Some of the parthenogenetic children of these divorced powers were curious products, freaks, even monsters of literature, in which the dry, cynical, or vivisecting temper had full play, or the naked, lustful, or cruel exposure of the emotions in ugly, unnatural, or morbid forms was glorified.

They made an impudent claim to the name of Art, but they were nothing better than disagreeable Science.

But this was an extreme deviation of the tendency.

The main line it took was not so detestable.
It was towards the ruthless analysis of life, and of the soul of man; a part, in fact, of the general scientific movement.

The outward forms of things charmed writers less than the motives which led to their making.
The description of the tangled emotions and thoughts of the inner life, before any action took place, was more pleasurable to the writer, and easier, than any description of their final result in act.