s not
especially difficult, within a brief compass, to delineate a character
through his way of telling things [Notice Laughton O. Zigler, in Mr.
Kipling's "The Captive," whose speech has been examined in a former
chapter], it is extremely difficult to maintain this expedient
consistently throughout a lengthy novel.

Furthermore, an extended story can be told only by a person with a
well-trained sense of narrative; and it is often hard to concede to
the hero the narrative ability that he displays. How is it, we may
ask, that Jim Hawkins is capable of such masterly description as that
of "the brown old seaman, with the sabre cut," in the second paragraph
of "Treasure Island"? How is it that David Balfour, an untutored boy,
is capable of writing the rhythmic prose of Robert Louis Stevenson,
master of style? And in many cases it is also difficult to concede to
the hero an adequate motive for telling his own story. Why is it that,
in the sequel to "Kidnapped," David Balfour should write out all the
intimate details of his love for Catriona? And how is it conceivable
that Jane Eyre should tell to any one, and least of all to the general
public, the profound privacies of emotion evoked by her relation with
Mr. Rochester?

The answer is, of course, that such violations of the hard terms of
actuality are justified by literary convention; and that if the gain
in vividness be great enough, the reader will be willing to concede,
first, that the story shall be told by the leading actor, regardless
of motive, and second, that he shall be granted the requisite mastery
of narrative. But the fact remains that it is very hard for the hero
to draw his own character except in outline; and therefore if the
emphasis is to lie less on what he does than on the sort of person
that he is, the expedient will be ineffectual.

The main structural advantage of telling the story through the person
of the hero is that his presence as the central figure in every event
narrated makes for coherence and gives the story unity. But attendant
disadvantages are that it is often difficult to account for the hero's
presence in every scene, that he cannot be an eye-witness to events
happening at the same time in different places, and that it is hard to
account for his possession of knowledge regarding those details of the
plot which have no immediate bearing on himself. It seems always
somewhat lame to state, as heroes telling their own stories are
frequent