LI 1 & 1 KJTki U i-1 i H U IOC ^TUM OF LITERAJUli ILFREt) : M : HITCHCOCK RHETORIC AND THE STUDY OF LITERATURE BY ALFRED M. HITCHCOCK HARTFORD PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY COPYRIOHT, 1913, BT HENRY HOLT ANX' COMPANY PREFACE Views in regard to what the course in English should be are changing year by year, an encouraging sign of growth. Three fundamental ideas seem to be winning wide ac- ceptance. They are as follows: First, emphasis during the earlier years of the secondary school course should fall on practice in expression through the medium of simple, interesting, carefully graded exercises, with rhetorical theory well in the background; during the later years this practice should be continued, the tasks in composition less frequent but calling for longer, maturer effort, and some- thing of rhetorical theory should be placed before the pupils. Second, the course in hterature during the earlier years should be exceedingly simple, designed to break up careless reading habits and lead gradually to an apprecia- tion of better things; during the junior and senior years the study of literature should become more and more systematic, not only acquainting the pupil with a few choice masterpieces but fixing in his mind methods of study, supplying him with the vocabulary necessary for intelligent discussion of books, and familiarizing him with the greatest names in English literature, so that after school days are over he may be equipped to continue his reading along profitable lines and in an intelligent way. Third, as the course progresses, practice in composition and practice in literary criticism should, within reasonable bounds, be correlated, this to be managed in part through the study of rhetoric. iii ivi69904 iv PREFACE This volume, designed for use in the last two years of the secondary school course, contains such textbook matter as I think is needed to carry out these three ideas in an economical way: a brief review of rhetoric, including a little vocabulary of terms commonly employed in talking about books; a general classification and discussion of the various literary forms — fiction, drama, essay, etc. — to- gether with suggestions both general and specific concern- ing how these forms may be studied; a summary by periods of English literature, containing what I think is the minimum that the pupil should know upon graduation — such information as an intelligent man or woman surely ought to possess. I have not hesitated to include, in revised form, some matter that has already appeared in an earlier manual; but the exercises and questions, which form a considerable part of the whole, are new — new and yet old, for little has gone into this book that has not been tried out repeatedly in class room. Indeed I have neither the courage nor the inclination to put forth in textbook form anything experimental. This volume should not go forth without some acknowl- edgment of indebtedness. Many authorities were con- sulted during the preparation of the summary of English literature; yet the nature of the summary is such — merely a statement of established facts and accepted estimates — that seldom has it seemed necessary to refer specifically to sources of information familiar to most students. I owe much to fellow teachers who, as critics, have made many helpful suggestions; and I am especially indebted to Miss Elizabeth Peck, who has shared with me the bur- den of correcting proof. A. M. H. CONTENTS PART I RHETORIC CHAPTER I The study of rhetoric II Purity III Clearness IV Force V Beauty . VI Style VII Narration VIII Description IX Exposition X Argument page 3 6 16 37 60 69 75 83 92 105 PART II THE STUDY OF LITERATURE XI Reading 127 XII Literature defined .... 136 XIII Kinds of literature: poetry and prose 141 XIV Varieties of prose .... 144 XV Varieties of poetry 150 XVI The study of prose fiction 157 XVII The study of drama .... 169 XVIII The study of essays .... 186 XIX The study of poetry .... V 194 VI CONTENTS PART III A BRIEF SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE chapter page Introductory 237 XX Old English or anglo-saxon period (650-1066) 239 XXI NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD (1066-1340) . . 245 XXII Chaucer's period (1340-1400) . . .251 XXIII Caxton's period (1400-1500) . . . .257 XXIV Pre-Elizabethan period (1500-1564) . . 261 XXV The Elizabethan period (1564-1625) . . 266 XXVI The Puritan and Cavalier period (1625-1660) 276 XXVII Restoration period (1660-1700) . . .282 XXVIII Queen Anne period (1700-1744) . . .285 XXIX The age of Johnson (1744-1789) . . . 290 XXX Wordsworth-Scott era (1789-1832) . .299 XXXI Victorian era (1832-1900) . ... .308 APPENDIX A Rules op punctuation B Figures of speech C Versification .... D Themes for essays and orations E A SPECIMEN BRIEF F Questions on typical masterpieces George Eliot's Silas Marner . The De Coverley Papers Macaulay's Samuel Johnson Scott's Lady of the Lake Goldsmith's Deserted Village Milton's L' Allegro Milton's II Penseroso . Shakespeare's Macbeth Index PART I RHETORIC CHAPTER I THE STUDY OF HHETORIC What is rhetoric? Briefly, it is the oldest and greatest of all arts, the art of communicating by means of language. A manual which points out the qualities to , , . , . 1 J 'xi. • Rhetoric de- be desired m oral and written expression o^ , and offers suggestions in regard to how these qualities may be gained is called a rhetoric. Hun- dreds of such manuals have been written. The earliest take us back to the days of the ancient Greeks; indeed the term rhetoric is derived from rhetor, a name which the Greeks applied to the professional orator and likewise to one who wrote speeches for others to deliver. In a very elementary way we study rhetoric from our cradle days, through consciously or unconsciously ob- serving how those about us make their words effective and patterning our own speech , Joi'^ ^ accordingly. As we become readers, we note, for the most part unwittingly, the ways of written expression and adopt such of them as appeal to us. By this natural, direct, but haphazard method many have achieved no mean degree of skill. Shakespeare, in all probability, never studied rhetoric in any other way; he simply observed and practiced till he had mastered the art. But to the average person there comes a time when he feels the need of a friendly guide to advise him what to observe, what to strive after and what to avoid when speaking or writing. He feels the need of a little theory to steady and direct him in his efforts to improve his powers of expression. 3 4 RHETORIC Rhetorics are designed to furnish such guidance. Their service is a Umited one, however, for of course no amount of faithful textbook study ever in itself . g J ' resulted in a brilliant conversationalist, or a novelist like Thackeray, or a fascinating essayist like Lamb. It cannot supply natural ability or personal charm, nor is it a substitute for independent study of models and faithful practice long continued. It is but a staff, or at best a walking companion, not a coach- and-four. Though but a staff, it is one not to be thought of lightly. There are those, it is true, who regard rhetor- Rhetorical ical study as harmful, feeling that it checks study and spontaneity. But we need not share their spontaneity fears. Undoubtedly it does in some cases produce temporarily an element of uncomfortable self- consciousness, an awkwardness such as children experi- ence when their parents try to break them of unfor- tunate ways of holding knife and fork; or such as older people feel when, after a year or two of self-instruction in golf, they at last are sensible enough to take a few lessons from a competent teacher. While ridding themselves of bad habits and acquiring correct form, they appear to be losing the little skill that they once fancied they possessed. "No great author," states Alfred Hennequin in his useful little book The Art of Play writing, "was ever hurt by the study of the principles of rhetoric, and no small author ever achieved success without such study." The study of any art calls into use a number of technical terms. The art of communication by means of language is so very complex that its technical vocab- t-n 4.T ulary is of necessitv large; and since rhetoric pose of Part I ; ^ . ^ ,. n ^ ^ r has been an object of careful study for cen- turies, during which few authorities have employed pre- THE STUDY OF RHETORIC 5 cisely the same set of terms, not a little confusion has arisen. Out of this chaos of conflicting terminology have been selected five important words, more or less technical, for careful explanation: purity, clearness, force, beauty, style. These terms will serve as focus points for a very simple survey of the rhetorical field, undertaken with a two-fold purpose in mind: first, the ordinary one of gaining better powers of expression; second, the less commonly recognized purpose of opening the way for a more intel- ligent enjoyment of great masterpieces of rhetorical art. CHAPTER II PURITY What is meant by Purity? It is but another name for good usage or correctness. First of all, it has to do with words considered singly. It sends us to the The dictionary ■■. , . , , i j. j i. . , dictionary, where we learn what words be- long to the language, what each word means, and how it is spelled and pronounced. Employing words not in the language, using words incorrectly as to their meaning, misspelling and mispronouncing words, all are violations of purity. So too is the use of terms which, though found in the dictionary, are coarse, or for any good reason are not employed by those whom we look up to as masters of English. Purity is concerned not only with words considered singly but with word groups. It sends us to our text- book in grammar. All grammatical errors, ^ whether mistakes in forms (the changes, a guide . T r for example, made to indicate number, gender, case, and tense) or violations of what are known as the rules of syntax (such as that the verb agrees with its subject in person and number), are opposed to purity. Ability to use pure English cannot be acquired, however, through studying a textbook in grammar and through Spoken English faithfully consulting a dictionary. For an untrust- every language has its idioms — words, worthy guide phrases, and even entire sentences, employed in peculiar ways — which foreigners master with great difficulty. In a country like ours, where many national- 6 PURITY 7 ities are represented, sentences often may be heard which, considered individually, are good English and correctly used so far as grammar and dictionary are concerned, yet the things said are not said in the English way; the lan- guage is unidiomatic. Faulty speech of this character falls not alone from the lips of foreigners imperfectly ac- quainted with our language; unfortunately the ignorant and the careless even of American birth adopt wrong expressions frequently heard, and fall into un-English ways of speech. Moreover in so large a country it is inevitable that localities widely separated should differ somewhat in speech. Certain words and phrases com- monly heard in the South are not used elsewhere. New England has her provincialisms; so, too, has the West. Thus it happens that many even of the better educated offend against purity without being conscious of it, through imitating that which they hear and suppose to be correct. The use of idioms common to the whole language is to be desired, for they impart a distinct flavor or individ- uality. But the use of expressions which belong merely to a section of country leads to confusion. Everyone, then, should own a good dictionary and use it. Everyone, popular opinion to the contrary notwithstand- ing, should own a good textbook in grammar Masterpieces and master it from cover to cover. But trustworthy there is no third corresponding book of glides idioms, no authoritative volume adequately calling atten- tion to the scores upon scores of unidiomatic or provin- cial blemishes; and even though such a volume were issued, it would have to be rewritten yearly, for new blights appear day by day. Fortunately, however, every- one has access to good books, and in good books the purest English is found. If we would learn to speak and write correctly, if we wish to weed from our speech that which 8 RHETORIC is undesirable, we shall do well to read at least a few masterpieces over and over again. In this way we absorb, gradually and almost unconsciously, not only the thought but the phrasing of thought, and learn to distinguish between English that is pure and English that is cor- rupt. But unfortunately the main trouble lies in the fact that, to many, purity seems of little consequence. They employ aint, he donH, there was three, etc., and of self-resoect ^P^^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ wi^^ slang, as if it were prudish and un-American to do otherwise. Careful speech is, it must be admitted with shame, becom- ing more and more un-American, as one soon realizes if he visits other English-speaking countries, where language is used with far greater care. Yet there still remain a commendable number who respect and guard the national tongue as they guard national institutions. They are not prudes but a self-respecting aristocracy who look upon purity as the first essential in oral and written composi- tion. Even those who are most careless must admit that purity is the foundation upon which the art of expres- sion rests. Here is a little vocabulary of terms which cluster about the idea of correctness and good use: I Pure, chaste, correct, idiomatic, grammatical. II Barbarous, provincial, colloquial, slangy, archaic, obsolete, cor- rupt, vulgar. Most of these words are familiar. Barbarism is a general term, seldom employed, applied to all errors in the use of words, but more particularly to the use of PURITY 9 foreign words and idioms. A provincialism is a peculiarity of speech found in some one locality. Colloquialisms are forms employed in daily conversation as opposed to purer language found in good books. A word is archaic if it belongs to a former period and is now seldom used, obso- lete if it has passed entirely out of use. If the meaning of any other term is not apparent, a dictionary should be consulted.! EXERCISES* 1 The words below are taken mainly from a booklet entitled Better Say, issued by the publishers of the Standard Dictionary, and from lists found in The Enlarged Practice- Book. Study their pronunciation, consulting a dictionary when necessary. acclimate amenable athletic chasm address American audience clique adult applicable auxiliary column adverse Arab bicycle condolence aeronaut architect biography creek aeroplane arraign bouquet cruel aged aspirant brethren culinary alias asthn:wer to appreciate, power to express: these are benefits to be derived from reading. But there are attendant dangers so serious that they deserve careful consideration. First, it is possible to waste, through reading, time and Dangers: energy which might better be spent in other waste of ways. Life is short. Intemperate indul- time gence in reading is as deplorable as other forms of gluttony. READING 131 Second,— and very important, — intemperate reading, if long continued, impairs the memory. It cannot be other- wise. This is particularly true of omniv- orous fiction reading where vast quantities jj^^^ired of nearly valueless matter are taken into - the mind only to be quickly dismissed and forgotten. A memory thus trained to let go soon loses its retaining powers, and things really worth while slip away with the unimportant. There are few more serious handicaps, no matter what one's life work may be, than an untrust- worthy memory. Third, superficial reading, the eye hurrying from page to page and skipping whatever promises to be the least bit uninteresting, impairs the power to Thinking think. The mind forms the habit of twisting power and dodging and delaying instead of meeting impaired problems squarely and clinging to them until they are mastered. The intellect becomes flabby; it shirks and evades. It loses stamina. Fourth, and most pathetic, certain varieties of reading degrade the character. There are all kinds of books as there are all kinds of people. The average modern novel is fairly clean, but many are . . , degrading in their influence. It is possible so to feed the passions on trashy fiction as to gain an entirely wrong idea of what is best worth while in life. Reading then becomes the worst form of intemperance. Here are a few final suggestions, growing out of the discussion in the preceding para- graphs on the benefits and dangers of reading : 1. Keep good company. Choose your books as you choose your friends, and treat them as courteously. 2. Form the habit of reading a book a month— one that is really worth while. 132 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 3. Vary your reading. Do not become a slave to prose fiction; try history, biography, science. Whether at first you Uke it or not, read poetry — a few fines every day. 4. Read aloud whenever you can. This is beneficial for at least three reasons. First, it tends to break up the habit of reading carelessly. Second, the charm of poetry, and the same is true of the best prose, lies partly in the melody. This may be lost in silent reading. Third, words pronounced cling in the memory; if merely glanced at, they make little impression. We should be familiar not only with the meanings of words but with their sounds. 5. Keep a record of what you read. A book finished, jot down briefly in your journal what it is about, what you have found commendable in it and what you have found to dislike. 6. Own a few books, the very best editions you can afford to buy. ,They make good companions. Volumes might be filled with the wise things that have been said about books and reading. Here are a few well- . . ^. known passages which may serve to enforce Appreciations f , , , ^ . , , or supplement the few ideas that have been presented in this meager chapter: Books are the best things, well used; abused, among the worst. — Emerson No book can be so good as to be profitable when negUgently read. — Seneca No good book, or good thing of any sort, shows its best face at once. — Carlyle Books are the great legacies that a great genius leaves to man- kind, which are delivered down from generation to generation as presents to the posterity of those who are yet unborn. — ^Addison I have even gained the most profit, and the most pleasure also, from the books which have made me think the most; and when the difficulties have once been overcome, these are the books which have struck the deepest root, not only in my memory and understanding, but in my affections. — J. C. and A. W. Hare READING 133 If time is precious, no book that will not improve by repeated readings deserves to be read at all.^CARLYLE God be thanked for books. They are the voices of the distant and the dead, and make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. Books are the true levelers. They give to all, who will faith- fully use them, the society, the spiritual presence, of the best and the greatest of our race. No matter how poor I am, no matter though the prosperous of my own time will not enter my obscure dwelling. If the sacred writers will enter and take up their abode under my roof, if Milton will cross my threshhold to sing to me of Paradise, and Shakespeare to open to me the worlds of imagination and the workings of the human heart, and Frank- lin to enrich me with his practical wisdom, I shall not pine for want of intellectual companionship, and I may become a culti- vated man though excluded from what is called the best society, in the place where I Hvc^^Channing if you read ten pages of a good book, letter by letter, — that is to say with real accuracy, — ^you are for evermore in some measure an educated person. The entire difference between education and non-education (as regards the merely intellectual part of it) consists in this accuracy. — Ruskin Reading I Benefits Pleasure A store of facts and ideas An equipment of truths and ideals Gain in abihty to think Gain in ability to appreciate Gain in abihty to express Loss of time and energy Impairment of memory Impairment of ability to think Impairment of character ' Keep good company. Read a book a month. A Few Sug- Vary your reading, gestions Read aloud. Keep a record. . Own a few books. II Dangers III 134 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE QUESTIONS 1 What is your favorite kind of literature? What is the most interesting book you have ever read? What book have you been reading recently? Can you name a book from which you have surely received permanent benefit? Can you think of a book from which one might receive injury? 2 If you were about to be cast away on an island from which there was no prospect of return for ten years, what live books would you wish to take with you? If a bene- factor were to offer to supply to each pupil in school five books, what would be your choice? Can you name two or three good books that would prove interesting to a boy of fifteen interested in manual training? 3 What are your favorite magazines and newspapers? In reading periodicals, what do you omit and what do you select? Should newspapers be read thoroughly? Will you suggest five or six periodicals appropriate for a school reading room? If the benefactor mentioned above should decide to send two periodicals to each pupil, which two would you recommend? 4 If a girl intends to be a musician, should she stop reading altogether, read widely, or specialize? Should a boy who intends to be a civil engineer read poetry? Of what value are histories to those who intend to take part in public affairs? What kind of literature should one read who intends to be a clerk or a factory laborer? What rule can you suggest in regard to how much time should be devoted to contemporary literature and how much to masterpieces of earlier times? 5 How many books do you own? Do you take books from the public library? Do you think public libraries READING 135 should contain, in the department of pure Hterature, ac- knowledged masterpieces only? What percentage of the fund for new books should a public library spend for fiction? Are reading circles a good thing, or are they a. bore? Would it be better if books were not so cheap and libraries were not free? Are free textbooks an unmixed blessing? 6 What benefits not mentioned in this chapter can you think of? What injuries? What suggestions in regard to reading habits? Bring to class tributes to books, obtained from a dictionary of familiar quotations or from, some other source. CHAPTER XII LITERATURE DEFINED Let it be supposed that a building is to be erected in which shall be brought together all English literature — not everything written in English, but the choicer pro- ductions to which the term literature is applied in its narrower, higher sense. What should such a collection include? No question could arise over the plays of Shakespeare, or Milton's poems, or the novels of Dickens and Thackeray. Scores of writers would be accepted without rt tu ? hesitation. On the other hand, tons upon tons of printed matter — books, pamphlets, newspapers, and what not — all excellent in a way, would be promptly rejected. Manifestly a textbook in algebra deserves no place in such a collection, nor an almanac, nor a treatise on the manufacture of steel. Most works in science and history belong elsewhere. Sooner or later, how- ever, vexing questions would arise; for the dividing line between mere books and pure literature is a vague one. Very convenient would be a serviceable definition of lit- erature which might be applied in doubtful cases as the carpenter applies his foot rule to a stick of timber to see if it will answer his purpose. Of the scores of definitions that have been penned, none is quite satisfactory; the thing to be defined is far too . . . varied in character and too subtle in its eeneral°^^ "^ nature to be bounded by a single sentence. To define literature is like trying to define beauty, or pleasure, or sorrow. Let us examine a few def- 136 LITERATURE DEFINED 137 initions, however, for each may suggest hnes of profitable thought. Emerson calls literature *'a record of the best thought.'^ Much that enters the mind, these six short words suggest, is necessarily commonplace, petty, not worth preserving. The mission of literature is to . ^... sift and winnow and garner. Men die, cities become ruins, nations fade into obscurity; thought — the best thought — endures, preserved in the written or printed page, for the poetry and the prose of a nation form the truest and most lasting record of the best that its men and women have achieved. The durability of literature and its high character are, perhaps, the leading ideas suggested by Emerson's definition. It reminds us that a good library is like a chest containing priceless heirlooms, fortunately not the hoarded possession of some proud family, but a legacy to all who appreciate their value. So brief a definition cannot well be complete; it suggests much that is true, but does not include the entire truth. Let. us examine a definition of slightly greater length, by Stopford Brooke. In , ^^. . the estimation of this eminent scholar, lit- erature is made up of "the written thoughts and feelings of intellectual men and women, arranged in a way that gives pleasure to the reader J* Here are at last two new ideas, suggested by the words feelings and pleasure. Thought, as used by Emerson and Brooke, suggests the mind of man, which considers and judges intellectually. Feelings is a warmer word suggesting the heart, seat of the emotions — love, hate, fear, ambition, reverence, etc. Most of us are far less willing to share with others our heart emotions than we are to share the judg- ments of the intellect. Our feelings are so personal, so 138 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE private, that instinctively we veil them. Yet the great writer, far from concealing his emotions, puts his very heart into his work, thus exposing to all readers that which makes up the most precious element of his individuality. Hence it follows that anyone who will but learn to read may become intimately acquainted with the intellectual men and women of all times. Let his station in life be what it will, the door stands wide open for him; he may become an aristocrat, associating intimately with great souls and sharing their finest emotions. Passing now to the word pleasure, we are reminded that thought and feeling to endure must be properly expressed. Literature worthy of the name is a fine art, not the product of bunglers. Our pleasure in reading is due but in part to the thoughts and feelings revealed; it is in no small degree due to the artistic skill displayed in expressing these thoughts and feelings. A very simple idea, or an emotion which all have felt, becomes beautiful when beautifully phrased. This pleasure derived from the skill with which authors clothe their thought increases with maturing years, if we are wise enough to make companions of great writers. In time we grow im- patient of what is termed cheap literature, where little or no skill is displayed, and impatient of our own ways of crude expression. Here is a third definition, by Henry Morley. Literature comprises "all hooks — and they are hut few — where moral truth and human passion are touched with a d fi^ T ^ certain largeness, sanity, and attractiveness of form.^' This is less clear than the others and calls for careful study. Reading it over and over and thinking it through and through as one must where much is condensed into a few words, we at length discover two important ideas. The first is that it is the mission of lit- LITERATURE DEFINED 139 erature to elevate and inspire through bringing the reader face to face with the great moral truths of life. The mas- ters reveal not only their own emotions «. . . . but the emotions — the passions — of all hu- manity; they unveil not alone their own hearts but the heart of the world — yours, mine, every man's. They help us to understand ourselves and to look with truer, more sympathetic eyes upon the various complex emotions which make up the real history of the world. The second idea, a simpler one, emphasizes the limited field of pure literature. Much that is written has little to do with moral truth or with human passions. It is not concerned with joys and sorrows. Many books serve merely to impart knowledge. They interest but a limited number and for a limited time. Moral truth and human passion, the same thousands of years ago as they are today, are of permanent interest to all because they concern all. These only are the raw materials out of which poems and plays and romances are made. Finally, here is a long, detailed, scientific definition from the Standard Dictionary, less attractive than the ones already considered, yet not without merit. No explanation follows it, that the student (jeg^i^ioT^^ may have the pleasure of accepting the chal- lenge offered by its difficulty, and may master it step by step, seeking for ideas which are not emphasized in the briefer definitions. *' Belonging to the sphere of high art and embodying thought that is power-giving, or inspiring and elevating, rather than knowledge-giving (excluding thus all purely scientific writings); catholic, or of interest to man as man (excluding writings that are merely technical, or for a class, trade, or profession, or the like, only); esthetic in its tone and style (excluding writings violating the principles 140 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE of good taste); and shaped by the creative imagination, or power of artistic construction {excluding all writings that are shapeless and without organic unity).'' With these four definitions well in mind, perhaps some will think the library building, as imagination may have pictured it at the beginning of this chapter, ew concep- unnecessarily large, but none too stately. Better still, it may be that through following the lines of thought suggested by these definitions, our respect for the great masters whose works are far more than mere books has been increased, and we shall be less likely to grow vain over our own feeble compositions. CHAPTER XIII KINDS OF LITERATURE: POETRY AND PROSE There are four kinds of composition: narration, descrip- tion, exposition, and argument. Since literature is but composition, it may be said that there are four kinds of literature. But should we wish ^^^ to arrange the books for which, in the pre- ceding chapter, our imagination provided a building, it would, manifestly, be impossible to group them under these heads, since the four forms of discourse are seldom found separate but rather in combination, all of them sometimes appearing in a single paragraph. Of the many possible systems, the simplest classification would be one dividing the books into two broad groups, poetry and prose ; yet even this simple scheme might present some difficulties. What is poetry? How does it differ from prose? Perhaps rhyme is the first word to arise in the mind of one attempting to answer these questions. Prose does not rhyme; most poetry does, though much that Shakespeare and Milton and the lesser poets have written is rhymeless. On the other hand mere rhyme cannot make poetry, for there are the senseless jingles which every child makes — ^jingles and nothing more. Next to suggest itself is, it may be, rhythm. Each line beats out a little tune produced by the recurrence of stressed syllables separated by syllables un- stressed. Good prose, it is true, contains something of rhythmical swing, but the swing is not met- rical; that is, it does not conform to established rules. 141 142 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE That there are such rules, hard and fast, we see as we turn the leaves of such a collection as the Oxford Book of English Verse. The poet neatly fits his words to a mould, as it were. His stanzas are made to pattern, each line contain- ing a definite number of stressed syllables and all the rhymes coming in their proper places according to a pre- conceived plan. In the third place we note, if the ear be sensitive, a sound-harmony. The words are so chosen and arranged that succeeding sounds harmonize, hke , " colors skilfully blended. This too is found in prose; at least the skilled writer of prose is careful to avoid disagreeable sound combinations. But poetry is preeminently harmonious. Carlyle calls it "musical thought." It is song. In earlier times it was intended to be sung, the voice, often accom'panied by some instrument, interpreting the feeling and bringing out the melody. Since the invention of printing and the rapid growth of the reading habit, poetry enters the mind not through the ear alone but through the eye. Nevertheless it sings its way in; for as the eye runs from word to word on the printed page, imagination, or memory, helps us to catch the intended harmonies. We cannot think the words without, in imagination, hearing them. Since poetry is melody, it follows that the vocabulary of poetry cannot be quite the vocabulary of prose. There are words too harsh for the poet, and words of so many syllables that they defy all met- rical arrangement. Melody aside, how many words there are which are too coarse and commonplace in what they suggest to be of service. They are not beautiful. Yet we shall try in vain to say which words are poetical and which are not; we can but wonder at the great masters' skill in selecting that which in sound and suggestion is appro- KINDS OF LITERATURE 143 priate for their purposes. We know merely that some words, as the poets employ them, are magical — pleasing the ear, exciting the imagination, and stirring the emotions. But language, in verse or prose, is merely a vehicle. Great as may be the pleasure derived from beautiful, melodious words, and from the nicety with ,^ which the poet shapes his message to fit ^f p^^^y approved metrical patterns, the message thus beautifully expressed is, after all, the essential thing. Instinctively we look upon the poet not merely as one who has discovered the hidden charm of language, but as one preeminently a lover of the beautiful and possessing the power to see it where common eyes perceive it not. He is emotionally sensitive, looking deep into the heart of man with a sympathy and an understanding which enables him to discover the great truths of life. But volumes have been written in a vain attempt to define the essentials of poetry. The preceding paragraphs are designed merely to lead up to a def- ^ ^ . . ' '.' !-• u XI, I, x-^ X Definition mition which, though unsatistactory, as ^^ poetry most definitions must be, is simple and sug- gestive: Poetry is beautiful thought, feeling, or action, beautifully expressed in melodious, usually metrical, lan- guage. Of all the rooms in the stately building imagined in the preceding chapter, surely the best should be reserved for poetry, "the most delightful and perfect form of utter- ance that human words can reach.'' CHAPTER XIV VARIETIES OF PROSE ''The most influential books, and the truest in their in- fluence/' Stevenson once declared, "are works of fiction.'' He might have added that story-telling is the oldest of all forms of literature, and that it out-bulks all others. Indeed so abundant is the supply of late years that, to keep up with it, one would have to read several volumes every day. By fiction, as the term is commonly employed, is meant all forms of prose story-telling (save drama) in which there is an element of make-believe, the incidents Classification , , , , . . , . . and characters bemg m some degree imagi- nary. The simplest classification would mention but two varieties, the short story and what is conveniently termed the novel. Such a simple classification is all, perhaps, that the general reader requires; yet it does not meet with the approval of scholars, who insist that among the so-called novels are many which should be termed romances. Since romance is a term frequently used in talking about books, it is well to understand its meaning. Properly speaking, the novel is a prose story of some length in which the incidents, though they may never have happened, are at least within the range of probability — might have happened. The characters, though imagined, are not unlike the real people whom we meet every day, not necessarily more remarkable or interesting. In short, the novelist strives to mirror or picture, realistically, life as it is in the VARIETIES OF PROSE 145 world of his day. The romance, on the other hand, may contain an element of improbability if not of actual im- possibility, though the reader may be so charmed that he fails to observe the unreality. The world as the ro- mancer pictures it is ideal rather than real; it is as we should like to have it, perhaps, not as experience teaches us that it actually is. In most romances marvels abound. Adventure, unusual occurrences, and love-making are given unnatural prominence. The virtues of heroes and the vices of villains are extraordinary. David Copperfield is a novel, Ivanhoe a romance; for the former strives to picture ordinary life as it was at the time when Dickens wrote, while the latter not only leads the reader to times remote and therefore misty, but presents marvellous in- cidents and idealized personages. Although this distinction between the idealistic and romantic on the one hand and the realistic on the other hand is readily seen in extreme types, the dividing line is after all a shadowy one, hard u a to establish. Many novels contain romantic elements, and romancers employ realism, greatly to the confusion of scholars bent upon establishing hard and fast systems of classification. It is probable that readers will continue to speak of all longer fictitious narratives as novels, and that they will seldom be misunderstood. Closely related to fiction is the second great story-telling form of literature, the drama. Since few plays are printed, we are apt to underestimate the quantity of dramatic literature produced since Shake- speare's day, and its importance as well. Could its in- fluence for good or bad be measured, we might find that drama approaches in power the novel. The simplest classification of plays is the familiar one which groups them under the two heads comedy and trag- 146 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE edy. By comedy is meant a play that is light, amusing, and has a happy ending. In its purest form it mirrors life truly, as does the novel. Tragedy is ^j less easily defined. The dictionary defini- tragedy tion runs somewhat as follows: a play de- picting a serious action in which ordinarily the leading character is by some passion or limitation brought to a catastrophe. Shakespeare's Macbeth furnishes a familiar example. The story of Macbeth's rise and fall provides action that is serious. His one great passion, ambition, forces him inevitably on through crime after crime to a fatal catastrophe. These two terms are so broad that still others are needed in talking about plays. We speak of light comedy, meaning a drama in which the humor is refined and in so ^^^ language natural; of low comedy when the humor is broad and farcical. A farce is a play the sole purpose of which is merriment. The characters are exaggerated, and the situations as funny as can be conceived, the main idea being to supply occasion for laughter. After witnessing a farce, one is more apt to remember comic situations than characters. Musical comedy is, as the name suggests, comedy in which music is an important feature. A play in which comedy and tragedy are combined, the ending normally a happy one, is sometimes termed tragi-comedy. Many of our modern plays are melodramas. Melodrama bears somewhat the same relationship to tragedy that the romance does to the novel. At its worst, it is a cheap, sensational play, full of hair-breadth escapes and harrowing scenes de- signed to thrill audiences of low intelligence. As is the case with the farce, one is apt to remember situations rather than characters. Of late there seems to be a growing tendency to class as melodrama many of the VARIETIES OF PROSE 147 better serious plays which fail to reach the high level of pure tragedy. Still other terms might be mentioned, for there are at least a score which are employed, or have at some time been employed, in classifying plays; but they are not of present importance. A third division of prose literature, very large indeed and with boundaries not so clearly defined as those of fiction and drama, is made up of essays. What is an essay? First, it is, normally, , ^ essay a variety of prose literature. Second, it is a short composition, designed to be read in half an hour, an hour, or at most an evening. We speak of a volume of essays, not of a volume containing an essay. Third, the essay is comparatively simple, and direct; it is somewhat of the nature of a lecture or an informal talk, the writer meeting his readers informally, not addressing them through the medium of a drama or a novel. Fiction and drama are, after all, artificial forms, governed by rules of construction; the essayist, addressing his readers directly, is hampered by no rules save those of common sense which bid one first have something worth saying and then say it clearly and in an agreeable manner. Finally, the word essay contains the idea of trial or incompleteness as op- posed to that which is final and exhaustive. For example, an essay on trees would not contain all that could be said on the subject; it might contain merely a little of what the essayist knew about trees, and this little put forth experimentally, afterwards perhaps to be given deeper thought and possibly expanded into a book of many pages. Most magazine articles, other than fiction, are essays. Editorials are short essays. To speak in detail of all the kinds of essays would take many pages. One familiar type is found in Irving's Sketch Book, in which the author tells with delightful informality 148 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE of his travels abroad, and pictures different phases of Eng- lish life, weaving into his narrative not a little of reflec- tion and sentiment. Another variety is essavs ^^^^ ^^ ^^® Spectator Papers of Addison and Steele. Many of these papers are satirical; that is, they point out the petty follies of the day and through showing the evils to which these follies may lead, gently reprove those at fault and recommend wholesome reforms. Bacon, the philosopher, wrote very brief essays, closely compacted, each sentence containing a thought strikingly expressed, as if he had jotted down ideas from time to time and at last assembled them. He writes on such topics as truth, riches, death. Most delightful of all essayists is Charles Lamb, who wrote informally on whist, roast pig, old china, old plays, and his sister Mary. Read- ing one of his Essays of Elia is like listening to delightful after-dinner talk. Longer, more formal, and logically con- structed are the essays of Macaulay on literary and his- torical subjects. His essay on Milton contains over one hundred pages of average size, quite a book in itself; whereas a typical essay by Lamb is about ten pages long, and a number of Bacon's essays do not exceed two or three pages each. Fiction, drama, and essay are the three higher forms of prose, but there are many provinces which border the realms of pure literature. First, perhaps, Minor forms 7 • t . 7 • t j j.u , come biography, autobiography, and the re- lated fields of letters and diaries. Second comes history, associated with which are travel and explora- tion. Third may be mentioned works of science and philos- ophy, a few of which are truly masterpieces. Finally, ora- tory should be included; for though sermons and speeches are designed but for an occasion, not for all time, and when printed they lose something of their force because com- VARIETIES OF PROSE 149 posed to be listened to, not to be read, our literature is so rich in powerful oratory that it would be wrong to neglect it. Yet works belonging to any one of these outlying provinces we should need to examine closely before giving them a place in our library of pure litera^ ture. (The short story The novel * The romance Varieties OF Prose Drama Essay Minor Forms ' Comedy Farce Tragi-comedy Melodrama Tragedy Biography, Autobiography, Diaries, Letters History, Travel, Exploration Science, Philosophy . Oratory CHAPTER XV VARIETIES OF POETRY Most poems fall readily into one of four classes: Nar- rative (including dramatic and non-dramatic forms), Lyrical, Descriptive, and Didactic or Reflective. In poetic drama, as in prose, are found comedy and trag- edy, and such allied forms as farce, tragi-comedy , and mel- , . . odrama. These call for no further explana- Vfl.rictics of drama tion; but a word is necessary, perhaps, in regard to masks (sometimes spelled masques) and closet drama. The mask, Italian in origin, made its appearance in England during the reign of Elizabeth and was for a time exceedingly popular with the cultured rich. Songs, intricate dances, and elaborate scenic effects were essential features, in many cases the dramatic element being of comparatively slight importance. The masks were not given at public playhouses, but at court and in castle halls, no expense being spared to make the spectacle gorgeous. The parts were taken by amateurs from among the nobility, who impersonated mythical or allegorical characters, which were as essential to mask as were the musical numbers, the dancing, and the scenic display. The most prolific of mask-producers was Ben Jonson; but Milton's Comus, presented at Ludlow castle before the Earl of Bridgewater, then President of Wales, is the best of all the dramas cast ^, , in this highlv artificial form. Closet drama Closet drama . i. , , i j- • IS a name applied to poems dramatic in form, but unfit for successful stage presentation. To this class belong dramas in verse which were intended to be 150 VARIETIES OF POETRY 151 read, not witnessed, as Shelley's Prometheus Unbound and Byron's Manfred. But the term is also applied to dramas which, though written for stage presentation, have proved less effective when acted than when read as we read other forms of story-telling verse. Hence we may include in this small class the dramas of Tennyson, Browning, and even some of the plays of Shakespeare. Non-dramatic narrative poetry is as varied in kind as prose j&ction, but we shall consider merely the tale, the ballad, the romance, and the epic. The tale corresponds in a general way to the short story, though commonly much simpler and briefer. Long- fellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn and Chaucer's Canterbury Tales are familiar examples. An interesting variety is the monologue, closely related to the drama. The words all come from the lips of one person, yet the narrative is so given that the reader readily imagines the presence and replies of other characters to whom the words are spoken. Something of the effect of monologue may be gained by listening to one who is using the telephone, and trying to imagine what the person at the other end of the wire is saying. Many of what Browning has called his dramatic lyrics are monologue tales. Some of the most fascinating tales in all English lit- erature are found in the form of ballads, which, as the name suggests, were originally short tales intended h w d to be sung. In the eighteenth century when there was a revival of interest in earlier times, the ballads which had been composed and sung throughout England during the Middle Ages were collected and excited great interest because of their simplicity and wonderful dramatic power. They have received loving study ever since. Not a few of our modern poets have imitated these ancient models; but Coleridge's Rime cf the Ancient Mariner, best 152 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE of these modern attempts, though a great poem, is inferior as a ballad to such originals as Sir Patrick Spens, or A Geste of Rohyn Hode. The term romance, or metrical romance, also carries the scholar back to the Middle Ages, to a very large group of _,^ extremely long poems recounting the deeds The romance u u ir A^- i i t^ r^i i 01 such half-mythical heroes as Kmg Charle- magne and King Arthur, poems many of which were brought to England by Norman minstrels and sung by them in castle halls. But to the average reader the term suggests long poems of more modern times, notably those of Scott and Byron. The characteristics of this modern type, as found in such admirable examples as Marmion and Lady of the Lake, are similar to those mentioned in connection with prose romance: abundance of adventure and love and sentiment, the incidents taking place in regions of romantic beauty. The term epic is used in two senses. First, it is employed as a general name to cover all forms of narrative poetry . except drama. But it is used more commonly to name that kind of narrative poetry of which Homer's Iliad is the noblest example. Of the many definitions, the following is among the simplest: ''A poem celebrating in stately verse the real or mythical achievements of great personages, heroes, or demigods.^' It is always long and dignified. In English literature we find but one poem truly deserving the name epic, Milton's Paradise Lost. In direct contrast to the story-telling forms of poetry thus far considered is the lyriG, the nature of which it is _, . . quite necessary that the student understand clearly. We may read all of Shakespeare's plays without becoming a whit the wiser concerning the dramatist's personal joys and sorrows. Scott's Lady of the Lake acquaints the reader with Ellen Douglas, Rod- VARIETIES OF POETRY 153 erick Dhu, James FitzJames, and other personages real or imaginary, but not, save through inference, with Sir Walter. The story-teller, whether dramatist or romancer, stands apart from, or back of, his narrative, as may be represented by these three circles: *'Do not think of me," he seems to request; ** watch the characters in the little fiction world that I have imagined, and listen to what they have to say." The lyric poet, on the other hand, aims to reveal the very depths of his heart, sharing without restraint his innermost emotions — an attitude which may be represented thus: The purest form of lyric is song; indeed the word is derived from lyre, the name of an instrument used for musical accompaniment. Normally, song is an outburst of feeling of joy or grief, of patriotism, or reverence, or 154 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE mere conviviality. But the term lyric is applied to any short poem which ''turns on some single thought, feeling, or situation." For example, the poet hears a nightingale sing. The song fills him with emotion which he records in a lyric. Or he opens by chance Chapman's translation of Homer's epic and reads for the first time the grand story of the Iliad. Later he records in a few lines his emotions upon discovering this new-old world of beauty. Milton, brooding over his blindness, yielding to a mood of despair at his helplessness, is suddenly struck with a great truth which brings him comfort, and he writes a little lyric of fourteen lines setting forth this truth, that all who are afflicted in like manner may share the consolation that has come to him. One of the best collections of English lyrics is Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics, a copy of which every- one should own. In this wonderful treasury are found many varieties. There is the ballad, which though properly classed with narrative po- etry, is sometimes so touched with the tender emotion of the narrator that it becomes truly lyrical. The elegy, commonly defined as a "medita- tive poem of sorrowful theme, usually lamenting the dead," is well represented by Milton's Lycidas and Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. The ode, also meditative, differs from other forms in that its structure is complicated or irregular, and the feel- ing expressed more exalted. Wordsworth's Ode to Duty serves as an example. Many of the best lyrics are written in sonnet form — fourteen iambic pentameter lines with a definite rhyming scheme. This was a favorite form with Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, and Wordsworth. The varieties of poetry considered thus far are the prin- VARIETIES OF POETRY 155 cipal ones. Descriptive and didactic or reflective verse are considered minor varieties, partly, no doubt, because they are most commonly found in connec- Descriptive tion with other forms. And yet English lit- and didactic erature is exceptionally rich in poems which Poetry paint the beauties of nature in all her moods, and picture in ideal colors the simple joys and the virtues of rural life — poetry quiet and reflective in character. Fine bits of nature description are found in Thomson's Seasons and Cowper's Task, eighteenth century poems now little read. More familiar to modern readers is Burns's The Cotter's Saturday Night, which pictures the simple life of the Scottish peas- antry, and Whittier's Snow-Bound. Byron and Scott paint scenes of romantic beauty. Our greatest nature poet, however, is Wordsworth, to whom nature in her quieter moods made a strong appeal; but it is not so much the pictures in his poems as it is the thoughts or reflections prompted by his love for nature that have made him great. Were we to make a collection of the very best descriptions to be found in all English literature, we should find it necessary to take lines from nearly every poet of prom- inence, beginning with that unknown singer who composed Beowulf far back in Anglo-Saxon days, and ending with Tennyson and Browning. Two terms related to description are pastoral and idyl. Pastoral (from the Latin pastor, meaning shepherd) is a name applied to any poem picturing the life of shepherds, or indeed any phase of rural dth^^-d^^ life. The finest of all pastorals are Milton's U Allegro and II Penseroso. An idyl (also spelled idyll) is defined in Webster's dictionary as "a little picture in verse, or kind of short descriptive poem, as one dealing with pastoral or rural life." But it is also appHed to longer poems, narrative as well as descriptive, in which the picture 156 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE Didactic poetry element is prominent, as in Tennyson's Idylls of the King. Didactic poetry, as its name implies, has for its main purpose instruction. We feel at once, when the poet turns teacher or preacher, that he encroaches upon the province of the prose writer; yet we do not mind the short didactic passages found nearly everywhere in English poetry — a line or two only, pointing a moral or giving terse expression to some notable thought. There have even been a few poets, notably Dry den and Pope, who have succeeded through wit and cleverness in making attractive purely didactic poems of some length. Pope's Essmj on Criticism, a sort of rhymed treatise on rhetoric, is a good example. Sometimes didactic poetry takes the form of satire, the purpose of which is to reform through ridicule. Yet brilliant as are a number of the long, satirical poems of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, we can but say of them that though they are excellent of their kind, it is a kind which lies remote from the center of true poetry. ' Comedy Tragedy Tragi-comedy Mask Closet Drama Tale Monologue or Dramatic Lyric Ballad Metrical Romance . Epic Song Ballad Sonnet Elegy Ode (Including pastorals and idyls) (Including reflective and exposi- tory verse, and satire) Varieties OF Poetry Dramatic Non-dramatic or Epic Lyric Descriptive Didactic CHAPTER XVI THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION For purposes of study, the novel, or indeed any piece of prose fiction, may be thought of as made up of certain necessary elements. First, there must be a plot; something must happen, otherwise no , . story. Second, there must be one or more characters. Third, there must be what is called the setting; that is to say, what happens must happen somewhere, sometime, somehow. Fourth, no matter how simple the tale, there is pretty sure to be a discoverable central thought, or ideal, or purpose, which serves in a way to unify the whole. Fifth, the story must be told by some- body, in language of his own choosing, in a way peculiarly his own. That is, there must be an author whose skill as a craftsman and whose personality are revealed in the narra- tive. Plot, characters, setting, central truth, the author's skill and personality: these are the five elements to be considered in the study of any piece of fiction. By plot is meant, loosely speaking, the skeleton of the complete narrative, or the important incidents without which there would be no story. Usually it can be stated in a few sentences. There are not many absolutely different plots — perhaps fifteen or twenty in all literature; yet there are so many thousands of ways of varying these fifteen or twenty that no two stories are alike. The essential characteristics of story- plots can be made clear through a number of simple illus- trations. 