“that I was once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was after influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying of; either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, and you will do this little kindness for me'—those were his affecting words. 'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from Devonshire—excellent place for stories—which seemed to interest him. I only told four stories—for he was rather weak, having had a slight touch of bronchitis—and he is pleased still to thank me,” and Bevan nodded with much satisfaction. 

 As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was necessary to be careful. 

 “What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, you won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?”  

 “You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in a witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture, and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work of art. Imagine the folly”—and the good man rose to his feet—“if one should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting stood exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should think the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour, a morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but one rule of judgment—does it represent the spirit of life?”  

 “What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a fact?”  

 “That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it is little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are sure it ought to have happened.”  

 “And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and should inquire whether the thing be true?”  

 “I am a merciful man,” said the venerable artist, “but my conviction is that he ought to be shot.”  

  

  

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