life, character, and thought, with a view to enlighten himself and others; as distinguished from that artist whom I call romantic—­whose tempera mental purpose is invention of tale or design with a view to delight himself and others.  It is a question of temperamental antecedent motive in the artist, and nothing more.

Realist—­Romanticist!  Enlightenment—­Delight!  That is the true apposition.  To make a revelation—­to tell a fairy-tale!  And either of these artists may use what form he likes—­naturalistic, fantastic, poetic, impressionistic.  For it is not by the form, but by the purpose and mood of his art that he shall be known, as one or as the other.  Realists indeed—­including the half of Shakespeare that was realist not being primarily concerned to amuse their audience, are still comparatively unpopular in a world made up for the greater part of men of action, who instinctively reject all art that does not distract them without causing them to think.  For thought makes demands on an energy already in full use; thought causes introspection; and introspection causes discomfort, and disturbs the grooves of action.  To say that the object of the realist is to enlighten rather than to delight, is not to say that in his art the realist is not amusing himself as much as ever is the teller of a fairy-tale, though he does not deliberately start out to do so; he is amusing, too, a large part of mankind.  For, admitted that the abject, and the test of Art, is always the awakening of vibration, of impersonal emotion, it is still usually