157 158 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE First, one is reminded of a chain. Link follows link, each of no value save as all combine to make up a whole, designed to serve some preconceived purpose, similitudes ^ ^^^^ ^^ sometimes defined simply as a chain of incidents. Second, the plot may be likened to a series of blocks so placed in line, as we have often seen children arrange them, that when the first is pushed over, down go the second, the third, and all the rest. Thousands of stories are but variations of the old adage : For lack of a nail the shoe was lost; for lack of a shoe the steed was lost; for lack of a steed the rider was lost; for lack of a rider the kingdom was lost. Story-telling of this sort is but play- ing the game of consequences. Third, we may liken many a plot to a number of threads of different color which cross and recross in ever increasing perplexity till finally they become so entangled that the eye which en- deavors to follow some one bright thread becomes more and more bewildered, till at length all is in a twinkling cunningly and quickly disentangled. Fourth, there is the familiar comparison of a stream, inevitably flowing downward, though not with uniform speed. At times, its current flows swiftly; s'm'litud s ^^ times, perhaps in some quiet woodland, it loiters as if attracted by beautiful sur- roundings and forgetful of the great sea towards which it is journeying. At times it meanders through green mead- ows, or industriously turns the wheel of some useful mill ; but the banks grow wider and wider, the waters ever deeper, till at last the broad river is reached. Finally we may illustrate the nature of a typical plot by means of the following diagram. The reader is like a traveler who stands at the foot of the mountain A B, mildly interested to know what lies beyond it. As he climbs the first gentle slope, curiosity gradually increases (indicated by the small THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION 159 question marks) till he reaches a lowly summit the onward view from which brings a degree' of pleasurable surprise (indicated by the small exclamation point) and gratifies his curiosity in some measure, though not entirely; for straightway new questions in regard to what lies beyond are awakened and he climbs with growing interest to a higher point and still a higher, each new vantage ground revealing a little, but not enough. At last, his interest now at an intense pitch, he gains the topmost pinnacle whence all lies revealed. The characteristics suggested by the five foregoing illus- trations, and still others to be mentioned, are reflected in the terminology employed in talking about plots. First in this little vocabulary come tenninoloev climax and certain related terms. Climax is defined in many ways. It is another name for turning- point, say some, thus calling attention to the fact that every story pictures a struggle — a good man contending with a bad man; inherited weakness, moral or physical, contending with the desire to accomplish some great and good thing; love contending with various almost insur- mountable obstacles, etc. The moment at which the battle turns and the contest is decided, that is the climax. Others define it as the moment when, the threads of narra- tive having reached a point of supreme entanglement, the denouement (from a French word meaning to untie) sets in and we have the final unraveling of the mystery. One 160 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE writer cleverly characterizes it as the point where the ''beginning begins to end and the end begins to begin," and also as "the place where the consequences set in." Popularly it is known as the point of greatest interest, where all mystery is cleared away, no element of curiosity remaining ungratified. It should be borne in mind, how- ever, that most stories have a number of climaxes, that is, a number of dramatic moments or situations, as they are called, when the reader's interest is greatly quickened. A lively story, indeed, is a series of such minor chmaxes leading with ever increasing interest up to the grand climax near or at the end — a crisis which in case of tragedy becomes a catastrophe (from a Greek verb meaning to overturn.) Although every incident in a story plays its part in building the complete narrative, not all incidents serve • -H f directly to advance the action of the story. This is suggested in the illustration which likens the plot to a stream. Many are introduced mainly with a view to simply getting the reader and the characters better acquainted. These are sometimes called character incidents to distinguish them from plot incidents which actually drive the story onward. Others serve but to acquaint the reader with conditions which should be known that later action may be understood. In all of Scott's historical romances there are incidents of this kind which acquaint the reader with the customs of the times with which the romances deal. They add vivid- ness, help the reader to understand and appreciate the main incidents, and commonly furnish relief from the more exciting crises. An incident or group of incidents of this sort, growing out of a story yet separable from it, is some- times called an episode. The bursting of the wine cask in A Tale of Two Cities is an episode. To distinguish between THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION 161 a plot incident and an episode or character incident often calls for nice discrimination. The term sub-plot or minor plot is self-explanatory. In- tertwined with the main narrative, where hero and heroine principally are concerned, often will be found minor narratives, perhaps having to do with butler and maid. A novel by Dickens sometimes suggests a community of stories nicely interlaced or in- terrelated, brought into unity by some one series of in- cidents more commanding than all the rest. Life itself, which the novelist tries to mirror, is thus complex, each individual at one time, it may be, playing the role of hero in one chain of incidents, the role of villain in a second, and subordinate roles in many others. Without a plot there can be no story; without characters there can be no plot. A slight acquaintance with fiction suffices to show that novels differ widely in respect to the number of characters intro- duced. Eight or ten is perhaps the average, though in a novel by Dickens or Thackeray one may meet with five times as many, usually belonging to two more or less dis- tinctly defined groups, a principal and a subordinate. The characters in the principal group are as necessary as the plot itself; the subordinates serve a variety of purposes. Some contribute humor, reminding us of Shakespeare's jesters. Uncle Venner, a minor character in House of the Seven Gables, serves as Hawthorne's mouthpiece for bits of homely philosophy — as if the author, knowing full well that to talk directly to his readers over the heads of his characters would be as great a blunder as for the dramatist to appear on the stage, had disguised himself as a ragged philosopher and thus become a legitimate part of the story he is telling. Characters are brought in to convey nec- essary information, to supply parts of the story which 162 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE lie back of the beginning, and other parts which, though essential, are of too little dramatic interest to be handled in detail. They give reminiscences, they gossip about their superiors, and the eavesdropping reader gathers the drift of events from their conversation. Sometimes they are introduced for no other apparent reason than to convey the impression of numbers so necessary to make the nar- rative lifelike, as is the case with the characters in Silas Marner who are seen at the Rainbow Inn. But it would take many pages to enumerate all the pur- poses served by minor characters. Enough has been said to suggest that fiction-reading becomes more e s y intelligent and pleasurable as we learn to detect these hidden purposes; learn to ob- serve the economy of some authors, the lavish generosity of others who delight in bringing character after character into being; and to estimate in some measure an author's power by the range of his creations, the number of different types he has the ability to handle. There is keen pleasure too in watching an author's method of handling his char- acters. What is his way of bringing them into the story? How does he reveal their personality — through their words, through their deeds, through reports from other characters, or directly by peering into their minds and hearts and informing the reader what thoughts and mo- tives lie hidden there? Does he describe their outward appearance? Does he make them develop morally, under- going change as the story progresses, or do they remain the same throughout? Does he succeed in making them always act ''in character" — that is, are the kings always kingly, boys always boyish, etc.? How, finally, does he dismiss his characters? These points and many others command the attention and the pleasurable interest of the trained reader. THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION 163 That the invention of character is a far more difficult matter than mere plot invention is attested by the fact that in all literature there are but few really noble and immortal characters drawn so • „^„+- «" ,^ invention rare true to life that they seem real men and women whom, should they appear at our door, we should readily recognize. Cheap fiction swarms with ''stock" or conventionalized creatures, mere dummies, not crea- tions at all. Under setting is sometimes included not only descriptive passages but all explanatory matter introduced to make the action clearer. Explanation is less pleasing than exciting incident, and readers have a way of skipping descriptive paragraphs; therefore many writers confine themselves very closely to incidents and deftly weave into the narrative the little description and explanation absolutely necessary, leaving much to the imagination. But let us consider a few of the many pur- poses served by descriptive passages. First, it need not be said, some sort of picture of the place where the action occurs is almost always desirable, merely as an aid to the imagination; and if the action depends in any way on the nature description of the place, or on weather conditions, it becomes actually necessary. For example, the storm which in the thrilling sea-tale calls forth the hero's quick wit and daring must be painted in all its fury. Second, a quiet descriptive passage forms a pleasing relief, often- times, after pages of exciting incident. It is poor art to keep the reader's nerves too long at high tension. Third, description may be made to intensify dramatic effect, either through contrast or harmony. For example, the author may first paint an early morning village scene, the sun just peeping above the hills, smoke rising calmly from 164 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE chimneys here and there, the milkman going his rounds. Then, the reader's mind filled with this peaceful quiet, the author throws open the door of the cottage from whose chimney no smoke arises and reveals evidence of an awful crime. As for nature in harmony with action, everyone knows that in fiction-land wedding days are invariably free from tempests. It would be a mean author who should create a pair of newly plighted lovers and not give them a flowery lane down which to wander. All through House of the Seven Gables there are little descriptive passages which so reflect the changing mood of the story that even were the plot incidents removed, one might easily guess the dramatic variations of the narrative. Perhaps such use of description is more poetic than natural, yet in the hands of a master it becomes very effective. Finally, there are novelists who dare halt their narrative from time to time and give extended passages of detailed description not absolutely essential to the story. They do so, it may be, because their purpose is not solely to tell a story but to acquaint the reader with the rare beauties of some region, much as the writer of historical fiction includes in his narrative incidents which picture long-ago times though they serve but indirectly to advance the story. That every piece of fiction contains a clearly definable central truth serving as a pivotal point is hardly demon- ^ ^ 1 x_ xt- strable. Many narratives are thus unified; C6iitr&l trutn some are not, though most if not all are somewhat unified by a controlling idea or motive. Hawthorne's stories are little sermons in fiction form, each driving home with wonderful force some great moral truth, easily discoverable. Dickens fashioned stories designed to picture great abuses so glaringly that reforms would follow; that is to say, he wrote with a definite purpose in mind. No small part of modern fiction THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION 165 is made up of problem novels, each of which has, as a cen- tral motive, the desire to suggest an answer to some vexing social question. Perhaps the strongest statement that should be made is that every novelist writes with a motive. Frequently it is but the praiseworthy desire to entertain; sometimes it is a desire to impart information in pleasing manner or to point the way to reform, or to emphasize a great moral truth. As we grow older and more familiar with plots, familiar too with the thousand and one well-worn devices by which authors strive to make their stories salable, our pleasure in current fiction by little known pej-gonalitv authors grows less keen, and we find our- selves returning inevitably to such masterpieces as those produced by Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, and George Eliot. These half -forgotten stories we read and reread, not alone because the narratives are so great that they never lose their attraction, but because we are homesick for the authors themselves. No one can write for many years, inventing scenes, inventing incidents, without putting very nearly his entire self into his books. There lie ex- posed his ideas, his fondest fancies and dreams, his con- ceptions of what is noble and of what is low and mean. Peculiar ways of looking at things, even little tricks of expression which are distinctly his own, all are there. In a word, it is the charm of the author's fully revealed personality that draws us like a magnet, and we find such pleasures as old friends experience when they meet after years of separation. This element of personality which enters into every great novel is, we grow to think, a very essential thing after all, not to be neglected in any masterpiece. Study the plot, the characters, the setting. Try to determine what is the central truth or underlying motive which vitalizes 166 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE the story. But above all, try to find the author; seek for him ''between the lines/' If he is noble, make him your friend and treat him as such. A good book once read, do not put it aside for all time; take it from the shelf now and then, not perhaps for a complete reading, but for the pur- pose of spending an hour or two with an old acquaintance who is something more and better than a mere story-teller. Here, finally, are a few questions which may prove helpful to those who are fond of fiction and Questions would like to add to their enjoyment by learning how to read with a somewhat more critical eye: Plot Plot made up of many incidents, or few? One plot only, or a main plot plus one or more subordinate ones? Incidents arranged in natural, chronological sequence, or arranged in inverted order for dramatic effect? Incidents taken from real life, invented but probable, barely possible, or impossible? In- cidents involving physical action, or inner (moral) struggle? Plot stereotyped — that is, following well-beaten trails, or orig- inal? Quiet or thrilling? All the incidents necessary? Any used to reveal character? Any used to supply information or to afford relief from the strain accompanying tragic scenes? In- cidents mainly comic, or pathetic? Is the climax strong? What incident forms the climax? Does accident play an important part in the disentanglement? Is the plot the most essential element in the story? Which of the following adjectives best describe the plot: simple, commonplace, trivial, quiet, stereo- typed, feeble, amateurish, interesting, clever, dramatic, thrilling, melodramatic, romantic, highly imaginative, ingenious, long- drawn-out? Characters Many or few? Different types, or only two or three? One group only, or a principal group plus one or more subordi- nate groups? Natural, idealized, caricatured, or conventional? Commonplace, or interesting? How brought into the story, I THE STUDY OF PROSE FICTION 167 how dismissed? What purpose do the subordinate charac- ters serve? How does the reader become acquainted with the characters — by what they do, what they say, what others say about them, the effect they produce on others, or by what the author says about them directly — peeping into their minds and letting the reader know what motives he hidden there? Are any of them tagged — that is, recognizable by some pecu- liarity of speech, etc.? Do they always act in character? Do they show wide acquaintance, on the author's part, with men and women? Do they show that the author understands human nature? Does the author regard them with affection? Is there an out-and-out hero or heroine and a pronounced villain? Are the characters more interesting than the plot? Where is the author at his best, in plot construction or in character delinea- tion? Which of the characters do you see most clearly? Setting Does the story begin immediately with action, or with pre- liminary pages explaining the time, place, and attending cir- cumstances? Does the author, upon introducing a character, give a detailed portrait, or is the portrait given in bits adroitly inserted? Are nature descriptions frequent and lengthy? Do they seem unnecessary — not closely related to the plot? Are the descriptions natural or idealized? Real or imagined? Is description introduced for its own artistic beauty, to help the reader to visualize, to intensify some dramatic effect, or to re- lieve tension? Is there much weather in the story? Are the descriptions in contrast to the mood of the story or in harmony with it? Do the nature descriptions ever hint at the trend the story is to take? Do the descriptions form an important element in the story? Is the author as good at description as at character delineation or at plot construction? What in externals impresses him most deeply? • The Central Truth or Controlling Purpose What is the theme of the story? The most important truth? Is the story told to enforce some truth? Does the truth appear to grow naturally out of the narrative? Does the story contain too much teaching or moraUzing? If the story has a moral, is 168 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE it self-evident, or baldly stated at the close? Do you agree with the author in all his views? The Author Is he sincere? thoughtful? emotional? of artistic tempera- ment? Is his range of experience wide or narrow? Does he understand human nature? Is he sympathetic? Are his ideals high? What seems to you the most attractive elements in his personality? What in his art as a novelist do you most admire? Note. — See Appendix for questions on Silas Marner. CHAPTER XVII W/ THE STUDY OF DRAMA A recent theatre program not only names the playwright and gives the cast (the assignment of parts to the actors) but tells by whom the production is staged, who directs the music, who painted the f^j. gt^^y^ scenery, who should receive credit for the mechanical and electrical effects, who provided the properties (stage requisites other than costumes and scenery), who is technical supervisor, and even who de- signed the gowns and costumes and who made the shoes. This long list of items serves well to illustrate that plays are not meant to be read but to be witnessed, and that the proper place for the study of the drama is the theatre. But serious difficulties lie in the way. Comparatively few of us live in large towns or cities where there are good theatres; and those who are city-dwellers _ find that really good plays are presented . ^ none too often, and that certain dramas well worth studying are never staged. The great majority, therefore, must content themselves with reading at home; and since relatively little of modern drama is available in book form, in many cases this must mean reading Shakespeare only. The purpose of this chapter is to offer simple suggestions in regard to how plays, Shakespeare's in particular, may be read to advantage. _ These suggestions focus in the three words playgoer, play-actor, and playwright. Briefly, they amount to but this: First, imagine yourself a playgoer; 169 170 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE second, imagine yourself an actor; third, imagine yourself a playwright. They form a climax of increasing difficulty. The average playgoer is no close student of dramatic art. He is an enviable pleasure-seeker, most fortunate if, as the orchestra ceases, the lights in the auditorium fade away, and the great curtain slowly rises, he can forget absolutely that he is in a theatre, forget footlights, forget paint and powder and canvas trees, forget all the conventions of the stage — such as that every room has but three sides and a slanting floor — and become, as it were, an eavesdropping spirit privileged to witness scene after scene, apparently real, though picturing a life somewhat fuller of laughter and tears than that in which he actually lives, and moving at a swifter rate, with all the humdrum strangely eliminated. In a word, he yields himself completely to the magic and is swept away in imagination, sharing the emotions repre- sented by those on the stage, much as the little child shares the emotions of Little Red Ridinghood, though safely held in a mother's lap. The play over, he continues to think of the action as something real and of the actors as people whom he might meet were his lot a different one. The first duty of the student who is not privileged to attend the theatre is the pleasurable one of gaining, so far as he can, the kind of impressions received isuaizmg ^y average theatre-goers. Before him lies the printed page, and as he reads, slowly yet not too critically, he tries to get the story, through imagination visualizing, or making real, each scene and character. Although pleasurable, this is nevertheless something of a task, involving a mental effort uncalled for on the part of those who witness plays. It is necessary to shut the eyes, now and then, and try to imagine the natural setting of this scene and that — the courtroom where Portia THE STUDY OF DRAMA 171 makes her plea, the banquet hall, scene of Macbeth's first royal banquet, the forest of Arden where Rosalind and lovesick Orlando meet. One must imagine, too, how each character is dressed, and with what voice and bodily action the words are spoken. What is Macbeth's appearance as he cries Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' and what is the manner of fighting which follows? How are the weird sisters attired in the first scene of Macbeth, and what witch-like actions accompany their uncanny words? With questions such as these, the imagination is ever kept on the alert; without imagination, play-reading is a dull performance, like listening to conversation too intricate to follow, or gazing at a scene partly obscured by fog. Doubtless one reason why plays are so seldom printed is that comparatively few readers are willing to exercise their imagination sufficiently to gain real pleasure merely from the dramatist's words. - The second step in drama study is far more difficult. It calls for a much closer reading than the first, somewhat superficial survey; for now the reader must look upon the play through the eyes of actor and stage manager, whose duty it is to in- terpret the dramatist's words, supply suitable action, and provide for this action appropriate stage arrangement, so that, without conscious effort, playgoers may get all that the playwright's imagination has invented. Of the thou- sands who throng our theatres, how few ever stop to think of the weeks of labor — the close study of lines, the mem- orizing of parts, the planning of stage effects, the rehears- als — which lie between the composing and the final pro- duction of even a light comedy. What we see in a modern 172 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE presentation of one of Shakespeare's plays is the composite result of careful, loving study on the part of many genera- tions of great actors. Without some degree of study of the kind bestowed by actor and stage manager, one cannot hope to fully understand and appreciate any play. It is excellent practice, therefore, to make a plan of the stage as it should be arranged for each scene of the play that is being studied, accompanying it with ment ^^tes explaining in detail what properties are needed, what scenery, where the char- acters should enter and where depart, and how they should be grouped at critical moments. Macbeth presents many interesting problems in stage arrangement. In the ban- quet scene, for example, where shall the table be placed and where the Queen's throne? Where shall Banquo's stool be placed? Where should the Murderer appear, and where Banquo's ghost? Costuming, too, offers an attractive line of study. How many costumes will Lady Macbeth need, and what should they be? Macbeth is a Scotch- man; should he be dressed as a Highland chief? What would be an appropriate costume for the Murderer? for the Porter? Dress oftentimes betrays character, it must be remembered. Yet it should not be overlooked that what is true of stage-settings in general is true of costumes; they can be made to attract too much attention, thus weakening the effect of words and actions. Words and actions, after all, call for the closest study; and so much of our reading is done hurriedly, with a view to gaining general impressions rather than Interpretation ^^ '^ r xi, x n. • j-^ ix x r exact meamngs, that it is dimcult to lorce ourselves to be thorough, as we must be in study- ing Shakespeare. ''Shakespeare is no primer"; the thought does not always lie on the surface. Many a line THE STUDY OF DRAMA 173 challenges our best powers. And Shakespeare's language is not quite modern. He employs not a few words now obsolete, and others which, though still in common use, have lost their original force or meaning. Moreover he lived at a time when people took delight in language feats, in startling effects obtainable through nice skill in tossing words about and through clever sentence-twists. His English is not, therefore, straightforward; many a sentence needs disentangling. Moreover, he wrote not for publica- tion but for the stage — for oral reproduction to be helped out by facial expression and action; hence, as has been pointed out more than once, his sentences are often a series of cross-cuts, sometimes even ungrammatical, such as we use in rapid conversation. Coming from the mouth of an actor, they are clear enough; when received from the printed page, they are frequently troublesome. Fi- nally, he wrote not for posterity but for Londoners of his own day, and therefore made allusions to passing events long since forgotten. Only by studying the comments of scholars who have devoted years to patient investigation can we hope to understand certain passages which pre- sented no difficulty whatever to the apprentices who crowded the Globe theatre in Shakespeare's day. Even when every passage is reasonably clear, there re- mains the difficult yet delightful task of determining how each sentence should be spoken, w4th what volume and tone and modulation of voice, attended by what facial expression and what action, all of which calls for a close study of each character. For example, consider a single passage in the second scene of the second act of Macbeth. The King has been murdered. Macbeth, dazed and remorseful, his imagination still picturing the dreadful deed he has done, stands before his wife. After a few scraps of hurried conversation, she no- 174 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE tices that he bears in his hands the bloody daggers which should have been left by the side of the grooms whom she has drugged and upon whom the guilt is to be placed. In alarm she bids him return them and smear the sleepers with blood. Then follows — Macbeth. I'll go no more. I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not. Lady Macbeth. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal; For it must seem their guilt. (Exit) How should the words Give me the daggers be spoken? Should the stress be upon Give or mef Are they words of anger, scorn, or determination? Does she snatch the daggers, or take them calmly, or as if it required all the strength of will she can muster? Would you have her leave the stage hurriedly, or with faltering step? And how should Macbeth act at this critical moment? Is he shamed, relieved, or too dazed to know what is happening? Few are the scenes in any great play which do not con- tain little problems like the above, and the thought is inevitable that one cannot study the drama successfully without constant experiment in oral reading; and that most effective of all is the memorizing of parts and the presenting, before a small audience, of a few simple scenes. A single trial of this sort will do far more towards training the appreciation than will many weeks of silent study. Playgoer, actor, playwright — we must in some measure identify ourselves with all three, if we wish to thoroughly understand and appreciate any drama. The first two steps in this three-fold scheme we have considered; the third, THE STUDY OF DRAMA 175 most fundamental of all and to many the most interesting, remains. It consists in trying to think out, or imagine, how this or that play was made — where the plot came from; how the raw materials were -.j^^^i. worked over, the available sorted out from much that was unsuitable, and reshaped to fit the dram- atist's purpose; what laws of construction were followed in the writing of scenes and acts. In short it consists in an attempt to learn something of the art of playwriting through following, so far as it is discoverable, the trail of the dramatist. Study of this kind very soon reveals how different is the task of the dramatist from that which confronts the writer of novels. For plays must be acted on a The play- stage commonly not over seventy feet wide wright's by forty deep, the parts taken by a limited limitations number of actors, before an audience which will remain but little over two hours. Such a story as Stevenson tells in The Wreckers, for example, or Scott in Ivanhoe, or Hugo in Les Miserahles cannot well be limited to a space seventy by forty, nor told satisfactorily in two hours. Modern ingenuity recognizes few things as impossible, yet sea- fights, earthquakes, floods, forest fires, and much else that the novelist handles readily, lie beyond the range of satisfactory stage presentation. The novelist may trans- port his readers from continent to continent, from pole to pole; the dramatist must content himself with but few scenes. The novelist deals with individuals who may take their time in reading his pages, skipping at will dull passages, or putting the book aside when interest wanes. The dramatist deals with large companies of individuals, differing widely in their tastes, the attention of all of whom must be captured at the outset and held through the per- formance by means of a series of incidents that keep curi- 176 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE osity ever alert to observe what will happen next. Finally, we are too'apt to forget that the story of the play must be one in which deep emotions can be expressed mainly by words, facial expression, and gesture; and that nearly all the action must take place before the eyes of the spectators. The dramatist, then, is hampered by troublesome limit- ations. Although he no longer observes the old '^ unities" of time, place, and action, which prescribed that the time represented as elapsing should not exceed a period of twenty-four hours, the scene remain unchanged, and the action be single rather than a number of stories interlaced, still he is far less free than other story-tellers. As, through study, we become familiar with the restrictions to which his art is subject, the diflficulties of play-writing become more evident and our appreciation of good plays increases accordingly. From what has been said it is obvious that the success of the dramatist lies in no small degree in his abiUty to . recognize appropriate matter. Shakespeare left no record of his method of play-making; yet his works have received so much study that the sources of most of his plots are now known, and it is very interesting to observe how this great master selected his raw materials and changed them magically into great plays. School editions of his Macbeth include the pages from Holinshed's Chronicle with which he must have been familiar, enabling us to trace the changes the bald narrative underwent as he adapted it to stage requirements. A few passages in the play follow Holinshed almost word for word. But we note that he has selected incidents rather than appropriated the entire narrative, that he has brought together events which in reality were remote in time, has shifted action from this place to that, brought into promi- THE STUDY OF DRAMA 177 nence individuals belonging historically to the background, transferred or bestowed traits of character at will, indeed taken the many liberties necessary in order to make of the historical record a dramatic unity. In Merchant of Venice we find him intertwining three stories so cunningly that they seem but one. As You Like It is but an adaptation of a popular Elizabethan romance. Rarely, if ever, did he invent an entire plot outright; his genius found exercise in selecting, reshaping, rearranging material at hand and expressing all in noble verse. But studying sources and comparing raw materials with finished products, though interesting and profitable, is merely preliminary to studying plot con- struction in detail. Much that has been ^ ^. construction said m the chapter on the novel applies here as well. A play, like most novels, is made up of incidents arising because of a struggle of some kind — a struggle which becomes more and more tense, climax following climax, till a turning-point or grand climax is reached; then the action drives on, still a series of dramatic moments, to its close, which in tragedy is called a catastrophe. Plays differ in structure-plan, as do novels, but the following diagram is often used to illustrate the common features : A B, called the introduction, covers the earlier scenes which serve principally to acquaint us with the preliminaries — what happened prior to the beginning of the main action of the play, or the attending circumstances. Somewhere near the beginning is a point B, not always easily discoverable, 178 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE where we find what is called the inciting force, which defi- nitely begins the conflict between the opposing forces. C represents the grand climax. A C is called terminoloev ^^^ rising action, the entanglement, or the complication; C D is called the falling action or the resolution. D, in tragedy, represents the catastrophe. The diagram would convey a better impression, perhaps, if the lines B C and C D were jagged, suggesting a series of dramatic moments rather than a smooth running story. Here are seven of the more important points to note in studying a given plot: 1. The manner in which introductory Plot study: matter is handled. The novelist may devote introductory an entire chapter to preliminaries, for he has matter plenty of time in which to tell his story; or he may plunge into the midst of his narrative, win atten- tion through some exciting incident, then '^ double back'' to the real beginning and explain whatever is necessary. But in drama every minute is precious; the story cannot, ordinarily, be made to double on itself; and the restless audience must be captured at the outset. Getting a play well started, therefore, calls for great skill. The explana- tion of the circumstances out of which the action of the play grows must be as brief as possible, much being left to be inferred, and that which cannot be inferred introduced not all at once, but inserted here and there throughout the first act as it is needed. It is excellent practice to run through a first act and pick out all that is purely explana- tory. 2. Method of introducing characters and of getting them off the stage. Usually, before an important character ap- pears, he is talked about by the minor char- and exits acters, that interest in him may be aroused and that he may be recognized when he makes his entrance. The witches, in the first scene of THE STUDY OF DRAMA 179 Macbeth, announce that they are planning to meet Mac- beth very soon, and the audience wonders who he can be. In the second scene we are told more about him — of his valor in the battle which is still raging, and the King announces new honors to be conferred upon him. When therefore he at last appears, it is not as a stranger but as a hero whom the spectators are anxious to see. Moreover, seldom is it artistic to introduce all the leading characters at once, lest confusion result and lest the interest be divided. It is more effective to scatter the thrills which should be caused at first sight of important personages. And great care too is shown by the skilled playwright in clearing the stage of characters when they are no longer needed. The actor who has spoken his lines cannot simply walk off; the audience must be told why he is going, and the reason must be plausible. 3. The ingenuity of the playwright in inventing a com- plication. It is not an easy task to invent circumstance after circumstance leading to situations more and more complex, introducing force after ,. . force pulling the hero this way and that till the entanglement seems beyond all straightening out. Plays have been written for so many centuries that the more obvious ways of complication are well known. It is therefore a difficult matter to avoid old trails, or so to re- dress old schemes of entanglement that they have an appearance of novelty. It is an interesting problem, though frequently difficult, especially when several stories are intertwined, to pick out all the complicating elements and determine whether they are old or new. 4. The skilful employment of scenes for contrast, for re- lief, or to foreshadow coming events. A tragic moment seems the more tragic if it follows one in lighter mood; wicked- ness stands out more vividly against a background of in- 180 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE nocence. There must be breathing spells too; for an un- interrupted series of thrills may become exhausting. These are recognized principles in all forms of forellTad^ing s^ory-telling; and so is a third which pro- hibits violent surprise. A degree of surprise there must be, it is true, and without suspense interest cannot be held; yet it is a common practice to foreshadow dramatic moments, thereby preparing for what is coming. 5. Ingenuity in constructing the grand climax. Every scene has its element of suspense and surprise; every act ^^ ,. is in structure a little play by itself, with The climax ^ . ,...:. tragic moments rismg m mterest to a su- preme moment near or at the end. But one of the most trying tests of a plajrwright's power is his ability to invent a supreme situation, novel, inevitable because of what has gone before, in a way combining or focusing all the dramatic crises of earlier scenes — a trying situation where for an instant the fate of the hero hangs in balance. It is the final 'Hying of the knot/' without which a play fails to be a play. 6. Skill in handling the resolution or falling action. It is not always an easy matter to sustain interest as a play nears its close. The skilled playwright *' unravels his knot" rapidly, climax follow- ing climax in quick succession, the suspense strongly maintained till the final revelation is made — a conclusion growing naturally out of all that had gone before, satisfy- ing ''poetic justice," and gratifying fully the curiosity first aroused in the opening scenes. 7. Skill in adapting the play to stage requirements. Al- though a matter of great practical impor- tance, this topic cannot be treated in detail, requirements It will suffice, perhaps, to observe that there are many incidents inappropriate for stage representa- THE STUDY OF DRAMA 181 tion, that time is required for shifting scenery and for changing costumes — matters too often overlooked by in- experienced writers. Difficult as it is to invent a good plot, it requires greater genius to create people to do and say the things that the plot calls for. A considerable part of the time bestowed by the student upon Shake- characters speare's plays is devoted, very properly, to his characters. Here are a few points to observe: 1. Whether the play calls for careful delineation of char- acter. In some cases, notably in light comedy and farce, characters may be of secondary importance. The real interest centers in clever situations ^jej^jjeation sure to be remembered long after characters are forgotten. Other plays present quite the reverse: a series of incidents of little moment in themselves and quickly forgotten, yet serving to throw a strong light upon some central figure, a character never to be forgotten. In great plays, both these elements are present. 2. Number and range of characters. There are dramatists who, though authors of many plays, have created few characters. Of two or three types they may Number and be masters; beyond this limited field their range of art fails them. In marked contrast is Shake- characters speare, whose creations range from kings to beggars and knaves, from decrepit age to youth, no two characters alike, a vast compauy most of whom seem as real to us as the people we meet daily, so strongly are they individ- ualized. And among them are many heroic minds, and strong, attractive personalities. At the conclusion of a modern play, we sometimes feel that though the hours have passed pleasantly, the characters whose words we have listened to are, after all, rather ordinary and weak. There are weak and commonplace figures in Shakespeare's 182 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE stage world, but most of them are strongly imagined, and every play contains a few characters whom we recognize as being of no common mould. They are notable speci- mens of humanity. 3. Whether the characters are true to life, always acting consistently, or mere puppets — stock, conventional figures. A very little play-going is sufficient to con- characters vince one that perhaps the majority of characters in modern drama are but stock figures — conventional heroes and heroines and villains, conventional butlers and maids, conventional dowagers, conventional uncles from India, whom we quickly recog- nize as each makes his entrance and proceeds with time- worn ''business,'' for all the world like similar characters in story-books. And there are inconsistent characters whose words and actions, as the play proceeds, do not ring true to their individualities as set forth in the earlier part of the play. They lead us to suppose that the dramatist has not imaged them clearly in his mind, or that he is not sufficiently observant of human nature to know how a given disposition acts under this condition and that. Or perhaps all is due to indolence; for truthful portrayals call for hard thinking. 4. Whether the characters develop as a result of the complex influences set forth in the play. The Shylock whom Portia outwits is a different man from the cunning f ^ f money-lender who furnished Antonio with three thousand ducats. How wonderful, yet how consistent, is the change in Macbeth as he is pushed from crime to crime after killing Duncan! But there are plays where no change in character is noticeable, and others in which the changes are so sudden or inex- plicable that they run counter to truth. They fail to convince. k THE STUDY OF DRAMA 183 5. Whether the dialogue is natural. In modern drama an attempt is made to make characters talk naturally, as people do off the stage. Even soliloquy and '^asides'' are in disfavor because unnatural. On the other hand it is true, as someone has remarked, that ''No person in real life would talk as Shakespeare or any other great dramatist makes them [characters] talk.'^ It is well to think of these two opposing views when study- ing plays, noting whether each dramatist considered holds strictly to realism or allows himself some degree of latitude. Here are a few questions such as are commonly used in classroom. They are given with the thought that they may prove convenient to those who wish to test in a general way the thoroughness with which a drama has been read. Plot Where did the dramatist find it? Is it made up of one story or of several? If of several, are all neatly intertwined, or does each story stand out so independently that interest is divided? Is the story quiet, or full of thrilling incidents? Does it stir the emotions deeply? If you were preparing an illustrated edition of the play, what scenes would you select for pictorial representation? Does the play picture real life or ideal life? Is everything in it probable or merely possible? Does the play represent a conflict between two characters, one good and the other bad? Is it the story of a downfall due to moral weakness? Does the action grow out of a misunderstanding? Are the characters represented as driven inevitably to disaster through the workings of a fate or destiny beyond their control? Does accident or chance play an important part? Is there much to be explained concerning what happened previous to the moment at which the story opens? Is the ex- planatory matter introduced all at once, or a little at a time as needed? Is anything left to be implied? Can you determine the moment at which the ''inciting force" becomes active? Locate the climax. Does the play move rapidly? Is the entanglement 184 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE preceding the climax extremely complicated? Is the disentangle- ment following the climax rapid? Were you able to guess in advance any parts of the story? Is the ending satisfactory from the standpoint of justice? Find, if j^ou can, (a) a scene mainly explanatorj'-, (b) an incident which does not occur on the stage but is reported by a character, (c) an apparently unnecessary scene, (d) two scenes which might be united or transposed, (e) a scene introduced for relief between tragic moments, (f) a quiet scene serving as background to a tragic moment, (g) a scene serving mainly to bring out traits of character, (h) a scene fore- shadowing an event which otherwise would cause too great sur- prise. Justify the division of the play into acts, showing that each act possesses unity and accomplishes a definite purpose. Try to condense each scene into a sentence or two; afterwards, try to condense each act in a similar way; then attempt to state the entire plot in not more than two hundred words. Characters Many or few? Noble or commonplace? Many different types or few? Conventional, real, or ideal? An out-and-out villain? hero? heroine? Any character serving mainly as fun- maker? as foil to some other character? Any belonging merely to the background? Any unnecessary? Which ones should be classed as principal and which as subordinate? How many call for great acting? How are the characters introduced? Are they recognizable by their dress, by tricks of speech or manner, or by strongly marked individuality? Is character revealed by what the individual does, by what he says, or by the impression he makes on others? Do the characters always act consistently and from sufficient motives? Do they change as the action proceeds, or are they the same when the curtain falls as when the action of the play begins? Are there many long speeches, or is the dia- logue rapid? Are "asides" common? Is there much soliloquy? Do all the characters speak in a natural way, or do all talk alike and have a ''splendid manner of saying things"? What is the dramatist's method of getting his characters off the stage? Make a special study of some one character, picking out all the passages in the play where he is in any way concerned. Try to put yourself in his place and imagine his emotions at each crisis, THE STUDY OF DRAMA 185 his facial expression, and his actions. Determine, if you can, the following: (a) his age, (b) his personal appearance, including dress, (c) his leading qualities, (d) his prevaihng motive, (e) the purpose he serves in the dramatist's plan. Setting How many different scenes or stage-settings does the play re- quire? Does the play call for elaborate scenery? Pick out all passages from which the natural background may be inferred? Is a mood of nature, either harmonious or discordant, any- where used to heighten the dramatic effect? Give careful directions for the preparation of the stage for some important scene. Find one or more passages determining the time of the play. Find passages which establish the duration of the play. Find instances of time deception; that is, instances where the dramatist disguises the fact that there are long intervals be- tween the incidents represented. Central Truth, etc. Has the play a clearly defined central truth which can be stated in a single sentence? If so, do you think the dramatist began with this truth and built his play around it? Or did he begin with an attractive plot, and as he developed it, did the moral assert itself inevitably? Do you find noble utter- ances throughout the play — notable passages which the mem- ory cherishes because of their deep meaning? Do you finish the play with the feeling that you have been entertained merely, or that you have had new light thrown on some vexing social problem, or have been given higher ideals, or have been brought face to face with some solemn truth? Must the play be witnessed to be appreciated, or is its literary charm such that the play may be read as one reads a novel? Is the language simple? vigorous? imaginative? Are there many noble passages? Where is the dramatist greatest, in plot inven- tion, character creation, in his command of language, or in his realizing sense of the great truths of life? Note. — See Appendix for questions on Macbeth. CHAPTER XVIII THE STUDY OF ESSAYS The charm of the essay lies in its simpUcity, directness, and informaUty. The playwright and the novelist are forbidden by the stern rules of their art to fharSJtks ^^^^^ ^^^ ^'^^^^ ^^"^^^ ''^^^^^^ '^^^^^^ ^^^y create; we become acquainted with them, if at all, indirectly and through inference. Poetry is, in a sense, artificial; for the poet must follow the rules of rhyme and meter, both foreign to natural speech. Moreover the poet at times becomes so wrapt in his subject, so absorbed in the single desire to give perfect expression to his thought, that he seems almost indifferent to readers, a characteris- tic which has led one able critic to observe that though we hear an oration, we seem merely to overhear the words of the poet. But the essayist, employing approximately the informal language of every-day speech, his free expression unhampered by any story-telling requirement or by any rules of versification, addresses his readers directly and often intimately, meeting them face to face, as it were. The voice, the facial expression, and the occasional ges- ture alone are lacking to make his words as real as those of fireside conversation or table chat. It is because the essay is thus simple and direct that it is a most profitable form to study. Through such study is Profit in acquired the ability to get quickly and studying thoroughly the substance of such prose as essays makes up the larger part of all that we read from day to day in newspapers, magazines, and books; 186 THE STUDY OF ESSAYS 187 and through observing models more practical than those furnished by poetry and fiction we catch something of the essayist's power of clear and forceful expression. ^'Who- ever," once declared Johnson, "wishes to attain an English style familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not osten- tatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison." And Edward Everett, obviously with this coun- sel in mind, has said, "If anyone wishes to study a style which possesses the characteristic beauties of Addison, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, point, and spirit, let him give his days and nights to the volumes of Irving." This is sound advice, though Addison and Irving are but two among many whose works may be read with profit. Essays differ so widely in their character that there can be no one scheme of study that is better than all others ; but experience has shown that w o s u y , . &X1 essay the following is a reasonably good working plan applicable in most cases: First read the essay somewhat rapidly, with a view to gain- ing a general idea of what the essay is about and discovering the author's purpose. Rapid reading of any sort has its value in that it trains the mind to purpose gather information quickly and make sweep- ing surveys calculated to discover the general plan or drift of a work. But its greatest value, in the present instance, is the training it affords in discovering underlying purpose, a necessary step to take at the threshold of all literary study; for surely the worth of a thing cannot be properly estimated before its purpose is apparent. But the essayist's purpose is sometimes hidden. Titles may be vague or misleading. There is very little crockery, for example, in Lamb's Old China. Nor can one feel sure even after read- ing an essay hurriedly from beginning to end that he sees 190 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE will. At least we may say that its subject matter cannot be estimated and appraised as we inventory an essay by Bacon or Macaulay. Third, study the essay from the art standpoint, making yourself familiar with the loritefs craft. First there is the matter of structure or organization, which is best studied through making topical out- lines and trying to determine why this particular arrange- ment or that is so effective. Some essays, it is true, cannot be thus outlined. Bacon's idea of an essay, for example, was that it should be merely a collection of thoughts on some one topic, not necessarily arranged in logical sequence but clustered like grapes. Many of Addison's essays are so constructed that ingenuity is wasted in an attempt to force them into any conventional introduction-body- conclusion mould. The charm of Lamb's essays lies in part in their conversational inconsequentiality. There are essays, however, that can be analyzed structurally, and all essays of note, even Lamb's, have a discoverable design of some sort, a method of growth which can be described, even though it cannot be represented in outline. Having studied the structure of the essay as a whole, noting particularly the beginning, the ending, the order in which items are presented, and the manner ^ ^ f in which transitions are made, turn to the structure paragraphs and study them in the same way. There must be at least a score of paragraph designs in common use, and each author has a few favorite patterns. Finally study the sentences, noticing the kinds employed, with a view to discovering what is characteristic. A second line of investigation leads to a study of ^^ , words. Is the language simple? Are the The language . . r fu • • t ^\. • words chosen for their vigor, or for their suggestive quality? Do the words flow smoothly, or THE STUDY OF ESSAYS 191 does the author seem to hurl them at the reader? How does the author's use of words differ from your own? A third line of study concerns all the many devices by which authors make their work attractive — devices for gaining clearness, force, and beauty, in short . everything not already mentioned which comes under the head of literary craftsmanship. The use of the more common figures, such as simile, metaphor, and personification, contrast, suspense, and climax, and many other devices, to point out which would rob the student of the joy of discovery, should be noted. Fourth, study the author's personality as revealed in his work. No matter how clever a craftsman he may be, it is, after all, the writer's individuality which gives life to his words and makes them worth ,., reading. The kind of subject that he selects, his attitude toward it, his way of treating it, all reveal his character. The essay, as has been stated, is a very intimate form of expression; we can, if we will, approach very close to the mind and the heart of Addison and Irving and Lamb and Ruskin and others of their class. We should be able, upon completing an essay, to say, '*! am better acquainted with the author, not only with his workmanship as a literary artist, but with his temperament and character as an individual. I know a little better what he likes and what he dislikes, what appeals to his fancy, and how his mind works. I have learned to note his manner of express- ing himself, characteristic ways of which he may have been wholly or in part imconscious, yet sufficient to distin- guish him from all other writers." The purpose the essay is intended to serve, . . what the author has to say, his craftsman- ship as displayed in his manner of expression, and his personality as revealed through purpose, subject matter, 192 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE and craftsmanship : these are what we seek when reading an essay in scholarly fashion. Such study involves find- ing answers to questions like those which follow: Purpose What is the author's purpose in writing — to teach, preach, reform, entertain, or what? Has he a hidden purpose other than the apparent one? Has he a definite goal toward which he would lead the reader by the most direct route, or is he but a saunterer, a gypsy rambler? Subject Matter Is the subject matter heavy with thought? Is it made up of many facts? Is it full of fancies? Is it mere chatter? Whatever it may be, is it worthy of ink and paper? Does some one thought or fact or fancy stand out conspicuously, perhaps giving the essay unity? Can you give, in condensed form, the substance of the essay, preserving the sequence adopted by the author? Can you state, in two or three sentences, what gives the essay value, so far as subject matter is concerned? Do you agree with the author in all his views? Craftsmanship Has the essay a well defined plan, or is it merely a ram- bling affair, inconsequential? If the former, can you display it by means of a topical outline; if the latter, can you define it in two or three terse sentences? Does the logical struc- ture, or the lack of it, contribute to the ease and pleasure of reading? What have you noted in regard to the author's manner of building and joining paragraphs? Is he given to making long sentences? short? simple? involved? dramatic? periodic? bal- anced? Is he careful to employ transitional phrases, or inclined to omit connectives? Are his sentences smooth-flowing? clear cut and precise? What have you noted in regard to the words employed? Does the vocabulary cover a wide range? Does it seem bookish? Is he fond of unusual words? words suggesting color and sound? Is he attracted by the melody of words? Does he prefer terms conveying precise meanings? Are adjec- tives plentiful or few? Does he enjoy playing with language, or does he look upon it merely as a practical tool? THE STUDY OF ESSAYS 193 Has the author many dramatic devices for gaining or holding attention? Does he employ many figures? Is he fond of climax and contrast? Does he indulge in humor, irony, paradox? Has he epigrammatic power? Does he try to surprise the reader? tantalize him? dazzle him? Is he too fond of displaying his craft, or does he prefer plain statement? Is he most intent on convey- ing his thought without loss, or upon giving his thought artistic expression? Have you learned anything, through studying the essay, in regard to literary craft — anything that you can employ in your own writing? The Author's Personality Judging solely by what the essay reveals, what kind of man is the author? Is he a deep thinker? Is he a castle builder? Has he strong likes and dislikes? What are his prevailing moods? "Would he make a good neighbor? an agreeable companion? Do you envy him? Has he traits which you do not admire? Is he a reading man? a man of affairs? Is the charm of the essay in the thought it contains, in the manner in which the thought is expressed, in the author's personality, or in all three? Note. — See Appendix for questions on the De Caoerley papers and Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson. CHAPTER XIX THE STUDY OF POETRY Poetry, which Coleridge has called ''the blossom and fragrance of all human knowledge, human thought, human passions, emotions, language,'' is, notwith- ^ ^ standing the high place it holds in the realm of letters, least read today of all forms of literature. For proof of this statement we need not turn to the testimony of booksellers and librarians; it is suffi- cient to note that popular magazines, which survive only through furnishing what the public is willing to buy, print almost no verse. Had we living poets of such rare ex- cellence as Scott, Byron, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats, w^hose works appeared in the earlier half of the nineteenth century, no doubt they would command readers. But these are lacking. We have no Tennyson, no Browning. None have arisen to fill the places left vacant by Br5^ant, Poe, Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Lowell, and Holmes. Our successful authors are writers of fiction, or busy in the fields of history, science, and allied subjects. More and more the demand is for books that may be read for practical purposes, or for mere enter- tainment and recreation such as are provided by novels and short stories. The present dearth of great poets explains but in part, however, why poetry-reading is so generally neglected. In Poetry some measure, no doubt, the neglect is difficult traceable to the fact that to read poetry as to read j^ should be read takes more time and a greater mental effort than most are willing to bestow. 