for wholes, or else is very untrue to reality; while, on the other hand,
that author who draws a character, even though to common view
incongruous in its parts, as the flying-squirrel, and, at different
periods, as much at variance with itself as the butterfly is with the
caterpillar into which it changes, may yet, in so doing, be not false
but faithful to facts.

If reason be judge, no writer has produced such inconsistent characters
as nature herself has. It must call for no small sagacity in a reader
unerringly to discriminate in a novel between the inconsistencies of
conception and those of life as elsewhere. Experience is the only guide
here; but as no one man can be coextensive with _what is_, it may be
unwise in every ease to rest upon it. When the duck-billed beaver of
Australia was first brought stuffed to England, the naturalists,
appealing to their classifications, maintained that there was, in
reality, no such creature; the bill in the specimen must needs be, in
some way, artificially stuck on.

But let nature, to the perplexity of the naturalists, produce her
duck-billed beavers as she may, lesser authors some may hold, have no
business to be perplexing readers with duck-billed characters. Always,
they should represent human nature not in obscurity, but transparency,
which, indeed, is the practice with most novelists, and is, perhaps, in
certain cases, someway felt to be a kind of honor rendered by them to
their kind. But, whether it involve honor or otherwise might be mooted,
considering that, if these waters of human nature can be so readily seen
through, it may be either that they are very pure or very shallow. Upon
the whole, it might rather be thought, that he, who, in view of its
inconsistencies, says of human nature the same that, in view of its
contrasts, is said of the divine nature, that it is past finding out,
thereby evinces a better appreciation of it than he who, by always
representing it in a clear light, leaves it to be inferred that he
clearly knows all about it.

But though there is a prejudice against inconsistent characters in
books, yet the prejudice bears the other way, when what seemed at first
their inconsistency, afterwards, by the skill of the writer, turns out
to be their good keeping. The great masters excel in nothing so much as
in this very particular. They challenge astonishment at the tangled web
of some character, and then raise admiration still greater at their
satisfact