characters which I had known, had heard of intimately, or, as in the case
of the historical novels, had discovered in the works of historians. In
no case are the main characters drawn absolutely from life; they are not
portraits; and the proof of that is that no one has ever been able to
identify, absolutely, any single character in these books. Indeed, it
would be impossible for me to restrict myself to actual portraiture. It
is trite to say that photography is not art, and photography has no charm
for the artist, or the humanitarian indeed, in the portrayal of life.
At its best it is only an exhibition of outer formal characteristics,
idiosyncrasies, and contours. Freedom is the first essential of the
artistic mind. As will be noticed in the introductions and original
notes to several of these volumes, it is stated that they possess
anachronisms; that they are not portraits of people living or dead, and
that they only assume to be in harmony with the spirit of men and times
and things. Perhaps in the first few pages of 'The Right of Way'
portraiture is more nearly reached than in any other of these books, but
it was only the nucleus, if I may say so, of a larger development which
the original Charley Steele never attained. In the novel he grew to
represent infinitely more than the original ever represented in his short
life.

That would not be strange when it is remembered that the germ of The
'Right of Way' was growing in my mind over a long period of years, and
it must necessarily have developed into a larger conception than the
original character could have suggested. The same may be said of the
chief characters in 'The Weavers'. The story of the two brothers--David
Claridge and Lord Eglington--in that book was brewing in my mind for
quite fifteen years, and the main incidents and characters of other
novels in this edition had the same slow growth. My forthcoming novel,
called 'The Judgment House', had been in my mind for nearly twenty years