194 THE STUDY OF POETRY 195 How easily, by way of contrast, does the playgoer receive his pleasure! The actors who interpret with voice and gesture the dramatist's every word do nearly all the real w^ork required, and much of the little that remains is attended to by the scene-painter. Playgoing is, or can be made, as lazy a form of recreation as attending a ball game. Novel reading is almost as easy, so clever have our story writers become in the questionable art of so construct- ing narratives that they cause the reader no fatigue and next to no intellectual exertion. Very different is the case with poetry-reading. It takes two to make a poem — a poet and a trained, appreciative reader. Or, expressing the idea in another way, the poet's words do not become a poem ^^"^"^S necessary to me until I have made them mine, and they do not become mine until I have done that which they invite me to do: the thinking, the imagining, the feeling. Even masters like Shakespeare and Milton, whose genius seems heaven-sent, passed through an apprenticeship stage. In much the same manner is it necessary that those who would learn to read poetry with full appreciation submit patiently to disciplinary training. The best way, perhaps, to gain a clear notion of how poetry should be read will be to review cer- tain of its characteristics, taking them up ^. ^^^ ®^^f ' , , T , , tics of poetry m somewhat the same order that the young reader is likely to be impressed by them. 1. The poet often employs unusual sentence-structure, A predicate sometimes precedes its subject, Unusual modifiers appear out of their natural places, sentence- and relatives are widely separated from their structure antecedents. Note, for example, the opening lines of one of Drummond's sonnets: CHAPTER XIX THE STUDY OF POETRY Poetry, which Coleridge has called ''the blossom and fragrance of all human knowledge, human thought, human passions, emotions, language," is, notwith- read ^ ^ ^ standing the high place it holds in the realm of letters, least read today of all forms of literature. For proof of this statement we need not turn to the testimony of booksellers and librarians; it is suffi- cient to note that popular magazines, which survive only through furnishing what the public is willing to buy, print almost no verse. Had we living poets of such rare ex- cellence as Scott, Byron, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats, whose works appeared in the earlier half of the nineteenth century, no doubt they would command readers. But these are lacking. We have no Tennyson, no Browning. None have arisen to fill the places left vacant by Bvyaiit, Poe, Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Lowell, and Holmes. Our successful authors are writers of fiction, or busy in the fields of history, science, and allied subjects. More and more the demand is for books that may be read for practical purposes, or for mere enter- tainment and recreation such as are provided by novels and short stories. The present dearth of great poets explains but in part, however, why poetry-reading is so generally neglected. In Poetry some measure, no doubt, the neglect is difficult traceable to the fact that to read poetry as to read j^ should be read takes more time and a greater mental effort than most are willing to bestow. 194 THE STUDY OF POETRY 195 How easily, by way of contrast, does the playgoer receive his pleasure! The actors who interpret with voice and gesture the dramatist's every word do nearly all the real work required, and much of the little that remains is attended to by the scene-painter. Playgoing is, or can be made, as lazy a form of recreation as attending a ball game. Novel reading is almost as easy, so clever have our story writers become in the questionable art of so construct- ing narratives that they cause the reader no fatigue and next to no intellectual exertion. Very different is the case with poetry-reading. It takes two to make a poem — a poet and a trained, appreciative reader. Or, expressing the idea in another way, the poet's words do not become a poem to me until I have made them mine, and they do not become mine until I have done that which they invite me to do: the thinking, the imagining, the feeling. Even masters like Shakespeare and Milton, whose genius seems heaven-sent, passed through an apprenticeship stage. In much the same manner is it necessary that those who would learn to read poetry with full appreciation submit patiently to disciplinary training. The best way, perhaps, to gain a clear notion of how poetry should be read will be to review cer- tain of its characteristics, taking them up .. , " in somewhat the same order that the young reader is likely to be impressed by them. 1. The poet often employs unusual sentence-structure. A predicate sometimes precedes its subject, Unusual modifiers appear out of their natural places, sentence- and relatives are widely separated from their structure antecedents. Note, for example, the opening lines of one of Drummond's sonnets: 196 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE Of this fair volume which we World do name If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare Although this is not extremely difficult to understand, yet the meaning is somewhat clearer when the sentence is changed to a natural prose sequence thus : If we could turn with care the sheets and leaves of this fair volume which we do call World, we might read clear the rare art and wisdom of Him who corrects it and did frame it. But frequently the poet's practice of twisting sentences about is a source of no little trouble. The words do not surrender their mean- ing without a siege on the part of the reader, who prefers to hurry on as he may when reading ordinary prose. In his impatience he may feel that the poet is purposely obscure, not reahzing that unusual sentence arrangement is oftentimes necessary for rhyme and meter, for melody, variety, and emphasis. With practice, however, the dif- ficulty of transposing grows less and less, and increasing pleasure is gained through noting how, by this slight change and that, a passage has been given strength and beauty. 2. The poeVs vocabulary contains unusual words, and also familiar words employed in unusual senses. This is not _ strange. Through constant effort to find terms that express nice shades of thought or feeling and at the same time provide a desired melody, poets not only acquire large vocabularies but become acquainted with the less familiar meanings of common words. It is estimated that Wordsworth, though he be- lieved that the language of poetry should be that of every- day life, employed about 20,000 distinct meanings, a very large number compared with the vocabulary of the average individual. Illustrations of a characteristic so common are THE STUDY OF POETRY 197 hardly necessary, yet let us note a few examples. Milton speaks of 'Hhe rathe primrose," where the prose writer would say the early primrose; and of "Meadows trim with daisies pied," employing pied rather than the more familiar variegated, which contained too many syllables and did not supply the melody that his line needed. A pathetic little lullaby of long ago begins ''Come, little babe, come silly soul." Silly seems a highly inappropriate term till we learn that one of its earlier meanings is innocent. The poet chose it, we may imagine, not alone because it contained the desired number of syllables, but because his ear told him that the soft sound of I was appropriate for lullaby music. In the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, occurs the ex- pression ''silly buckets." Here, plainly, there is no thought of innocence but rather of uselessness. The entire crew, save one poor soul, are dead; how useless are the buckets! Although as a rule it requires but a moment's thought to see what each word means, yet there are cases not a few where it is necessary to linger and still linger, considering with great care the appropriateness of all possible mean- ings, lest the right significance of a term be lost. 3. The poet exercises great economy, expressing much in a feiu words. A simple illustration of this is the elliptical sentence, or one that is shortened by the omission of words. The pronoun he is needed to make clear the line Who steals my purse steals trash, and like must be supplied twice in She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen. Economy is strikingly shown in the wisdom with which, oftentimes, all save bare essentials are excluded. Note the abrupt beginning of Coleridge's Rime: It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. " By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 198 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE " The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set; May'st hear the merry din." Stoppeth one of three? Who are they? A novelist might explain in detail, but the poet's instinct bids him let the reader gather, from the dialogue that follows, the little it is necessary to know. And how brief is his description of the central figure : ancient Mariner, long gray heard, glitter- ing eye; a little later, skinny hand; and finally, long, lank, brown. These twelve words are all that the poem provides and ten of these come indirectly, through the Hps of the Wedding Guest. Yet they suffice; the portrait is essen- tially complete. The Rime, it is true, is an imitation of the mediseval ballad, a form of story-telling poetry in which little save bare narrative is given; yet this same power to select merely the essentials is quite as marked in the follow- ing bit of description from another of Coleridge's poems: Beneath yon birch with silver bark And boughs so pendulous and fair, The brook falls scattered down the rock, And all is mossy there. Would twenty additional items make the picture clearer? And since it is characteristic of the poet to furnish only that which is needed, does it not follow that poetry must be read with a slowness and an attentiveness not often called for by prose, lest something essential be overlooked? Frequently economy is exercised through a wise use of descriptive adjectives, or image-making •th t epithets, as in the following lines from Goldsmith's Deserted Village: How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, THE STUDY OF POETRY 199 The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighboring hill. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! The magical suggestive or connotative power in words like the seven italicized cannot be fully appreciated till one has tried to replace each with another that will bring to mind a picture equally complete and appropriate. Many a poem is but a ''collection of hints." ''Take these," the poet seems to say; "let your imagination play about them. They are sufficient to transmit all that I would have them, if you will but ,. ^ ^ ^ , , „ , , , , „ reading slowly dwell upon them and not hurry along." But the young reader too often hurries along none the less, so powerful is the habit of making haste, acquired through years of fiction-skimming. Consequently he loses, often unconsciously, much that the poet has offered. 4. Poetry abounds in pictures. It arouses thought and emotion by appealing, through imagination, to the senses. " Listen, feel, taste, smell, but above all, open your eyes and see," the words seem to say to °^ ^^ , , sensuous the imagmation. There are pictures every- where, some half-hidden in a single cunning word, others given with minute detail. They flash upon us, or they slowly dawn. The poet loves them; they are the language of his thought. He will not say about seven-forty-five, but Nigh upon that hour When the lone hern forgets his melancholy. Lets down his other leg, and stretching dreams Of goodly supper in the distant pool. He will not say "Along toward night they came to a woods with a pond in the midst of it," but — So till the dusk that followed evensong Rode on the two, reviler and reviled; 200 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE Then after one long slope was mounted, saw, Bowl-shaped, thro' tops of many thousand pines A gloomy-gladed hollow slowly sink To westward — in the depths whereof a mere, Round as the red eye of an eagle-owl, Under the half-dead sunset glared. Ability to read poetry is in large measure merely ability to look at the words which blacken the white page and see rise through them the pictures born in the poet's brain. 5. Poetry abounds in figures of speech. It is a mistake to think of simile, metaphor, personification, hyperbole, and the other figures as mere ornaments ^^ - and frills. They impart beauty and richness, it is true, beyond what we expect in common prose. But they serve very practical ends, marvellously aiding the poet to convey quickly and perfectly, usually through the medium of pictures, his sensations and emo- tions. What a wonderfully vivid picture is that which Shakespeare gives us of the murdered king, and how much of its vividness is due to figurative language : Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood; And his gash'd stabs look'd Uke a breach in nature For ruin's wasteful entrance. This is far more than a vivid scene; the lines convey — and how swiftly — the awfulness of the crime. Later in the play, Macbeth's first great crime having led to a second, a third, and many more, till the entire kingdom has turned against its lord, occurs this brief yet wonderfully expres- sive metaphor: Now does he feel His secret murders siicking on his hands. All of Shakespeare's plays are crowded with such figures, adding beauty and clearness, furnishing thousands of supplementary pictures, yet contributing an element of THE STUDY OF POETRY 201 magical swiftness. Sometimes we find in poetry a sugges- tion of what everyone has experienced, the great difficulty of conveying an impression of our joys and sorrows, which prompts us to exclaim, "I cannot express it; the words will not come!" Shelley, struggling to make us feel the beauty of the skylark's song, finally abandons direct statement and resorts to simile after simile. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody; — Like a poet hidden In the hght of thought, Singing hymns unbidden. Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view: Like a rose embower'd In its own green leaves. By warm winds deflower'd. Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves: Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. 202 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE But figurative language, though its mission is to con- tribute clearness, force, and beauty, enabling the poet to Figures express much in little and move swiftly sometimes along, sometimes mystifies young readers, mystifying Their minds are not quick enough to see in- stantly the force of a swift metaphor, nor sensitive enough to catch the beauty of appropriate simile. They endeavor to read verse as rapidly as they read prose — try to keep up with the poet, and let so much slip by that often they miss the very best that a poem contains. They have not formed the habit of lingering over beauty-haunted lines, of trying to visualize or real-ize each simile picture, of yielding to the invitation presented by many a word to let the imagination wander down this attractive by-path and that. 6. In poetry the thought is sometimes hidden. It is veiled, revealed but in dim twilight as if too solemnly beautiful for midday brightness. Or the poet may , , feel that a little obscurity, a little blinding of the reader, a bit of bewildering labyrinth, heightens the final joy of discovery. ''I contain a great truth," one poem seems to say; ''look closely, if you would find me.'' ^'I too contain a great and beautiful thought," says a second; ''but it is veiled, not to be boldly expressed. Read me — let my lines haunt you for a day, a week, a year, and little by little the beauty of the thought will reveal it- self." Note this little poem by Tennyson: THE FLOWER Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said a weed. To and fro they went Thro' my garden-bower. And muttered discontent, Cursed me and my flower. THE STUDY OF POETRY 203 Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o'er the wall Stole the seed bj^ night; Sow'd it far and wide By every town and tower, Till all the people cried, 'Splendid is the flower/ Read my Httle fable; He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed. And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed. The truth which lies hidden in this little fable is not diflfi- cult to discover, though its applications are many. But how much more keenly it is felt when given this concrete, storified setting than it would be were it baldly stated in abstract prose. Not so easily discoverable is the thought in the following sonnet by Wordsworth : Methought I saw the footsteps of a throne Which mists and vapours from mine eyes did shroud— Nor view of who might sit thereon allowed; But all the steps and ground about were strown With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone Ever put on; a miserable crowd. Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that cloud, "Thou art our king, Death! to thee we groan." Those steps I clomb; the mists before me gave Smooth way; and I beheld the face of one Sleeping alone within a mossy cave. With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have Pleasing remembrance of a thought foregone; A lovely Beauty in a summer grave! k 204 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 7. Poetry is song. Poe calls it 'Hhe rhythmical creation of beauty." ''Sing us," the poet's words seem to say. "I cannot sing," the gentle reader may reply. ''Then you can never fully possess us," the words rejoin; "for our beauty is hidden in melody, and those who cannot sing may never reach it!" It is indeed a misfortune that the poet cannot go with his verses, singing them as tradition asserts that the blind Homer sang of Helen of Troy and the wanderings of Ulysses, and as the minstrels of mediseval Europe sang of Beowulf and Roland and King Arthur. The time may come when phonographs will be furnished with records enabhng us to listen to the voices of poets, or of readers so skilled that they can reveal the rhythmical beauty of our noblest poems. But even though lacking these aids, the earnest student, no matter how deficient in ear and voice he may judge himself, need not despair; for a measure of success will come through patient endeavor. It is simply a matter of reading, reading, and rereading, aloud when possible, each time striving to bring out a little more of the melody — experimenting as you would were you learning to play an instrumental selection containing none of the customary marks which show where pedals should be used, where the time should be quickened, where retarded, the crescendos and diminuendos without which the rarest music becomes expressionless. In view of these characteristics, the study of almost any poem may proceed along the following lines: 1. Read the entire poem slowly, but not critically. Gaining a The purpose of this first reading is merely general to gain a general impression of what impression the poem is about. It is like ascend- ing an eminence to discover the general course of a THE STUDY OF POETRY 205 stream and learn toward what larger body its waters are hastening. 2. Read a second timej more slowly, with a view to making clear whatever was not fully understood in the first superficial reading. This may call for the reconstruction of a few twisted sentences; the supplying of . .^ , words omitted from elliptical sentences; a close study of individual words that are strange or appear to hold meanings other than the ordinary ones; the con- sulting of various handbooks to discover the meaning of allusions not understood. Some poems call for very little study of this kind; the reader can say, as soon as he has run through them for the first time, ''AH is clear; I understand each word, each sentence." But much of our best poetry, particularly that which takes us back a few centuries, is exceedingly difficult, so difficult that we can hardly do without the notes found in connection with editions spe- cially prepared for use in school. 3. Read a third time, still more slowly and with all the senses alert, trying to visualize and make real all that the poem pictures. This calls into play the im- agination, and for those whose imagination is not strong, or who have had little training in this partic- ular kind of exercise, it is difficult work. It involves closing the eyes and asking such questions as these: Am I seeing in clear detail, as if I were an eye witness, what is happening — this tournament, this trial scene, this merry frolic? The hero, central figure in the action, — were I an artist, could I paint him to the author's satisfaction? Do I see the lonely forest, the village green, the crowded city street, or whatever it may be that the lines before me strive to picture? Such sjTxipathetic exercise of the imagination means far more than merely drifting down the main broad stream of 206 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE a poem; it involves -tarrying by this little island and that, pointing into quiet coves, and exploring whatever tribu- taries challenge our fancy. By islands and Imagination j ^ u x • j. coves and tributaries are meant memory- ncccssairy , i.. .-, haunted, picture-bringing epithets; meta- phors at first glance hard and practical yet revealing, when dwelt upon, wonderful beauty; similes that startle and charm through suggesting unsuspected similarities between things remote from one another; — all figurative expressions which for the moment bear us far away as we are some- times transported by the glimpse of a face in the crowd, the sound of a voice, or even by a half-forgotten fragrance. And since the senses are but five pathways leading to the emotions, this third reading should be an emotional one in which we strive to share with the poet his feelings as he laj'^s them bare directly or through the men and women his art has created. We must lose, for the time being, our own identity and become now Marmion, now Queen Guinevere, now Shylock, now the poet himself, sympathetically identifying ourselves with each, even to a greater degree than the actor identifies himself with the character whom he impersonates. 4. Ponder the thought. The purpose of many a short poem is solely to set forth in attractive form some great truth. It is the nucleus, the one thing essen- th^^th ^ ht ^^^^' often clearly expressed in an unforgetta- ble line, more often veiled or but hinted at. Sometimes w^e find not one, but a community of related truths; and in a long poem there may be, in addition to some one central truth, many others not closely related — lines of wisdom standing boldly forth, kernels of thought hidden away in pregnant words, such as we should expect of the poet no matter what his theme may be, for poets are truth-reveal ers. It is the mission of poetry to make men THE STUDY OF POETRY 207 think. To find the thought, then, and having found, to ponder it, is an important step in the study of all poetry. 5. Study the poet^s art. We may not believe, with Pro- fessor Scott, that an essential difference between prose and poetry is that the former is "expres- sion for communication's sake," the lat- ^P^^^ . poet s art ter "communication for expression s sake," yet we cannot but feel that the charm of poetry is largely due to skilful expression; and there is pleas- ure and profit in studying a poem with a view to dis- covering by what art-devices this passage and that is made attractive. This is a line of study more appro- priate for older readers, it is true, yet there are many little things which young readers may train themselves to observe. They can master the mechanics of the simpler forms of versification and accustom themselves to note the skill with which poets abide by set rules, and how by departing now and then from these rules they enhance the beauty of their lines. They can study poem-structure, often an element of charm, just as they study essay- structure. They can note the use of contrast, suspense, and other devices common in all forms of literature. They can study the poet's use of figurative language. They can train themselves to pick out and admire well chosen words and phrases happily turned. Yet it is an endless quest, this search for secret sources of the poet's power, to be pursued year after year as one journeys deeper and deeper into the realm of poesy, and because endless, most attractive. Before the reader always lies the possible joy of some fresh discovery. 6. Finally, read the poem aloud, many times, earnestly en- deavoring to give each line its intended melody, p ,. , . at the same time striving to bring out the shades of thought and feeling. This exercise is very sure to 208 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE have a double effect. In the first place, it lays bare un- expected beauties — the fine adjustment of rhythm to thought and feeling, the subtlety of suggestion oftentimes conveyed by the mere sound of words, and many a grace all unperceived till brought out by the voice. In the second place, it would be strange if this attempt to interpret orally did not convince the reader that, notwithstanding faithful study, many things have been overlooked; there are still parts imperfectly understood, parts not clearly visualized and emotionally felt. Poetry assumes so many forms that it is difficult, if not impossible, to invent a set of questions universally appropriate. Many of the questions found at the close of the chapters on fiction, drama, questions i i , n and the essay apply reasonably well to poems that are cast in story-telling, dramatic, or essay form. Here are a few additional ones: First Impressions, etc. What kind of poetry — dramatic, lyric, etc. — is this? Is the structure simple? What, in general, is the purpose of the poem? Did you gain, from your first reading, a favorable impression? What new impressions did you get from more careful study? Language, Allusions, etc. What have you noticed in regard to the language employed? Is it simple, like that of every-day speech? Are there many book- ish words? archaic or obsolete expressions? words employed in un- usual senses? Is ellipsis common? Are many of the sentences twisted out of their natural grammatical order? Are there many connotative (subtly suggestive) words? Can you find words evidently chosen because their sound suggests the sense? Does the poet express much in few words — is he epigrammatic, or are his lines thin? Is the language highly figurative? Does any one kind of figure predominate? Are the figures hackneyed, conven- tional, or fresh? Are many of them derived from nature? from reading? For what purpose, in the main, are they employed? THE STUDY OF POETRY 209 Are there many allusions to history or to literature? Compare this poem with some other, as regards language, etc. The Appeal to the Senses What have you noticed in regard to the appeal that the poem makes to the senses? Are the poet's pictures given in detail, or merely ''flashed"? Pick out, if you can find them, a few words or phrases suggesting color and a few suggesting sound. Com- pare with some other poem in regard to sense appeal. The Thought Is it a thoughtful poem, appealing mainly to the intellect, or is its appeal to the emotions? If thoughtful, does some one thought dominate all? Is the thought difficult to grasp? Is it clearly expressed, or veiled? Does some one line contain the central idea? Do you recall any other poem in which the same thought appears? The Poet's Art Is the poem melodious? Pick out a few of the more musical lines. Have you noticed any devices by which the poet imparts melody? What is the scheme of versification? Is the poet a skilled versifier? What dramatic devices have you noted? Finally, what in the author's skill as a craftsman do you admire most? The Author's Personality Does the poem reveal personality? Is the poet optimistic? pessimistic? thoughtful? religious? sentimental? emotional? sym- pathetic? playful? If none of these adjectives apply, what others can you suggest? Is he a close student of human nature? a reader? a scholar? fond of nature? What in his personality is most attractive? What other poet do you like better, and why? Note. — See Appendix for questions on The Lady of the Lake, U Allegro and II Penseroso, and Elegy in a Country Churchyard. EXERCISES: VERSIFICATION* 1 Mark the scansion of the following lines, separating the feet by means of dividing lines and placing the accent * In the Appendix will be found a section devoted to versification. 210 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE mark over the stressed syllables. Give each line its proper metrical name. 1. The lone and level sands stretch far away. 2. She walks in beauty, like the night. 3. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! 4. I die, I faint, I fail! 5. The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. 6. I must finish my journey alone. 7. 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe. 8. Where the heart is, let the brain lie also. 9. Take her up tenderly. 10. With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail. 11. Purple gauzes, golden hazes, liquid mazes. 2 Mark the scansion of the following lines. Place a caret ( A ) wherever a foot seems defective because lacking an unaccented syllable, and indicate by means of an ^ where you think syllables should be run together. In de- scribing a line, remember that the prevailing foot — the foot occurring most frequently — determines the name of the line. 1. Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying. 2. The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. 3. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? 4. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes; Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise. 5. Down, down, down! Down to the depths of the sea! 6. To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore. 7. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. THE STUDY OF POETRY 211 S. Break, break, break On thy cold gray stones, Sea. 9. This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like a roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman? 10. till a rout of saucy boys Brake on us at our books, and marred our peace. Masked like our maids, blustering I know not what Of insolence and love. 3 Which of the following rhymes are good, which im- perfect yet allowable, and which unquestionably bad? Shade, glade; blood, wood; appearance, year hence; stept, wept; death, illumineth; story, hoary; rude, wood; rock thee, mock thee; fled, dread; untwistable, Christabel; figure, bigger; wild, child; dizziness, business; ranunculus, Tommy-make-room- for-your-Uncle us; seeming, dreaming; shower, dower; tune, moon; dumb, lyceum; knight, night; gusht, dust; daughter, slaughter; wishes, kisses; come, sung; rafter, laughter; ladies, babies; rehgion, pigeon; river, ever; philosopher, loss of her; luely, cry; Lucifer, news of her; thine, entwine; wind, find; robin, sobbing; heaven, given. 4 Make a list of all the rhymes to be found in five con- secutive pages of Byron's poetry; then study these rhymes with a view to discovering characteristics. Do the same with Coleridge, Scott, or Browning. 5 Let the members of the class compete to see who can in five minutes think of the greatest number of words rhyming with a word to be announced by the instructor. 6 Note the questionable rhymes in the following pass- ages. Then, lest the impression be gained that technically perfect rhyme alone is found in poetry admitted good, study five pages from some great poet, with this one thing in mind. 212 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE (a) A charming place beneath the grates, For roasting chestnuts and potates. (b) Some ask'd me where the rubies grew; And nothing did I say, ' But with my fingers pointed to The Ups of Juha. (c) Everywhere, be it dry or wet, And market-night in the Haymarket. (d) Here Hes our sovereign lord the king, Whose word no man relied on; Who never said a foolish thing. And never did a wise one. 7 Mark the scansion of the following, and describe each stanza : 1. So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man. When Duty whispers low. Thou must, The Youth replies, I can. — Emerson 2. In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himseK another crest; In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. — Tennyson 3. Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon. May glides onward into June. — Longfellow 4. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. Stood up in the stirrups, leaned, patted his ear. Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. — Browning THE STUDY OF POETRY 213 5. What heroes from the woodland sprung, When, through the fresh-awakened land, The thrilling cry of freedom rung, And to the work of warfare strung The yeoman's iron hand! — Bryant 6. She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender hght Which heaven to gaudy day denies. — Byron 7. In a far country that I cannot name And on a year long ages past away, A King there dwelt, in rest and ease and fame, And richer than the Emperor is today: The very thought of what this man might say From dusk to dawn kept many a lord awake; For fear of him did many a great man quake. — William Morris 8. A casement high and triple-arch'd there was All garlanded with carven imageries Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device. Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes. As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. — Keats 9. What is a sonnet? 'Tis a pearly shell That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea, A precious jewel carved most curiously; It is a little picture painted well. What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell From a great poet's hidden ecstasy; A two-edged sword, a star, a song — ah me! Sometimes a heavy tolling funeral bell. 214 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath, The solemn organ whereon Milton played, And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls: A sea that is — beware who ventureth! For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid Deep as mid-ocean to sheer mountain walls.* — R. W. Gilder 10. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen. Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly. Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly; Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. — Shakespeare 11. Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early risen Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, XJntil the hasting day , Has run But to the even-song; And having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. — ^Herrick 8 Find, in any volume by a standard poet — Longfellow, Tennyson, Brovniing, or Wordsworth for example — five different stanza forms. 9 Find, wherever you can, examples of five different kinds of four line stanzas. 10 Opening any volume of poetry, try to discover why some lines are indented, others not. 11 Here are passages to study. Point out examples of onomatopoeia, and determine where it is employed most * Reprinted by permission of Houghton MiflBin Company, publishers of Gilder's poems. THE STUDY OF POETRY 215 successfully. Point out lines in which the poet appears to be seeking melody by repetition of some letter or sound; that is, point out examples of alliteration. Find lines in which the vowels form harmonious sequence. Find passages in which the swing of the lines suggests the sense. 1. The sound must seem an echo of the sense: Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors, and the words move slow. Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain. Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main. — Pope 2. A woman weeping for her murdered mate Was cared as much for as a summer shower. — Tennyson 3. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse. — Milton 4. And on the tawny sands and shelves Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. — Milton 5. While the great organ almost burst his pipes. Groaning for power, and rolling thro' the court A long melodious thunder. — Tennyson 6. There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream. — Milton 7. Hear the sledges with the bells. Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that over sprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight 216 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE Keeping time, time, time. In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells — From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tingling of the bells. — POE 8. Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, ' Most musical, most melancholy ! — Milton 9. She was pinched and pulled, she said. And he, by Friar's lantern led. Tells how the drudging goblin sweat To earn his cream bowl duly set. When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the com That ten day-laborers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength. And crop-full out of door he flings Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep. By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. — Milton 10. The long low dune and lazy plunging sea. — Tennyson 11. Her low firm voice and tender government. — Tennyson 12. The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end. — Tennyson 13. Now, while they spake, I saw my father's face Grow long and troubled, like a rising moon. Inflamed with wrath; he started on his feet, Tore the king's letter, snowed it down, and rent The wonder of the loom thro' warp and woof From skirt to skirt; and at the last he sware THE STUDY OF POETRY 217 That he would send a hundred thousand men, And bring her in a whirlwind; then he chewed The thrice-turned cud of wrath, and cooked his spleen, Communing with his captains of the war. — Tennyson 14. All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creak'd ; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd Or from the crevice peer'd a'bout. 15. There comes across the waves' tumultuous roar The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore. — Campbell 16. Blow, blow, blow, set the wild echoes flying — Answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. — Tennyson 17. Clang battle axe, and flash brand! Let the King reign. — Tennyson 18. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight. And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. — Gray 19. Sonorous metal breathing martial sound. — Milton 20. Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves. And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. — Tennyson 21. Tite tute Tati tibi tanta tyranne tulisti. 22. Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands! Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine! 0, that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, 218 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE Honor'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow! Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, "Roderigh, Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ierroe!" — Scott EXERCISES: FIGURES OF SPEECH* 1 Here are similes to study. In each case name the two things compared, the point of resemblance, and the word used to denote likeness. Which similes present pictures? Which, if any, suggest stories? Which take you to nature? to books? Which, if any, seem common- place? Consider in each case whether the comparison is appropriate. One of the quotations has been called 'Hhe most majestic simile in modern poetry"; can you find it? What figures other than simile do you discover? 1. Burns Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire. — Scott 2. I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills. — Wordsworth 3. Words are like leaves; and where they most abound Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. — Pope 4. I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand! And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand. — Coleridge 5. It [the Nile] flows through old, hush Egypt and its sands Like some grave mighty thought, threading a stream. — Hunt 6. Between two worlds fife hovers like a star, Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. — Byron * In the Appendix will be found a section devoted to figures of speech. THE STUDY OF POETRY 219 7. In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Saihng high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy's paper kite. — Longfellow 8. and the women sung Between the rougher voices of the men. Like linnets in the pauses of the wind. — Tennyson 9. if I but wave this wand. Your nerves are all chain'd up in alabaster, And you a statue, or as Daphne was, Root-bound, that fled Apollo. — Milton 10. And fast through the midnight dark and drear. Through the whistling sleet and snow. Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe. — Longfellow IL Life, like a dome of many-colored glass. Stains the white radiance of eternity. — Shelley 12. Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate. With head uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, Briareos or Typhon, whom the den By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim the ocean-stream. Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam. The pilot of some small, night-foundered skiff. Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell. With fixed anchor in his scaly rind. Moors by his side under the lea, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays. — Milton 220 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 13. But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye. To save her blossoms and defend her fruit From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. — Milton 14. The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy. Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And like another Helen, fired another Troy! — Dryden 2 Study the following examples of metaphor and per- sonification, in each case naming the two things compared. Expand each metaphor, if possible, into a simile. Which suggest pictures? Do any suggest stories? Which do you like best? What figures other than metaphor and personi- fication do you discover? 1. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. — Shakespeare 2. Give me three days to melt her fancy. — Tennyson 3. The panting City cried to the Sea, "I am faint with heat, — oh breathe on me!" — Longfellow 4. and betwixt them blossomed up From out a common vein of memory Sweet household talk. — ^Tennyson 5. Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip! — Coleridge 6. I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls. — Longfellow THE STUDY OF POETRY 221 7. Their hands and faces were all badged with blood. — Shakespeare 8. Sir, I was courteous, every phrase well-oiled. — Tennyson 9. those Hnen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. — Shakespeare 10. St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! — Keats 11. Red Battle stamped his foot, and nations felt the shock. — Byron 12. And peace went with them one and all, And each calm pillow spread; But guilt was my grim chamberlain, That lighted me to bed; And drew my midnight curtains round With fingers bloody red! — Hood 13. Day hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, That is like a padding to earth's meagre ribs. And hold communion with the things about me. Ah me! how lovely is the golden braid That binds the skirt of night's descending robe! The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads. Do make a music like to rustling satin. As the Mght breezes smooth their downy nap. — Holmes 3 Here are examples of many kinds of figures and rhetorical devices employed to gain clearness, force, and beauty. Name each figure or device, and consider care- fully whether it is effective. 1. Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep. Where the winds are all asleep; . . . Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye. Round the world for ever and aye. — ^Arnold 222 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 2. Methought I heard a voice cry ''Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, — the imiocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care. The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. Chief nourisher in life's feast. " — Shakespeare 3. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air. Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. — Marlowe 4. I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. — Shakespeare 5. Full fifty thousand muskets bright Led by old warriors trained in fight. — Croker 6. for a beaker full of the warm South. — Keats 7. God made the country, and man made the town. — COWPER 8. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green. That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Ijike the leaves of the forest when autumn has blown. That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. — Byron 9. Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-top with sovereign eye. — Shakespeare 10. Thus march'd the chief, tremendous as a god; Grimly he smiled; earth trembled as he strode. — Pope IL A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me. — Byron 12. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? — Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. — Marlowe 13. Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; THE STUDY OF POETRY 223 For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. 14. Hark! a shout — a crash — a groan. — Burns — Arnolp 15. Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! Will you give it up to slaves? Will you look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Read it in yon bristling steel! Ask it — ye who will. — PlERPONT 16. Some He before the churchyard stone, And some before the speaker. — Praed 17. The king amidst the mournful circle rose; Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows. — Pope 18. Half a league, half a league. Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. — Tennyson 19. Fair laughs the moon, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm. In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth at the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. — Gray 20. Here while the courtier glitters in brocade. There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here where the proud their long-drawn pomp display, There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. — Goldsmith 224 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 21. What has the gray-hair'd prisoner done? Has murder stained his hands with gore? Not so. His crime's a fouler one — God made the old man poor. — Whittier 22. Her little feet beneath her petticoat Like Httle mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light. — Suckling 23. Nay, could their numbers countervail the stars, Or ever-drizzling drops of April showers, Or wither'd leaves that autumn shaketh down. Yet would the Soldan by his conquering power So scatter and consume them in his rage That not a man should live to rue their fall. — Marlowe 24. And Earl Doorm Struck with a knife's haft hard against the board. And call'd for flesh and wine to feed his spears. — Tennyson 25. It will have blood; they say blood will have blood. — Shakespeare 26. There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell. Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a wedding bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it? — No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark! — ^that heavy sound breaks in once more, THE STUDY OF POETRY 225 As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar. — Byron 27. As some rich woman, on a winter's morn, Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge Who with numb blacken'd fingers makes her fire — At cock-crow, on a starlit winter's morn, When the frost flowers the whiten'd window-panes — And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed The unknown adventurous Youth, who from afar Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused His spirited air, and wonder'd who he was. — Arnold 4 Study the prose passages found in the chapter on Clearness, picking out and naming the figures. 5 Do the same with the passages found in the chapter on Force. 6 Read an editorial column in the morning paper and pick out the figures. Do the same with a column from the sporting page. 7 Study two or three pages in some textbook — a his- tory or an astronomy, for example — searching carefully for figures. 8 Burns is preeminently a song-writer. Search through four pages of his poetry for figures. The songs found in Tennyson's The Princess are very beautiful; search them too for figures. 9 Find, wherever you can, examples of at least four kinds of figures. 10 Here are two examples of hyperbole. Which is better, and why? 226 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE (a) Oh maid! thou art so beauteous That yon bright moon is riding, all in haste, To gaze on thee. (b) I found her on the floor In all the storm of grief, yet beautiful, Pouring out tears at such a lavish rate That were the world on fire, they might have drown'd The wrath of heaven, and quenched the mighty rain. 11 If you were writing poetry, which of the following would you employ: ocean or briny deep; fish or finny tribe; blood or life's purple tide; birds or feathered race; moon or refulgent lamp of night; sun or glowing orb of day; snow or fleecy winter; sweat or briny drops; sleep or balmy blessings of the night? What other time-worn conventional equivalents for simple words can you think of? EXERCISES: APPRECIATION OF POETRY 1 The beauty of a line of poetry sometimes lies hidden in an adjective or adjective phrase aptly chosen. Study the italicized expressions in the following passages, first making sure of their meaning, then trying to discover their appropriateness. Which of the epithets appeal most strongly to the imagination, bringing pictures to mind, or inviting the fancy to roam? 1. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way With blossom'd furze unprofitabhj gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. — Goldsmith 2. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. — Shakespeare 3. a harmless, necessary cat. — Shakespeare THE STUDY OF POETRY 227 4. The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide. — ICeats 5. Mountains on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest. — Milton 6. for a soft and gentle wind! I heard a fair one cry; But give to me a snoring breeze And white waves heaving high. — Cunningham 7. Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy, The sayling pine, the cedar proud and tall, The vine-propp elme, the poplar never dry, The builder oake, sole king of forrests all, The aspine good for staves, the cypress funeral. — ^Spenser 8. And gladly banish squint suspicion. — Milton 9. Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? ^-Marlowe 10. 0, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, whitehanded Hope, Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings. — Milton 1. Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. — Milton 12. And more, to luUe him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbhng downe, And ever drizzling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like to sowne Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne; No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes. As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes, Wrapt in eternall silence far from enemys. — Spenser 13. Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed The huddling brook to hear his madrigal. — Milton 228 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE 14. And when my name and honor shall be spread As far as Boreas [the north wind] claps his brazen wings Or fair Bootes [a constellation] sends his cheerful light, Then shalt thou be competitor witV» me, And sit with Tamburlaine in all his majesty. — Marlowe 15. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight. And drowsy tinklings lull the distant fold. — Gray 16. But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high-embowhd roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dighty Casting a dim religious light. — Milton 17. Rough wind, that mournest loud Grief, too sad for song, Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm whose tears are vain, Bare woods whose branches stain. Deep caves and dreary main — Wail for the world's wrong! — Shelley 2 Study, as directed in the preceding exercise, the quota- tions found in the exercises beginning on page 209. 3 Study also the quotations in the exercises beginning on page 218. 4 Rewrite the first seventeen lines in Goldsmith's De- serted Village, endeavoring to substitute for each adjective, participles included, another equally appropriate. 5 In one of his poems Wordsworth tells how a little blind boy, filled with desire for adventure, launches a turtle-shell and goes hurrying down, Down to the mighty sea. THE STUDY OF POETRY 229 In an early version of the poem, the frail craft is not a turtle-shell, but A household tub, like one of those Which women use to wash their clothes. Why did Wordsworth make this change? In another poem, a child's grave is thus described: I've measured it from side to side, 'Tis three feet long, and two feet wide. In a later version we find this substitution : Though but of compass small, and bare To thirsty suns and parching air. Which is better, and why? Consider also the following, determining in each case which is the better rendering: (a) Home they brought her warrior dead. (b) Home they brought him, slain with spears. (a) Ay me, ay me, the woods decay and fall. (b) The woods decay, the woods decay, and fall. (a) Willows whiten, aspens quiver, The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever. (b) Willows whiten, aspens quiver; Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs forever. (a) Now, from the rock Tarpeian, Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky! The Fathers of the City They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay. 230 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE (b) Now from the rock Tarpeian Did paling terror spy- Long blazing lines of Roman homes Made torches in the sky. The Fathers of the City Sat with the night and day, As horsemen of the fearful hours Told tidings of dismay. (a) Even the potter is jealous of potter, and craftsman of craftsman. (b) Even the potter of potter is jealous, and craftsman of craftsman. (a) There she stood. About a yoimg bird's flutter from a wood. (b) There she stood, About twelve feet or twenty from a wood. (a) Now about twilight of that evening dim. , (b) Now on the moth-time of that evening dim. 6 Determine in each case which is the more melodious passage : (a) "We two," she said, "will seek the groves Where Lady Mary is. With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies, — Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret, and Rosalys. " — Rossetti (b) Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Merriam, Flint, Possessed the land which rendered to their toil Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool, and wood. — Emerson (a) In distant countries I have been. And yet I have not often seen A healthy man, a man full grown, Weep in the public roads alone. THE STUDY OF POETRY 231 But such a one on English ground, And in the broad highway I met; Along the broad highway he came, His cheeks with tears were wet. Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad. And in his arms a lamb he had. — Wordsworth (b) Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland lass! Reaping and singing by herself. Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; hsten! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. — Wordsworth 7 A group of fifty or more high school seniors, invited to select the most melodious lines in Milton's Minor Poems, found it quite impossible to agree. Some ears were charmed by alliteration, others by liquids (1, m, n, r), and still others by a vowel sound often repeated. A few showed a fondness for sibilants (s, z, sh, etc.). Among the favorites were these two passages : Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse. Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side. My daily walk and ancient neighborhood. Try the experiment, limiting the investigation to one of the Milton poems. Or substitute Shakespeare, Tennyson, or Coleridge for Milton. 8 The same group of seniors having been asked to select phrases from Milton that were magical in their suggestive power, flashing upon the mind a picture, or inviting the fancy to build, the results showed a surpris- ingly wide range of preference, among the selected phrases 232 THE STUDY OF LITERATURE being the following: ''the unsunned heaps of miser's treas- ure," ''the huddling brook," "twilight meadows," "hoary Nereus," "tapestry halls," "snaky-headed Gorgon," "black usurping mists," "slumbering morn." Try the same experiment, limiting the field, however, to some one poem. 9 A third experiment consisted in selecting lines in which the sound and the movement echo the sense. Among the lines chosen were the following : 'Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks, and sights unholy! Basks at the fire his hairy strength. His orient liquor in a crystal glass. Try the experiment, either with one of Milton's poems or with ten pages from Tennyson or Shakespeare. 10 Poetry is sensuous; that is, it moves us by appealing, through the imagination, to the sense of hearing, the sense of sight, of touch, of taste, of smell. There are those who do not like poetry, largely because they read so hastily, or with so sluggish imagination, that they get but imperfectly the fancies that fill the poet's mind. To how many senses does each of the following passages appeal? (a) Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark: Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry Cock-a-diddle-dow! — Shakespeare (b) I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. — Shakespeare THE STUDY OF POETRY 233 (c) St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. — Keats (d) And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep. In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd. While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jelUes soother than the creamy curd. And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon; Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon. — Keats Cen. tury FOURTEENTI 40 1400 14C FIFTEENTH 1500 Per- iod 40 CHAUCER 1400 CAXTON I PRI 1500 • CHAUCER- Langland- -Wycllf- MALORY -*■ MORE- ■Tynda PART m A BRIEF SUMMARY OF EXGLBH LTTERATCBE INTRODUCTORY The study of literature follows several lines. Attention may be centered, for example, on a single masterpiece considered separately, with a view to under- Ways of standing it thoroughly and training the mind studying in literary appreciation. A little more literature difficult is the study of a group of masterpieces as types of various forms — the essay, the novel, the drama. A third line of study confines itself to the works of a single author, with a view to becoming familiar with his art and his personality in all the stages of development. This too is difficult, but delightful. Finally, it is profitable to study all the works, prose and poetry, of a certain group of authors — the Elizabethan, for example, or the Victorian, noting common characteristics and getting gfimpses of the times as reflected in literature. Eventually, however, need is felt of a wide survey of the entire field. The student becomes interested in literature as a growth, from the first faint beginnings Need of down to the present day. He wishes to a general know when this Uterary form appeared, when survey that, and what changes they have undergone; why we find in one century mountain peaks, in another only dull table- lands of mediocrity. Even in the earlier stages of study, at least a brief historical sketch is convenient, indeed almost necessary, for intelligent study, that each master- piece may be given its proper setting. The following summary is presented for this purpose — for those who lack the time necessary to master a complete manual. It contains the little that a high school pupil ought to know, 237 238 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE before graduation, about the history of Enghsh literature. The tables of authors and masterpieces are so brief that they may with profit be memorized, save for the dates, just as the student of history memorizes lists of kings. It is assumed that, besides learning the tables, the pupil will study in detail the lives of the few authors read in class- room, finding his material either in the introductory page& of school editions or in such works of reference as are provided in the school library. CHAPTER XX OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD: 650-1066 Author Unknown fBeowulf Caedmon and others fParaphrases of Genesis, Exodus, and Daniel Bede Many works in Latin, including a church history of the English People Cynewulf fThe Christ; legends of saints; riddles King Alfred and others The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle; transla- tions from Latin of several standard works, including Bede's History Various writers Sermons and other works religious in character Note. — Poetry is indicated by a dagger and prose fiction by a circle. The names of the greatest authors appear in heavy type. A single shelf of no great length would hold all that has come down to us from this early period : a few manuscript books and a few loose leaves, which rare good fortune has preserved for a thousand years ^^^7 . *^ remains and more. Could these priceless relics be brought together and were we privileged to examine them, our first surprise, perhaps, would come at finding the manuscripts written in a language which, though English, is as strange as German, which it resembles. Had we the ability to read Anglo- Saxon, as early Enghsh is called, we should ^ ^g^^us again be surprised to find how much of this early literature, poetry and prose, is of a religious character. But this is easily explained. 239 240 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE When, in the fourth and fifth centuries, the English left their homes on the south shores of the Baltic and North seas and invaded England, pillaging, plunder- C^stia^ty ^^^' killing great numbers of the Britons whose lands they were seizing, and driving the remainder westward, they were a pagan people and such they remained till the sixth century when mission- aries from Italy and Ireland wrought a great change. In a remarkably short time Christianity drove out the pagan beliefs. Monasteries rose here and there throughout the land, each monastery not only a religious but an educa- tional center, for connected with each was a school. Some of these schools grew into what might be called colleges, whose truly great teachers attracted large numbers. In less than a century after the coming of the missionaries, the English monasteries were famous throughout western Europe, so great a zeal did the English show for religion and learning. It is not strange, therefore, that the literature of this period, for the most part written by monks or at least by Earliest those who had received their training in the English monasteries, should be religious. It is a poetry mistake, however, to think that English literature was cradled in the monastery. The English had always been a song-loving people. They sang as they rushed into battle. Song cheered their feasts when petty tribal kings gathered their warriors about them in the mead halls. There were professional poets among them — scops they were called — who composed and chanted hero- songs. Little of this earlier ' ' heathen ' * poetry has been pre- served, however; for it was oral Hterature, passed down from singer to singer by memory alone. Yet the most interest- ing poem in all this period of four centuries takes us back to these pre-Christian days, though the version that we ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD 241 have was made by a monk of perhaps the eighth century, who, happily for us, felt in this song of earlier times that which stirred his blood and prompted him to record it on parchment. It is a poem of over 3000 lines, unrhymed like all Anglo-Saxon poetry, called Beowulf. It tells a wonderful story of how Beowulf, when a young man, killed in dreadful encounters two half -human monsters of the fens; and how, in his old age, he slew a huge, fire-spitting, winged dragon. The poem is well worth reading, because it is a good story well told, because it gives invaluable pictures of early EngUsh life, and because its ideals of manhood are noble. Of the literature which was produced later, when the monasteries were so powerful in their good work, the greater part is poetry, associated with two Caedmon, names, Caedmon and Cynewulf, between Cynewulf, whom, in point of time, came Bede, a great ^®^® teacher and writer of Latin prose, whose history of the church in England, credulous yet honest and painstaking, is a valuable document. Caedmon, Bede tells us in his history, was an uneducated menial connected with a Northumbrian monastery, a mere servant who suddenly became inspired to compose and sing, not of encounters with the dark fenland demons but the wonderful stories told in the Old Testament. Scholars say that none of the three paraphrases of Genesis, Exodus, and Daniel which we have should be attributed to him; yet we know that he, and probably many another, composed such songs, long nar- ratives which must have possessed great interest to those to whom the Bible was a new book. Cynewulf, living per- haps half a century later, was a Christian scop, educated at a monastery. Not all of his poems are religious, for attributed to him are many riddles in verse, a form of literature of which the early English were very fond; but 242 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE his best poems are saintly legends or deal with New Testament themes. The poems of the Cynewulf group are more polished than those of the Caedmon group, more artistic; they are farther removed irom the heathen poetry of earlier times — the times when ^Beowulf and similar poems were popular. The next name on the roll of English writers is that of King Alfred the Great, one of the noblest figures of all times, who lived in the latter half of the Great eighth century. Between the days of Caed- mon and Cynewulf and the days of Alfred lies a dark interval of civil war among the petty kingdoms which had gradually formed out of the English tribes possessing the island, and of cruel invasions by the Danes, fierce "sea-wolves," once neighbors of the EngUsh in their old home on the continent, who destroyed monasteries, burned villages, and killed great numbers. Learning, and piety too, all but disappeared. Conditions were not greatly different from those of a few centuries before when the fierce EngHsh tribes poured in upon the more highly civilized Britons. We are concerned but indirectly with all that King Alfred did to deliver his country from this peril, restore order, and build up the nation anew; our immediate interest is with his efforts to bring back piety and learning — a great task which he accompHshed but in part. In earlier times, before the Danish invasions, the monastery libraries had contained few save Latin books. Not Bede alone, but all scholars, on the Continent as well as in England, wrote and spoke Latin. The Bible was a Latin Bible. Book knowledge was locked up in a foreign tongue. It was Alfred's idea to change all this; his people should be taught in their native tongue. Gathering what scholars he could about him, he translated with their aid whatever Latin books he thought of value to his coimtry — ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD 243 several religious works, a standard history of the world, Bede's church history, and certain other manuals of information. Perhaps the most important composition of his reign, and one in which no doubt he had a part, was a compilation, from scant monastery , J ,, 1 , Anglo-Saxon records and other sources, known to us _,, . . as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. This is a brief history of England by years, beginning with 60 B. C. For some years there are no entries; other years are rep- resented by but a few lines, the account naturall}^ growing fuller as it advances through the reign of Alfred. As lit- erature it is not remarkable, though some of its prose is fairly good and occasionally one finds in it a spirited ac- count of some notable event, the chronicler at times even abandoning prose for poetrj^; but this earliest of histories in the Enghsh tongue is of great value none the less. The literature of Alfred's day was mainly prose, as that of the earher times was mainly poetry. Little but prose do we find from his day on through the century and a half preceding the Norman , Conquest in 1066: the Chronicle continued, many sermons, and other works for the most part religious in character. What should be our final estimate of this period? When we consider how recently the English had been but rough, plundering adventurers, without books, with- _. , ,,.,,, , Final estimate out schools, without even a common lan- guage, — for until long after the Norman Conquest the various sections of England had their separate dialects, — we can but feel that the literary output was most credit- able. The poetry is better than the prose, but neither prose nor poetry is of high artistic merit compared with the masterpieces of later times. Of the poetry, Beowulf, possessing the same strong spiritual qualities that char- 244 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE acterize the best in all English verse, is easily most interest- ing; of the prose, certain passages in the Chronicle. All this early literature is clean, serious, full of vigor; lacking, it is true, in grace and humor, indeed rather somber, it seems to us, yet revealing a people by nature brave, fair- minded, religious, lovers of song, lovers of battle, a splen- didly endowed people who improved rapidly under the sway of Christianity and Roman culture. In after cen- turies England came under many influences. Other races blended with the English. The language changed, customs changed; yet the essential traits of character which have made the English a great people and their literature a great literature are easily discernible in the literature of this earliest period. That is why the few time-worn manuscripts which have come down to us through a thou- sand years and more, constitute a priceless treasure, — priceless not because of their literary merit but because of what they tell us of the English as they were originally in their new island home. CHAPTER XXI NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD: 1066-1340 (From the Conquest to the birth of Chaucer) The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (Cont. to 1154) Layamon (Circ. 1200) fBrut (a legendary history of England) Various writers Religious works, poetry and prose: homilies, lives of saints, Bible para- phrases, etc. Various writers Romances loosely translated from the French Unknown Songs and ballads England, during the Anglo-Saxon period, was the home of three peoples: the Britons, the English, and the Danes. The Danes, however, soon blended with the EngUsh and we lose sight of them. The , , Britons, driven westward, remained a sep- arate people, though toward the end of the period, the barriers between them and the English weakened con- siderably. During the Norman-Enghsh period, the island was the home of three peoples: the Britons, found prin- cipally in Wales, the Norman-French, and the EngHsh. The Welsh Britons remained pretty much in the back- ground. We could disregard them altogether, were it not that they contributed not a little, indirectly, to English literature. We are mainly concerned, however, with the conquered English and the conquering Normans. These Normans were a wonderful people, keen, ener- getic, progressive, with a great genius for organizing and 245 246 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE systematizing, yet fond of gaiety and splendor, and by na- ture cheerful and humor-loving. Their barons soon appro- priated nearly all of the land and built massive castles to hold it. Grand cathe- drals were built too; and hundreds of new monasteries sprang up, for the Normans were Christians. During all this period the church possessed, through its able Norman bishops and abbots, great political power. As in the ear- lier days of the preceding period, each monastery was in some measure a school, and towards the close of the period schools not immediately connected with the church were taking shape at Cambridge and Oxford. When contrasted with this brilliant people, the stolid, mentally slow EngHsh seem at first glance decidedly in- ferior, and so they were regarded by their conquerors, who for a long time kept them in a pitiable state; yet their sterling, if not brilliant, qual- ities which were prominent in Beowulf of old and in wise King Alfred, gradually wrought a wonder. Little by little the abler among them climbed upward and took rank with the best in church and state. Gradually, through causes which we cannot mention here, the two peoples came closer and closer together and finally fused into one, a stronger people than England had ever before known, yet with the fine, manly traits of the Anglo-Saxons still domi- nating. England, during this period, was the home of several languages. The earlier kings and their barons spoke French, and French became the accepted language of the realm. All classes save the lowest employed it — were forced to if they would get on and up in the world. It was the language of business. Children spoke it in the schools. The minstrels who went from castle to castle sang it. Those w^ho wrote for the NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 247 pleasure of their fellow men, both Norman writers and English, employed it. But Latin was prominent too. It w^as the language of the Church and of learning, the book language employed by monks and scholars when they wrote, and not uncommonly when they conversed. The Englishman who would become educated must have a knowledge of it. Beneath French and Latin lay English, long despised and ridiculed by the upper classes and bidding fair to disappear altogether; yet behold a second wonder. About the time this period closes, EngUsh is again the accepted language of the realm. Some Anglo-Saxon words have disappeared, many have changed slightly, but the great bulk of old words remains. This new English is permeated, it is true, with French words, and Latin words have crept in too; yet the native speech is supremely triumphant. French disappeared. Latin as a book lan- guage lingered for a century or two, was employed some- what by learned men even as late as Shakespeare's day, yet eventually it also slipped away. The Hterature of this period falls into three groups: the Latin, the French, and the English. Latin, it should be remembered, was the book language of The three monks, scholars, and statesmen, English as groups of well as Norman. It is, someone has said, literature the language Macaulay would have used had he lived at the court of Henry II. In this Latin group are many religious works, most of them in prose; but more con- spicuous are histories or chronicles, some recording the doings of this monastery or that, others dealing with all England and going back to legendary days. These chron- icles are of great interest to the historian, but they are not English, not in the native tongue; so they, and all other works in Latin, may be disregarded. Norman-French literature is of greater importance, for 248 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE during this period France gained a literary prominence in Western Europe similar to that which England enjoyed in Norman- the eighth century. Her greatest works were French in verse. Among them were scores upon literature scores of extremely long poems recounting the deeds of such long-ago heroes as the French King Charlemagne, the Welsh King Arthur, and Alexander the Great. Of the hundred and more such romances which have come down to us, the best is the earliest, the Song of Roland, though the most popular throughout the Middle Ages were those which dealt with the half-mythical King Arthur and his Round Table knights. Besides these hero romances there were long, metrical chronicles, some of them based on the Latin chronicles. A third important group is made up of songs and ballads of love and adven- ture such as the minstrels sang everywhere throughout Europe. But this great volume of French literature is not English, though some of it was written in England and by men of English birth. It deserves mention solely be- cause a considerable part of it was absorbed by English hterature, much as the French language was absorbed, especially such of it as dealt with English heroes and Eng- lish history. It provided models and furnished subject matter for contemporary and later writers. For centuries it was the literature which English men and women read and listened to; it not only furnished entertainment but supplied new ideas and ideals, changing the minds of Englishmen as the Norman castles and monasteries and cathedrals changed the appearance of the English country. The literature of the period which was written in Eng- lish is but a tiny stream compared with the ngis broad rivers of Latin and French. Foracen- tong^e tury and a half following the Conquest it is hardly discernible. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was con- NORMAN-ENGLISH PERIOD 249 tinued till 1154, then gave way to chronicles and histories in Latin and French. About the year 1200, appeared what is known as Layamon's Brut or history. Layamon was a priest living near the border of Wales, who conceived the idea of writing a long poem telling the history of England. Borrowing freely from works in Latin and French, and adding many tales and legends of the Britons, tales which doubtless he had heard over and over again in his boyhood days, he produced a poem of over 30,000 lines. He has been called the first minstrel to celebrate King Arthur in English song, the same Arthur of whom we read in Tennyson's Idylls of the King. Aside from Layamon's Brut, there is not much to delay us in our survey of the EngUsh writings of this period. There is, to be sure, quite a supply of reli- gious works, but with one or two exceptions g they are of no great interest; and we find, as time goes on, many romantic poems paraphrasing the French hero-romances, showing how French romance is being absorbed just as in the Brut we find old Briton tales absorbed. Guy of Warunck and Havelok the Dane, English romances with English heroes, though wrought in the French manner, were great favorites, and were long cherished. Finally we can mention with pleasure a few genuinely English songs, which appear among others of less value imitated from the French. As we read these simple, heartfelt lyrics, we easily yield to a belief that, in all probability, even in darkest days of oppression, the English, as in earlier times, were singers and song-makers, and that they loved their own songs better than the more polished products of foreign minstrels. The period may be summarized as follows : For a century and a half following the Conquest, little was written in the native tongue; from then on, much was written by Eng- 250 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE lishmen in Latin and French, but comparatively little in English and that little was largely imitative of French models. No great writers appeared. The Summary . - . . ^ r period IS an important one, however, for during it the language changed greatly through absorbing many French and Latin words. The long French romances brought into our literature a vast treasure of stories for future writers to retell with greater art, the choicest of these tales centering about the half-mythical Briton hero. King Arthur. Finally, through fusing with the Normans, the Enghsh became a stronger people, happily without the loss of the original sterhng qualities of the Anglo-Saxons. CHAPTER XXII CHAUCER'S PERIOD: 1340-1400 John Wyclif 1324 (?)-1384 (?) First complete transla- tion of the Bible AVilliam Langland 1332 (?)-1400 (?) fVision concerning Piers Plowman Geoffrey Chaucer 1340-1400 The Canterbury Tales Unknown jSongs and ballads of the common people Sixty years, a single lifetime, measures the extent of this period. It is therefore in marked contrast to the preceding periods, which, taken together, cover 690 years, over one-half of the span of all English . , hterature. It may be thought of as an oasis amid the long reaches between the days when Saxon warriors were thrilled by the story of Beowulf and the days when men crowded the Globe theatre to see Shakespeare's plays. Wyclif was not a minstrel nor a monk but an Oxford teacher and preacher whose life was one long attack against the Church. He has been called ''the first „^ ,.^ ^T vclif champion of the Reformation," that great movement which, in later years, wrought a mighty change in England and led to the establishment of a national church independent of Rome. To his behef that the scriptures should no longer remain locked up in Latin we owe the first complete translation of the Bible into Eng- Hsh, a translation which, in a revised version made soon? after his death, found its way among all classes. Better translations, as we shall see, were made in later periods, 251 252 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE for Wyclif was not a great literary artist, yet in his Bible we find the best prose thus far produced in England — prose which aided greatly in establishing a national lan- guage; nor can we easily estimate the great service Wyclif rendered to literature when he made it possible, for the first time, for men and women of all classes to read or hear all of the Bible in their native tongue. Side by side with this great reformer whose sermons and pamphlets stirred all England, posterity has placed a poverty-stricken dreamer-poet, William Langland, so obscure an individual that little is known about him except that his boyhood days were passed near the Welsh borders where probably he received some monastery training, and that after roaming the country for a time after the manner of a begging friar he drifted to London and there for many years earned a miserable living by chanting for the release from purgatory of the souls of dead men. His days, therefore, were spent among the poor, and from among them he looked out upon a world which seemed to him sadly out of joint: church and state corrupt; the rich tyrannizing over the poor; purity, justice, and industry rarely met with. His way of righting the world was to picture the world as he saw it, in all its corruption, and to cry out fearlessly for much needed reforms. His picture-sermon we find in a long poem, frequently added to and reshaped during thirty years, known as the Vision Concerning Piers Plowman. It is an allegory in the form of a dream, and to the modem reader it is in some respects as confusing and inconsistent as dreams are apt to be. But the poor people of his day understood it, recognized the truthfulness of the thinly veiled pictures of society and the sincere earnestness of the gifted poet. It moved them as the fiery pamphlets of Wyclif stirred the better educated classes. CHAUCER'S PERIOD 253 We may think of Wyclif and Langland as the greatest of all that long, unbroken line of writers on religious themes, the earliest of whom are Caedmon, Bede, and Cynewulf . Chaucer, who towers high above them in hterary skill, belongs to an entirely different class. This son of a prosperous London merchant began life as a page in the royal household, a bright, good na- tured lad with a sense of humor which made him, we may believe, a general favorite. All his days were spent close to that brilliant aristocracy for which Langland had Httle sympathy. He became an exceedingly able man, was sent abroad on embassies, held positions of trust at home, and cHmbed high for one not of noble birth. He was always a busy man, a tireless worker. His great passion was for books and the green fields, though it should be quickly added that he was a lover of mankind as well and looked out upon the world with keen yet friendly eyes. He seemed to know all classes from the nobility down to the poor parish priests. Much of the greed and misery that came before Langland's eyes must have been known to him, but it reached him softened somewhat by the glamor of that courtly aristocracy with which he was associated. To him, England was merry England. Chaucer was a life-long poet. In his younger days he was under the spell of Norman minstrelsy, which is not strange: for French minstrels were still to be found at the royal court and in the homes , of the nobility. The old French romances formed the popular literature of the day. Nearly all of them, during the thirteenth and fourteenth century, were turned into EngHsh verse; but Chaucer doubtless preferred them in their original form. Later he was more deeply influenced by ItaUan literature, which about this time reached its highest level in three world-great writers. 254 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Chaucer's best work, however, written toward the close of his Hfe, is thoroughly English. The Canterbury Tales is a collection of stories which Chaucer makes fall from the lips of a merry company of EngHsh folk journeying to Canterbury to pray at the shrine of Thomas a Becket. Chance brings them together at the Tabard Inn at South- wark, on the outskirts of London. The jolly landlord offers to accompany them as guide, and proposes that, to make the journey the pleasanter, each of the nine-and- twenty tell four tales, two on the way to Canterbury and two returning, the best story-teller to be given a supper, paid for by the rest. Chaucer lived to complete less than one-fourth the number of stories called for by this scheme, but the uncompleted work is one of our rarest master- pieces. The tales are not of equal merit; some are too broadly humorous, too coarse, to meet the approval of modern taste. But the best of them are very, very good. The poet's art is seen to greatest advantage, perhaps, in the Prologue to the Tales, where each pilgrim is introduced by a description so vivid that he seems Hke a real person; and since the company represents all classes of society, from knight, monk, and prioress down to merchant, mil- ler, and seaman, the Prologue is like a mirror in which we see reflected the hfe of the times. Collections of tales were common throughout Europe, during the Middle Ages, but there are none which we would less wiUingly part with than that made by gentle Geoffrey Chaucer, lover of books and green fields and human nature, a born story-teller, the mel- ody of whose verse, once caught, can never be forgotten. A more detailed survey of this period would mention other writers — Gower, for example, a popu- wr't rs ^^^ P^^^ whose works are of interest because the first was written in French, the second in Latin, the third in English, showing the drift of Ian- CHAUCER'S PERIOD 255 guage development; and the unknown author of Sir Ga~ waine and the Green Knight, an Arthurian tale from Nor- man minstrelsy, yet so retold that it is thoroughly English. It is the best of all tales taken from the French. One of the most popular books of the day, of Continental origin but soon translated into English, was The Voyages and Travels of Sir John Mandeville, sl most entertaining volume purporting to be designed for the enlightenment of pilgrims journeying to Holy Land, yet so full of preposterous infor- mation as 'Ho stamp the author as a fraud or a humorist." Nor should we forget that songs and ballads continue to be made and sung by the common people. Perhaps the most essential thing to bear in mind con- cerning this period is that its best literature is unmistak- ably English in tone. Chaucer borrowed material from Continental sources, partic- ch^acteristic ularly from Italy, but the setting for his Canterbury Tales is English, his pilgrims are English folk. Dream literature was common throughout Europe, but Langland's dream-satire is directed against English soci- ety. The Bible, in Latin, had long been in the hands of monks throughout Christendom; but Wyclif made it a part of English literature. Moreover his fearless contro- versial tracts and sermons suggest the grim valor of the Anglo-Saxon warrior. Norman romances in English dress were popular, but the author of Sir Gawaine was no servile imitator. In short the traits of character which marked the English of Beowulf's day still show strong and unim- paired after the long period of foreign rule. As for the language in which this best literature is writ- ten, it too is EngHsh, not quite fixed, for it is still in a state of flux, but with nearly all the old words showing strong among the new. It is much easier to read than Anglo- Saxon, though still sufficiently strange to necessitate the 256 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE use of a glossary. Could we listen to Wyclif or Langland or Chaucer, we should understand but little that was said. Yet Chaucer's English is substantially mod- changes ^^^' though thousands of new words have come into our language since his day and not a few have dropped out because no longer needed, or because supplanted by other and better ones. CHAPTER XXIII CAXTON'S PERIOD: 1400-1500 Sir Thomas Malory °Morte d'Arthur (printed 1485) Unknown fPop^l^r songs and ballads (Caxton, England's first printer, sets up his press in 1476.) A detailed account of this period would mention a num- ber of poets who reached some degree of eminence in the eyes of their contemporaries; our briefer ., , 1 u £ J.U ' 1 Followers of survey omits them all, tor their works are ^. seldom read today. We can but note, in passing, that the best of these poets were Scotchmen, and that all were imitators of Chaucer, whom they recognized as towering above them, the one great poet that England had produced. More genuine than the works of any of these are the simple ballads sung by the common people — Robin Hood, Chevy Chase, etc., such as have been noted in earlier periods. They will not be mentioned again, yet it should be borne in mind that they are found even as late as the eighteenth century, though diminishing in number and in favor as printed books become more common. They form'a distinct lit- erature by themselves, anonymous, undated, but worthy of the loving study bestowed upon them of late years. Much prose was written during this period, most of it religious or theological, of slight literary value. We could easily spare it all save one priceless volume, ^ a collection of stories gleaned from the long poem-romances of earlier periods, concerning King Arthur and his Round Table knights, written in simple, artless, 257 258 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE smooth-flowing prose quite easy to understand. It is the most permanent contribution of Norman minstrelsy to Enghsh hterature, and a very great one; for it is a collec- tion of tales unsurpassed, preserving for all time the best group of stories in nlediseval romance. It has been called a prose epic, since its central figure is a national hero from the half-mythical days of the early Britons. One reason for the unproductiveness of this century may be found in the rapid decline of that feudal system which . reached its highest development under the feudaUystem Norman-French kings— a system which placed great power in the hands of the nobles and made them an aristocracy far above the common people. They had been patrons of learning and literature, the class w^hom poets sought to please with their verses and from whom they hoped to receive reward. Even in Chaucer's day feudalism was tottering, though knightly deeds on the field of battle, and the gaiety of court life, furnished an outward splendor which has been compared most aptly to an Indian summer. During the fifteenth century the long war with France, and the War of the Roses which followed it, still further weakened this once powerful aristocracy, not a few noble families being practically obliterated. Meanwhile the more numerous middle class was rapidly gaining prominence, but its members could not in a day, nor in a century, give the support to literature that had once been furnished by knighthood, nor could poets at once adapt themselves to new ideals. A second reason is found in the continued decline of the mediaeval church system, highly organized and extremely Decline of powerful in earlier times, but growing weaker mediaeval and weaker. Since the days of Caedmon church r^nd Bede, a large proportion of the writers, and practically all scholars, had been monks or in some way CAXTON'S PERIOD 259 connected with the church system. The monasteries had been centers of learning and culture. In their scriptoria (writing rooms) skilled penmen had multiplied such works as were in demand by the limited class of readers. But during the latter half of this period scholarship seems to be leaving the protecting shadow of the church, where per- haps it has lingered too long, for the rapidly developing colleges at Oxford and Cambridge. Eventually the trans- ference will prove advantageous, resulting in broader scholarship and better Hterature; but the harvest is not yet. In connection with the increasing popularity of the uni- versities and the establishing of a number of what we should call preparatory schools, it should be noted that during the second half of this j. century many studious young Englishmen from good families were finding their way to Italy and there coming under the influence of what is known as the New Learning, which was to become a great power in Eng- land. Italy, during this century, was the intellectual cen- ter of western Europe, as France had been in the twelfth century, and England, for a brief time, in Anglo-Saxon days. The Italians had become greatly interested in Latin literature. Latin manuscripts which had long lain neg- lected in monastery libraries were eagerly collected and copied by zealous scholars, fascinated by the vigor and the beauty of the old Roman writers. They became deeply interested in Greek literature too, and great numbers of manuscripts were imported from Greece, Asia Minor, and elsewhere. Greek scholars, especially after the fall of Constantinople in 1453, flocked to Italy and became teachers. Thus the ancient world of Greece and Rome was brought back to Italy; the hterature of Greece and of Rome was studied and greatly admired; mediaeval lit- erature slipped out of mind. It is, then, to an Italy 260 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE carried away by its interest in Greek and Roman classics, that young Englishmen went. They too were fired with enthusiasm for this New Learning, and returning to Eng- land with copies of precious manuscripts, communicated their enthusiasm to others. The old learning of the monas- tic schools, so powerful throughout the Middle Ages, soon became a thing of the past. We have named this period after England's first printer, William Caxton, who set up his press probably in 1476 and during the remaining fifteen years of his life printed over seventy books, among them Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Malory's Morte d' Arthur. He was not a great author, though the pref- aces which accompany some of his publications show that he wrote unusually good Enghsh; but he deserves a prominent place in the history of English literature. For eight long centuries all books had been penned by hand; they had been a luxury for the rich. Now, at a time when schools and colleges were springing up and there was prom- ise of a great increase in the number of readers, at a time too when the New Learning was intensely interesting scholars, from among whom there were sure to come writers, this cheaper method of book-making appears. Some authorities name 1453, the date of the fall of Con- stantinople, as the concluding year of the Middle Ages; others prefer 1492, the date of the discovery of America. So far as the history of English literature is concerned, we might well set aside both these dates and select 1477, the year in which the Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers, the first book printed in England, came from the press of William Caxton. CHAPTER XXIV PRE-ELIZABETHAN PERIOD: 1500-1564 Sir Thomas More 1480-1535 °Utopia (first written in Latin) William Tyndale 1485 (?)-1536 New Testament (translated from the Greek) Sir Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542 fPoems some of which are in Eari of Surrey 1517 (?)-1547 (?) blank verse and sonnet form, later published in TotteVs Miscellany Nicholas Udall 1504 (?)-1556 Ralph Roister Bolster (first regular comedy, acted about 1535) Thomas Sackville 1536-1608 Gorboduc, or Ferrex and Thomas Norton 1532-1584 Porrex (first regular trag- edy, 1561) The fifteenth century produced but one book that is read nowadays, the Morte d^ Arthur; up to the birth of Shake- speare in 1564, the sixteenth century pro- ^ duced but one, the Utopia. Sir Thomas ^. . More was one of the young men who were fortunate enough to study imder the greatest of that re- markable group of scholars who, in the closing years of the fifteenth century, made Oxford famous by their teaching of Latin and Greek. He too became a great scholar, early gained prominence as a lawyer, and was eventually made Lord Chancellor; finally, because he adhered courageously to high moral principles, he gave up his life at the execu- tioner's block, a very conmion ending to a life-story in those days. The Utopia, a small volume compared to the bulky Morte d^ Arthur , is a great statesman-philosopher's dream of what he thought England should be. It tells 261 262 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE of an ideal commonwealth on an imaginary island vaguely located somewhere between the coasts of South America and Africa. The account is supposed to come from a traveler who has been there and who tells in detail how the country is governed and what are the customs of the inhabitants. Some of More's ideas are so impracti- cable that Utopian has come to mean visionary; yet not a few of his reforms have long. since been carried out, and others of them begin to look less strange. The Utopia, we may believe, would not have been written had the New Learning never reached England. Wyatt and Surrey appear in our table not y^ ^^ because they are great poets whose works we read today but because they too came under the spell of Italy. The poems of these two courtiers were not printed till after both were dead; we find them in a little collection of poems (such collections were be- coming common) published by a Mr. Tottel. They de- serve attention for two reasons. First, they show that the study of Italian poetry and the writing of verses in imita- tion of Italian models is becoming popular with the court aristocracy. Wyatt has been called the first patrician to make his mark in Enghsh poetry. Second, in this little Miscellany of Tottel's we find for the first time specimens of blank verse and of the sonnet, both of Italian origin, — forms which from this time on play an important part in English poetry. Tyndale's New Testament was but one of many versions of the Bible in part or in whole that appeared during this period. It is the best of them all, though the most popular was the Great Bible, so called because of its size and sumptuous appearance. Copies of it were placed in every church ; and at times, we are told, men neglected the service to read it, so great was PRE-ELIZABETHAN PERIOD 263 the interest it aroused. But the version of the Bible with which we are famiHar, and which made such a lasting im- pression on English literature, belongs not to this period but to the next. These earlier versions are important, however, in that they prepared the way for a better trans- lation later on. Perhaps the most significant of all the works mentioned in the table are Ralph Roister Doister and Gorboduc, the first regular comedy and the first regular First regular tragedy. They are crude affairs, partic- comedy and ularly the latter, yet entitled to consider- tragedy ation because they are the forerunners of the comedies and tragedies of Shakespeare's day — the feeble beginning of regular English drama. It is not right, however, to think that English drama began at this time, for plays of a sort, highly satisfactory to those who witnessed them, were given at least five hundred years earlier. We have noted several times how much English lit- erature owes to the church of the Middle Ages. It should not surprise us therefore to learn that the earliest Enghsh plays were religious, were composed and acted by priests, and were given in the churches. The church service, it should be remembered, was conducted in Latin, the Bible was a Latin Bible, and few of those who attended service understood any language save their own. How natural, therefore, that in a desire to acquaint their congregations with the Scriptures, the priests should resort to acting out Bible narratives in simple fashion, and that sooner or later all the Bible stories should be presented in dramatic form, at first in Latin and finally in English. Although the Miracle plays, as they are called, were given at first in the churches, as they increased in popular- ity and larger crowds were attracted to them they were 264 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE given in churchyards, and finally on village greens and at street corners. By this time, however, the Miracle plays had passed out of the hands of priests and into the hands of the labor guilds or unions. Thus not only the church but the rapidly rising merchant class have a share in the development of the drama. Each guild made a specialty of one play, and great was the rivalry among guilds. Out of the Miracle play grew what is called the Moral- ity. The Morality does not tell a Bible story; yet, as the name suggests, its purpose is to teach a moral lesson. Vice, Gluttony, Mercy, Jus- tice, Death, Mankind are among the characters found, each play being a little allegory picturing the struggle of the soul in the great conflict between right and wrong. A third early variety, the Interlude, takes us not to the great churches, nor to the guilds of the prospering middle - . , classes, but to the homes of the nobles, the feudal aristocracy. The Interlude was hardly more than a dialogue, sometimes accompanied by music, coming between the courses at a banquet. Its purpose was simply to make folks merry. Thus early EngUsh drama is principally of native origin ; it owes not a little, however, to the New Learning. When, Drama and in the fifteenth century, the classics were New being studied with such enthusiasm, what Learning more natural than that schoolmasters should have their boys learn and present, in the schoolroom, Latin comedies, first in the original, and later in English. Latin tragedies were given too. And from presenting Latin plays how natural the step to the writing of plays patterned after Latin models. Gorhoduc, the first regular tragedy, though its plot is based upon a British legend, is patterned after a Latin model; so too is Ralph Roister Doister, PRE-ELIZABETHAN PERIOD 265 Although this brief period produced so httle that is of permanent value, we can see how it was preparatory in many ways to the brilliant Elizabethan period. Drama is passing through its ex- ^ .. perimental stages. Blank verse, the ve- hicle of Shakespeare's comedies and tragedies, and the sonnet, a form in which much of the best Elizabethan poetry is cast, are being acclimatized. The many trans- lations of the Scripture are preparing the way for the noble King James version. We note, moreover, that scholars from the universities are entering the arena of letters, and that courtiers are winning laurels by writing verses. Lit- erature is becoming popular at court. CHAPTER XXV THE ELIZABETHAN PERIOD: 1564-1625 John Lyly 1553-1606 °Euphues Sir Philip Sidney 1554-1586 °Arcadia, Sonnets Lord Bacon 1561-1626 Essays Scholarly divines King James version of the Bible (1611) Edmund Spenser 1552-1599 fThe Fserie Queene, Sonnets George Chapman 1559 (?)