ck to John Bull as it is, for example, in Ibsen's "Lady
from the Sea." "The central idea," he might exclaim, "is utterly
extravagant; the transformation by hypnotism of the absolutely
tone-deaf girl into the unutterably peerless singer is unthinkable and
absurd." The admirers of "Trilby" may very well grant this, and yet
feel that their withers are unwrung. It is not in the hypnotic device
and its working out that they find the charm of the story; it is not
the plot that they are mainly interested in; it is not even the
slightly sentimental love-story of Trilby and Little Billee. They are
willing to let the whole framework, as it were, of the book go by the
board; it is not the thread of the narrative, but the sketches and
incidents strung on it, that appeals to them. They revel in the
fascinating novelty and ingenuousness of the Du Maurier vein, the art
that is superficially so artless, the exquisitely simple delicacy of
touch, the inimitable fineness of characterisation, the constant
suggestion of the tender and true, the keen sense of the pathetic in
life and the humour that makes it tolerable, the lovable drollery that
corrects the tendency to the sentimental, the subtle blending of the
strength of a man with the _naivete_ of the child, the ambidextrous
familiarity with English and French life, the kindliness of the
satire, the absence of all straining for effect, the deep humanity
that pervades the book from cover to cover.

If, therefore, we take "The Manxman" and "Trilby" as types of what
specially appeals to the reading public of England and America, we
should conclude that the Englishman calls for strength and directness,
the American for delicacy and suggestiveness. The former does not
insist so much on originality of theme, if the handling be but new and
clever; there are certain elementary passions and dramatic situations
of which the British public never wearies. The American does not
clamour for telling "curtains," if the character-drawing be keen, the
conversations fresh, sparkling, and humorous. John Bull likes
vividness and solidity of impasto; Jonathan's eye is often more
pleasantly affected by a delicate gradation of half-tones. The one
desires the downright, the concrete, the real; the other is titillated
by the subtle, the allusive, the half-spoken. The antithesis is
between _force_ and _finesse_, between the palpable and the
impalpable.[20]

If anybody but George Du Maurier could have written "Tr