-1634 {Translation of the Iliad, plays Many courtly writers thongs and sonnets Christopher Marlowe 1564-1593 Edward Second, Tambur- laine William Shakespeare 1564-1616 Thirty-five plays, sonnets Ben Jonson 1573-1637 The Alchemist, many court masques But few times in all the world's history has any country- experienced such a golden age as that which England en- joyed during the reigns of Elizabeth and James the First, commonly termed the Elizabethan Age. It is all the more wonderful because it came practically unheralded. Previous to Spenser and Shakespeare, England had produced but one great poet, Chaucer, and but two prose writers whose works are still read, Malory and More. Crude and elementary, giving little promise of better things, are the religious plays of the Middle Ages and even the early examples of regular com- edy and tragedy. As for songs, the best that we have found are the ballads of the common people, simple, un- literary products. We have found no trace of the novel or the essay. Yet during the Elizabethan period England teemed" with writers, and practically every form of lit- 266 THE ELIZABETHAN PERIOD 267 erature that we have today was ably represented. This was the age that produced Spenser, Bacon, Shakespeare. They are the giants; yet one authority mentions over two hundred others associated with this great literary trio, and a second authority estimates that it would take from forty to fifty volumes of some size to accommodate what- ever of Ehzabethan drama alone has survived and is worthy of study. Practically one-fourth of the poems found in Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics, selected from all English literature, are songs and lyrics from Elizabethan writers. Manifestly, where so much invites attention, a brief summary can but pick out here and there a representative name. Prose will be considered first, no attempt being made to preserve a chronological sequence. Of all the prose written during this period, two volumes only are in common circulation today and are admittedly classics of the first order. By far the greater is what we know as the Authorized, or King James, version of the Bible, made at royal request, by forty or more scholarly divines who based their transla- tions largely on the many versions, beginning with Tyn- dale's, which had appeared during the preceding century. Setting aside one or two revisions of quite recent times, it is the last of that long line of scriptural translations which began far back in Anglo-Saxon days when Bede, on his death bed, dictated to his fellow monks the last words of a translation from the Latin of the Gospel according to St. John. It marks the final triumphal entrance into our literature of essentially all the literature of the an- cient Jewish people, produced during a period not greatly different in extent from that of our own literary history. Wonderful in its original form, admirably translated into clear, simple, melodious English at a time when our Ian- 268 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE guage was most vigorous, it has become our greatest classic, the one book which more than any other has moulded na- tional character. Its strong, beautiful prose has been a model consciously or unconsciously followed by all writ- ers from Shakespeare's time down to the present. The second book is a small volume containing fifty or sixty essays varying in length from two pages to ten or twelve, by a prominent lawyer of Elizabeth's day, who in King James's reign climbed high and rapidly, reached the summit of his great- ness as Lord Chancellor, and then, when living in great state, the foremost judge in all England, was accused of accepting bribes, was speedily convicted, heavily fined, and driven from public life. Bacon considered his essays of slight value beside his ten or more other works, in the fields of law, history, and science, most of which he trans- lated into Latin that they might endure through all time in what he believed to be the only permanent language; yet the volume left to its fate in English has survived all the rest. These essays deal with such topics as truth, friendship, revenge, cunning, death. Each is a compact assembly of thoughts and opinions tersely expressed in smooth, brilliant sentences, many of them so to the point that, once read, they cling to the memory. The King James Bible marks the close of a long life of scriptural translations; Bacon's Httle book stands at the beginning of a long line of essays reaching to the present day. Below these two books range many other prose works in various fields. We have not ventured to include in our table Sir Walter Raleigh's History of the works Worlds written during his fourteen years of imprisonment in the Tower. It begins bravely with the Creation; one hundred and fifty pages or so barely take the reader beyond the Garden of Eden; THE ELIZABETHAN PERIOD 269 and Raleigh lived to bring his colossal undertaking down only to 168 B. C. EHzabethans were fond of great under- takings. Another work of perhaps deeper interest to modern readers is what is loosely termed Hakluyt's Voy- ages. Hakluyt made it his life work to collect and edit unpubhshed accounts of voyages of exploration and dis- covery. His books were popular in EHzabethan days; we are beginning to think them interesting reading. Hooker's Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity is hardly a work to attract the young; yet it is, in a sense, still a standard treatise, its grave, stately style almost inexpHcable when we learn that Hooker was but an obscure, diffident clergy- man, almost a failure as a preacher. The prose most widely read in Elizabeth's day, though it has long since been ecHpsed, almost forgotten save by scholars, comes under the head of fiction. Great numbers of short stories and novel- ettes, some in the original French and Italian, and many translated from these languages, found a ready sale at London bookstalls. We might mention quite a number of EngUsh writers, most of them dramatists as well, who dabbled in prose story-telling. Most eminent in this little crowd are Lyly and Sidney, the former an Oxford graduate who, when a young man, took England by storm with his Euphues; the second the most popular, scholarly courtier of his day, pattern of chivalric good breeding, whose Arcadia, written during banishment from court by Eliza- beth whom he had offended, was almost equally popular when published soon after the entire nation mourned his early death. As we turn the pages of Lyly's slender volume, we are at a loss to understand why it should have become the most popular book of the hour. The love story which furnishes the semblance of a plot is of little interest. Most of the 270 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE book, and this is equally true of its sequel published a year later, is given up to dissertations on love, rehgion, educa- tion, etc. That which gives it distinction is X 280 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Shakespeare died. He is often termed the last of the Ehzabethans, so unmistakably do his writings reflect the influence of the Renaissance. This is true of his earlier poems, written during his seven years at Cambridge and the succeeding five years passed at Horton, his father's country seat, in a continuation of his study of Greek, Latin, Italian, and English literature. The very best of the lyric poetry mentioned in an earlier paragraph is Milton's, composed in his young manhood days. It is truly Elizabethan in spirit. Following this early period came twenty years during which Milton wrote little save prose, much of it controversial, for he became the literary champion of the Puritan cause. It was in his later years that he returned to poetry. Then it was that, bhnd, poor, his life for a time in danger because of the prominent part he had played during the Commonwealth, he composed his great epic Paradise Lost, soon followed by Paradise Regained and Samson Agonistes. In these as in his earUer works we see the influence of his close study of Greek and Latin classics, yet even more marked is the influence of the Bible. Paradise Lost is itself the story of Adam's fall, based upon Old Testament narrative. It marl^ the con- clusion of that long line of sacred poetry which began with the Caedmon paraphrases. Thus it is right to say that in Milton are combined the best that the Renaissance and the Reformation brought to England. Milton was the son of a wealthy, cultured London scrivener, a Puritan who loved music and was himself a musician of ability. He received every advantage that could come from a good Puritan home, from college education, and from travel abroad. In marked contrast is John Bunyan, the second great Puritan of the century. He was the son of a poor kettle-maker, received but little schooling, read few books, PURITAN AND CAVALIER PERIOD 281 and never looked upon literature save as a means for converting sinners. He became what we should call an evangelist, and in time a famous preacher of great influence throughout England. Many years of his life were spent in jail, for in those days dissenting preachers were considered law-breakers, and while in jail he com- posed many of his works. His masterpiece, The Pilgrim's Progress, stands alone, the greatest allegory in all English literature and, next to the Bible, the one book that has most greatly influenced the moral life of the English people. It should be noted that Paradise Lost and Pilgrim's Progress, the only great Puritan masterpieces, belong chronologically to the next period, for they . were not published till after the Restoration in 1660. As a class, the Puritans were not art-loving; to many of them music and poetry and art were vanities, or worse. Literature, save that of great genius which no unfavorable conditions can ever suppress, could not be expected from people holding such views. Yet to think that these two masterpieces are the only products of Puritanism would be as great an error as to think that Puritanism came to an abrupt end when the banished Stuarts returned to England. The political supremacy of the Puritans was brief, but their influence upon na- tional character was lasting; and the character of a nation is sure to be reflected in its literature. CHAPTER XXVII RESTORATION PERIOD: 1660-1700 John Dryden 1631-1700 Plays, satires, translations, critical essays; jAlexander's Feast When Charles II and his followers returned to England after their long banishment, there was a notable rebound from the straight-laced Puritan rule of Puritanism Commonwealth days. The theatres, closed since 1642, were reopened, and for the first time the French custom of permitting women to act was followed. Few of the older dramatists remained, but new playwrights straightway appeared whose clever, witty pomedies picturing the follies of polite society delighted the town. We should like to believe these pictures over- drawn, so shamelessly dissolute are they; but we have only to read the diary of Samuel Pepys, a London tailor's son who rose to be secretary to the admiralty, to be convinced that fashionable London was as immoral as it was gay. This gossipy diary in which Pepys recorded, in cipher, the minutest details of his life, was. intended for his eye alone. Its testimony is therefore reliable. Many have attributed this state of affairs to the King's long stay in France. Certain it is that writers of tragedy were influenced by French models in which . fl„gj,j,o rhyme took the place of blank verse, and the classical unities of time, place, and action were observed. How inferior Restoration tragedy is to Elizabethan may be seen by comparing Dryden's All for Love with Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, two plays 282 RESTORATION PERIOD 283 based upon the same historic events. Although the dram- atists constructed their plays after French rules, they recognized Shakespeare's genius. He was considered somewhat barbarous and antiquated, however, and a number of his plays were rewritten, the plot construction changed, the language modernized, and rhyme substituted for blank verse! Of the non-dramatic literature of this period, it is no- ticeable that a large part is satirical poetry. One of the most popular books of the day was Samuel Butler's Hudihras, a burlesque romance , ridiculing the Puritans. It was an age of criticism and satire, and poetry was made to do much of the mean work of political warfare now carried on by our newspapers. But the political wrangles of those early times when the Whig and Tory parties were newly formed are so far away from us that the long, clever, biting satires of the day are no longer read save by students. As for prose, the Restoration period was preeminently one of prose, most of which lies without the pale of pure literature, if we except the comedies already a period of mentioned. Sermons, histories, scientific prose pre- works, and the like, we may disregard, eminently though pieces of much less excellence have received notice in earlier periods. When in 1662 the Royal Society (for the cultivation of the natural sciences) was founded, one of its regulations urged the members to strive after clearness, directness, and conversational ease in their writings rather than after cleverness and ornamentation. Purity, clear- ness, combined with ease and polish, formed the ideal which chastened Restoration prose generally. No attempt was made to render it poetical, after the maimer of the EUzabethans. 284 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Although it was a time of unusual intellectual brilliancy, the period produced but one great writer, John Dryden, a lifelong man of letters, lacking in the crea- tive imagination which Hfts Shakespeare and Milton above their times, lacking too in moral and emo- tional qualities, but a man of great intellect and a master craftsman able to use his pen along many lines of com- position. Twenty or more plays stand to his credit. His non-dramatic poetry fills eight hundred pages or more, closely packed, and his critical essays, most of which are found as prefaces to his plays, are models of clear, vigor- ous, rapid English. His best tragedies out4op all con- temporary drama. He is the first great English satirist. His translation of the Mneid remains a standard today. His songs are perhaps the best — ^which is poor praise — among the inferior ones of his time. He wrote heroic verse (rhyming pentameter couplets) with greater skill than any of his contemporaries. That his works are now but seldom read is due to the fact that he was, after all, merely a craftsman, not a genius, no greater than the times for which he wrote. The whim of fortune is well illustrated by the fact that to the great body of readers he is best known today not by any of his more ambitious pieces but by Alexander's Feast, a song written to order for a musical society, in honor of St. Cecilia. CHAPTER XXVIII QUEEN ANNE PERIOD: 1700-1744 Daniel Defoe 1661 (?)-1731 °Robinson Crusoe Jonathan Swift 1667-1745 ^Gulliver's Travels Richard Steele 1671-1729 The Spectator Joseph Addison 1672-1719 The Spectator Alexander Pope 1688-1744 fRape of the Lock, fTransl. of the Iliad This period extends from the death of Dryden to the death of his successor, Pope, yet it most commonly bears the name of the queen during whose brief reign (1702-1714) the important writers came ch^acteristics into prominence. It is also called the Class- ical or Augustan Age, for Latin models were followed as in Dryden's day, and the authors who flourished under the Roman emperor Augustus were reverenced as masters. Another of its names is the Age of Prose. Of the five writers whose names appear in the table, the first four are prose writers, and not a little of Queen Anne poetry is of the satirical or didactic order, which in spirit most nearly approaches prose. Finally, it might well be called the Age of Political Controversy. Party feeling ran high, and the weapon used in political warfare was the pamphlet. Party leaders were glad to secure the services of bright young university graduates of literary ability. At no other time in England's history have men of letters been so closely connected with public affairs and never so richly rewarded for party service. Of the four prose writers whom we are to consider, three w^ere among the most prominent of political partisans; 285 286 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Defoe, the fourth, though a most energetic and influen- tial pamphleteer, occupied a middle position between , this prominent trio and that small army of cheap hack-writers who have made Grub Street famous. The details of his life are none too cer- tainly known. His father was a butcher. At one time Defoe was a wholesale hosier, at another time the pro- prietor of a brick factory. Twice he was bankrupt for large sums. For offending the Government through his political pamphlets, he was pilloried and imprisoned. Al- though his later years were marked by a degree of pros- perity which enabled him to build a ''handsome house ^' where he might have lived in moderate luxury, he died in lodgings, presumably hiding from persecutors who may have been the creation of a diseased mind. Defoe's ability as a pamphleteer is attested by the sale of one of his sat- ires, which reached 80,000 copies. Because of his Review^ a newspaper issued while he was in Newgate prison, and written entirely without assistance, he has been called the founder of English journalism. His reputation rests mainly, however, on Robinson Crusoe, one of seven prose fictions written towards the close of his life. It is un- necessary to say that this is a world classic, the model after which hundreds of stories of adventures have been pat- terned, though no one has succeeded in doing half so well as the none too scrupulous Queen Anne pamphleteer and journalist, concerning whom a contemporary writes, ''The little art that he is truly master of is forging a story and imposing it on the world for truth. '' The most original thinker of all the Queen Anne "wits," and the most savagely vigorous satirist in all English lit- erature, is Jonathan Swift, who rose rapidly from comparative obscurity and poverty to commanding position among the literary politicians of his QUEEN ANNE PERIOD 287 day. Soon after leaving college he took orders. It was his ambition to win, through serving the Tory party, a bishopric; but when the coveted prize was almost within his grasp, promises were broken, and Swift received merely the deanery of St. Patrick's in Ireland. In Ireland the last thirty years of his life were, for the most part, spent. He was a bitterly disappointed man; to leave England was like going into exile. Madness finally overtook him, and this was followed by imbecility. During the last three years of his life he scarcely ever spoke a word. Able critics declare that Swift's greatest work is practically his earliest satire. The Tale of a Tub; but the world at large knows merely his Gulliver^ s Travels, which is, like Robinson Crusoe, surely a world classic. Readers fascinated by the imaginary Gulliver's account of his voyages to Lilliput, Brobdingnag, and Laputa seldom realize that the entire book is the most scathing satire on humanity ever penned. It was written some years after Swift's retirement to Ireland, his brilliant career among the coffee house wits of London a thing of the past. Addison and Steele we associate with the rise of period- ical literature. Newspapers of a sort there had been well back in the seventeenth century, but these two men were the first to popularize the , ^. . periodical essay. Their Taller and Spectator are the first and best of a series of similar short-lived periodicals which reaches through the first three-quarters of the eighteenth century. Each number of the Spectator, as every school boy knows, contained a single essay, con- versational in style, addressed mainly to that polite circle of men who gathered daily at the coffee houses so numerous and popular in Queen Anne days, and to the card-playing, tea-drinking, frivolous ladies of gay London's drawing- rooms. Some of the essays are reviews of books and plays, 288 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE some are on religious themes, but most of them are light, impersonal satires aimed at the follies of the hour. They exerted a quiet influence on morals, and doubtless pop- ularized good literature at a time when trashy French romances of interminable length were in vogue. Today they are valued partly for the accurate pictures furnished of London society as it was in the early years of the eighteenth century, partly because they are models of easy, graceful style, touched with humor. Addison and Steele were public men, deep in politics. The writing of essays occupied but little of their time. Steele became a prom- inent member of parliament, Addison rose from office to office till he was made Secretary of State. Aside from victories and defeats through shifting politics, their lives were not eventful. Their characters are best studied in their essays and in the unrivaled delineations found in Thackeray's English Humorists. Queen Anne drama offers little of interest to the modern reader. Comedy had been shamed into a moderate degree of decency by a pamphlet written by Jeremy Collier in 1688, entitled A Short View of the Im- morality and Prof oneness of the Stage. It continued clever, polished, light, and of little merit. Tragedy still followed classical rules, was stiff and conventional, never reaching the level of Dryden's best pieces. Perhaps the most attractive dramatic work of the period is the Beggars' Opera by Gay, the only poet of the period who possessed the gift of song. That Fortune makes many a strange choice when bestowing fame is often illustrated in the history of Eng- p lish letters, but nowhere more strikingly than in the case of Alexander Pope, the son of a London linen merchant of slender means. He received little education; indeed the poor health which followed him through life prohibited hard study. His frail body QUEEN ANNE PERIOD 289 was deformed; it is said that his condition was such that ''he required to be Hfted out of bed, and could not stand until he was laced into a sort of harness.'^ Even had his health been normal, the fact that he was a Catholic would have barred him from most schools and universities, and from most of the professions. And yet, though so pitifully handicapped, at twenty-one Pope had gained his reputa- tion and for thirty years was the recognized leader in the field of poetry. His success was due in large measure to his complete mastery of that form of verse which Dryden had popularized, the heroic couplet; it was due also to his ability to study a model and then better it. French models are to be found for most of his poems, yet it is but fair to add that his poems in turn served as patterns for many writers, European as well as EngUsh. He was not a man of original ideas, was not gifted with imagination or deep emotion; but it has been truly said that there is scarcely a belief, tradition, or ideal of his age which is not discovered lucidly set down in his poems. One of Pope's earliest successes is a mock heroic. The Rape of the Lock, which tells, in the grand style of the Iliad or the Mneid, how a mischievous lord Rape of the snipped a curl from the head of a court Lock and the beauty while at a card party, and of the ^^^ "tempest in a teapot " which followed. It is the best thing of its little kind in the language. Pope's greatest work, w^iich finally estabUshed his fame and enabled him to live in comparative luxury the remainder of his Hfe, is his translation of the Iliad, which, though ''it is not Homer," has held its place ever since among similar attempts. Al- though by far the best of the period. Pope is not a poet of the first rank, nor is his character altogether lovely. Per- haps a liberal estimate is that which calls him "a very great man imprisoned in a little rickety body which warped and pinched certain members of his mind." CHAPTER XXIX THE AGE OF JOHNSON: 1744-1789 Samuel Johnson 1709-1784 David Hume 1711-1776 Edward Gibbon 1737-1794 Edmund Burke 1729-1797 James Boswell 1740-1795 Samuel Richardson 1689-1761 Henry Fielding 1707-1754 Laurence Sterne 1713-1768 Tobias Smollett 1721-1771 Thomas Gray 1716-1771 OUver Goldsmith 1728-1774 William Cowper 1731-1800 William Blake 1757-1827 Richard Sheridan 1751-1816 Dictionary, Lives of the Poets History of England Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Speech on Conciliation with America Life of Dr. Johnson ° Clarissa Harlowe °Amelia °Tristram Shandy ^The Expedition of Hum- phrey Clinker fElegy in a Country Church- yard fDeserted Village, ^Vicar of Wakefield, She Stoops to Conquer fThe Task fSongs of Innocence The Rivals This period, which includes the years between the death of Pope and the outbreak of the French Revolution, is, A period of like the preceding era, conspicuously one of prose pre- prose, and much of this prose is of a very eminently substantial kind in which the emotions are less conspicuous than the intellect. Were we tracing the history of English thought rather than of literature in the narrower, higher sense, our table would include perhaps a score of additional names, important because they repre- 290 THE AGE OF JOHNSON 291 sent the best of the very solid thinking of the age. Much, for example, was written in the field of theology. Philos- ophy was as fashionable a study with the educated classes as the writing of sonnets had been with Elizabethan court- iers. Many great minds were busy in the field of political science and political economy. A little nearer the realm of polite letters are a number of massive histories, the first of permanent importance in English literature. Two of these are given place in the table. Finally, it may be said with confidence that at no other time, in any country, were there so many brilliant orators as are found in the remarkable group to which Chatham, Burke, Fox, and Pitt belonged. It was an age of fiery eloquence; and it might well be added, an age of rare conversational skill. A glance at the table, however, will show at once that not all the hterature was of the solid prose order. There is a good variety. What is more, as we study the lives of the principal writers, we , , learn that though London is still the great magnet by which all are irresistibly drawn, her monopoly is not complete. Genius is beginning to scatter. Two or three of the authors whom we have selected are Scotch, two or three are Irish. Country w^ill soon be competing with town. A partial explanation of the change that is coming over literature is found in the remarkable changes that are taking place in England herself. Population is increasing rapidly. Manufacturing interests are develop- ing with wonderful rapidity, bringing into prominence the towns of the north and west. A network of good roads is bringing town and country nearer each other. Along the main roads speed mail coaches; newspapers are circulating throughout the realm the intelligence which in former days was confined pretty much to the metropolis. Moreover England's colonies, particularly America, have grown into 292 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE tremendous importance, not only furnishing markets for English goods but presenting serious problems in colonial management. Wider interests, a greater degree of intel- ligence, more readers and more classes of readers, — these naturally lead to a greater and more complex literary output. Passing by the weighty prose mentioned in the first paragraph, we may say that the most important, certainly - the most interesting, form that literature took was the novel. Prose fiction of a kind we have found in earher periods — in such works as More's Utopiaf Lyly's Euphues, Sidney's Arcadia, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and Swift's Gulliver's Travels. Robinson Crusoe brings us a step nearer, for the in- cidents in this delightful story might have happened. Strictly speaking, however, our first real novelist is Samuel Richardson, a prosperous, portly, affable London printer. How Richardson, at the age of fifty, began writing novels is interesting. Some publishers engaged him to compose a series of letters designed to form a ^better-writer" or "polite correspondence" book. It occurred to the printer in accepting this commission that he might weave into these letters a moral tale, and the result was a four volume novel in letter form telling how Pamela, a virtuous serving maid, resisted the temp- tations placed in her way by her wild young master, and was at length rewarded for her purity and strength of character by becoming his bride — a bride who reforms her husband. This first novel, appealing very little to the intellect and very much to the emotions, was an immediate success not only in England but throughout Europe. To us of today, accustomed to shorter, livelier, more dramatic stories, Pamela seems tediously long drawn out, its narrative commonplace, its morals petty and obvious. THE AGE OF JOHNSON 293 We are surprised to learn that it was read aloud and wept over in many families, and that the author received scores of letters from tearfully sentimental readers, men as well as women. Yet Richardson's three novels are commonly acknowledged by critics to be among the greatest in Brit- ish fiction. Some of his characters are drawn with such minute fidelity that they seem very real, Hke Sir Roger de Coverley in the Spectator Papers. Among those to whom Richardson's puritanically moral Pamela seemed but wishy-washy twaddle was Henry Fielding. Fielding, belonging to the younger „. , ,. branch of a noble house, was no Puritan but a careless, big-hearted spendthrift, leading a merry life among London wits, frequently in debt, who had drifted into play writing. He was a humorist. Straightway the idea seized him of burlesquing Richardson's novel by writing a companion piece in which Pamela's brother Joseph, a serving man, should virtuously resist all temp- tations. For a time this wicked jest pleased him; but as he proceeded with the story, carrying his hero through a series of lively adventures in high life and low, the humor- ist became so interested in his characters that he abandoned his original purpose. The result was a somewhat rough, hearty, humorous production, with ideals of manhood and womanhood which, though not the loftiest, are free from namby-pamby. He lived to do better work; critics do not agree whether the palm belongs to him or to Richardson. This form of literature once estabhshed, many writers adopted it, and with varying success. If we except Gold- smith, whose delightful Vicar of Wakefield is too well known and loved to call for com- . sterne ment, the best of these novelists are Smollett and Sterne, the former a warm-hearted, irritable Scotch- man, for many years a ship-surgeon and later a struggling 294 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE writer who barely made a living; the latter a none too saintly minister, writer of witty sermons as well as of prose fiction. Smollett's novels are coarse but humorous. In them we meet for the first time the British tar. His best novel, written during the illness which terminated in his death, is highly praised by Thackeray. Sterne's two novels, inferior to Richardson's and Fielding's, are formless, sentimental things, immoral, yet fascinating. At least one of his characters is among the best drawn in all literature. Viewing the fiction of this period collectively, we can- not but note one thing: it is not romantic. It pictures, or strives to picture, not ideal life in an ideal country, but English contemporary life and manners as seen through the eyes not of courtiers but of people belong- ing to the middle class. With the exception of The Vicar of Wakefield, it does not furnish desirable reading for the young; for ideas concerning what scenes should be rep- resented and what matters discussed in novels have changed since the somewhat too free and outspoken days of the eighteenth century. Prose fiction and drama, it has often been remarked, seldom flourish side by side. Drama during the middle third of the century, and indeed later, was very weak, particularly tragedy. Among the writers of comedy, however, were two who are often called the best since Shakespeare. These are Goldsmith and Sheridan, whose She Stoops to Conquer and The Rivals are still popular and mirth producing. Like the novels, they picture contemporary manners. The story of Goldsmith's life, too long to tell in this summary, is as interesting as most novels. He did more foolish things, was a failure at more things, than any other man we have considered. THE AGE OF JOHNSON 295 He was very vain, and very improvident; but his biogra- phers also use the words candor, generosity, simpHcity, and sweetness in teUing of his character. Notwithstanding his many failures, it was his lot to produce a play, a novel, and two poems which are classics. His essays are among the best of his day. Sheridan, like Goldsmith, was of Irish parentage, his father an actor, his mother a playwright and novelist. Although early pro- nounced an impenetrable dunce by his mother, at twenty- eight he had written six successful comedies and estab- lished his fame. At twenty-eight his literary career closed abruptly. He became a member of parHament and en- gaged in bitter political controversy. For a time he was manager of Drury Lane theatre. His fortune varied from great prosperity to poverty. He died deeply in debt. Although the larger histories credit this period with perhaps a score of poets, with the exception of Goldsmith, Gray, and Blake they are not generally known to modern readers. It is a transitional . . in poetry period, in which the old is dying out slowly and the new as slowly gaining ground. By the old is meant poetry patterned after that of Dryden and Pope, coldly intellectual, following classical models, and written in heroic couplets, the favorite measure till near the close of the century. By the new is meant poetry of a mellower type, in which nature, seldom treated by Queen Anne poets save in an artificial way, is increasingly prominent. Very, very gradually the new poetry is gaining in simphcity, in emotional quahties, and in melody. The earliest poet to show this new vein is Thomson, the son of a Scotch clergyman, who came to _. London when Pope was at the height of his power, succeeded in winning patrons, and somehow 296 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE managed to lead an easy life. His four poems, Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn, now little read, heralded the faint beginnings of nature poetry. This same love for nature, and a turning away from the satirical vein of the town poets, is seen in the slender volume which contains the poems of Gray, espe- cially in his well known Elegy, and in Goldsmith's The Traveller and the Deserted Village. Towards the close of the century the transition from the old manner to the new is even more marked in Cowper and Blake. Many who have laughed over Cowper's John Gilpin do not dream that its author was a moody man, now gay, now suffering from the blackest melancholy deepening at times into insanity, and that finally he lost his mind altogether. He is remembered today by his John Gilpin, by his tender lines entitled On the Receipt of my Mother^s Picture out of Norfolk, and by wonderful little descriptive passages scattered through an otherwise tedious poem of great length. The Task, in which he de- scribes the scenes, occupations, and characters of rural life. An even more remarkable man was Blake, by pro- fession an engraver, whose life was one of obscurity and poverty. From early child- hood days he saw visions — of God, of '' armies of angels that soar, legions of devils that lurk." His poetry is strange and mystical, some of it too obscure for compre- hension, but in his Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience (how different the field suggested by these titles from that wherein Dryden and Pope worked!) are found some of the ''simplest and sweetest, as well as some of the most powerful, short poems in the lan- guage.'' Blake, it will be noted, lived well into the nineteenth century. Three prose writers remain to be considered, Burke, THE AGE OF JOHNSON 297 Johnson, and Boswell. The first of these DeQuincey has termed the "supreme writer of the century." Others have declared that his was the greatest mind since Shakespeare's, though Carlyle maintains that he was "a, resplendent, far-sighted rhetorician, rather than a deep and earnest thinker." In a way he lies without our province, for his field was oratory; yet because his speeches have been carefully preserved and are models of forceful eloquence, it would be a blunder to omit all men- tion of this brilliant, earnest Irishman who came to London entirely without influence and became in a few years one of the foremost figures in Enghsh politics. This period appropriately bears the name of Samuel Johnson, son of a bookseller in the little cathedral town of Lichfield. When a young man he came to London at a time when the literary pro- fession was very poorly paid, for years endured bitter poverty as a hack-writer for booksellers, but gradually won his way to prominence, and for many years was the leading figure in English letters, looked up to by all contemporary writers. Most of these writers were his personal friends, and many of them, such as Burke, Goldsmith, Sheridan, and Gibbon, were members of the Club, of which Johnson was a charter member. At the meetings of this Club, Johnson was ever the leader in conversation, delivering opinions on a vast variety of subjects, some trivial, some most weighty; for he loved to talk, and his great philo- sophical mind found easy expression. Johnson's works include two satirical poems, an unsuccessful tragedy, a di- dactic novel, a dictionary of the English language, essays, and biographical sketches, nearly all of which are now forgotten. That Johnson is today the best known writer of the century is due to James Boswell, a young Scotch law- yer, member of the Club, who attached himself to the 298 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE philosopher as a dog to his master, recorded his conversa- tion with painstaking minuteness, and finally wrote what is admitted to be the best biography of its kind ever pro- duced. As we read this stupendous work we cannot but agree with Macaulay that Johnson was a great and good' man. CHAPTER XXX WORDSWORTH-SCOTT ERA: 1789-1832 Robert Burns 1759-1796 Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 WilUam Wordsworth 1770-1850 Samuel T. Coleridge 1772-1834 Lord Byron 1788-1824 Percy B. Shelley 1792-1822 John Keats 1795-1821 Jane Austen 1775-1817 Charles Lamb 1775-1834 Thomas DeQuincey 1785-1859 fSongs, fThe Cotter's Sat- urday Night fLady of the Lake, °The Waverley Novels fThe Daffodils, fOde on Immortality fAncient Mariner fChilde Harold JTo a Skylark, fProme- theus Unbound fTo a Nightingale, fHyperion °Pride and Prejudice Essays of Elia Confessions of an English Opium Eater A period rich in poetry This period extends from the beginning of the French Revolution to the death of Scott. It is fittingly named after two great writers, who best represent the new tendencies in literature: Words- worth the poet of nature, who stands but little lower than Milton; and Scott, the most prominent figure in the field of historical romance in verse and prose. This period produced no great actable drama, no epics, yet with the exception of the Elizabethan it is the most remark- able in all English literature, particularly rich in lyrical poetry, though prose fiction and the essay are prominent. It is represented by many names, far more than appear in our necessarily limited table. 299 300 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE That the Hterature of this period is not only better than that of the two preceding ones but very different in char- acter is seen at every turn, especially in poetry, and nowhere more conspicuously than in the works of Robert Burns. A poor, uneducated peasant boy, composing songs in the vernacular to fit old Scottish airs as his plow turned the furrow; but a few years later, for a brief time the lion of brilhant Edinburgh society; at thirty-seven, poor, neglected, deeply remorseful concerning his dissipated life, dying miserably in pitiful obscurity: such is the familiar story of our greatest song- writer. His simple melodies, full of tenderness and sym- pathy touched with humor, full of love for nature, his fellow men, his rugged country, full of hatred of sham and bigotry, have endeared him to the entire world. A greater contrast can hardly be imagined than that between the artificial, coldly intellectual lines which brought fame and riches to Pope, the commanding poet at the beginning of the century, and the tender, spontaneous songs of the unlettered peasant with which the century closes. Burns, the lyric poet and painter of familiar scenes from country life, found his subject matter at his door. Scott's passion was for the long ago when the harp was heard in hall and bower. He lamented the disappearance of the minstrel, so prominent a figure in earlier times. His hobby during his young manhood days had been the collecting of ancient legends and ballads. At length he tried his own hand at minstrel poetry. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and The Lady of the Lake, first of some seven or eight long poems which came from his pen in rapid succession, gained an immediate popularity, so different were they from anything else that had ever appeared. The reading world was tired of satir- ical and philosophical poetry, and quickly cast it aside WORDSWORTH-SCOTT ERA 301 for these new romances with their scenes of love and war and adventure in which historical personages figure as heroes and heroines. The sales were unprecedented, and Scott, the none too successful lawyer, became famous. Although these poems still have hundreds of thousands of readers, for the world seldom wearies of gallant knights and ladies fair and all the trappings that go with chivalry, this new Scottish minstrel slipped into the background when the young and beautiful Lord Byron awoke one morning to find himself famous through his romance of travel, Childe Harold. Childe Harold is but Lord Byron, his long poem but a record of European travels in lands recently brought into prom- inence through the stirring events following the French Revolution. Its descriptive passages, its stanzas in which the moody, pessimistic, yet freedom-loving poet describes his emotions upon contemplating this scene and that, so appealed to the great masses that Byron became the idol of all Europe. A man of '' careless yet great poetical gifts" undoubtedly he was; his subject matter was new and his personality fascinating; but his fame has slowly declined. Scott, posterity has decided, is the sweeter, more wholesome poet. His works are not tainted with voluptuousness and scorn for accepted codes of morals as are Byron's; nor does Scott ever parade his own sorrows. Byron's life ended nobly, for he died of fever while fighting for Greek freedom; but his young manhood days were wild and passionate, and his later life ^ , ., on the continent, where much of his time was spent, was far from faultless. Very different was the career of William Wordsworth, who lived a quiet, blameless life of plain living and high thinking. A small legacy from a friend, afterwards supplemented by other sums gained through inheritance, relieved him of all care concerning 302 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE money matters. We associate him with the beautiful lake and mountain region of northwestern England, where most of his days were passed in ideal companion- ship with his wife and his sister Dorothy. He was a life-long poet, for years the object of ridicule on the part of the critics, but living to be recognized as one whose works were in a way revolutionary. The Queen Anne writers had believed that correctness and polish should be sought even at the expense of individ- Wordsworth's uality. They subjected themselves to rules, theory of The heroic couplet was adopted as the one poetry perfect measure, and poets employed a select vocabulary of choice words, as if the phrases of common speech were too inelegant for verse. The favorite themes were philosophical and satirical. Against all this Words- worth rebelled. He believed no vocabulary more poetical than that of common speech, no matter more fit for the poet's use than his daily experiences and the simple objects contemplated day by day. He employed a variety of meters, including the sonnet form, which had been neg- lected for a century and more. Wordsworth is our greatest nature poet. He lived with Nature, communed with her as if she were a spirit, drew from her his philosophy, if not his religion. Wordsworth a ^^ , , , ., , \tt ^ Volumes have been written on Words- nature poet , . 1 worth s nature-worship, but we do not need to read them to enjoy, and in a measure understand, the simpler of his poems in which he records his companionship with mountains, brooks, trees, flowers, birds, the peaceful lake, and the starlit skies. Notwithstanding the fact that Wordsworth's poetry deals largely with nature and the simple life of the peasants who lived about him, he should be credited with imagination and deep thought. His WORDSWORTH-SCOTT ERA 303 imagination is of a very different kind, however, from that which we find in Coleridge's weird poem of the supernat- ural. Rime of the Ancient Mariner j which first appeared in a httle volume made up of verses written by these brother poets. Coleridge was a life-long dreamer, his career most exasperating to those who believe that even poets should support themselves and their famiUes. Apparently he was absolutely helpless in business affairs, unable to follow a venture for any length of time. His will, never very strong, was weakened by the use of opium, first taken as a medicine. Much of his life he was dependent on others for support. And yet this indolent man, most of whose poems are but fragments of uncompleted works, was one of the greatest thinkers of his day. As a conversationahst he ranks with Johnson. His lectures on Shakespeare, saved to us through notes taken by those who listened, are among the best in that field. What poet can be named whose verses have the melody pecuhar to Coleridge's best lines? The Ancient Mariner stands alone, the only great poem of the weirdly supernatural in the language. Shelley and Keats, the last two poets to be considered, present a number of striking contrasts. Keats was of lowly parentage, his father a groom in a London livery stable. He was physically frail, destined to die of consumption at twenty-six. He had little education, and was practically without in- fluential friends. What he would have produced had his life been spared can be conjectured only; yet even amid adverse circumstances he produced a few poems which clearly entitle him to rank among the great. Keats was not a thinker; his poetry is not a vehicle for ideas, but a record of acutely felt sensations. It is sometimes affirmed that his one message is contained in his well known, though enigmatic, lines 304 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Beauty is truth, truth beauty; that is all We know on earth and all we need to know. Like Wordsworth, he was a nature poet; yet his inspiration came largely from books. He was fascinated by the music and imagery of the Foerie Queene. Chapman's Homer, as he has told us in one of his most perfect poems, opened to him a whole world of unsuspected beauty, and he reveled in the romance of the Middle Ages. His longer poems re- tell with wonderful beauty tales from classical mythology and mediaeval legend. Shelley was of aristocratic birth, the son of a substantial gentleman as matter of fact as his son was visionary and wilful. His entire life was a series of striking incidents, from the time he was expelled from college for printing a pamphlet advocating atheism till his death by drowning at thirty. Keats did not meddle with the great problems perplexing the world in the years following the Revolution; he lived in his little w^orld of sensuous beauty. Shelley was a violent revolutionist, in rebellion against all restraint, social, political, and reli- gious. He saw the misery and the tyranny of the world, and threw himself into attempt after attempt to make the world better and happier, obedient to no rule save that of love. We cannot follow in detail the career of this im- practical reformer, though it is one of dramatic inter- est. Of poetry he wrote an amazing amount, in which imagination of the highest kind is most prominent. He is perhaps the most ethereal of all our singers, his flights many of them too lofty for any save poets to follow. To common readers he is best known by his shorter pieces, such as his matchless Ode to the West Wind and To a Skylark. These seven poets. Bums, Scott, Byron, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, and Shelley, make this a remarkable era WORDSWORTH-SCOTT ERA 305 of poetry. Prose fiction too shows a perceptible advance, reaching new heights in the works of Jane Austen and Walter Scott. While these two are the great names, it should not be forgotten that be- tween the days of Sterne, last of the five great eighteenth century novehsts, and Jane Austen, first of the five or six great novelists of the nineteenth century, there were in this comparatively new field scores of writers who had their hour of popularity, and that during the lifetime of Scott still other scores appeared. Not a few of these were women. Frances Burney's Evelina, a so- ciety novel popular in the days of Johnson, „ Burke, and Goldsmith, who were her in- timate friends, still finds occasional readers. Mrs. Edge- worth's tales of Irish life and Jane Porter's Thaddeus of Warsaw and The Scottish Chiefs are not wholly forgotten ; indeed the last named book is still quite popular with young readers. "Quiet, homely, wholesome Jane Austen:" thus has been characterized by one critic the author of Pride and Prejudice, concerning whom Scott once de- clared, "That young lady has a talent for describing the involvements of feelings and characters of ordinary life which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with." Publishers were very slow in accepting her manu- scripts; they doubted if her quiet, domestic tales, as free from the sensational as was her own life in a village rectory, would find many readers. But today Jane Austen is ranked with the greatest of novelists. Of Scott, it is hardly necessary to say anything, so well known are the twenty-nine historical romances which came from his pen after he realized that the popularity once his as a poet had passed to Lord Byron. This brilliant series marks the climax of 306 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE romantic historical fiction, so different in kind from eight- eenth century fiction in which contemporary fife is pic- tured. Lamb and DeQuincey are undoubtedly the best known essayists of the period. The former was the son of a law- yer's confidential servant. He went to jy Q - , school with Coleridge and was his life-long friend. Very pathetic is the story of ''gentle- hearted Charles," as Coleridge called him, but it cannot be told in this brief summary. He was known to many merely as a clerk in the India House; the few choice spirits who enjoyed the hospitality of the modest lodgings where he and his sister Mary lived knew him as an inveterate play-goer, a lover of old books, old furniture, and whist, nervous, emotional, generous, lovable. No author in all the realm of letters, it is safe to say, is better loved than Elia, as he signed himself when writing short essays for the London Magazine — essays which differ from Addison's in that they reveal the writer's personality; for he shares with the reader his likes and dislikes. He polished and re- wrote, yet his essays convey the impression of unstudied conversation. Lamb's essays fill but a single volume; DeQuincey was a life-long magazine writer, whose many works cover a wide range, though he is best known by his dream Hterature, particularly as found in his Confessions of an English Opium Eater. He was a shy, eccentric, scholarly recluse, by nature affectionate, like Coleridge a marvelous talker, like Coleridge too a slave to opium. He is one of the recognized masters of English style. As we view collectively the works of this wonderful period we readily see how different they are from those of the two preceding eras. First we note that classical models have been cast aside, and the somewhat artificial diction of eighteenth century poetry has been supplanted. Bums WORDSWORTH-SCOTT ERA 307 uses the vernacular of Scottish peasants and Wordsworth dehberately selects the simple language of the middle classes. Second, though Queen Anne writers Character- were more deeply interested in their own istics of the times and looked upon earher days as Period somewhat barbarous, less than a century later the ro- mantic past is fascinating poet and novelist. The ancient ballads are collected by Bishop Percy; Scott and Keats find much of their subject matter in the romance of the Middle Ages, and Lamb lives with the minor dramatists of Shakespeare's day. Third, a new prominence is given to nature. Wordsworth writes of mountains and brooks, of clouds and daffodils. The roar of the ocean rolls through Byron's poetry. Shelley sings of the skylark and Keats of the nightingale. The charm of The Lady of the Lake is in no small measure attributable to Scott's vivid descrip- tion of romantic scenery. The town has lost its fascina- tion. Fourth, we cannot but note a marked increase in human sympathy, tender and democratic. The artificial barriers of society and rank are being torn down; the aristocracy of letters is a thing of the past. Burns ideal- izes the hfe of the peasant; Wordsworth writes of Peter Bell and Lucy Gray. Shelley devoted his young life to the betterment of the world, and Byron, by birth an aristocrat, died for the cause of liberty. Finally, few are the writers of this period who were not deeply moved by the French Revolution; and the influence of German literature, then at its highest excellence, is seen in the trend of English thought. CHAPTER XXXI VICTORIAN ERA: 1832-1900 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809-1892 Robert Browning 1812-1889 William Makepeace Thackeray 1811-1863 Charles Dickens 1812-1870 George EUot 1819-1880 Robert Louis Stevenson 1845- 1894 Thomas Carlyle 1795-1881 Thomas B. Macaulay 1800-1859 John Ruskin 1819-1900 tidylls of the King, fin Memoriam fThe Ring and the Book, fDramatic Lyrics °Henry Esmond, The Eng- lish Humorists °David Copperfield, °A Tale of Two Cities °Silas Marner, °The Mill on the Floss ^Treasure Island, °The Merrymen and other Tales Sartor Resartus, History of the French Revolution Biographical Essays, His- tory of England Stones of Venice Difficulty in summarizing This period is difficult to summarize for two reasons. First, we are bewildered by a multitude of names. The century was one of great and rapidly increas- ing literary activity in all fields, especially in fiction and history and in miscellaneous prose of the periodical type; for quarterlies, monthlies, weeklies, and dailies played an important part in the intellectual life of the times. Second, the period is so adjacent to the present, we are so near to it, that it is difficult to select from the crowd of leading figures and determine with certainty the prevailing characteristics. All critics agree, however, that it was a remarkable era, 308 VICTORIAN ERA 309 nearly the equal of the preceding one. Two great poets and a number of others of unusual power; three great novelists and half a score more whose works bid fair to live; three great essayists and a number of others nearly as great, besides many historians and scientists whose works possess a literary charm almost admitting them to the realm of belles-lettres, — this is the proud record of the Victorian era. The most popular poet of this period was Tennyson, whose life-story is exceedingly simple: born in a Lincoln- shire rectory; educated at Cambridge; from boyhood days a poet, winning recognition slowly but surely; at thirty-four, the recipient of a pension; laureate at forty-one, a peer at seventy-five. The last half of his life was spent at Farringford on the Isle of Wight and at Aldworth in Sussex, quiet retreats made possible by the success of his verse. His earliest venture was a little volume in which his two brothers had a share, published when he was but eighteen. Among his latest works were a number of historical dramas. Between these two ex- tremes came, among many other poems, The Princess, The Idylls of the King, and In Memoriam. The first of these is ^'a novel in verse" telHng how the Princess Ida founds a college for women, but finally abandons her enterprise and marries one of the princes who, heedless of the warning over the gateway promising death to any man who should enter the college town, disguise themselves as maidens and are accepted as students. It is a combination of earnest- ness and banter dealing with ''the emancipation of women," illustrating perhaps better than any of his other poems how Tennyson's works reflect the thought and spirit of his times. It also reveals his almost perfect art as a lyrist, for scattered through the narrative are some of the best songs in the language. The Idylls carry us back to Sir Thomas 310 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Malory; for they are tales retold from Morte d' Arthur in an attempt to form an epic on the fall of the Round Table. The composition of the Idylls was scattered through many years; and the same is true of In Memoriam, sl long series of poems in which the poet records the various moods of his grief caused by the death of a college friend. Critics do not agree in their estimate of Tennyson, though all recognize him as a great artist, a master of melody, a close and sjnnpathetic observer of nature, with wonderful pictorial powers. We could ill spare the works of one who sang so well in so many "different keys. There is strength and exquisite beauty in the best of the IdyllSy and many of his shorter pieces are faultless gems. Browning, like Tennyson, was exclusively a poet, de- voting his entire life to literature. Unhke Tennyson, he . waited long for recognition. Up to the time when, at the age of thirty-four, he married Elizabeth Barrett, the leading poetess of the century, he had gained but a slender reputation, although he had writ- ten much the worth of which is now fully appreciated; and for years afterward, while these two poets were living happily in Florence, the home of their married life, he was best known as the husband of Elizabeth Barrett. Not until he published, at fifty-six. The Ring and the Book, did he receive a wide reading. Since then his popularity has steadily increased, many critics placing him above Tenny- son. Browning is not the finished artist that we find in Tenny- son; much of his verse is exceedingly rugged and unmu- sical. Moreover he is unnecessarily obscure, especially in his earlier poems. The meaning of many a passage has to be puzzled out — an enjoyable process to those who admire the poet, but exasperating to those who prefer the perfect clearness of Tennyson. But Browning is a deeper thinker VICTORIAN ERA 311 than Tennyson, and his manly optimism is better than dream-Hke beauty. A few of his works are dramas; many of them are dramatic in character — monologues in which personages from history or old stories, or merely creatures of his own imagining, are made to talk in such a manner as to reveal their souls and incidentally tell in wonderfully condensed form a dramatic story. Browning may be said to have invented this mode of story-telling. In The Ring and the Book, we are given the story of a murder, first as it impresses the poet, who found in a chance-discovered book , an account of the court trial it occasioned, then as it im- presses ten others immediately concerned. This telling and retelling of the same story fills more than 20,000 lines, yet the narrative gains steadily in interest, for each version throws new light on the sordid action. All Browning's poetry is stamped with vigorous personality. He was by nature brave and manly, optimistic, believing in hard work, welcoming troubles and hardships as necessary for the de- velopment of character. He hated nothing more than in- activity and indecision due to lack of energy and courage. Of the other poets of the period, not so great as Tenny- son and Browning yet worthy of mention, two were women, Mrs. Browning and Christina Rosetti. The latter belongs to a little group, among them Dante Rossetti, William Morris, and Algernon Swinburne, known as the Pre-Raphaelites, who found their inspiration, as did earlier poets who shared in the Romantic Move- ment, in the Middle Ages. Tennyson and Browning are great story-tellers. It was a great story-telling era, the golden age of prose fiction. By the middle of the century the yearly Dickens, output was nearly one hundred novels. Thackeray, Earliest to appear of the three world-great George Eliot novelists who followed Scott was Charles Dickens, whose 312 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Pickwick Papers (1836-7) lifted an obscure shorthand re- porter of rather lowly origin — his boyhood daj^s were days of London poverty — into a world-wide popularity which he retained through the remainder of his life. A decade later (1847-8) appeared Vanity Fair, opening the gate to fame for Thackeray, a little higher in the social scale than Dickens, a little better educated, who had served appren- ticeship for years as a writer of sketches for Punch and other magazines. Ten years later still (1858) appeared the first of George Eliot's fictions, a volume of short stories entitled Scenes from Clerical Life. Dickens and Thackeray were of the city; their novels teem with char- acters as do the streets of the London they knew so well. George Eliot — her real name before marriage was Mary Ann Evans — ^was the daughter of a Warwickshire land agent and surveyor. She is at her best when picturing life in the rural districts of Middle England where her earlier years were spent. These three writers differ from Scott, the out-and-out romancer who lived in the past with kings and queens and knights and ladies. His fiction world is more romantic than real. Dickens, Thackeray, and George Eliot are realistic painters of English life and manners, mainly of their own times or the adjacent past; though Thackeray's Henry Esmond, by most critics called the best historical novel ever written, is a vivid picture of Queen Anne days, Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities a graphic account of the beginning of the French Revolution, and George Eliot's Romola a story of Italy in Savonarola's day. We cannot tarry to note how these three great artists differed one from another in temperament and humor, in their ways of looking upon life, and their theories of what a novel should be; it would be useless to attempt to determine which is the greatest. All three are very great, far above VICTORIAN ERA 313 any of their contemporaries, and above the novelists of the present day. Among their contemporaries in the field of fiction many are of more than ordinary abihty : Bulwer Lytton, the best known of whose historical novels is The Last Days of Pompeii; Captain Marryat, writer of , . , sea tales; Anthony Trollope, whose realistic novels of clerical and political life still retain their pop- ularity; Charles Kingsley, author of Westward Ho! and Hypatia; Charlotte Bronte, whose melodramatic Jane Eyre shows wonderful vitality. With all its faults, Charles Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth is among the best of romances aiming to acquaint the reader with Continental life in the Middle Ages; and Tom Brown^s School Days and Tom Brown at Oxford, by Hughes, are among the most wholesome books ever written for boys. MacDonald, Meredith, Blackmore, and Hardy are other names which would receive marked attention in a wider survey. At present, critics are inclined to give to Stevenson a rank second only to the greatest; certainly no writer of recent years has employed language with greater charm. His Treasure Island bids fair to become a classic in the field of romantic adventure, and certain of his shorter tales approach in genius the masterpieces of Poe and Hawthorne. We appreciate his works the more as we become better acquainted with his biography. He was a life-long in- valid, and fought his way to fame through obstacles that would have daunted a spirit less persistently brave and cheerful. Stevenson ranks high as an essayist too, though not in the same class with Carlyle, Macaulay, and Ruskin. The first of these three sprang, like Burns, from the Scotch peasantry. His is the familiar story of the poor country boy for whom ''bitter thrift" 312 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Pickwick Payers (1836-7) lifted an obscure shorthand re- porter of rather lowly origin — his boyhood days were days of London poverty — into a world-wide popularity which he retained through the remainder of his life. A decade later (1847-8) appeared Vanity Fair, opening the gate to fame for Thackeray, a little higher in the social scale than Dickens, a little better educated, who had served appren- ticeship for years as a writer of sketches for Punch and other magazines. Ten years later still (1858) appeared the first of George Eliot's fictions, a volume of short stories entitled Scenes from Clerical Life. Dickens and Thackeray were of the city; their novels teem with char- acters as do the streets of the London they knew so well. George Eliot — her real name before marriage was Mary Ann Evans — ^was the daughter of a Warwickshire land agent and surveyor. She is at her best when picturing life in the rural districts of Middle England where her earlier years were spent. These three writers differ from Scott, the out-and-out romancer who lived in the past with kings and queens and knights and ladies. His fiction world is more romantic than real. Dickens, Thackeray, and George Eliot are realistic painters of English life and manners, mainly of their own times or the adjacent past; though Thackeray's Henry Esmond, by most critics called the best historical novel ever written, is a vivid picture of Queen Anne days, Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities a graphic account of the beginning of the French Revolution, and George Eliot's Romola sl story of Italy in Savonarola's day. We cannot tarry to note how these three great artists differed one from another in temperament and humor, in their ways of looking upon life, and their theories of what a novel should be; it would be useless to attempt to determine which is the greatest. All three are very great, far above VICTORIAN ERA 313 any of their contemporaries, and above the novelists of the present day. Among their contemporaries in the field of fiction many are of more than ordinary ability : Bulwer Lytton, the best known of whose historical novels is The Last Days of Pompeii; Captain Marryat, writer of , . , sea tales; Anthony TroUope, whose realistic novels of clerical and political life still retain their pop- ularity; Charles Kingsley, author of Westward Ho! and Hypatia; Charlotte Bronte, whose melodramatic Jane Eyre shows wonderful vitality. With all its faults, Charles Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth is among the best of romances aiming to acquaint the reader with Continental life in the Middle Ages; and Tom Brown's School Days and Tom Brown at Oxford, by Hughes, are among the most wholesome books ever written for boys. MacDonald, Meredith, Blackmore, and Hardy are other names which would receive marked attention in a wider survey. At present, critics are inclined to give to Stevenson a rank second only to the greatest; certainly no writer of recent years has employed language with greater charm. His Treasure Island bids fair to become a classic in the field of romantic adventure, and certain of his shorter tales approach in genius the masterpieces of Poe and Hawthorne. We appreciate his works the more as we become better acquainted with his biography. He was a life-long in- valid, and fought his way to fame through obstacles that would have daunted a spirit less persistently brave and cheerful. Stevenson ranks high as an essayist too, though not in the same class with Carlyle, Macaulay, and Ruskin. The first of these three sprang, like Burns, from the Scotch peasantry. His is the familiar story of the poor country boy for whom ''bitter thrift" 314 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE won a college education, and to whom came many years of toil and disappointment before wide recognition. Not until, in his early forties, he published his French Revolu- tion, admittedly the jBnest history since Gibbon's, did he become widely known. His works fill many volumes. For the most part, they are not attractive to young readers, though it is safe to say that many a youth has gained inspiration from his Heroes and Hero Worship, which was first given to the world in the form of lectures delivered before fashionable audiences in London, the essayist's home for nearly half a century. Carlyle was a severe critic of his times, railing against the mechanical spirit, and crying out against all forms of sham in religion, gov- ernment, and society. He wrote in what has been called Carlylese, so different is it from anything else in the entire range of literature, a style at times wonderfully rhyth- mical and eloquent, at all times suggesting intense, sincere emotion, but always rugged, vigorous, 'Volcanic." He throws lawlessly constructed sentences at the reader as a blindly enraged giant might hurl trees and boulders. In marked contrast to this ''seer and prophet" who looked beneath the surface of things is Macaulay, essayist, historian, poet, orator, aside from the nov- elists the most popular writer of his day. To him success came easily; he had no early struggle with poverty. Before leaving the university he had written for minor periodicals, and at twenty-five the Edinburgh Review published his long essay on Milton, the first of many similar productions which this versatile man found time to write during a busy public career; for at thirty he was a member of parliament and continued to be a prom- inent Whig orator nearly all his life. His Lays of Ancient Rome, written in his early forties, was immediately pop- ular, and his History of England, published some years VICTORIAN ERA 315 later, sold like a novel. We may think of him as a typical prosperous Englishman, upright, self-confident, well sat- isfied with the world against which Carlyle raved. He was an omnivorous reader, with a phenomenal memory. He did not think deeply, but what he saw he saw clearly, and he found no difficulty in expressing himself with clearness and vigor. His essays form a type as distinct as that exemplified in Bacon or Addison or Lamb. Many of them are book reviews, expanded beyond the length of the present day magazine article to include a biographical sketch and a critical estimate of some literary or political character. They are nearly perfect in construction, and written in a brilliant, rapid, frequently showy style which makes them agreeable reading. He deliberately planned to make his history as interesting as a novel; and so great were his graphic powers, his ability to paint scenes, that he achieved a brilliant success, though his narrative is not always trustworthy. No doubt Macaulay did much for his times; his writings imparted information in an agreeable form, and his style, admirable for practical purposes, furnished the great masses with much needed models. But he was not a great moral force; he did not inspire. This cannot be said of John Ruskin, the gifted son of a wealthy London wine merchant, who became when but a young man the leading English art critic, and later exerted wide influence as a social reformer, preaching the gospel of '' useful work and faithful love and stintless charity." Through such voluminous treatises as Modern Painters, Seven Lamps of Architecture, and Stones of Venice, he popularized art, leading many to find beauty and inspir- ation in great masterpieces and in the natural world. As a social reformer he not only wrote and lectured but gave time and vast sums of money in unselfish, if not always 316 A SUMMARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE practical, attempts to better the lives of working people through various industrial schemes. Like Carlyle, he hated sham and selfishness and money-greed. Unlike Carlyle, he did not simply condemn existing circumstances but suggested ways, industrial, social, educational, for bettering circumstances. He was often ridiculed; but his reforms are beginning to look less preposterous. Ruskin's wide influence was due in part to his great earnestness and unquestioned sincerity, and to the fact that he had a mes- sage of real importance to give. In the field of pure de- scription he is without an equal, and all that he wrote is characterized by a musical quality and richness in color which suggest the poet and the painter. He is one of the masters of English style. Arnold the scholar, Newman the preacher, and Trev- elyan the biographer are other Avriters of this rich period of prose. Among the historians are such well .. known names as Hallam, Morley, Froude, Freeman, Green, and Grote; among phil- osophers and scientists, Spencer, Huxley, Darwin, and Tyndall. But in the field of pure literature, Carlyle, Macaulay, and Ruskin easily hold first place. APPENDIX A RULES OF PUNCTUATION THE PERIOD 1 Use the period after a complete declarative or impera- tive sentence. Be careful not to treat a phrase or a clause as if it were a coniplete sentence. The following, for example, is in- correctly punctuated. We made Charles our captain. He being by far the best player. This should read We made Charles our captain, he being by far the best player. Be equally careful not to run sentences together. The temp- tation to make this error is especially great when the second of two sentences begins with a pronoun referring to a sub- stantive in the first. It is incorrect to write Charles makes a good captain, he is our best player and the fellows respect him. A period or a semicolon should take the place of the comma after captain. 2 Use the period after an abbreviation. /■ THE INTERROGATION POINT 3 Use the interrogation point (a) at the close of a direct question, (b) in parenthesis to indicate doubt. THE EXCLAMATION POINT 4 Use the exclamation point after interjections, exclam- atory words and phrases, and sentences expressing strong emotion. This is not a rule to be followed blindly; judgment is necessary in determining where an exclamation point will add needed force. 319 320 APPENDIX THE COMMA 5 If the terms of a series are all in the same construction and are not joined by conjunctions, the comma should be used to separate them. If only the last two terms are joined by a conjunction, the comma should be used regardless of the connective. The series may consist of a number of nouns all subjects of the same verb, a number of verbs having a common subject, a number of modifiers (adjectives, adverbs, phrases, or clauses) modifying the same word. It may consist of the clauses of a compound sentence, and occa- sionally of a number of short, closely related independent statements. The important thing to remember is that the terms separated must be in what may be called par- allel construction. Here are illustrations: Morning, afternoon, and evening slipped away. I rose softly, slipped on my clothes, and opened the door suddenly. I came, I saw, I conquered. 6 Use the comma, if necessary for clearness, to set off a dependent clause when it precedes a principal clause. Notice that the rule has to do with clauses, not with phrases. Seldom is it necessary to set off a phrase even when it stands first in a sentence, unless the phrase is participial. Occasionally it becomes necessary to set off an introductory adverb. No rule can be framed to cover all cases, but the underlying principle is clear. When the comma is really needed to show at a glance where the dependent element leaves off and the principal element begins, it should be used. Here are illustrations: As he was passing by, the door opened suddenly. Being admonished, let us follow better things. To be sure, there are exceptions to most rules. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. APPENDIX 321 7 Use the comma, if necessary for clearness, to set off non- restrictive phrases and clauses. A phrase or clause is restrictive when it narrows or closely defines what it modifies; or when it picks out one thing from among several, as do the words this and that. Removing a restrictive word-group changes the meaning of the sentence in which it occurs. A non-restrictive word- group contains an additional statement, explanatory or incidental. The sentence does not change materially when a non-restrictive phrase or clause is removed. For example, in the statement The greatest man is he who does not lose his child^s heart, the relative clause is restrictive. Remove the clause, and the sentence becomes meaningless. In the statement Affliction, like an iron-smith, shapes as it strikes, the phrase like an iron-smith is non-restrictive; the meaning is reasonably clear even when the phrase is removed. Here are further illustrations: He who strives should win. (restrictive) Bruce, who had failed many times, finally succeeded, (non- restrictive) The station which Nelson had chosen was some fifty miles to the west of Cadiz, (restrictive) The storm, which by noon had spent its fury, entirely disap- peared before dusk, (non-restrictive) 8 Use the comma to set off words or word-groups when they interrupt the thought or the grammatical order. This rule, necessarily vague and covering many cases, should not be followed blindly; the writer must use judg- ment. Some interruptions are so slight that they do not call for punctuation; others need careful attention. The interruption may be caused by words coming between subject and predicate, or between a verb and its comple- ment. It may consist of words independent by address, a word or phrase in apposition, an absolute phrase, or an 322 APPENDIX explanatory phrase interrupting a clause. Among brief expressions often, though not always, used parenthetically are too, also, moreover, indeed, namely, again, no doubt, in fact, in short, of course, consequently, for instance, so to speak, in truth. Here are illustrations: Most rules, to be sure, have their exceptions. In thee, Lord, do I put my trust. The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by the fire and talked the night away. 9 Avoid placing the comma before when, where, whether, if, or that, when the word introduces an object clause. But place the comma before and, but, for, or, nor, as, or because, if by so doing you can make the meaning clearer. Placing a punctuation mark of any kind between such parts of a sentence as are closely related and are in their natural order should always be avoided; hence the first section of this rule, which cautions against separating the verb from its object. The reason underlying the second section rests in the fact that some words are used now as prepositions, now as conjunctions; and in the fact that coordinate conjunctions sometimes join single words, sometimes phrases or clauses. It is therefore necessary, at times, to place a comma before a conjunction in order to show that it is not a preposition, or to show that the conjunction introduces not a single word but a clause. That is, the comma prevents the reader from hurrying on too rapidly; it shows him the relationship of that which follows to that which precedes. Notice carefully the following sentences. If the comma were omitted in the last four, the rapid reader might, for a moment, miss the meaning. He said that all was ready. Please ask him when we may come. APPENDIX 323 He liked none, but the first and the last of the songs pleased me exceedingly. We ran as fast as we could, for the boat left promptly at five. For supper we had bread and jam, and nothing else could have pleased us more. In this room were twenty-five seats, and two long benches up in front where the children sat when reciting. 10 Use the comma before a short, informal quotation. When but a few words are quoted, and these words form a structural part of the sentence in which they appear, the comma is unnecessary. Thus we write, cor- rectly, This ''youth to fortune and to fame imknown" was the poet Gray. THE SEMICOLON 11 Use the semicolon as if it were a large comma, to separate phrases or clauses in the same construction when they are exceptionally long, or when one or both are so broken by commas that, were not the semicolon used, the eye would not readily perceive where one phrase or clause ends and the next begins. Notice carefully that the word-groups separated must be in the same construction; for the semicolon should not be used to separate a principal clause from a dependent. The following sentences, though long and somewhat compli- cated, are clear because the semicolon shows at a glance where each term of a series ends : There was the honest cock robin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud, querulous note; and the twittering blackbirds, flying in sable clouds; and the gold- winged wood- pecker, with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and splen- did plumage; and the cedarbird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow tipt tail and its little monteiro cap of feathers; and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light-blue coat and white under- clothes, screaming and chattering, bobbing and nodding and 324 APPENDIX bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songstei of the grove. If, then, the removal of the causes of this spirit of American liberty be, for the greater part, or rather entirely, impracticable; if the ideas of criminal process be inapplicable, or if inapphcable are in the highest degree inexpedient, what way remains? 12 Use the semicolon as if it were a small period, placing it between independent statements so closely related in thought that it is undesirable to separate them with a period. This is a dangerous rule for young writers, for their tendency is to use the semicolon too freely. When in doubt whether a semicolon or a period is the proper point, use the period; when hesitating between a comma and a period, use the latter. Here are examples : Burke's plan was simple, direct, sure; Lord North's was com- plex, indirect, and uncertain. I am her kinsman; let me, therefore, avenge her wrong. If fortune favors you, do not be elated; if she frowns, do not despair. THE COLON 13 Use the colon after as follows, the following, in the following manner, thus, this, these, and similar expressions, when they introduce quotations, enumerations, or explana- tions. Namely, for instance, for example, and that is, when introducing enumerations or explanatory matter, are almost always preceded by the semicolon and followed by the comma. Notice the following examples: In the closing paragraph are found these words: "Gentlemen, let us ever remember that our interest is in concord, not conflict; and that our real eminence rests in the victories of peace, not those of war." According to Newton, the primary colors are these: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. APPENDIX 325 There are many shades of blue; for example, robin's-egg, turquoise, gobelin, and cyan. 14 Use the colon after the salutation in letter-writing. QUOTATION MARKS 15 Use double quotation marks to enclose a direct quota- tion. This is the general rule, related to which are a number of minor ones. These must be examined with care. 1. Be sure that the words enclosed are the exact words of the person quoted. It is wrong, for example, to write He said "that he would come tomorrow." Either the quo- tation marks should be removed or the sentence changed to read He said, "I will come tomorrow." 2. When a quoted sentence is interrupted by a paren- thetical expression such as said he, two pairs of quotation marks are needed, one for each section. The first word of the second section should not begin with a capital, unless it is a proper noun or the pronoun I. Example: "This," said he, "is most fortunate." 3. If the quotation consists of a number of sentences, all by the same person, do not place marks before and after each sentence, but simply before the first and after the last. If the quotation consists of several paragraphs, all by the same person, place marks before each one, but after the last one only. 4. Use single marks to set off a quotation within a quotation. Example: "I think," he replied, "that it was Pope who said 'To err is human.'" 5. When reporting an extended conversation — some- thing more than a brief anecdote, indicate by means of indention where one speaker concludes and another begins. 326 APPENDIX THE APOSTROPHE 16 Use the apostrophe (a) to distinguish the possessive case of nouns, (b) to indicate the plurals of letters and figures, and (c) to show the omission of letters or figures. These three uses are illustrated in the following sentence : ^Tis true John's b's and 6's look alike. Do not forget that the possessive forms of pronouns do not call for the apos- trophe. It's is not the possessive form of it, but a con- traction of it is. Who's is not the possessive form of who, but a contraction of who is. THE DASH 17 Use the dash to indicate a sudden change in the sense or the grammatical construction, particularly after a series the terms of which are in apposition with a word following the series. Meanwhile Henry — but that is another story. Dickens, Thackeray, Scott — these are my favorite novehsts. 18 Use the dash, but with great caution, between short, snappy sentences, or even between single words or word- groups, to give the impression of haste or excitement. The dash has a number of other dramatic uses, but these will not be given; for, as one manual remarks, the dash ''is more misused and overused than any of the other punctuation marks." THE PARENTHESIS AND THE BRACKET 19 Use the parenthesis (a) to enclose figures or letters employed to mark divisions, (b) to enclose matter which does not belong strictly to the sentence. The bracket is employed in much the same way, yet with this difference: as a rule the words enclosed in a bracket belong to an editor or reporter. In reported APPENDIX 327 speeches, for example, we may find bracketed expres- sions like the following: [Loud cheers!], [At this point the speaker was interrupted by the member from ]. Note. — For exercises in punctuation see page 23. FIGURES OF SPEECH Any departure from plain, ordinary expression, for the purpose of gaining a desired effect, is called a figure of speech. There are many kinds of figures, one investigator recognizing over two hundred varieties. But not a few of these are so common, and represent departures so slight, that they may be disregarded. The following are, without much question, the most important: A simile is a definitely expressed comparison. Usually the things compared are named, the point of resemblance or dissimilarity indicated, and a word denoting comparison employed, as in the line Red as a rose is she. Sometimes, however, the point of resemblance or dissim- ilarity is not mentioned, as in the fine Her cheeks like the dawn of day. But in every case the things compared are quite dissimilar in all respects save one. No simile is present, for example, in the assertion James is taller than Henry, since the com- parison is between things of the same class or kind, and there is no departure from ordinary, matter-of-fact state- ment. Similes are an aid to clearness, for through com- parisons the reader is enabled to get more completely the 328 APPENDIX thought, the fancy, the image, in the writer's mind. More- over a good simile brings a degree of pleasurable surprise, by pointing out that things apparently not at all resembling each other possess one characteristic in common. Finally, that which a simile brings to mind is often beautiful in itself, or stirring, uplifting. A metaphor is an implied comparison — a simile con- densed, usually into a single word. MaruUus employs metaphor when he cries out to the rabble You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! So too does Coleridge in the line Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship. In each case a likeness is implied, but not fully expressed as in simile. The Roman citizens are like blocks and stones in that they are senseless, Marullus thinks; but he merely calls them blocks and stones, assuming that the point of resemblance is evident. The ship is like a bird in that it moves swiftly, as if its sails were wings. Birds are not mentioned directly but simply suggested in the word flew. Many similes are easily changed into metaphors; all metaphors may be changed into similes. Simile is the quieter, more deliberate form of expression; metaphor is swifter, often more startHng. Our common speech is crowded with metaphors, some so worn, so ''faded," that they are no longer recognized as figures. It is the basis of perhaps nine-tenths of our slang. ''Jones 'plowed to second base," writes the baseball editor. "The fielding on both sides was green, with saffron touches. ' ' The man whose mind is not right is said to be "off his trolley" — as if he were an electric car, or to have "bats in his belfry." The son who goes wrong is a "black sheep"; whatever is disagreeable "goes against the grain," and the unexpected "beats the APPENDIX 329 Dutch." It is hardly necessary to multiply examples, nor to caution against the use of expressions which, even if not coarse or vulgar, are cheap and commonplace — second- hand wit. Personification is a form of metaphor in which some- thing inanimate — for example a tree, an animal, or a quality like patience — is treated as if it had mind and personality. Metaphors which imply that natural ob- jects such as flowers, or forces of nature such as the winds or the ocean, are animals of lower order than man are also classed as personifications. It is a simple figure. Chil- dren use it unconsciously when talking to their playthings. Poetry is full of it, for the poet realizes that mind, heart, and soul are more interesting than inanimate rocks and trees. Notice the examples in the following passage : O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have riv'd the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam. To be exalted with the threatening clouds. . . . Scolding^ ambitious, rage, and threatening are terms appli- cable to persons, not to things. An allegory is an expanded metaphor taking the form of a story emphasizing a truth which the reader is left to dis- cover. When Gareth, who wishes to go to Arthur's court and become a knight, is urged by his mother to remain at home till he is older, contenting himself with the harmless chase and a '' comfortable" wife, he tells her a story. It is of a royal prince who asked for a bride; and the king, his father, set two before him. One was fair, strong, arm'd — But to be won by force — and many men Desired her; one, good lack, no man desired. 330 APPENDIX The king declared that unless the prince won the first by force, he must wed the other, A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile That evermore she long'd to hide herself. The name of one was Fame; the name of the other. Shame. Here, then, is a comparison implied between Gareth and the royal prince. Just as the royal prince might escape hardship by accepting Shame, so Gareth might, yet not without shame, stay at home and lead a safe, comfortable life. Fame, he is trying to show his mother, comes only through hardship and daring; ease and inactivity are shameful. Sometimes an allegory is a metaphor so fully expanded as to fill an entire volume. Bunyan's Pilgrim^ s Progress is an example of such. It purports to be the adventures of Pilgrim on his long and perilous journey to Celestial City; yet there is a half-hidden meaning. Bunyan is but trying to show the struggles a mortal must make in purging his character of sin. The parables in the New Testament, short, imaginary narratives used by Christ in his preach- ing, are briefer allegories; so too Sire fables, in which fre- quently, though not always, the actors are animals or inanimate things. Yet all, whether long or short, are but metaphors, or in some cases similes, expanded into stories; all contain truths left for the reader to discover. They are impressive because stories are more interesting than plain statement, more easily remembered. Metonymy is a figure in which there is a substitution or transfer of names, a thing being indicated by the name of something so intimately associated with it that the one immediately suggests the other. There are at least a score of varieties, a common form being that in which the name of a part is substituted for the name of the whole. We APPENDIX 331 speak, for example, of shop hands, meaning men who work in shops. Another variety is employed when sailors are called tars, or salts, tar and salt being associated with the seaman's life. Many a metonymy is so common that it goes all unnoticed. We speak of reading Dickens, though it is his books that we read, not the man. We engage board without stopping to think that board, through metonymy, means table, and that it is not the table but the food that is bargained for. It is a useful figure in that it often focuses attention on some one detail of a picture, intensifying the impression. To say that the general advanced with a force of bayonets con- veys a more vivid picture than to say that he advanced with a force of soldiers. It is perhaps more picturesque, certainly a shade less severe, to say of a man that he is too fond of the bottle than it is to say that he is too fond of intoxicating liquor. Moreover metonymy, like metaphor, is a great time-saver, often making one word do the work of ten. Closely related to metaphor and metonymy is what is called the transferred epithet. This is illustrated in the line Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings. Jealous, grammatically considered, modifies wings, yet logically it belongs to Darkness. But Darkness shows jealousy through spreading his wings; hence the transfer. The poet speaks of the cannon's deadly roar, though the roar is not deadly at all. But since the cannon becomes deadly when it roars, the epithet is transferred from cannon to roar. Hyperbole is the rhetorical name for exaggeration,when employed not for the purpose of deceiving but to make a 332 APPENDIX statement impressive. The waves ran "mountain high/' declares the poet, not with the thought that his words will be taken Hterally, but for the purpose of stirring the imagination, which otherwise may picture waves altogether too tame. It is a noble figure when nobly employed; a tiresome, degrading one as used extravagantly by many young people and not a few of their elders, who continue to live though 'Hired to death," and declare that things quite ordinary are ''just heavenly." There is a wide difference between the language of real, intense emotion and language that is mere gush. Irony is quite as common as hyperbole. It is the name applied to words which state the opposite of what the speaker or writer intends shall be understood. When Antony is addressing the Roman rabble, he refers many times to Brutus and the other conspirators as "honorable" men. At first he seems to use the word sincerely, but as he slowly gains the confidence of his hearers, it becomes apparent that he would have them believe the conspirators quite the reverse of honorable. Like hyperbole, irony is used much too freely, thoughtlessly, in daily speech, especially the contemptuous, scornful, taunting, or sneer- ing variety known as sarcasm, which cuts and stings. In short, it is a strong weapon, effective if properly em- ployed, yet out of place save when the speaker is moved by righteous indignation or justifiable scorn. An Apostrophe is a figure of speech in which inanimate objects are addressed as if they were human beings, or persons absent are addressed as if they were present. A stanza in Byron's Childe Harold begins Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. APPENDIX 333 In his Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte occur the Hnes Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind Who bow'd so low the knee? But Napoleon is not present; the words, therefore, are an apostrophe. Antithesis or Contrast is a figure of speech in which things are brought into prominence by being placed in op- position. It is found in single sentences, as in the famihar To err is human; to forgive, divine. But it may extend through several sentences, an entire paragraph, or even through many paragraphs. An Epigram is well defined by the Standard Dictionary as ''a pithy or antithetical observation, as in 'The child is father of the man'.'' Professor Bain describes it as *'an apparent contradiction in language, which by causing a temporary shock, rouses our attention to some important meaning underneath." It usually takes the form of a single brief sentence. Climax is an arrangement by which the interest in- creases step by step, the more important or the more in- teresting following the less important or less interesting, till an impressive close is reached. Interrogation is a figure in which an opinion is expressed, more forcefully than would be possible by direct state- ment, in the form of a question which expects no answer. Exclamation is a figure in which sudden, deep emotion is expressed in the form of an exclamatory sentence or phrase. Note. — For exercises to accompany this section see page 218. 336 APPENDIX Iambic trimeter: Hero | ic wo | manhood Iambic tetrameter: It hailed | the ships 1 and cried | "Sail on" Iambic pentameter: The qual | ity | of mer | cy is | not strain'd Iambic hexameter: And oft | en knockt | his breast, | as one | that did | repent Trochaic hexameter: Dainty | little | maiden, | whither | would you I wander? Anapaestic tetrameter: With the fife | and the horn | and the war- I beatmg gong Dactyhc dimeter: Cannon to | right of them Thus we have convenient names for many different kinds of lines. Comparatively few of these, however, are com- mon in English poetry. But variety does not stop here. A succession of lines containing none but iambic feet, for example, would be as monotonously unmusical as the sounds which come from the builder's hammer. Occasionally the regularity must be broken. To avoid monotony, or to gain prominence for some particular word or syllable needing emphasis, a trochee or an anapaest may be substituted for an iambus. Loosely speaking, all kinds of feet are interchangeable. Moreover, not uncommonly an extra unaccented syllable is found at the end of a line, and occasionally just before a pronounced pause within the line. A final or an initial unaccented syllable may be missing. A line with an extra syllable at the end is called feminine; a line in which a final unaccented syllable is missing is called truncated. Notice the following: 1. Run to I your hou | ses, fall | upon | your knees 2. It is I the bright | day that | brings forth | the ad | der. APPENDIX 337 3. So strange | ly you daz | zle my eye 4. Lilies | whiter | than the | snow 5. Know ye the | land where the | cypress and | myrtle 6. Hated | by one 1 he loves; | brav'd by | his broth | er In the first foot of the first line a trochee is substituted for an iambus. In the second example we note the added syllable at the end, making the line feminine. The fourth line is truncated. In the third, an iambus takes the place of an anapaest; in the fifth, a trochee is substituted for a dactyl. The last line contains three variations, two tro- chees in place of iambics, and a feminine ending. Examples might easily be multiplied with a view to showing still other devices by means of which the poet, though bound by the laws of verse to adhere to a definite scheme, manages to keep the scheme from being too boldly apparent. For instance in many lines there is found what is known as a cesura, a pause coming sometimes at the end of a foot, sometimes within a foot, breaking the line into two phrases, as it were. We notice it in the line Hated | by one | he loves; || braved by | his broth | er where it occurs after the third foot ; and in the line Run to I your hous | es, 1 1 fall | upon | your knees where it interrupts the third foot. The trained ear gains not a little pleasure from the cesural pause, which the skilled poet shifts back and forth from foot to foot, thus weaving his fines together and softening the mechanical effect produced by dividing sentences into lines of a pre- scribed length. Yet no matter what changes are intro- duced, the cadence or rhythmical swing which charms the ear is never lost. 338 APPENDIX By far the most common line in English poetry is the iambic pentameter. Unrhymed iambic pentameter is called blank verse. It is the noblest of verse forms, most dignified, appropriate for lofty themes. It is king of all English meters. We find it in Shakespeare's plays, in Milton's Paradise Lost, and in Tennyson's Idylls of the King. It is not arranged in line-groups of equal size, but is paragraphed hke prose. Some one has said that blank, verse is the easiest of all forms of poetry to write, but the most difficult to write well. It is easiest because it does not call for rhyming, nor for any variation in the length of the line. It is most difficult because one who employs it must manage to make his lines attractively musical and im- pressive without rhyming them, without varying their length and combining them in stanza form. Here is an example of blank verse, with the meter marked in the usual way; that is, the stressed syllables are indicated by means of the accent sign ('), and the feet are separated by means of little lines ( | ) : t r t t t 1. The qual | ity | of mer | cy is | not strain'd; t t t t t 2. It drop I peth as | the gen | tie rain | from heav'n 3. Upon I the place 1 beneath; I it is i twice blest, t t t t t 4. It bless I eth him | that gives | and him | that takes: f ft t f 5. 'Tis might | iest in | the might | iest : it | becomes / » t t t 6. The thron | ed mon | arch bet | ter than | his crown; / t t r t 7. His seep | ter shows ] the force | of tem | poral pow | er, r f r ft 8. The at | tribute | to awe | and maj | esty, t t t t t 9. Wherein | doth sit 1 the dread | and fear | of kings, t r t t I 10. But mer | cy is | above | this seep | ter'd sway; t t t t * 11. It is I enthron | ed in | the hearts | of kings, APPENDIX 339 / / / t / 12. It is I an at I tribute | to God | himself; / / t f I 13. And earth | ly power | doth then | show Uk | est God's, 14. When mer | cy sea | sons jus | tice. Notice that each line save the last, which is incomplete, contains five accents, not all of them equally important, it is true, yet all falling upon syllables which might receive some degree of emphasis in prose; and that most of the feet are iambic, so that nearly every line contains ten syllables. There are a few exceptions. In the second line, heaven must be pronounced as if it were one syllable; the second syllable is barely sounded even in prose. In the fifth line, mightiest is treated as if it were a word of two syllables; w^e seldom make three of it, even in prose. Such slurring, or running together of unimportant syllables, is common in all poetry. In the sixth line, we note the opposite device, a word ordinarily pronounced as one syllable made into two. Final -ed is frequently so treated. In the seventh hne the fifth foot is an anapaest, unless the reader prefers to run together two syllables; and the line has a feminine ending. Or power may be treated as if it were one syllable, as doubtless it should be treated in the thirteenth line. Such changes as those pointed out are so common that the reader hardly notices them; the iambic swing carries him along from line to line irresistibly. It is only when we stop to analyze, that they become ap- parent. Almost as simple in structure as blank verse is the heroic couplet — iambic pentameter lines rhymed in pairs. Like blank verse, it is not, as a rule, arranged in stanzas, but is paragraphed like prose. It is used in long narrative poems. Chaucer and Dryden and Pope employ it freely. At its best it is very good; when poorly managed, it becomes cheap and singsongy. Some one has called it the rocking- 340 APPENDIX horse measure, because the first hue of each couplet seems to go up — up — up, the second down — down — down; and between couplets there is apt to be quite a pause, as if the entire poem were divided into two-line links partially independent of one another. Here is an example taken from Pope's translation of the Iliad: Thus hav | ing spoke | th' illus | trious chief | of Troy Stretched his | fond arms | to clasp | the love | ly boy. The babe | clung cry | ing to | his nur | se's breast, Scar'd at | the daz | zling helm | and nod | ding crest. With se I cret pleas | ure each | fond par | ent smil'd. And Hec | tor hast | ed to | relieve | his child; The glit I tering ter | rors from | his brow | unbound, And placed | the beaming 1 hel | met on | the ground. Then kiss'd | the child, | and, lift | ing high | in air, Thus to I the gods | preferred | a f a | ther's prayer: Two lines rhyming together, as in the measure just de- scribed, are called a couplet, regardless of their length or the kind of foot employed. Three lines rhyming together are called a triplet. Triplets are usually printed in stanza form. Here are the opening lines of one of Tennyson's songs : Oh ! what | is so sweet | as a morn | ing in spring, When the gale | is all fresh | ness, and larks | on the wing, In clear | liquid car | ols their grat | itude sing? I rove I o'er the hill | as it spark | les with dew, And the red | flush of Phoe | bus with ec | stasy view. As he breaks | thro' the east | o'er thy crags, | Benvenu! Far more common than the triple rhyme is the four line stanza or quatrain. The rhymes may be in various com- binations. In the first of the following quatrains, it will be noted that the first line rhymes with the last, the second with the third; in the second, the first line rhymes with APPENDIX 341 the third, the second with the fourth. The third quatrain is made up of two couplets; and in the last quatrain there is but a single rhyme, that between the second and fourth lines. I hold I it truth | with him | who sings To one | clear harp | in di | vers tones, That men | may rise | on step | ping-stones Of their | dead selves | to high | er things. Once more | the gate | behind | me falls* Once more | before | my face I see I the moul | der'd Ab | bey-walls That stand | within | the chace. You must wake | and call | me ear | ly, call | me ear | ly, moth I er dear: To-mor | row 'ill be | the hap | piest time | of all | the glad | New-year; Of all I the glad | New-year, | mother, | the mad | dest, mer- | riest day; For I'm I to be Queen | o' the May, | mother, I'm | to be Queen | o' the May. It is I an an I cient Mar | iner And he stop | peth one | of three. "By thy long | gray beard j and glit | tering eye Now where | fore stopp'st | thou me? " By varying not only the rhyme but the length of line, the quatrain may be made to assume a great many forms, as any hymnal will show, for the quatrain is a favorite with writers of hymns. Of the many other stanza forms, but two will be men- tioned, the Spenserian and the sonnet. The former, so named because used by Spenser in his Fosrie Queene, con- tains nine lines, all save the last being iambic pentameters; the ninth is an iambic hexameter, or Alexandrine,- as it is called. The first and third lines rhyme; the second, 342 APPENDIX fourth, fifth, and seventh; and the sixth, eighth, and ninth. Here is an example: At length | they chaunst ] to meet | upon ] the way An ag I ed Sire, | in long | blacke weedes | yclad, His feete | all bare, | his beard | all hoar | ie gray, , And by | his belt | his booke | he hang | ing had. Sober | he seemde, | and ve | ry sage | ly sad, And to I the ground | his eyes \ were low j ly bent, Simple I in shew, | and void | of mal | ice bad; And all | the way | he pray | ed as | he went And of I ten knockt | his breast, | as one | that did | repent. The sonnet is a complete poem of fourteen iambic pen- tameter lines, the rhyming scheme varying with different authors. Here is one of Wordsworth's best : The World | is too 1 much with | us; late | and soon, Getting | and spend | ing, we | lay waste | our powers; Little I we see | in Na | ture that | is ours; We have giv | en our hearts | away, | a sor | did boon! This Sea | that bares | her bos | om to | the moon. The winds | that will | be howl | ing at | all hours And are | up-gath | erd now | like sleep | ing flowers, For this, | for ev | ery thing, | we are out | of tune; It moves I us not. | — Great God! | I'd ra | ther be A Pa I gan suck | led in | a creed | outworn, — So might I I, stand | ing on | this pleas | ant lea, Have glimp | ses that | would make | me less | forlorn; Have sight | of Pro | tens ris | ing from | the sea; Or hear | old Tri | ton blow | his wreath | ed horn. A convenient way of indicating rhyming schemes is by means of letters. Thus if the first two lines of a poem rhyme, it is indicated by aa; if the first rhymes with the third and the second with the fourth, by a b a b. The rhym- ing scheme of the Wordsworth sonnet would therefore be represented as follows : a b b a, a b b a, c d, c d, c d; and the Spenserian stanza thus :abba, bcbc, c. The commas are perhaps unnecessary, but are sometimes helpful in so APPENDIX 343 grouping the rhymes that they are more easily remembered. By means of this device, and the terminology already given, it is possible to define any stanza. Thus a complete description of the quatrain beginning It is an Ancient Mariner would be this : It is a stanza of four iambic lines, the first and third tetrameters, the second and fourth trimeters, with the rhyming scheme a b c b. Closely related to rhyme is the device called alliteration, or the regular recurrence of an initial letter or sound in the accented parts of words. Notice the following lines: 1. Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine the lily maid of Astolat 2. With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair In the first quotation, the poet plays a little tune with the letter I. In the second, p and d form alliterative pairs, and g is three times repeated. ' A less noble example is found in the familiar Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. It is hardly necessary to mention the cheap alliterations found in newspaper headings and in advertisements. Skilfully employed, alliteration adds materially to the charm of verse. In Anglo-Saxon poetry, it takes the place of rhyme altogether. Associated in a way with alliteration is onomatopoeia, a device much simpler than its name, by means of which the sounds of words are made to suggest that which the words describe. Onomatopoeia is not always directly imitative as in the words whiz, bang, gurgle; usually, when employed by the skilled writer of poetry or prose, it is merely sug- gestive. In Tennyson's The Northern Farmer, a father is urging his son to marry for money, or "property". He introduces the subject in this way: Doesn't thou 'ear my 'erse's [horse's] legs, as they canters awaay? Proputty, proputty, proputty — that's what I 'ears 'em saay. 344 APPENEIX The proputty, proputty, proputty suggests unmistakably the sound of the horse's hoofs. Though one has never studied Latin, he can hardly fail to catch the hoof-beat in the following line : Quad ru pe | d^nte pu | trem, soni | tii quatit | lingula | campum. In Browning's Up at a Villa occurs the line '^ Bang-whang-whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife. And here we have a more delicate degree of onomatopoeia : I heard the ripple washing in the reeds And the wild water lapping on the crag. In these illustrations, the device is easily detected, for in each case there is direct imitation, or at least the sound echoes the sense. Sometimes, however, the reader merely feels that the words are appropriate, feels that the sounds are not only in harmony with one another, but in harmony with the sense. For convenience of reference, the technical terms of versification are here brought together: Accent: The emphasis which the voice gives a syllable to show that it is of more importance than neighboring syllables. Rhythm: The swing or movement imparted by the occurrence of stressed or accented syllables at regular intervals. Meter: The rhythmical arrangement of words. Verse: A line of poetry. Foot: A group of syllables one of which is always ac- cented; a unit of rhythm. Iambus: A foot of two syllables the second of which receives the accent. APPENDIX 345 Trochee: A foot of two syllables the first of which re- ceives the accent. Anapaest: A foot of three syllables the last of which receives the accent. Dactyl: A foot of three syllables the first of which re- ceives the accent. Amphibrach: A foot of three syllables, the second of which receives the accent. Monometer: A line containing one metrical foot. Dimeter: A line containing two metrical feet. Trimeter: A line containing three metrical feet. Tetrameter: A line containing four metrical feet. Pentameter: A line containing five metrical feet. Hexameter: A line containing six metrical feet. Heptameter: A line containing seven metrical feet. Octameter: A line containing eight metrical feet. Feminine Line: A line containing an extra unaccented syllable at the end. Truncated Line: A line in which a final unaccented syl- lable is missing. Rhyme: Similarity of sound, usually found at the end of lines. Alliteration: Regular occurrence of an initial letter or sound in the accented parts of words of poetry. Onomatopoeia: Use of words the sounds of which suggest the sense. Stanza: A group of metrically related lines; a minor division of a poem. Blank Verse: Unrhymed poetry, normally iambic pen- tameter. Couplet: Two consecutive lines, usually rhyming. Heroic Couplet: Iambic pentameter lines rhymed in pairs. Triplet: Three consecutive lines, usually rhyming. Quatrain: A four line stanza. 346 APPENDIX Spenserian Stanza: Eight iambic pentameter lines followed by an iambic hexameter (Alexandrine) line, the rhyming scheme being ababbcbcc. Italian Sonnet: A poem of fourteen iambic pentameter lines, an eight line group followed by a six line group, the rhyming scheme of the first being abbaabba, of the second cdcdcdorcdecde. Note. — For exercises to accompany this section, see page 209. D THEMES FOR ESSAYS AND ORATIONS The following loosely classified lists of subjects appro- priate for school essays and orations are from Theme- book in English Composition. The mistakes of my high school course What I shall remember with greatest pleasure after graduation What mechanical drawing has done for me What constitutes popularity in the high school Who's who in high school The value of the study of English High school politics Getting ready for class day The ideal school paper The value of art training in everyday life The English system of education versus the American Democracy in the high school A day in the commercial department An hour in the laboratory A study in seniors How our building is heated A description of the gymnasium on a gala occasion A review of the latest issue of the school paper A famous school APPENDIX 347 The humorous side of school life The ideal senior An hour in the studio The ultimate good to be derived from athletics The value of the study of the drama How our school prepares for good citizenship What I have received from the course in My bad manners A shelf of old books Summer workdays My very little sister's ways My summer reading Some of my relatives Watching the children play Getting up in the morning Looking over a chest of old toys The transformation of my ideals My friend the inventor Dusting my books What goes against my grain A driftwood fire My air castles Three of my friends and why I like them October skies Plant tragedies that I have witnessed A study of leaves How spring comes up our way Harvest time in the wheat lands A geological expedition A bird episode Fishes and their ways The heavens in November How nature cleans house now and then Everyday wonders of nature The voices of the night The seashore in winter 348 APPENDIX How the blind boy knows that spring is coming When the tide comes in In the apple orchard What I found in a tide pool Between darkness and dawn How our town wakes up in the morning Where the cardinals grow My favorite haunts The wander-spirit How birds prepare for the winter The life of a bee Watching a spider The survival of the fittest in plant life Along the water front Bird songs The Audubon Society A mountain camp in winter The human eye and the camera John Burroughs The sounds heard in ten minutes in the heart of a woods The sounds heard in ten minutes at midday Modes of travel, past and present Self-hardened and air-hardened steel The steam engine indicator The history of photography What became of a tree The farm of the future New York in 2000 A visit to a pottery Modern miracles of science A blast furnace A lesson in forestry History of a plant from germ to decay A sulphur match The old housekeeper and the new The Carnegie Institute for Research A journey in the carboniferous era Waste material APPENDIX 349 Uses of compressed air Modes of ventilation The telepost A gas engine The gold beater A stone arch Street paving Batteries A steam turbine The X-ray machine Geissler tubes A talking machine The kinetoscope 5 My favorite picture Making an art of a homely trade The mission of the musician Something about poetry What it means to get an education in art How to study a picture Does our town appreciate music? The musical treats of the winter just past Spires and towers of our town 's sky-line as seen from a distance at various times Quaint architecture in our town A visit to a studio A talk with an artist Art in common things What practical use a schoolgirl may make of her training in art The oratorio Messiah described My favorite composer Some of our little-appreciated art treasures Our music club The trials of an accompanist An appreciation of Whistler St. Gaudens Beethoven Dvorak and his music Sargent and his work 350 APPENDIX 6 The Children's Crusade At the court of Louis XIV Old guilds, forerunners of the trade unions of today The settlement of Jamestown Athens and Sparta A bit of early local history Sightseeing in London in Elizabeth's day A day at the Club with Johnson The Tories of the Revolution The Puritan spirit Knickerbocker life in colonial days Etiquette in colonial times Life in the South before the war A balloon trip over England in the days of William the Con- queror What it meant to be an Elizabethan A prowl through Bede's history Exploring the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Shakespeare's Csesar and the Csesar of history The fate of Finland Sir Philip Sidney Beau Brummel Magellan Benedict Arnold Daniel Boone Pere Marquette Zenobia 7 This age of chivalry Uncrowned kings Keys Dreamers The poor millionaire Saints (no saints — would-be saints — almost saints — saints) The stone that fits in the wall will never lie by the way. The little tin god called Luck The playthings of grown-ups Windows Doors APPENDIX 351 A good word for play A defense of Peter Pan The social acrobat Given: a sense of humor Fashion plates "Simon says thumbs up" in society and politics Vegetable rights A good word for manual labor The mind is its own dwelling-place. Ugly ducklings (after reading Andersen's The Ugly Duckling) Courtesy at home and abroad Monuments The twentieth century knight Paddle your own canoe. The world is too much with us. Latter-day heroines The joys of the poor Why keep a dog? Not so bad as painted Present-day superstitions Playthings Specimen relatives Gifts and gift giving Tramps, wise and otherwise Beggars (of various sorts) "All the rage" Patent medicines The simplicity of housekeeping The ways of little children The joy of indiscriminate reading Waste The Gloucester fisherman A library for a castaway The passing of the woodshed A plea for simplicity A stitch in time Newspaper heroes Uneasy rests the head that wears a crovm. Sources of power Present-day opportunity 352 APPENDIX Tests Business honor Optimism, good and bad Silent conquests Popularity The influence of the picture postal Human mosquitoes The croaker Front yards and back yards Reforming a tramp Shopping with a bargain hunter 8 An old man's dream The story the old house told The story of an old book A national exposition of the next century The magic wand of childhood The history of a street An important meeting of a girls' club Good-by, fairyland • The reflection of a mirror The doctor of fifty years hence A modern fairy-tale The immigrant child's dream A dream in the public library 9 George Junior republics How criminals are made Street arabs Undesirable citizens Conservation of national energies College settlements Juvenile courts Woman's invasion of the business world Is democracy degenerating? The power of conventionality Manual training at home Billboards APPENDIX 353 Amusement parks The New England village Public calamity is a mighty leveler. The Red Cross Society International sports The cost of municipal ugliness Workshops for boys Library curses In Utopia The business value of humor Pure foods The justice of the jury The observance of public holidays The American girl's inheritance The cartoonist How children are protected Our debt to the immigrant Shotgun civihzation Advertising Postal reforms Good citizenship from a boy's standpoint 10 Nature as seen in Beowulf and the Canterbury Tales Old English life as seen in Beowulf Costumes m Chaucer's day Two heroes: Beowulf and Roland Present-day pilgrims Brutus|s speech in blank verse Cassius's speech in blank verse Likable traits in Gareth Hepzibah Pyncheon National hjnnns Scottish peasantry as seen in the poems of Bums Storybook villains, cowards, heroes, or heroines Greek myths Homer's comparisons Addison as a reformer today The gift of saying things A ramble with Boswell 354 APPENDIX Do we need a national theatre? An expedition in the land of words A perfectly satisfactory hero The art of letter-writing Childhood myths Helen of Troy's diary The theatre in 1616 An hour with the dictionary Dogs in literature How to use the library Heroes : Achilles, Palamon, Ivanhoe Everyman, a morality Play-tricks and conventions Louisa M. Alcott Samuel Johnson Hans Andersen Thoreau Five pictures from the life of Macbeth Macduff's part in Macbeth How builds an essay The literary art of Macaulay The songs of Scotland More, an old time dreamer The Cook's tale (Chaucer) retold for children Stray thoughts about play-going A typical work of the eighteenth century Lady Macbeth The art of seeing things Rab and Bob, Son b' Battle The historical novel The works of Henty Self-cultivation in English National songs The ideal king Manhood ideals: Macbeth, Banquo, Macduff Walden Good magazines and bad The secret of Burke's power The maxims of Edmund Burke Thoughts from Gray's Elegy APPENDIX 355 The good and the bad in Macaulay's style The manufacture of plays and stories My favorite author Milton's unreproved pleasures My favorite play Readers, old and new Robinson Crusoe Gentlemen of the old school: Sir Roger and Dr. Primrose Goldsmith as story-teller Athletic contests of long ago Tragic heroes: Macbeth and Brutus JEsop The kingly traits of Arthur Mark Twain The love of nature as seen in David's psalms Story children Juvenile literature Review of Last of the Mohicans, Oregon Trail, Bottle Imp, The Great Hoggarty Diamond, Kenilworth, David Copperfield, Mill on the Floss, An Old Fashioned Girl, The Wide, Wide World, Deephaven, Captains Courageous, Waverley, the works of J. M. Barrie 11 Should cartooning the president be prohibited by law? Should a senator be guided by his own judgment or by the wishes of his constituents? Do national expeditions pay? Is Macaulay a greater writer than Burke? Is the Ben Greet idea correct? Should children read Mother Goose literature? Is the Conciliation speech a proper classic for seniors to read? Are Shakespeare's heroines satisfactory? Is Jack London a nature fakir? Should the Old Testament be studied in public schools? Do we need an endowed newspaper? Should class day be abolished? For general culture, which offers the greater inducements, a classical college or a scientific school? Would it be well for the debating club to devote one meeting each month to non-argumentative literary exercises? 356 APPENDIX Is the interest in high school athletics declining? If so, why? Should sewing be made a compulsory study for high school girls? Should all high school boys be made to take a course in car- pentry? Which offers the greater inducements, Annapolis or West Point? Is a general education best for one who is to be a musician? Should modern novels be read in classroom? Is a college course necessary for a business career? Should the prophecy be dropped from the class day program? Which shall it be, office or drafting room? Which shall it be, normal school or college? E A SPECIMEN BRIEF This specimen brief, of Lord Chatham's speech on his motion for the immediate removal of the British troops from Boston, is taken, by kind permission, from Pro- fessor Baker's Specimens of Argumentation, Perhaps those of high school age should not be expected to pre- pare elaborate briefs; yet there are times when it is con- venient to have at hand a trustworthy model. INTRODUCTION I The present course of the Ministry suggests unfairness. II The Ministry has been guilty of unfairness, namely of mis- representation, for (a) Their representations that led to the passage of the meas- ures obnoxious to the American people have been proved false, for (1) The ministers said that these measures would overawe the Americans, but the measures have solidified the re- sistance of the Americans. APPENDIX 357 III Therefore, the troops should be immediately withdrawn from Boston. rv But a hearer, in considering this attempt at justice, should remember that to try to be just to America is not necessarily to exempt her from all obedience to Great Britain BRIEF PROPER The removal of the troops is necessary, because A. It will show the willingness of the English to treat amic- ably. B. The resistance of the Americans was necessary because I. The obnoxious acts of Parhament were tyrannical. C. The means of enforcing the measures of Parliament have failed, for I. The army of General Gage is "penned up — pining in inglorious inactivity." II. The objection that the presence of this army in Boston is a safeguard is untrue, for (a) It is powerless, and held in contempt. (b) It is an irritation to the Americans. (c) The objection that General Gage is needlessly inactive is untrue, for (1) Any activity on his part would mean "civil and unnatural war." D. If Parliament tries by the aid of the army to enforce its measures, the result will be bad, for I. If Parliament were victorious, it would be over an em- bittered people. II. The troops are not strong enough to resist three mil- lion united, courageous people. III. Persecution of these men whose fathers left their homes to escape it should cease, since (a) The objection of the Ministry that the Americans "must not be heard" is unjust, since (1) It "lumps the innocent with the guilty." 358 APPENDIX E. The statement that "the union in America cannot last'' is untrue, for I. The evidence of the so-called "commercial bodies" is unreliable, for (a) They do not really represent the class for whom they profess to speak, (6) And they are paid agents of the Government, (c) Even if they did represent the commercial class of America, their judgment would be untrustworthy, for (1) Not the commercial class, but the farming class, are the strength of a nation; (2) And the American farmers are unitedly ar- rayed for liberty. II. The evidence of an authority (Dr. Franklin plainly hinted) proves that the Americans, for the sake of liberty, would endure far more than they have as yet suffered, even war and rapine. F. The statement that the Americans should be punished for illegal violence is untrue, for I. A chance for reconciliation should not be missed. II. Thirty thousand in Boston should not be punished for the fault of forty or fifty. III. Punishment means arousing the unappeasable wrath of the whole American people. IV. Even if the English people are victorious, they cannot control the great tracts of conquered country. V. The resistance should have been foreseen, for (a) The spirit that resists in America is that of all EngUsh stock, that which established the essential maxim of English liberty, "No taxation without the consent of the taxed." VI. The resistance will become too strong to be overcome, for (a) The English Whigs will aid them, for (1) The spirit that moves the Americans is that which has always belonged to the Whigs. (6) The Irish will aid them, for (1) They have always maintained the ideas the Americans support, (c) The means to oppose this united body is weak, for APPENDIX 359 (1) A few regiments in America and 18,000 men at home must oppose three milhon Americans, milhons of Enghshmen, and all the Irish. (2) And ministerial tricks against it will fail, for (a) The result must inevitably be a "check- mate" for the ministers. G. This removal of the troops must precede any other step, because I. The fear and the resentment of the Americans must first of all be remedied; II. While the troops remain, resentment will remain, for (a) Any measures secured by force would be, with the army in Boston, doubly irritating. (6) When, as is the case, force cannot be used, the mere presence of the army, though it is itself in danger, is irritating. H. The views of Congress are moderate and reasonable. I. It is an old maxim that the first concession comes most fitly from the superior. J. While every policy urges withdrawal of the troops, every danger warns the English from keeping to the old course, for I. That means foreign war, for (a) France and Spain are watching for an advantageous chance to interfere. II. That means domestic trouble, for (a) The king will lose all his power. (6) The kingdom will be utterly undone.* * Note that a conclusion is not printed by itself because, as the propo- sition, it has been given in Introduction, III. 360 APPENDIX QUESTIONS ON TYPICAL MASTERPIECES* GEORGE ELIOT'S SILAS MARNER Having read a chapter, try to give a summary of its contents in a few sentences. Invent an appropriate title for each chapter. Before turning to the questions, try to find things to admire — • thoughts beautifully expressed, or passages reveahng excep- tional skill in story-telling. If your copy of the book is an inex- pensive one, mark passages that please you. Chapter I How does this narrative differ from other novels that you have read in regard to the way it begins? Would it have been better to begin with lively conversation? with the Lantern Yard episode? Recall as many reasons as you can why Silas was viewed with suspicion in Raveloe. What great crisis in the life of Mamer is dealt with in this chapter? Who were David and Jonathan? So far as your reading experience goes, are the most interesting stories about city life or country life? about people of high degree, or of lowly station? about young people, or those of middle age? Chapter II Purpose? Why are the paragraphs introduced which tell how Marner helped Sally Gates? Could the passage telling of the accident to the pitcher be spared? Why is the money- counting scene placed last? Meaning of Lethean? Do you recall two similes which are used in describing Marner's life? Why do you find it necessary to read this novel so slowly? Chapter III Note that in this chapter Mamer does not appear. Do you, at this point, see any way in which he is likely to be affected * The questions here given may seem, in some instances, not to fol- low the study plans given in earlier chapters. This is due to the fact that the questions are designed to be used in daily recitation, and that seldom is it possible to read an entire masterpiece before it is taken up in classroom for detailed study. APPENDIX 361 by the state of affairs at the Red House? Why does not the author devote a chapter or two to Godfrey's unfortunate mar- riage, treating it in detail? Does George Ehot wish the reader to thoroughly despise Godfrey and Dunstan? What explanation is given of the social supremacy of Squire Cass? What war-time is referred to in the second paragraph? Was it necessary, in the fourth paragraph, to mention that Godfrey stood with his hands in his side-pockets? Is the brown spaniel unnecessary? Ex- plain: "No! he would . . . rather go on sitting at the feast, and sipping the wine he loved, than," etc. What parts, if any, of this chapter do you think might be omitted to advantage? Does the story move rapidly? Chapter IV Pick out the events which seem to hinge upon chance. Trace the thoughts which pass through Dunstan's mind (a) up to the time he meets Bryce, (b) from the staking of the horse till Marner's cottage is reached, (c) while Dunstan is in the cottage. Have you ever read another story in which mind-workings were re- corded so minutely? How could a woman like George Eliot know how men think and talk during a horse-trade? AVhy does the author have Dunstan take Godfrey's whip? Try to imagine what the next three chapters will contain. How will the story end? What do you admire most in this chapter? Chapter V Give an account, minute in detail as you can make it, of Mar- ner's thoughts and actions as pictured in this chapter. Show that contrast and suspense are finely employed. What are the most dramatic moments thus far in the story? George Eliot was a close student of philosophy; what two general observations concerning the workings of the mind does she make in this chapter? What will be the effect on Marner's character, if his gold is not recovered? Chapter VI What is the purpose of this chapter? Is Rainbow an ap- propriate name for a tavern? How could George Eliot know how tavern frequenters talk? Give an account of (a) the dis- pute concerning the cow, (b) the hectoring of the deputy clerk, 362 APPENDIX (c) the minister's mistake, (d) Cliff's holiday. What is the land- lord's favorite remark? Give Mr. Macey's epigram. Is George Eliot skilled in making conversation lifelike? Which requires the greater talent, the creating of characters or the inventing of plots? Chapter VII In what way does VI lead up to VII? What good influence beings to work on Marner while he is at the Rainbow? Point out the pathos and the humor in this chapter. Chapter VIII Enumerate the several theories advanced concerning what has become of Marner's money. Why is the tinder-box in- troduced — solely for humor and to gratify the author's fond- ness for revealing the workings of the mind? Which is the better piece of work, the paragraphs dealing with the efforts of the villagers to discover the robbery, or the paragraphs which tell of Godfrey's ''inward debating?" W^hat is the meaning of ''foreshadowing," as the term is used in relation to story-telling? Do you find an instance of it in this chapter? Chapter IX Give a clear account of the interview between father and son. Is the essay on chance, with which the chapter ends, a blemish? Does this chapter contain a dramatic situation? How many dramatic situations has the story furnished thus far? Chapter X Purpose? Contrast Mr. Macey and Mrs. Winthrop. Is George Eliot as skilful in delineating women as she is in de- lineating men? Is Aaron true to life? Why is the youngster brought into the story? Why are children characters so rarely found in fiction? What is the purpose of the dialogue with which the chapter closes? Chapter XI Notice that though in the first ten chapters all the acting characters, save one, are men, chapter XI is distinctly feminine. Are the delineations as truthful as those found in the Rainbow APPENDIX 363 chapter? Would it be correct to say that George Eliot excels in describing the manners of rural society? Is it the main purpose of the chapter to describe the manners of earlier times, or does the story proper advance a little? Which is the central figure of the score of characters who appear at the Red House party? What (verbatim) is George Eliot's definition of a lady? How does Nancy differ from the modern heroine? Introducing a heroine is an important matter; can you determine why the author gives the reader his first glimpse of Nancy when she is just arriving at the Red House rather than later in the evening? Is the dressing-room scene necessary? What purpose is served by the Miss Gunns? by the villagers? by Priscilla? How are we made acquainted with Nancy? Has the chapter something of climax structure? Does it leave the reader in suspense? Is George Eliot best in the chapters where many characters appear? What do you admire most in the chapter? Chapter XII Point out the dramatic relationship between XI and XII. Would the effect be as good were the order of these two chap- ters reversed? Has the chapter been foreshadowed? Does the author try to arouse in the reader deep pity for the forsaken wife? Why is not the reader given a nearer view of "a bar- maid's paradise of pink ribbons and gentlemen's jokes?" Point out all the little touches which show that George Ehot was a close and sympathetic observer of the ways of little children? Show that the coming of the child was a crisis in the life of Marner. Which should you prefer to have written, this chapter or the preceding? Chapter XIII What is the dramatic effect of having Godfrey the first to see his child? of Nancy's question to Godfrey? of Dolly Win- throp's final remark to him? of the fact that the child's eyes turn from him to the rough-faced weaver? What is your answer to the question which Godfrey asks himself in the final para- graph? Has the weather thus far introduced been essential to the story? Do you recall any instance where rain or sunshine has been introduced for dramatic effect — as if nature sympa- thized with the characters? How will the story end? 364 APPENDIX Chapter XIV Find specific instances of ''a woman's tender tact." What is accomplished through the scene in which Mrs. Winthrop appears? Contrast the influence of the hoarded gold and the influence of Eppie. In the incident which tells how Eppie runs away, what is gained by including the item about the red-headed calf? Is the character of Eppie drawn true to life? In what ether books have you found attractive children? Chapter XV Is this chapter necessary? In what respects would the story be incomplete if it were to end at this point? Chapter XVI What advantage is there in opening Part Second with a church scene? What is gained by introducing the donkey, the dog, and the cat? What is Mrs. Winthrop's way of justifying the result of the trial by lot? Does it satisfy you? Show that the garden symbolizes the entire story. Does the chapter con- tain any foreshadowing — any hint of coming events? Is Eppie as attractive as a young woman as she was as a child? Chapter XVII Does the story advance any during this chapter? What is the chapter's purpose? Why is Nancy unwilling to adopt Eppie? Why is Godfrey unwilling to confess to Nancy? Do you recall other chapters which leave the reader in a state of suspense? Chapter XVIII Would the announcement of the discovery at the stone- pits have been equally dramatic had it been made by another than Godfrey — for example, by Ben Winthrop to a group of villagers? Would it have been equally dramatic had the author confided to the reader, in Chapter IV, what became of Dun- stan? In what ways does Nancy show nobility of character? Do you agree that "nothing is so good as it seems beforehand"? Find a number of things to admire in this chapter. APPENDIX 365 Chapter XIX What is the dramatic purpose of the conversation between Silas and Eppie, before the arrival of Godfrey? What argu- ments are used in the attempt to persuade Eppie to leave Silas? What is the most dramatic moment? Chapter XX What is the purpose of the chapter? At what point in the story does Nancy appear most noble? Is she the heroine? What other characters have shown heroic qualities? Why not end the story at this point? Chapter XXI Is this chapter necessary? Why is not Silas permitted to clear himself of the charge of theft, and to talk over with the minister the matter of trial by lots? Try to imagine the life- career of William Dane. Write a composition under the title William Dane's Confession. General Questions Why do so many stories end on wedding days? Does the conclusion leave any important question unanswered? As you look back on the story, what in it seems most admirable? What character is most attractive? What character is best delineated? What are the most dramatic scenes? What is the most prominent underlying truth? What opinion have you formed of the author? THE DE COVERLEY PAPERS No. 1 When you read a magazine article, do you care to know the particulars concerning the author's life? Is the Spectator a purely imaginary person? In what respects is the Spectator, as pictured by Addison, one who would please readers of the better class? What advantages and what disadvantages are there in writing under an assumed name? Would it be better if all newspaper articles were signed? Are spectators as a rule better quaUfied to write than those actively engaged in affairs? What 368 APPENDIX is meant by a "speculative statesman?" Pick out a few words or phrases which show that our language has changed shghtiy since Addison's day. Write from memory an account of the Spectator's life, character, and purpose; or write a paragraph beginning with this sentence: In his opening paper Addison reveals not a little shrewdness. No. 2 What is gained, considering the purpose of the Spectator, through inventing a group of clubmen? Are the members wisely selected? If you were inventing a club for a similar pur- pose, what classes of society would you wish to have represented? Which character is sketched with greatest care? What is the meaning of wit and humorist as employed in this paper? Is it true (a) that one few of whose thoughts are drawn from business is apt to be agreeable in conversation; (b) that one familiar with the writings of the ancients is a keen observer of what occurs in the world today; (c) that it is cowardly to be backward in assert- ing what, because of your merit, you ought to expect? Write a two hundred word sketch of a member of a modern club, pattern- ing after Steele. No. 6 Is this paper difficult to understand because the thought is profound, or because the thought is poorly expressed? Does some one idea stand out clearly? Was the paper planned with care? What, if anything, is gained by having Sir Roger speak? What is gained by concluding with the story of Spartan polite- ness? Explain: abuse of the understanding, men of fine parts. Why should none but men of fine parts be hung? What danger attends cleverness? What danger attends literary skill? Which class is the more apt to do wrong, the educated or the unedu- cated? Is the law on the whole successful in catching the people most dangerous to society? What constitutes true politeness? Are the charges brought by Steele against his own times ap- plicable today? Has the paper given you much to think about? No. 34 Make a simple plan of this paper by giving to each para- graph an appropriate title. What hints do you find that help APPENDIX . 367 you in guessing what subjects the Spectator has been writing about? What is satire? Is it well for the satirist "never to draw a faulty character which does not fit," etc.? Is it never wise for the reformer to single out a conspicuous offender and attack him openly? No. 37 Do you think this paper was enjoyed by the ladies who read it? Should you like to read — or write — a similar paper on the library of a lady of today? What does Addison gain by lead- ing up to his suggestion for reform through giving an account of his imagined visit? Would the paper have been as effective had he stated his reform at the outset? Why does he include an account of Leonora's country seat? What, in brief, are A.'s ideas on reading for women? What does he condemn in Leo- nora's reading? Would it have been wise to follow this paper with one containing a list of one hundred good books? Point out bits of humor. Write — or imagine — a letter written by Leonora to the Spectator. No. 106 Notice that the Spectator takes his readers to the country during warm weather. Has this paper a definite plan, or does it simply drift along? Why are Addison's papers easier to read than Steele's? Which Sir Roger is more natural, the one we see in this paper or the one in No. 6? Which Spectator is more natural, the one in this paper or the one in No. 6; that is, which one best fits his character as delineated in the first paper? In what respects is Sir Roger a good master? Why is it so difficult nowadays to get and keep good servants? Were the instruc- tions wise which Sir R. gave to the friend who was to select a chaplain? Do you approve of the plan whereby ministers preach sermons written by abler men? No. 107 Is it probable that Steele could have improved this paper by rewriting it? The beginning of an essay should be inviting; is it inviting in this case? Would it have been better to begin with the incident with which the paper concludes? Is the open- ing paragraph too long? Rewrite in simpler language the second paragraph. Explain: threatened to distrain^ so good an husband, 368 . APPENDIX when a tenement falls, manumission. Are Steele's ideas con- cerning the treatment of servants appropriate for today in America? If you were writing a paper on the servant problem, what are some of the suggestions you would make? What do you imagine Addison thought of this paper by Steele? Try to imagine a conversation at the Club among men who had just read the paper. No. 108 In what respects is Will's letter "extraordinary"? Is the character of Wimble well brought out? Have we in America a class corresponding to that to which Will belonged? Are the names of the characters in the Spectator well chosen? Give the meaning of the quotation which introduces the paper. Were the Latin quotations in the Spectator intelligible to its readers? What purpose is served by the quotations? In the original Spectator did the essays appear with titles? No. 109 At what two fashions of the hour is fun poked? Which is the better of the two tales, the tilt-yard episode or the elope- ment? Point out little touches which make the narrative life- like. Point out the ideal in Sir Humphrey's character. Imagine a coffee-house group reading this paper. What would they find to laugh at? Imagine Addison complimenting Steele. What literary excellencies would he think especially praiseworthy? Imagine yourself writing a similar paper on someone's relatives, whose photographs you are examining in a family album. No. 110 Notice how quiet, smooth-flowing, and thoughtful this essay is compared to the preceding. Try to imagine how Steele would have treated the same topic. Imagine how you would build up an essay on present-day superstitions. What, briefly, is Addison's belief concerning ghosts? What is Locke's? Lu- cretius's? your own? Does the story at the conclusion of the paper add much? Pick out a paragraph that you like particu- larly well, and be prepared to defend your preference. Try to state clearly and completely the reforms advocated in this paper. APPENDIX 369 No. 112 Reproduce as accurately as you can the substance of the opening paragraph. Mention in detail everything that Sir Roger did to make his parish church a success. With what thought does the paper close? Do you think Addison's readers cared for this semi-religious paper? Notice the plan of the essay: a paragraph of general ideas on church-going, followed by a series of paragraphs graphically picturing church conditions in two parishes, one ideal, the other far from ideal. Try to think of other plans that A. might have followed. Is A. ever guilty of "fine writing"? Can you imagine, when reading, that he is talking to you? No. 113 Is the character of the widow true to life or merely a bur- lesque? Is Sir Roger's rambling talk natural? Do you think more highly of Sir Roger after reading the paper? Should you imagine that Steele was a bashful lover? Does this paper con- tain satire? Explain: assizes, confidante, desperate scholar, votaries, Dum tacet hanc loquitur. Is the stanza with which the paper closes appropriate? What is meant by the phrase keeping Sir Roger in character? No. 114 In studying this paper, the main task is to understand what it means. Explain : shame of poverty. What maxim of economy was adopted by Sir Roger's ideal ancestor? Do you under- stand the paragraph in which Cowley is mentioned? Which class is most to be envied, the rich, the poor, or those neither rich nor poor? Has wealth anything to do with happiness? If Addi- son had been writing this paper, would he have begun with the dinner party? Try to imagine how he would have concluded the paper. No. 115 Make a topical plan. What part of the essay do you find most novel? most interesting? best worth remembering? Which essay has the better conclusion, 115 or 114? No. 116 Budgell wrote this essay; can you tell, from its style, whether it was revised by Addison or by Steele? Give your reasons. 370 APPENDIX Do you agree with Pascal, or with the Spectator, in regard to hunting? Why are quotations so often found at the close of essays? No. 117 Explain hovering faith. Is the adjective hovering well chosen? Is hovering faith always the result of a desire to be fair, or may it result from a desire to avoid responsibility? What kind of people are apt to ^^jump at conclusions"? Assuming that A. sincerely wished to bring about reform, show that the open- ing paragraph is very appropriate. Find one or two examples that would not be considered good English today. No. 118 Notice that papers in which the widow is mentioned are by Steele. Is the opening paragraph a bit flowery? Do you find it difficult to imagine Sir Roger talking as Steele makes him talk? Was it not remarkable that just as Sir R. was railing against confidantes he should light upon an example of a con- fidante's mischief? Is the game-keeper's language natural? Which essayist, Addison or Steele, were they alive today, would make the better novelist? write the better comedy? Can you account for the fact that A.'s sentences seem so much more modern than Steele's? No. 119 Notice how well planned this paper is, and with what skill transitions are made. What general remarks does A. make in regard to city and country manners? In what respects does he think the country better than the city? How does he account for the coarse language of city fops? Do you agree that ''good breeding shows itself most where, to an ordinary eye, it appears least"? Why today is there far less difference between the manners of city and country than in former times? What would A. have to say today about dress, conversation, manners? Could a good essay be written on slang? Are slang and profanity dying out? No. 122 Would the account of the day with Sir Roger be as inter- esting without the little sermon found in the opening paragraph? Do you accept as true the statement in the first sentence? is APPENDIX 371 Sir Roger's "much might be said on both sides" a case of "hover- ing faith"? Comment on "I suppose he is going upon the old business of the willow tree." Do you recall other sentences, in earlier papers, introduced for the same artistic purpose? Have we had other papers which end as simply as this one? Is it a good plan, when writing an essay, to make the concluding sen- tence bring the reader's thoughts back to the introductory sen- tences? Is No. 122 constructed on such a plan? No. 123 Notice the structure: (1) a specific example of a pampered son, (2) a few words on pampered sons in general, (3) a story suggested by the subject. What criticism can you offer con- cerning the story of Florio and Leonilla? Try to imagine how a modern author would tell the story. Do you think A. really means to recommend that children be exchanged? What paper makes a good companion piece to No. 123? Reparagraph the story. No. 125 This paper is somewhat difficult, but exceedingly good, show- ing A. at his best — fearless, yet writing with commendable restraint. Tell the anecdotes with which the paper begins, and note how skilfully it puts the reader into a w^holesome frame of mind to receive the lecture that follows. Enumerate, as accur- ately as you can, all the evils resulting from extreme party spirit. Give very carefully the substance of the concluding paragraph. Can you recall any other paper in which the man Addison appears to better advantage? Is the paper one of the best from the literary standpoint? How would Steele have treated the subject? Does party spirit run high in America? Could you write a similar paper on party feeling as it appears in pubHc schools? No. 126 Is A. in earnest in his recommendation that honest men of all parties unite in an association for purifying politics? Has such an association ever been formed? Notice A.'s list of political pests: furious zealots; infamous hypocrites; profligate, immoral retainers. Can you think of other political pests? Does A. succeed in making his point clearer by means of the ichneumon 372 APPENDIX and Tartar illustrations? Which is the more interesting half of the paper? Where in the paper do you find A. most earnest? May a writer forward a serious purpose by means of humor? Is there an3i}hirig in this paper at which any of A.'s readers may have taken offence? Have you noted anything in any of his papers at which anyone might take offence? No. 130 In this paper does A. appear as reformer or as entertainer? Why does he not deal with the gypsy problem seriously as he deals with the subject of witches? Point out the bits of humor. Was the story with which the paper concludes added merely to fill up space? Is the story probable? interesting? Who is Cas- sandra? No. 131 What, if anything, is satirized in this paper? What does the paper contain that would interest A.'s readers? Perhaps the best thing in 131 is the letter with which it closes; how does it compare with Will Wimble's? In what respects is the latter characteristic of Honeycomb? Write a letter to yourself, pre- tending as you write that you are someone else. Try to recall every person mentioned by the Spectator during his imaginary visit to Sir Roger. Which of these people are more than com- monly interesting? No. 132 In what respect is this paper characteristic of Steele? Should you prefer to read none but papers by Addison, or do you find rehef in an occasional paper by Steele? Explain the pun in the opening paragraph. What do you learn from the paper con- cerning travel in Queen Anne's day? What is satirized? Stage- coaches being out of fashion, is the lesson on manners no longer appropriate? What might Steele have to say about electric cars or automobiles, were he writing today? Why was it brave to say a good word for Quakers? No. 174 Does Sir Roger talk "in character"? Is Sir Andrew's speech lifelike? Had A. been writing, would he have permitted Sir Andrew to make the reference to Sir Roger's portrait gallery? APPENDIX 373 Why does Steele end his paper without giving the knight oppor- tunity to reply? What hint is given concerning the best way to aid the poor? Is Sir Andrew's method always possible? Was it uncommon in Queen Anne's day for country gentlemen to keep accounts? Is there a prejudice today against commercial in- terests? No. 269 Note that 132 appeared Aug. 1, 174 Sept. 14, 269 Jan. 8. Note too that A. is careful to recall to his readers the various characters met, months before, at Sir Roger's. Is his account of Sir R's. Christmas generosity intended to make his readers forget Steele's blunder in running down the Knight? Notice the time-marks: Eugene and Scanderbeg, the Pope's procession, etc. Do they suggest why the products of journalism seldom win a permanent place in literature? Was Baker's Chronicle a recent publication? Is there a hint that tea is supplanting coffee as a popular beverage? What is gained by telling precisely where the Spectator and the Knight took their walk, and by giving the name of the coffee house to which they went? In what respects is this a better paper than the preceding? No. 329 What is gained by letting the reader see the Abbey through the eyes of Sir Roger? Was A.'s principal purpose to reveal the goodness of the Knight's heart, or to present a true pic- ture of the monuments? Point out all the traits of Sir R.'s character as revealed in this paper. Give an account of the morning's visit, not forgetting the Knight's comments. Shut your eyes and try to form a picture of Sir Roger in the coronation chair. In mentioning widow Trueby's waters is A. poking fun at a quack remedy, or "puffing" a remedy that he believes in? Did the Spectator contain advertisements? No. 335 In this paper A. puffs a play by his friend Phillips. Pick out every favorable criticism passed by Sir Roger. Why would favorable comment from a country squire who had not seen a play in twenty years be considered high praise? Pick out all the little items which make the account of the evening seem true 374 APPENDIX to life. Do you feel, as you read paper after paper, that Addison is growing fonder of the character he has created? Are you growing fonder of him? What have you learned about play- going in Queen Anne's time? Imagine yourself attending a play with one of your country relatives. What are some of the odd things he might do and say? No. 359 You have read papers by Steele and Addison in which Sir R. appears, and now comes one by Budgell. Does Budgell handle the character well? Which of the three writers is most suc- cessful in showing the lovable side of the Knight's nature? No- tice the touch of reahsm in the phrase 'playing with a cork. Do you recall similar touches in earlier papers? Could Steele have handled the subject of Honeycomb's amours successfully? Why is Sir R. so interested in the passage from Paradise Lostf No. 383 Explain: Temple Stairs, Spring Garden, Fox-hall, Temple Bar. How do you account for Sir Roger's enthusiasm over war? Were not the land-owners opposed to war? Explain the reference to the fifty new churches. Is the purpose of the paper to suggest reforms, or to bring out the Knight's character? If the purpose is to call attention to reforms needed at Fox-hall, was it wise to con- fine the criticism to the last paragraph or two? Was it shrewder to have the criticism fall from the lips of Sir Roger than to have the Spectator speak directly and boldly? Which is the best paper, 329, 335, or 383? No. 517 Can you imagine why Addison put an end to Sir Roger, who must have been a popular character? Why does he invent a letter from the butler rather than from the chaplain or Capt. Sentry? Is the butler in any respects a good letter-writer? Is the letter in character? What are the essentials of a good letter? Is Biscuit an appropriate name, or does it displease you? What would be an appropriate name for the chaplain? Point out the humor in the paper. Do you note any resemblance "between this paper and the last scene in a play or the final chapter of a novel? APPENDIX 875 General Questions The avowed purpose of the Spectator was to improve man- ners and morals by pointing out folUes. How many Spectator reforms can you recall? What is peculiar in the method em- ployed by the editors in bringing about reforms? How many Spectator characters do you recall? Which of these stand out most distinctly? Are they agreeable people whom it would be a pleasure to meet? Are they presented as ideal people or as examples of what we should not be? Are they all types easily duphcated, or are they ''odd sticks"? How many incidents do you recall? How do these incidents, viewed collectively, differ from the incidents in a novel? Would it have been well to have the widow at last accept Sir Roger? Could Addison or Steele have written a play? a novel? a good short story? Is the character of the papers such as to call for description? Do you recall any descriptive passages? What have you noticed in regard to Addison's and Steele's ways of constructing essays? W^hat are some of their ways of beginning? of concluding? Are the paragraphs closely knit by means of introductory and transitional words and phrases? Is the vocabulary of the Spectator a simple one? Which is the more skilful writer, Addison or Steele? What new ideas have come to you from reading the papers? What facts have you learned about Queen Anne times? On the whole, have the papers been enjoyable? What have you en- joyed most? least? What opinion have you formed of Addison and Steele as men? What do you think of Queen Anne times as compared with today? Has human nature changed much in two centuries? MACAULAY'S SAMUEL JOHNSON In studying this essay it is well to bear in mind that it was written for the Encyclopoedia Brittanica, rather hastily, when Macaulay was in his fifty-sixth year — three years before his death. The numerals refer to paragraphs. 1 What three topics are treated in this paragraph? The ac- count of Johnson's father contains about one hundred words. What, if anything, do you see in it to admire? Why is no men- 376 APPENDIX tion made of Johnson's mother? What, besides the house where Johnson was born, do travelers go to Lichfield to see? How do you account for the fact that the bookseller's patrons were mainly clergymen? How did the contents of Johnson's shop differ from those of the modern bookstore? How do you account for the fact that politics and religion were more closely aUied in the early years of the eighteenth century than they are at present? Explain the sentence beginning He was a zealous churchmari. Was Johnson well born for a literary career? Is the sentence beginning In the child an important one, in any way suggesting the statement of a proposition in geometry? Why are the details of the child's trip to London given, together with a description of the Queen? In this early account of Johnson is M. trying to prejudice you against him? Is it a good plan to turn boys loose in bookshops or libraries, or is it better to direct their reading? Is indiscriminate reading a good preparation for authorship? Is the study of the classics a good preparation for authorship? How do the books that the boy Johnson read differ in kind from the books read by the average American youth? Explain: Attic poetry and eloquence, Augustan delicacy of taste, public schools, sixth form at Eton, restorers of learning, Petrarch. 2 Explain either university. How does Oxford differ from an American university? Is Macrobius a well known Latin writer? Is the first sentence of this paragraph topical? 3 Explain: quadrangle of Christ Church, gentleman commoner, Pope's Messiah, Virgilian. Is there a suspicion created by such phrases as was generally to be seen and in every meeting that Macaulay was too fond of making sweeping statements? What is the first essential in writing biography? From what source did M. get his information concerning Johnson? Should he have acknowledged his indebtedness? Do you hke Johnson better or worse after reading this paragraph? 4 Invent appropriate headings for the three paragraphs deal- ing with Johnson's college career. Point out the dramatic features in this chapter of Johnson's life. APPENDIX 377 Is it possible that in this paragraph M. represents as cus- tomary eccentricities which were but occasional? Find instances of balanced construction such as "He was sick of life; but he was afraid of death." Explain: hypochondriac, torpid. 6 Notice that M. is careful, after the preceding paragraph which refers to a period of thirty years, to let the reader know J.'s age at the time now to be considered. Enumerate Johnson's early attempts to make a living. Explain : usher of a grammar school, ecclesiastical court. When a young man upon leaving college tries now this occupation, now that, is it a sign of weak- ness? 7 Notice that While leading this vagrant and miserable life, like the first phrase in the preceding paragraph, is transitional, the rest of the sentence topical. What is gained by mentioning the Queensberrys and Lepels? Can you bring against M., as he appears in this paragraph, any charge besides misrepresentation? Was M. a married man? Find an instance of contrast. What danger attends the use of contrast to gain force? 8 Mrs. Porter was but forty-six when she married Johnson; how do you account for tawdry painted grandmother? Is it M.'s purpose in painting J.'s misfortunes — his poverty, his infirmities, and his marriage — to make Johnson's success in later years seem the more wonderful? Who was Garrick? 9 How do you account for the brevity of this paragraph? 10 What relationship does the first sentence bear to the rest of the paragraph? Why is this an important paragraph in an essay which aims to estimate Johnson's achievements? Explain the sentence beginning Literature had ceased to flourish. Name two or three writers prominent in the preceding generation, two 378 APPENDIX or thre^ in the following generation, and two or three contem- pcrariee. What Macaulayan characteristic is prominent in the sentence describing Fielding's poverty? 11 Explain Drury Lane. 12 Explain: ordinaries, a la mode beef shops, sycophancy, Har- leian Library. Are the graphic details in this paragraph in- troduced for humorous effect? Does M. hke Johnson? 13 Explain: proceedings of either house, Lilliput, Capulets, Mon- tagues, Sacheverell, ship money, Roundheads, Great Rebellion, member of the opposition. How do you account for the length of this paragraph? M. was a Whig; can we trust him to estimate the worth of a Tory? Can we make a hero of Johnson after learning that he deceived his readers in the Debates of the Senate of Lilliput? Why is this a difficult paragraph to master? 14 What prompted J. to write London? Would the second sen- tence be as effective if it concluded with a needy man of letters? What is the poem about? 15 Notice the dramatic structure, suggesting a one act tragedy with a good catastrophe. The harsh word hack forms an ap- propriate ending. 16 How is the transition made from London to Savage? Make as many comments as you can on the rhetorical characteristics of the third and fourth sentences. Explain: Covent Garden, a glass house. 17 Explain Grub Street. In reviewing a work, is it best to give unfavorable criticism first? APPENDIX 379 18 How is the transition made from Savage to the Dictionary? Notice that M. tells how much J. was to receive for the Diction- ary. He has also told how much was paid for London, and how much J. was left by his father. Do you like this? How much is 1,500 guineas? How much does it cost to make a dictionary nowadays? Why so much more? 19 What is a prospectus? Was it like Johnson, who was no sycophant, to curry favor with Chesterfield? Comment on the fifth sentence. 20 Which do you like better, the paragraphs dealing with The Vanity of Human Wishes, or the paragraphs dealing with London? 21 Why so short a paragraph? 22 4 Notice how careful M. is to see that the reader follows the time sequence. Find in earlier paragraphs time-establishing phrases like A few days after. Point out balanced constructions. What is the difference between blank verse and heroic verse? What is a closet drama? 23 Was it necessary to refer to earlier periodical literature? Do you infer from this paragraph and others that M. was a great reader with a wonderful memory? 24-25 Study carefully M.'s manner of building up the topic dealt with in these two paragraphs. Why is so much more space given to the essays than to the tragedy Irene? 26 Are the short sentences suggestive of sobs? Is the fifth art- fully constructed? Comment on the sentence beginning She 380 APPENDIX was gone. Does the last sentence, so business-like, seem out of harmony with what precedes? Was M. a man of tender emotions? Does he know how to juggle with words and sen- tences? 27 Read, if you have access to it, the letter and the preface referred to. Why has the letter been termed the declaration of independence of English letters? Explain the term patronage. 28 Explain : etymologist, Junius and SMmier. Name the faults and the virtues of the Dictionary. Make a topical plan of all the paragraphs dealing with the Dictionary. 29 Explain spunging houses. What would be an appropriate heading for the paragraph? 30 Why is the Idler given less space than the Rambler? Is M. careful to preserve due proportions? 31 Notice the transition. What is gained by placing the word Rasselas last? 32 Has this paragraph too an effective conclusion — a little sur- prise for the reader? Who is Lydia Languish? What is Rasselas about? Is it prose or poetry? How many forms of literature has Johnson attempted thus far? 33 If you have read Rasselas, answer Macaulay's criticism. Comment on gorged with raw steaks cut from living cows. 34 Make a careful study of this artfully constructed paragraph. APPENDIX 381 35 Is the first sentence topical? Should the topical sentence always come first? What is gained by the repetition of daily? 36 Find examples of word repetition. Is it effective as here employed? Notice the force of the phrase ''making fools of so many philosophers;'' then find, later in the paragraph, a similar antithesis. Do you think the less of Johnson for investigating the Cock Lane Ghost? for delaying so long his edition of Shakespeare? Would it be well for our government to pension prominent men of letters? Would it be well to revive the custom of patronage, men of wealth supporting needy authors of promise? 37 What praise has Macaulay for the edition of Shakespeare? What censure? Do you suspect that the censure is partly un- just? Would M. make a good editor of the plays of Shakespeare? What is meant by conjectural emendation? Who is Ben? How do you account for the fact that Johnson received so many honors at this time? Explain Royal Academy. 38 How is the transition made from the edition of Shakespeare to the Club? What is M.'s explanation of Johnson's "colloquial talents"? Explain: pompous triads, casuistry. How do you account for the fact that skilled conversationalists are rarer today than in the eighteenth century? Is the Club still in ex- istence? How do you account for the fact that so many of the great writers of Johnson's day hved in London? What is Amer- ica's literary center? If a similar club of American writers were to be formed, would it exert an influence similar to that of Johnson's Club? If you wished to make a careful study of the Club, to what book would you turn? 39 Careful investigation reveals that most of the uncompli- mentary epithets bestowed upon Bos well are undeserved. Is M.'s unfair treatment due to prejudice, to lack of correct in- formation, or to a desire to make the friendship between John- 382 APPENDIX son and Boswell seem inexplicable? Pick out examples of the balanced sentence. Read, at random, a few pages of Boswell's Life, then contrast Boswell and Macaulay as biographers. 40 Notice the transition. Comment on the characterization of Mrs. Thrale, and try to explain the friendship between her and Johnson. What is gained by once more reminding the reader of Johnson's disagreeable eccentricities? Does the account of the friendship raise Johnson in your estimation? Should the description of the Fleet Street "establishment" have been placed in a paragraph by itself. The establishment might have been mentioned much earlier; why is it brought in at this point? Does the account increase your respect for Johnson? for Macaulay? Why does M. note that J.'s books are ''faUing to pieces and covered with dust"? How do you account for J.'s kindness toward the "menagerie "? In what ways is M.'s literary skill shown in this paragraph? 41 Notice the time guide in the opening sentence. Where are the Hebrides? What works had J. published previous to the Journey to Western Islands? Comment on the sentence "They published paragraphs in the newspapers, articles in the maga- zines, six-penny pamphlets, five shilling books." 42 Why did Johnson, by nature a controversialist, pay little attention to hostile critics? Explain: sophistry, sarcasm, invec- tive, apophthegm. 43 Are you willing to trust Macaulay the Whig in his estimate of a Tory pamphlet? What has taken the place of pamphlets in political controversy? 44 Notice that in this paragraph the transitional sentence comes at the end. 45-9 What does M. gain by mentioning specifically the names of Johnson's literary acquaintances? From v/hat you have APPENDIX 383 learned of J. in this essay, what traits of character did he possess, should you say, that a biographer ought to have? Why is paragraph 48 so brief? Does M. ever say / think, or is he always sure that he is right? 50 Take a few minutes to imagine what reply the wife of the "Italian fiddler" would make to this paragraph, were she alive today. If you care to know more about Mrs. Thrale, consult Boswell's Life. Do you recall any other scene pictured by Macaulay more pathetic than Johnson's last visit to Streatham? Was it necessary for M. to tell when and where news of J.'s death reached the Piozzis? How do you account for the fact that on her return to England Mrs. Piozzi was well received? 51 Which is the better written paragraph, this or the one telling of Mrs. Johnson's death? Who are entitled to burial in West- minster Abbey? 52 Study this paragraph carefully, and be prepared to show that it forms an admirable conclusion. Do you agree that Johnson was a great and good man? General Questions Make a list of Johnson's principal works. Which of these works first brought him to public notice? Which brought him fame? Which is best known today? Which should you like to read? Are you sufficiently interested to care to read Boswell's Life? What scenes in Johnson's life has M. pictured most vividly? What do you admire most in Johnson's character? In what respects is M. a good biographer, and in what respects is he open to criticism? What do you admire most in his skill as a writer? Have you had to consult the dictionary often while reading the essay, or is his vocabulary reasonably simple? Have you had difficulty at any point in grasping the meaning, due to the fact that sentences were clumsily constructed? Find an example of each of the following: (1) a transitional phrase at the beginning of a paragraph, (2) a transition at the close of a para- graph, (3) a phrase introduced to help the reader to keep the 384 APPENDIX chronological sequence, (4) a topical sentence, (5) a balanced sentence, (6) word repetition for emphasis, (7) rapid character- ization, (8) a passage rendered graphic through vivid details, (9) unnecessary coarseness, (10) exaggeration, (11) unpleasant positiveness, (12) careless misstatement. What in Macaulay's skill as a writer do you envy most? What have you gained through reading the essay? SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE Canto First 1. Explain the following: Ascabart, bland, blithe, boon, cairn, Caledon, cloister, copse, errant-knight, Ferragus, filial, gauntlet, high emprise, lave, martial, matins, mere, mien. Naiad, orison, quarry, reveille, rood, snood, sylvan, target, tapestry, unwonted, whinyard. 2. Explain the following lines: 114, 194-7, 270-3, 296-7, 309-10. 3. Would the beginning have been equally effective had Fitz-James met Ellen while he was taking a long tramp through the Trossachs? 4. Why is the chase made so furious, all the hunters, save one, outdistanced by the stag? 5. Why does the story-teller have the stag escape, the horse die? 6. Is the description of the Trossachs and Loch Katrine so care- fully done that you can make a simple topical plan of it? 7. Does the description read like one written after a visit to the region? 8. Does it show famiUarity with nature? 9. Would the canto have been equally effective had it begun with a description of the region? 10. Why does Scott delay describing the personal appearance of the hunter till his meeting with Ellen? 11. What hints are given that Ellen is of noble birth? that she has a lover? 12. How do you explain the mystery concerning the invisible harp that plays while Ellen sings? 13. How do you account for the knight's dream? 14. The transitions in this canto are inter- esting; how does the poet pass from the hunt to the description of the Trossachs, from the Trossachs to Loch Katrine, from Loch Katrine to Ellen? 15. The canto contains a number of interesting comparisons — similes and metaphors; without re- reading, try to recall to what each of the following is hkened: the stag on hearing the hounds, the hunters passing through the glen, the rocky summits in the Trossachs, Loch Katrine, the mountains surrounding Katrine, the Lady of the Lake. 16. Are APPENDIX 385 these comparisons appropriate? 17. In the third stanza, how many words can you discover that were chosen, apparently, because their sound suggests the spirited scene described? 18. Note how quiet the concluding lines of the stanza are when compared with the first. Are there certain letters which have a hush sound? 19. Where else in the canto have you noted ex- amples of onomatopoeia? 20. What in the canto have you en- joyed most? 21. What questions concerning the rest of the story are left in the reader's mind? 22. Memorize the fourteenth stanza, or some other that you hke better. 23. Write a para- graph beginning with one of the following sentences: (a) The canto contains not a little that is mysterious, (b) The plan of the canto is very simple, (c) I know a lake which, like Loch Katrine, is very beautiful, (d) Fitz- James makes a very good hero. Canto Second 1. Explain: assuage, boding, bourgeon, foray, glozing, guerdon, henchman, Holy-Rood, homicide, meedj pibroch, reave, sable, strathspey, vindictive, votaress. 2. Explain the following lines: 165, 200, 391-2, 540-1, 577-8, 615-22, 805-6. 3. Explain clearly (a) what claim Roderick has on Ellen's affections, (b) why she does not wish to marry Roderick, (c) why an attack from the royal forces is feared. 4. Without rereading, make a simple topical plan of the canto, employing but three or four headings. 5. Is the canto somewhat dramatic in construction, the in- terest increasing toward the end? 6. Is the most exciting in- cident at the very close of the canto? 7. What mystery in the first canto is cleared up in the second? 8. What new ques- tions arise in the reader's mind? 9. What is the purpose of the stanzas teUing of the stranger's farewell and the conversation between Ellen and Allan? 10. How is the transition made from these stanzas to the account of the home-coming of Roderick? 11. Can you think of a good reason why Scott brought Fitz- James to the Isle during the absence of Roderick? 12. What do you find to admire in the account of the approach and arrival of the chief? 13. It has been noted that in the third stanza of the first canto, the sound suggests the sense. In the Boat Song there is a successful attempt to indicate the measured swing of the rowers. Read the Song aloud, stressing the syllables in such a way as to indicate the stroke of the oars. 14. Compare the way 386 APPENDIX in which Roderick is brought into the story with the way in which Fitz-James is introduced. 15. What is gained by having Douglas and Roderick return at the same time? 16. How many rival suitors do you discover, and which do you think has the best chance of winning Ellen? 17. Is the second canto more interesting than the first? 18. What do you like best in it? 19. Do you recall an elaborate simile, many lines long? 20. Mem- orize the Boat Song, or some other passage that you hke better. 21. Write a paragraph, using one of the following as a topical sentence: (a) The return of Roderick is in marked contrast to the return of Douglas, (b) The tune played by the pipers tells a thrilling story, (c) The three songs found in the first two cantos differ widely in character, (d) Ellen's position is most trying. 22. Try to form clear mind-pictures from what is suggested in the following lines, letting the imagination have full swing: 66-7, 141, 277-82, 592-4. Canto Third 1. Explain: anathema, augured, Ave Maria, Ben-Shie, bracken, chalice, compeers, coronach, correi, Druid, execration, fay. Fiery Cross, goading, imprecation, Inch-Cailliach, murky, patriarch, sage, satyr, searest, sepulchral, sequestered, snood, strath, un- wonted. 2. Explain the following fines: 135-44, 161-2, 465, 629-31. 3. Scott has his choice of all kinds of weather; why does he begin this canto with nature quiet and peaceful? 4. If you were preparing an ifiust rated edition of the poem, what eight scenes would you like to have pictured to go with this canto? 5. Of all the scenes, which stands out most vividly? 6. Why is Brian's history given in such detail? 7. What three curses does the priest pronounce? 8. Through what similes are the responses, made by the clansmen, emphasized? 9. Trace the symbofism of the ceremony, showing why the cross is made as it is, why it is scathed by fire and dipped in blood. 10. Why does Scott introduce the funeral scene and the wedding? 11. What similes are employed in an effort to show the speed of the runners? 12. Study the figures in the Coronach. 13. How does this canto compare with the preceding ones in interest? 14. What do you like best in it? 15. Memorize the thirteenth stanza. 16. Write a paragraph beginning with one of the follow- ing sentences: (a) Clan loyalty is well illustrated in the way all APPENDIX ,387 obey the summons of the Fiery Cross, (b) The close of the canto is much quieter than the preceding stanzas, (c) Evidently one of the poet's purposes in telling the story is to picture bygone cus- toms, (d) The first nine hnes of the canto contain an unusual number of figures of speech. Canto Fourth 1. Explain: apprehensive, augury, houne, fane, glaive, imbrue, inured, kern, pall and vair, weeds, wold. 2. Explain the fol- lowing lines: 55-6, 100-105, 110-17, 419, 468-71, 743-8, 780. 3. Describe the Taghairm ceremony. 4. Which to you is the more gruesome, the Taghairm or the ceremony connected with the preparation of the Fiery Cross? 5. Tell the story of Alice Brand, beginning Once upon a time. 6. Tell the story of Blanche of De van. 7. Interpret Blanche's song (xxv). 8. The boat which bears Ellen and Fitz-James to the Isle is also called skiff, shallop, and barge. Do you recall any of Scott's favor- ite substitutes for the word sword? Why does he employ syn- onyms so freely? 9. The conversation between Ellen and the minstrel in the second canto serves to explain the situation; what is learned from their conversation in canto fourth? 10. What is gained by teUing where the bull came from that was slain for the Taghairm? 11. What is gained by introducing Blanche of Devan? 12. What do you find to like in stanzas xxix-xxxi? 13. What is the most exciting moment in the canto? 14. Mem- orize the thirtieth stanza. 15. Write a paragraph beginning with one of the following sentences: (a) Allan-bane possesses a wonder- ful harp, (b) The minstrel is also a gifted dreamer, (c) Evi- dently Highland hospitality is a favorite theme with Scott. (d) It is difficult to decide at what point in the story Fitz-James is most attractive — as a hunter, as a guest at Roderick's lodge, as suitor at Ellen's cave, or as he appears in the campfire scene. (e) Among the appropriate similes in this canto are those found in the following hnes: 199-203, 299-300, 544-7. (f) The Tag- hairm prophecy and Fitz-James's ring provide hints of how the story will end. Canto Fifth 1. Explain: apparition, arraignment, banditti, buffet, burghers, butts, carpet knight, clemency, cognizance, cumbered, invulner- able, morrice-dancers, retribution. 2. Explain the following 388 APPENDIX lines: 75-9, 123, 182, 443-4, 461-2, 543-4, 660, 887. 3. If you were making a plan of this canto, what three or four topics would you employ? 4. In their conversation while on the way to Coilantogle, what three charges does the knight bring against Roderick, and how are they answered? 5. Would the combat have been as exciting had there been spectators? had the combatants not been rival suitors? had Brian's prophecy been different? had Fitz-James not vowed to avenge Blanche of Devan? had Roderick not entertained his foe? 6. With which combatant does the reader sympathize? 7. Does Scott introduce the games at Stirling because the account is needed in the story, or because he wishes to show the customs of long ago? 8. Are the contests interesting and the outcome probable? 9. What is the purpose of Douglas in going to Stirling? 10. Does Fitz- James know that Douglas is Ellen's father? 11. How do you account for the knight's harsh treatment of Douglas? 12. What are the most dramatic moments in the canto? 13. What ques- tions are uppermost in the reader's mind at its close? 14. What figures are found in the following lines: 347, 348, 390, 897-8? 15. Show that the figures in lines 188-9 and 407-10 are appro- priate. 16. Do you recall anywhere in the canto a series of brief, sharp contrasts? 17. What do you like best in the canto? 18. Memorize stanzas ix-x. 19. Write a paragraph, employing one of the following as a topical sentence: (a) This canto contains good illustrations of "martial Faith and Courtesy's bright star." (b) The conversation between Roderick and Fitz-James leaves the reader with a far better impression of the former's character. (c) The games at Stirling differ in a number of respects from an athletic contest of today, (d) I see much to admire in Scott's skill as shown in the account of the combat. Canto Sixth 1. Explain: caitiff, collation, eyry, fealty, gyve, jeopardy, leech, proselyte, refluent, requiem, tinchell. 2. Explain the following lines: 43-4, 621-2, 704-5, 707. 3. Nearly all the characters, you have noted, come together in this canto. Tell how each happens to be in Stirling. 4. Some critics condemn the guard- room scene; does it seem objectionable to you? 5. What is gained by having Allan tell of the battle? Why have him tell it to Roderick? 7. Why have Roderick die? Would it have been APPENDIX 389 equally dramatic to have him pardoned? 8. Why not conclude with Roderick's burial or Ellen's wedding? 9. Contrast the con- cluding scene with the opening of canto first. 10. How do you account for the fact that the similes in the description of the battle have to do with nature in angry mood — with mountain cascades, whirlpools, earthquakes? 11. Why do so many similes take the reader to nature? 12. Of all the scenes in this canto, which will probably remain longest in your memory? General Questions 1. How many days are covered by the incidents of the story? 2. Does the story owe much of its interest to the fact that the setting is one of great romantic beauty? 3. What characters in the story do you admire, and for what reasons? 4. Which character seems truest to life? 5. What, on the whole, is the most beautiful description in the poem? the most exciting in- cident? the best song? the greatest surprise? 6. What pur- pose is served by the songs? 7. If you have studied versifica- tion, give the metrical plan of each song. 8. What evidence does the poem afford that Scott was fond of history? fond of nature? that he was an antiquary? that he was a gentleman? 9. Write a paragraph on one of the following topics: (a) The most brilliant scene in the poem, (b) The duties of a minstrel, (c) The battle, (d) The signet ring. GOLDSMITH'S THE DESERTED VILLAGE Lines 1-34 What is the purpose of these lines? Is Auburn a real place or purely imaginary? Pick out twenty or more descriptive adjectives; pause after each and see how much of a picture it brings to mind. By way of seeing whether the adjectives are well chosen, try to substitute better ones, or ones equally ap- propriate. Pick out the five best adjectives. Find Unes in which some sound, either vowel or consonantal, is pleasantly repeated. Find hnes where the sounds seem to run together harmoniously, as colors are sometimes blended. What are some of the more melodious lines? What makes the last line so effective? Are all the rhymes perfect? Find ten Unes in which two short syllables 390 APPENDIX are treated as one. Would the versification be better if per- fectly regular? Lines 35-50 Purpose? How do the pictures in this passage, taken col- lectively, differ from those in the preceding passage? What is the relationship between the two passages? Which do you like better? Which picture is saddest? Were you an artist, which picture would you like to paint? Find lines here and there in which sound echoes sense. What vowels are prominent in 11. 40, 42, 47, and 50? How many hues containing slurred syllables do you find in this passage? Are any of the feet tro- chaic? How do you scan 1. 48? Are all the rhymes perfect? Is there a shght pause at the end of each line? Is the pause at the end of alternate lines more pronounced? Do the longer pauses serve to emphasize the rhyme? Lines 51-56 Explain 11. 52, 53-6. Do you believe the statement made in this passage? Why cannot a peasantry be replaced? Are peasants bolder than others? Why are they, rather than the merchants, a country's pride? Are farmers more patriotic than city people? Lines 57-62 How much is a rood? Express in plain prose, free from figur- ative language, 11. 59-62; then compare your prose with Gold- smith's lines to see whether you or the poet has employed the greater number of words. Is poetry usually more compact than prose? Lines 63-74 Explain the meaning and force of unfeeling, usurp, unwieldy, cumbrous, lawn. Explain 11. 67-8. Is line 74 applicable to America? Which do you prefer, 11. 1-50 or 11. 51-74? Why? Lines 75-82 Explain 1. 76. What pictures are suggested to you by tangling walks? by ruined grounds? What figure of speech does Gold- smith employ most commonly? APPENDIX 391 Lines 83-96 Explain: my latest hours to crown, husband out life's taper, for pride attends us still. How old was G. when he wrote this poem? Do you know what had been his griefs? Where and under what circumstances did he die? What do you note about the letters in 1. 94? What figure of speech in 11. 93-6? Is the comparison a good one? Lines 97-112 Explain 11. 103-6. Is guilty used in its ordinary sense? Would it be well to substitute beggars for famine in 1. 106? Do you like the expression latter end? Explain 1. 108. What is the force of bends as here employed? Explain 1. 112. Lines 113-36 Explain responsive. Is sober an appropriate adjective to apply to herd? In I. 122, is the adjective vacant uncompliment- ary? Is loud laughter a sign of low intelligence? Meaning of sought the shade? Were it not for rhyme, would it be well to substitute dame for thing in 1. 129? Explain 11. 133, 136. Do you find any lines, in this passage, where sound echoes sense? Where else, thus far, has Goldsmith drawn sharp contrasts? Do you like this passage better than the preceding one? What are some of the best lines? If you were an artist, what in this passage would you hke to picture? Lines 137-62 What is a copse? Explain 11. 142, 146, 151, 155, 162. Lines 163-70 Explain 11. 164, 167-70. Is the comparison in the last three lines an appropriate one? Lines 171-76 Explain the force of champion. What is the antecedent of his in 1. 175? Who is praised (1. 176)? Lines 177-92 Explain: unaffected grace, adorned, prevailed ivith double sway^ endearing wile. What word should be emphasized in 1. 185? 392 APPENDIX Explain with care 11. 189-192. Do you like this comparison better than the one in 11. 167-70? The fifty-five lines devoted to the preacher are grouped in four paragraphs; do you see why G. did not combine them in one paragraph? Could the paragraphs be rearranged to advantage, or is there method in their sequence? What paragraph, if any, could be spared? Do you suspect that the preacher is not imaginary? From what kind of home did Goldsmith come? Looking upon the fifty-five lines as a whole, what do you see in them to admire? Lines 193-216 Explain: unprofitably gay, boding, terms and tides presage. In 1. 198 should stress fall on every or on tyrant? Does G. wish us to think the master a scholarly man? Were the villagers fairly intelligent? Do you know anything about Goldsmith's schooldays? How does the portrait of the master compare with that of Ichabod Crane in Legend of Sleepy Hollow? Which is the more carefully drawn portrait, the preacher's or the mas- ter's? Lines 217-36 Do the first two lines belong, logically, with the preceding paragraph? Do we commonly associate mirth with grey-beards and smiles with toil? Why, in 1. 225, is imagination represented as stooping? What is Goldsmith's purpose in noting that the clock is varnished? Explain for ornament and use. Notice with how few words G. gives a satisfactory picture, then try to dis- cover the secret of his art in description. Find lines in which the vowel sounds harmonize effectively. Lines 237-50 To what transitory splendors does G. refer? Explain reprieve. Explain 11. 239-40. Why not news from the barber and tales from the farmer? In the word careful is there a hint that the inn-keeper has a keen eye for profits? Is there any sadder re- frain than No more? Why are the words repeated? Of the three pictures — the preacher and his flock, the master and his pupils, and the group at the tavern — which do you like best? In what respects are all three good? How do they differ from the pictures that a camera shows? APPENDIX 393 Lines 251-64 Explain: native charm, gloss of art, I. 254. What does G. mean when he says the soul adopts spontaneous joys? What is the antecedent of theij in 1. 257? Explain toiling pleasures. Is it true that the poor are happier than the rich? Do you think that Goldsmith's poverty made him unduly bitter towards the rich? Lines 265-86 What is meant by a splendid land? Explain carefully, using no figurative language, 11. 269-70. Is For, 1. 284, a preposition or a conjunction? In 1. 285 is land used in the same sense as fields in 1. 280? Explain the force of barren in 1. 286. Is it true that as the rich grow richer the poor grow poorer? Lines 287-302 Explain 11. 290, 298, 302. Note that this passage is a simile worked out in detail. Give this comparison in simpler language. Lines 303-308 What newly passed law is referred to? Lines 309-36 Explain baneful, 1. 311. Is artist, 1. 316, used in the sense of painter? What had G. in mind when wTiting 1. 318? What is the derivation of dome, 1. 319? There are several fine lines in this passage; find them. Scan 1. 326. Lines 337-62 Explain participate her pain. Where is the Altama? WTiich is the better passage, 11. 309-36 or 11. 341-62? Is 1. 343 in any way remarkable? Do you like 1. 350? Do you find other at- tractive lines? Is Goldsmith proud of the fact that the people upon leaving Auburn did not go to the city? Lines 363-84 Explain western main, 1. 368; in conscious virtue brave, 1. 373; thoughtless, 1. 381; neglectful of her charms, 1. 377; native walks, J. 364. Is the scene described in this passage as graphic as the 394 APPENDIX scenes described earlier in the poem? Is this passage better than the preceding? Lines 385-94 Explain insidious, florid. What two things are compared in this passage? Is the comparison a pleasing .one? Is it a justifi- able one? Lines 395-430 What devastation is referred to in 1. 395? Who make up the melancholy band? Name the rural virtues. Are these virtues, should you say, found only in the country? Explain 11. 407-10, 415, 416, 428. How can poetry Redress the rigors of the inclement clime? Is poetry a powerful force? Was poetry at low ebb in Goldsmith's day? Does poetry grow poorer as a country grows wealthier? Does the final paragraph make an appropriate ending? General Questions What have you enjoyed most in the poem? If you could preserve but one paragraph, which would it be? What pas- sages have you disliked? What, in studying the poem, has caused you most effort? Pick out five or six exceptionally good lines. Could Goldsmith have accomplished his purpose just as well in prose? What was his purpose? What devices, be- sides rhyme and meter, has G. employed to make his lines effect- ive? How does the poem differ from those published today? What new ideas have you received from the poem? Is Gold- smith better at preaching or at picturing familiar scenes? Is your interest in Goldsmith such that you would enjoy reading a life of the author — Irving's, for example? MILTON'S LALLEGRO Lines 1-10 Explain: V Allegro, Melancholy, Cerberus, Stygian, Cimmerian^ uncouth, low-browed. Darkness broods over what and is jealous of what? What is gained by YAmoAng jealous, which characterizes Darkness, before wings? Why not the nightingale instead of the raven? Are the pictures suggested by these lines such as an artist could paint? Is the indistinctness a blemish? If the poem were read to one unacquainted with our language, could APPENDIX 395 he tell that the mood of these lines differs from the mood of the rest of the poem? The rest of the poem is written in smooth- flowing tetrameter; why are these lines given a different meter? What is the most melodious line? the most expulsive? What would be an appropriate heading for these lines? Lines 11-40 Explain: Venus, Bacchus, Zephyr, Aurora, Hebe, the Graces; yclept, sager, breathes the spring, buxom, blithe, debonair, quips, cranks, wanton wiles, fantastic toe, crew. Why is a second parent- age for Mirth suggested? Why is Liberty made chief com- panion? Why is Liberty represented a mountain nymph rather than a woodland nymph or a sea nymph? Is the word unre- proved (40) important? Pick out lines in which the sound sug- gests the sense. Pick out lines which flash pictures. Pick out melodious lines and try to discover the secret of their beauty. What would be an appropriate heading for this section? Lines 41-56 What does the colon after 1. 40 indicate? Can you tell, by the punctuation, where one pleasure ends and the next begins? Where is L'AUegro when he hears the lark? What suggested a watch-tower to the poet? Who is in the tower, and what is watched for? Why is dull Night startled? What picture does dappled dawn bring to you? What time is denoted by Then (1. 45)? Meaning of in spite of sorrow? Who comes to the window? Contrast the sounds of the words in 49 with those in 50 and 52. What is onomatopoeia? Where is L' Allegro when listening to the horns? Where does Morn slumber latest? What picture do you get from hoar hillf Lines 57-68 Is the phrase not unseen important? What picture do you get from hedgerow elms? In which direction does LAllegro walk? What is suggested to him by the rising sun and the clouds? Meaning of dightf What season of the year is it? Meaning of tells his tale? Lines 69-90 Explain: Straight, landskip, lawns, pied, cynosure. By fal- lows does Milton mean plowed ground? What is there in the 396 APPENDIX appearance of clouds to suggest that they labor? Where did Milton find the names Corydon, Thyrsis, etc.? Are these people, as you picture them, all of the same age? What time of year is in the poet's mind? Lines 91-116 What time of day is in the poet's mind? Meaning of jocund rebecks, secure delight? What picture do you get from checkered shade? Explain fairy Mab and Friar's lantern. In 92-3, what words need emphasizing to bring out the meaning? How many old British tales are touched upon in these lines? Explain shadowy flail. Pick out all the words which convey the idea that the gobhn is coarse and large. Comment on 113 and 115. Lines 117-134 What time is intended by then (117)? Think of some adjec- tive other than towered which might be used in bringing quickly to mind the appearance of a city. In what way does 118 re- semble 115? What cities does the poet have in mind? Has he in mind the city on any particular occasion? What occasion does high triumphs suggest? Explain 121-4. Explain: Hymen, mask, pageantry. Explain: well-trod, learned sock. Why is Shakespeare rather than Jonson called Fancy's child? What play of Shakespeare's may Milton have had in mind? What would be an appropriate heading for these fines? Lines 135-152 By ever does Milton mean that he enjoys music at all times — derives from it his greatest pleasure? Explain against eating cares, Lydian, Lap me, meeting soul. Has Milton instrumental music or vocal in mind? Wanton and heed seem to express opposing ideas; so do' giddy and cunning. How do you explain the seeming contradiction? Can you imagine a little story, from reading 142-5? Tell the story of Orpheus. Note that more lines are devoted to music than to any other pleasure. Was Milton a musician? What evidence does the poem furnish that Milton had a trained ear? General Questions Do you find in Milton's list of pleasures any which are not "unreproved"? Is it a list that taUies with one you would APPENDIX 397 make out? Would his list have satisfied a courtier of his day? In what respects is it a poet's list? Is it supposed to be complete? How do you account for the great number of classical allusions? Which do you like best — (a) the opening lines addressed to Melancholy, (b) the invitation to Mirth and her companions, (c) the hues picturing an ideal day in the country, (d) the lines dealing with city pleasures, or (e) the lines deahng with music? Pick out five lines which seem to you most melodious. Pick out five which present pictures. What, finally, have you found to like in the poem? IL PENSEROSO Lines 1-10 Explain: II Penseroso, bested, fixed mind, Morpheus, fickle pensioners. Are the pleasures mentioned in U Allegro "vain, deluding joys''? To what in U Allegro does idle brain corre- spond? What IS the object of possess? Is hovering an appro- priate epithet? Do you prefer these fines to the corresponding passage in U Allegro? Lines 11-30 Explain: 13-16. Explain: Memnon^s sister, starred Ethiop queen, Vesta, Saturn. Explain appropriateness of bright-haired and solitary. Comment on the appropriateness of the parent- age of Melancholy. Is this the same Melancholy which Milton has called loathed? Lines 31-54 Why call Melancholy a nun? Explain: pensive, demure, and steadfast, and comment on the appropriateness of all the epithets appUed to Melancholy. Explain: darkest grain, sable stole, cy- press lawn, decent shoulders, wonted state, musing gait, commerc- ing, rapt. Explain 41-44. Is the description of Melancholy more elaborate than that of Mirth? Name the companions of Melancholy. Can you pair them off with the companions of Mirth? Which corresponds to Liberty? In naming these companions is Milton trying to tell us the conditions neces- sary for the enjoyment of melancholy? If so, should we con- clude that fasting is necessary? Explain 46-8; 52-4. What picture do you get from trim gardens? Do you prefer these lines 398 APPENDIX to those describing Mirth and her companions? How, in melody, do the two passages differ? Lines 55-72 In what respect does 1. 55 suggest 1. 116 of U Allegro? Ex- plain: Philomel, Cynthia, deign, plight. Why is Night's brow rugged? Explain accustomed oak. Explain 1. 61. Comment on the poetical quality of 1. 62. Has walk unseen a parallel in U Allegro? What in U Allegro corresponds to wandering moon? What picture do you get from smooth shaven green? Is wandering an appropriate epithet to apply to the moon? Does it apply equally well to the sun? to the clouds? Can you think of other adjectives which poetically apply to the moon? Is the fancy that the moon is led astray far-fetched? Explain curfew. Why have the bell reach II P. from across the water? What picture do you get from wide-watered shore? Why should curfew have a sullen roar? Are 75-6 onomatopoetic? How many pleasures have been mentioned thus far? Lines 77-96 Explain 77, 80, 83-4. Explain still removed. Describe the room as it appears to your fancy. Why does II P. mount a tower? Explain: outwatch the Bear, Hermes, unsphere the spirit of Plato. Do you understand 90-6? Lines 97-120 Are we to imagine II P. still in the tower? How long does he remain there? L'A. actually goes to the theatre; does II P.? What tragedies are suggested in 97-102? Is the epithet gor- geous appropriate? Explain sceptred pall. What is the force of sweeping? By later age is the Elizabethan meant? Who is the sad Virgin? Musaeus? What is meant by raising Musaeus from his bower? Do 105-8 refer to poetry or to song? What author is suggested in 109-15? Make as complete a hst as you can of the books mentioned in 85-120. What in U Allegro par- allels this passage? Lines 121-154 Explain: civil suited, Attic boy. In what respect does 126 resemble 73-4? Explain minute-drops. How does this early APPENDIX 399 morning scene differ from the one in U Allegro? What goddess is referred to in 132? Who is Sylvan? Give in detail the picture presented in 133. Is monumental an appropriate adjective? Had Milton read Book I, Canto I, stanzas 8-9 of Faery Queen? Why rude axe? Is 135 onomatopoetic? In 140, no eye profaner than whose? Explain honeyed thigh. What consort do the waters keep? Is dewy-feathered an appropriate epithet? Meaning of wave at Ms wings? Is the music referred to in 150-4 purely imaginary? Explain unseen Genius. Have 131-54 a parallel in L'Allegrof Lines 155-76 Explain : due feet, studious cloister^ s pale, emhowed roof, massy proof, storied windows, dight, service high, lines 165-6. Does Milton mean hterally that in his old age he wishes to become a hermit? Does he mean that in his declining years he would study astronomy and botany? Explain 173-4. Why have: 11. 167-74 no counterpart in U Allegro? General Questions How old was Milton when he wrote these poems? Where were they written? What kind of life had he led previous to this time? Do you think he considered his two hsts of pleasures appropriate for every one? If you were making similar lists, what pleasures mentioned by Milton would you omit, and what new ones would you add? Was Milton a typical Puritan? Was he effeminate? Was the pleasure he received from nature due mainly to his imagination? to the fact that his study of the classics had furnished his mind with myths which gave to natural objects a new value? to the fact that his eye was sensitive to the beauty of color and form, his ear appreciative of melody? Which of the two poems is the better? What are your favorite passages? What besides rhyme and meter are essential to truly great poetry? What is a lyric? SHAKESPEARE'S MACBETH Act I Scene 1. If you were arranging a stage for this scene, how would you represent a desert place? How would you have the witches enter and how leave the stage? Describe their ap- 400 APPENDIX pearance and actions. Did those who witnessed the play when it was first given consider this scene serious or comic? Does the scene accompHsh anything, either in starting the story or in throwing Hght on any of the characters? Had the rest of the play been lost, what conclusion might have been drawn in regard to the nature of the entire drama? Is the last hne onomato- poetic? Scene 2. Arrange the stage for this scene. How old is Duncan and how costumed? What impression does S. wish him to make? Purpose of scene? Did scene 1 give any idea of Macbeth's character? Had the rest of the play been lost, should you have concluded from scene 2 that Macbeth was a noble man? Why not have the battle represented on the stage? Why have the account of the battle given by two narrators instead of one? Explain lines 5, 13, 18, 19, 25-8, 37, 40, 54-5. What suggests to Ross (1. 49) that the banners flout the sky? Does 1. 30 remind you in any way of scene 1, 1. 10? Find examples of personifica- tion and hyperbole. What do you find to admire in the scene as a whole? Scene 3. Would this scene be as effective if it began at once with the meeting between the witches and the generals? How old was the sailor's wife? How should 1. 10 be spoken? Explain : like a rat without a tail, shipman's card, penthouse lid, though his bark cannot be lost. Is the drum (1. 29) designed to startle the audience? What action accompanies 11. 32-9? Describe Mac- beth's dress and general appearance. What is the dramatic pur- pose of Macbeth's first words. So foul and fair? of the occasional thunder? How much time has elapsed since scene 1? Which of the two generals first sees the witches? Explain in detail how Macbeth and Banquo are impressed by the witches. Do these two know that witches are in league with Satan? Had Macbeth guiltily thought of gaining the throne even before the three hails? Is the Httle word Stay (70) of importance in revealing M.'s character? Is M. honest in calling Cawdor prosperous? Why should he lie to the witches? Describe the manner in which the witches vanish. Is M. sincere when he says (87) Went it not so? Would this scene be so effective did the audience not know of the honors awaiting Macbeth? Describe M.'s manner of receiv- ing his new title from Ross. Is he sincere when he exclaims APPENDIX 401 The (ham of Cawdor lives? What is the purpose of asides and soliloquies? Were they more necessary in Shakespeare's day than at present? Why is M. (117) so tardy in thanking Ross and Angus, and why (129) does he thank them a second time? Why (127) does Shakespeare have Banquo draw Ross and Angus aside? What suggestion is referred to in 1. 134? Is the thought the same in the two asides (143, 146-7)? To whom are 11. 153-5 addressed? If to Banquo, what is in Macbeth's mind? Had the rest of the play never been written, what would have been your opinion of M.'s character? What, viewing the scene as a whole, do you find to like? Explain : /anias^fca? (53) ; present grace, nobie having, royal hope (55-6). Try hard to picture 11. 58-9. Explain: imperfect speakers (70), earnest (104). Ex- pand the metaphor in lined (112) into a simile. Explain the metaphor in 127-9. Explain 11. 139-42. Scene 4. What is a flourish? Whose palace is at Forres? Is the account of Cawdor's execution necessary? What is the effect of 11. 11-12, coming as they do from the King's lips as M. enters? Is M. still dressed as in scene 3? How does he act upon hearing that Malcolm is to succeed Duncan? Is M. sincere in the state- ment of his motives for hastening to Inverness? Does he in this scene fully determine to murder the King? What makes the concluding line of the scene so effective? Has S. thus far made Duncan appear lovable that his murder may seem the more awful, or is it his purpose to suggest that there is a certain justice in M.'s taking the throne from a weak old king? Is a man ever guilty of a crime before he has actually committed it in deed? What do you find to like in this scene? Explain 11. 15-20, 22-7, 44, 48-9. Scene 5. How old is Lady Macbeth? Is she tall? slender? frail? How costumed? When was M.'s letter written? For what pur- pose? Is Lady M. reading it for the first time? Does she read all of it aloud? Does she read slowly? pause after reading it? How much does she mean by shall be what thou art promised? Was M. innocent before he met the witches? Had he and his wife thought, previous to the battle, of killing the king? Is Lady M.'s analysis of her husband's character one that should lead us to respect him? Is M. a coward? Does Lady M. yield to tempta- tion instantly? Did Macbeth? What is gained, dramatically, 402 APPENDIX by having the messenger arrive before Macbeth? Explain Lady M.'s manner of saying Thou'rt mad to say it and He brings great news. Do you think more, or less, of Lady M. after the soliloquy beginning Coirie, you spirits? Describe the meeting of Macbeth and his wife. Explain the manner in which they begin to talk to each other. What earlier lines are suggested by Your face, my thane, is as a book, etc.? Had the rest of the play never been written, would you have judged both Macbeth and Lady M. guilty of murder? equally guilty? Scene 6. What are hautboys? Has this short scene any pur- pose other than to inform the audience that Duncan has reached Inverness? In answering the question, bear in mind that Duncan now appears for the last time. Explain: temple-haunting, loved mansionry, coign of vantage, We rest your hermits (20), pur- ■veyor (22), By your leave, hostess (31). Scene 7. Why is not the banquet scene represented on the stage? Purpose of M.'s soliloquy before the entrance of Lady M.? How many arguments against the murder do you detect in the soliloquy? Is M. a thinking man? Is his hesitation due to cowardice? What is the dramatist's purpose in showing that M. reahzes the awfulness of the crime he contemplates? Why has M. left the banquet? Why has Lady M.? Has Lady M. any ground for accusing her husband of cowardice? of breaking his word? When did M. first "break" the "enterprise" to his wife? Which of Lady M.'s taunts and arguments is most effec- tive in moving M.? Is her scorn assumed or real? Which is the more imaginative, M. or Lady M.? the quicker in wit? the more cunning? Which has the deeper moral nature? W^hich is the braver? Is Lady M. responsible for the king's death? Is the audience sure, at the close of the scene, that the murder will be committed? Do you respect Lady M. more, after this scene, or less? Explain in detail 11. 1-12, 17, 23, 25-8, 41-3, 44-5, 64-7, 79, 80, 81. How much has Shakepeare accomphshed in Act I? Which scene serves as an interlude between two stronger scenes? Which scene is most impressive? What lines do you hke best? At what point does temptation seize M.? What incident def- initely starts him on his downward career? At what point is opportunity offered for accomphshing his purpose? At what APPENDIX 403 point does he determine upon the details of the murder? Can you recall any other play in which the action is so rapid? Give the substance of each scene in a few words, employing the present tense. Act II Scene 1. Purpose of dialogue between Banquo and Fleance with which the scene opens? What opinion have you formed of Banquo? What are the cursed thoughts (1. 8)? Banquo's purpose in referring to the witches? Is M. sounding Banquo in U. 22-4? Dramatic purpose of bringing M. face to face with an incor- ruptible man, just before the murder? Purpose of the soliloquy beginning with Is this a dagger? Does M. begin the soliloquy immediately on the departure of Banquo? In what tone of voice and with what facial expression are the words spoken? Are there any pauses, or do the words flow smoothly? Would you have the dagger visible to the audience? Is this the same M. who took such a bloody part in the recent battle? Does M. see his wife after the soliloquy and before the murder? What effect upon the audience has the striking of the bell? Any visible effect on M.? Describe his manner of leaving the stage. Do you think more, or less, of M. because of this sohloquy? Is his mind unsettled at the time of the murder? Why not let the audience see M. in the act of murdering the king? Explain the following lines: 4, 14, 17-19, 26-8, 44-5, 48, 51, 59-60, 61. What passage do you admire most? Scene 2. What are the weather conditions? Purpose of pre- senting Lady M. alone at the beginning of the scene? Has she resorted to drink to keep down her better nature? Does an owl actually hoot? Why does S. make her say Had he not resembled, etc.? Describe M.'s entrance. How are the words My husband spoken — should they express affection, surprise, inquiry, terror? Describe M.'s condition. Does Lady M. say A foolish thought tauntingly? Is she alarmed at her husband's condition? In what tone does she say Infirm of purpose? Does she snatch the daggers? Are the lines beginning The sleeping and the dead spoken to M.? Describe Lady M.'s manner of leaving the stage. How does the knocking at the gate affect M.? How the au- dience? Are the sympathies of the audience with M.? Are yours? Is Lady M.'s contempt for her husband, as expressed in 404 APPENDIX the sentence beginning My hands, real or feigned? How does the knocking affect her? Explain how the two leave the stage. Are they equally guilty? Explain 11. 3, 10-11, 37-40, 62, 54-5. Scene 3. What fancy has seized the drunken porter, and what suggested it? How does it happen that he is intoxicated? What effect does the knocking have upon the audience? If S. wrote any part of this porter scene, what sentence do you attribute to him? Is the scene introduced to break the suspense, to heighten the suspense, or to please the groundlings? Describe M.'s ap- pearance on entering. Have the words of Lennox beginning The night has been unruly any purpose other than to take up time till Macduff can reach the king's chamber? Try to picture the con- fusion of the scene. Have we had any other like it, the stage filled with people? Describe Lady M.'s appearance on entering, and try to imagine how she carries herself throughout the scene. In the lines beginning Had I but died, is M. acting a part, or speaking unguardedly? Is he acting a part when he speaks the lines beginning Who can be wise? Is Lady M. feigning when she faints? If so, why pretend to faint at this particular moment, and why so quickly recover? Study carefully Banquo's lines beginning Look to the lady. What is the reason for closing the scene with the dialogue between Malcolm and Donalbain? What are the strongest lines in the scene? Scene 4. Is this scene necessary? How much later than scene 3 is the time? What difference do you note between Macduff's character and the character of Ross? Does Macduff reveal his mind to the old man? How much time does Act II cover? Arrange the scenes in the order of their effectiveness. Which character presents to the actor the most difficult part? In what way is the rest of the story dimly suggested in this act? Had the rest of the play been lost, what should we have concluded in regard to the moral out- come of M. and Lady M.? Has the cUmax been reached? Act III Scene 1. Time how much later than that of Act II? Pur- pose of Banquo's soliloquy? Describe minutely the dress and facial expression of the King and Queen. How do the lords and APPENDIX 405 ladies bear themselves towards the new sovereign? Is the solemn supper a coronation banquet? To what iridissoluble tie does Banquo refer in 1. 17? Why does M. mention to Banquo the flight of the King's sons? Does M. appear more crafty than in the preceding Act? Explain with great care every difficult line in M.'s sohloquy, and the purpose of the soliloquy as a whole. Is the proposed murder of Banquo of a lower type than the murder of Duncan? Is there any hint in the conversation with the murderers that, previous to the battle with which the play begins, M. had been a wicked man? Explain lines 4, 9, 21, 41-4, 70-1, 79-80, 90, 94, 98-100, 106, 115-17, 127, 129, 133. Scene 2. Why does Lady M. send for her husband? Notice that both King and Queen have "terrible dreams;" which is standing the strain better? To what does this (35) refer? Is line 38 a hint? Is M.'s mind still "as a book" to his wife? De- scribe her facial expression while 11. 45-55 are spoken. Why does not the King tell her of his plan to murder Banquo? What is the purpose of this scene? Is it in any way in contrast with the preceding? Point out the wonderful lines. Explain the meta- phors in 32-5, 46-50. Scene 3. Is this scene necessary? Who is the third murderer? At what time of day is the murder committed? Why has M. been so anxious to get Banquo and Fleance out of the way? Scene 4. Arrange the stage. Where do the characters enter? Why does Lady M. "keep her state" rather than mingle with the guests? Why does not the King "keep his state"? Would you have the stage well filled with people? Should all be elaborately costumed? Is it, at the outset, a mirthful company? Should there be music? How is it possible for the murderer to talk with M. without being seen and heard by the rest? Does Lady M. see the murderer? Is the ghost visible but to Macbeth? To what does this refer in Which of you have done this? Why does the ghost nod? Where is Lady M. when she says Sit, worthy friends? Explain Are you a man? Does M. seem to have power over the ghost? Is M.'s second "fit" worse than the first? Is the ghost addressed in whispers or in loud tones? Why does Lady M. dismiss the guests at the moment that she does? De- scribe the manner of the guests' departure. After all are gone, is there a long pause? Why does not the Queen rebuke the King? 406 APPENDIX Describe the physical, mental, and moral state of the King and Queen at the close of this, their first state banquet. Why does M. employ spies? What are the strange things that M. has in head? What do you admire in Lady M.'s character? Which is the more difficult part to act in this scene, M.'s or Lady M.'s? Try to imagine, and if you are courageous put into blank verse, a scene between M. and Lady M. — time, immediately before the banquet. Scene 5. Is this scene necessary? What fault does Hecate find with the witches? with Macbeth? Scene 6. Is this scene necessary? Practice reading; try to bring out effectively the fine irony in the speech by Lennox. Mark the scansion. Which is the most effective of the first three Acts? In which is the action most rapid? Had the rest of the play been lost, what could be guessed in regard to what the next two Acts con- tained? Pick out what seem to you the most poetical passages in Act III. Summarize each scene, employing the present tense. Act IV Scene 1. Arrange the stage. Why is the witches' brew made so loathsome? What use is to be made of it? Describe M.'s appearance and manner of entering. Had M. ever before met the witches save by accident? Describe the manner in which the apparitions appear and disappear. Are they visible to the audience? Locate Birnam wood and Dunsinane hill. Is the tone of M.'s voice the same in the lines beginning Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo as in the passage beginning I conjure you by that which you profess? Explain the device by which the witches are made to vanish. Show the dramatic value of the announcement made by Lennox. Why does M. wish to kill Macduff's wife and children? Does this scene, more than some others, need stage representation to show its effectiveness? Explain fines 83-6, 120-22, 144-8. Scene 2. For what purpose has Ross come to Macduff's castle? Was he sent? Is the conversation between Lady Macduff and her son introduced for relief through humor, or for some other APPENDIX 407 purpose? Would the scene be as effective without the messenger? Who sent him? Why is not Lady Macduff killed on the stage? In what respects is tliis murder worse than the preceding ones? Scene 3. Macduff has had little prominence in earlier scenes; what is the dramatist's purpose in now making him the central figure? What is your final impression of Malcolm? Give in de- tail the grounds for Malcolm's mistrust of Macduff. Name the ^'king becoming graces." Purpose of the lines which tell of the power of the English king to cure disease? Would the last part of this scene, where Macduff learns of the death of his wife and children, be so effective had we not read the preceding scene? What character of all that we have met in the play has the strongest motives for kiUing Macbeth? There are many trouble- some lines in this scene; pay particular attention to the following: 11. 2-4, 14-17, 19-20, 22-4, 29-30, 32-4, 107-8, 110-11, 112-13, 165-74, 192-4, 212, 228-9. How does Act IV compare with the preceding Acts in interest? in poetic excellence? in dramatic skill? Briefly summarize each scene, employing the present tense. What remains to be done in Act V? Do you expect to learn of new atrocities committed by Macbeth? If the remainder of the play is to picture the punishment of wrong-doers, do you think the penalty should be the same for the Queen as for the King? Act V Scene 1. Arrange the stage for this scene. Does the gentle- woman show affection for Lady M.? Would the scene be as effective without the presence of the doctor and the gentle- woman? Describe in close detail Lady M.'s actions throughout the scene? By what means may one taking the part of Lady M. convey to the audience the impression of sleep-walking? Should Lady M. be represented as actually washing her hands? writing letters? Should Out damned spot be spoken explosively? How long a time should the scene take? What is passing through Lady M.'s mind as she utters the following: (1) One: two: why then, His time to do it; (2) Hell is murky; (3) You mar all with this starting? Does this scene throw new light on her character? Will she die "hohly," or do you detect no signs of repentance? 408 APPENDIX Can you think of her as one who has committed crimes solely through love for her husband? Why did Shakespeare prefer to reveal Lady M.'s mind in this sleep-walking scene rather than through waking soliloquy? What other scenes in the play ap- proach this in dramatic power? Scene 2. Purpose of this scene? What is the most effective metaphor? Find a simile that presents a vivid picture. To what earlier scene are we carried back by the words Bimam and Dunsinane? Scene 3. Purpose of this scene? Describe Macbeth's appear- ance and his mental condition. Could the first twenty lines be spared? the seven lines beginning I have lived long enough? the lines referring to the Queen? Does M. arouse our pity as Lady M. does in the sleep-walking scene? Has he absolute faith in the witches? Did he have in Act I? Is he mad or full of valiant juryf What was the final cause of Lady M.'s death? Scene 4. Why is this scene necessary? What is the effect of so many short scenes? Scene 5. What is M.'s state of mind before he hears of his wife's death? Does he show grief or indifference at the news? How do you explain lines 17-18? Explain the thought in Hues 19-23. Is M. a deep thinker? Do you admire him for determining to die with harness on our back? Scenes 6-7. How was the castle taken? Which should kill M., Macduff or Malcolm? Scene 8. Is there anything of remorse in 1. 5? Why not have M. killed on the stage? Purpose of 11. 35-53? Would the ending have been more impressive had M. been taken captive? if the Queen had survived him? if the King and Queen had died at the same time? if the King had taken his own life? What is Shake- speare's way of representing a battle? Why not call the play The Macbethsf INDEX Addison, 287 Alfred the Great, 242 allegory, 329 alliteration, 343, 215 amphibrach, 335 anapaest, 335 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 243, 248 Anglo-Saxon Period, 239-244 antithesis, 333 antonj^ms, 27 apostrophe, 332 Appendix, 319-408 Argument, 105-124; specimen brief, 356 Arnold, 316 Austen, 305 Bacon, 268 balanced sentence, 42 ballad, 151, 154, 249, 256 Beauty, 60-68 Bede, 241, 243 Beowulf, 241 Bible, Kino James, 267 Blackmore, 313 Blake, 296 blank verse, 338 brevity, 40 brief, specimen, 356 Bronte, 313 Browning, Elizabeth, 311 Browning, Robert, 310 Bulwer Lytton, 313 Bunvan, 280 Burice, 296 Burney, 305 Burns, 300 Butler, 283 Byron, 301 Caedmon, 241 Carlyle, 313 Caxton, 260 Caxton's Period, 257- 260 cesura, 337 character study in drama, 181; in fic- tion, 161 Chaucer, 253 Chaucer's Period, 251-256 Clearness, 16-36 climax, 43, 77, 159, 180, 333 closet drama, 150 coherence, 18, 20 Coleridge, 302 Collier's Short View, 288 comedy, 145, 150 composition subjects, 346 connotative words, 39 contrast, 42, 333 couplet, 340 Cowper, 296 Cynewulf, 241 dactyl, 335 Darwin, 316 De Coverley Papers, questions on, 365 Defoe, 286 DeQuincey, 306 Description, 83-91 Deserted Village, ques- tions on, 389 Dickens, 311 dictionary, exercises in use of, 11 dimeter, 334 Drama, The Study of, 169-185; varie- ties of, 145, 150 Dryden, 284 Edge worth, 305 elegy, 154 Eliot, George, 311 Elizabethan Period, 266-275 English Literature, Brief Summary of, 237-316 epic, the, 152 epigram, 333 epithet, transferred, 331 Essays, The Study of, 186-193; essay 409 defined, 147; sub- jects for essays, 346 exclamation, 333 Exposition, 92-104 faulty English, 12 feminine line, 336 Fiction, The Study OF Prose, 157-168 Fielding, 293 Figures of Speech, 327-333; exercises, 218 Force, 37-59 Freeman, 316 Froude, 316 Gay, 288 Goldsmith, 294 Gorboduc, 263 Gower, 254 Gray, 296 Green, 316 Grote, 316 Hakluyt, 269 Hailam, 316 Hardy, 313 harmony, 63 heptameter, 334 heroic couplet, 339 Herrick, 278 hexameter, 334 Hooker, 269 Hughes, 313 Huxley, 316 hyperbole, 331 iambus, 335 idyl, 155 II Penseroso, questions on, 397 interludes, 264 interrogation, 333 irony, 332 Johnson, 297 Johnson, Age of, 290- 298 Johnson, questions on Macaulay's, 375 Jonson, 274 410 INDEX Keats, 303 Kingsley, 313 Lady of the Lake, ques- tions on, 384 U Allegro, questions on, 394 Lamb, 306 Langland, 252 Layamon, 249 Literature Defined, 130-140 Literature, Kinds OF, 141 Lylv, 269 lyric, 152 Macaulay, 314 Macaulay's Johnson, questions on, 375 Macbeth, questions on, 399 MacDonald, 313 Malony, 257 Marlowe, 273 Marryat, 313 mask, 150 mass, 18, 20 melodrama, 146, 150 melody, 62 Meredith, 313 metaphor, 328, 220 meter, 334 metonymy, 330 Milton, 279 Milton's U Allegro, questions on, 394 miracle plays, 263 monometer, 334 moralities, 264 More, 261 Morley, 316 Morris, 311 Narration, 75-82 New Learning, 259 Newman, 316 Norman-English Pe- riod, 245-250 novel, 144 octameter, 334 ode, 154 Old English Period 239-244 onomatopoeia, 343 oration subjects, 346 pentameter, 334 personification, 329 plot in fiction, 157; in drama, 177 Poetry, Varieties of, 150-150; Poetry, The Study of, 194- 233; exercises in ap- preciation, 226 Pope, 288 Porter, 305 Pre-Elizabethan Pe- riod, 261-265 pronunciation exer- cises, 9 Prose, Varieties of, 144-149 Punctuation, Rules of, 319; exercises in, 23 Puritan and Cava- lier Period, 276- 281 Puritans, 281 Purity, 6-15 quatrain, 340 Queen Anne Period, 285-289 Raleigh, 268 Ralph Roister Doister, 263 Reade, 313 Reading, 127-135 Reformation, 276 Renaissance, 276 repetition, 41 Restoration Period, 282-284 Rhetoric, The Study OF, 3-5 Richardson, 292 romance, prose, 144; metrical, 152; Nor- man, 248; English, 249 Rossetti, 311 Royal Society, 283 Ruskin, 315 Scott, 300, 305 sentence, the balanced, 42; the periodic, 44; the loose, 44 setting, 163 Shakespeare, 273 Shelley, 304 Sheridan, 295 Sidney, 270 Silas Marner, questions on, 360 simile, 327 simplicity, 45 Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight, 255 Smollett, 293 song, 153; Elizabethan, 270 sonnet, 341, 154 spelling exercises, 10 Spencer, 316 Spenser, 271 stanza forms, 340 Steele, 287 Sterne, 293 Stevenson, 313 storj% short, 144. Style, 69-74 suspense, 44 Swift, 286 Swinburne, 311 symmetry, 64 synonyms, 25 tale, 151 Taylor, 279 Tennyson, 309 tetrameter, 334 Thackeray, 311 Thomson, 295 topical outline, 29 tragedy, 145, 150 tragi-comedy, 146, 150 Trevelyan, 316 trimeter, 334 triplet, 340 trochee, 335 Tiollope, 313 truncated line, 336 Tyndale, 262 Tyndall, 316 unity, 18, 20 Versification, 334- 346; exercises in, 200 Victorian Era, 308- 316 Walton, 27^ words, connotative, 39; familiar and precise, 19 Wordsworth, 301 Wordsworth-Scott Era, 299-307 Wyatt and Surrey, 262 Wyclif, 251 ^:ff^f'ms^ssmMs^i^mm U DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 7 HAY IKF DURING / UAT U3fc SUMMER SESSIONS w^n 9. RECD f ?Al8^rir)%^6^ ^^^^^^-^ YB 36949 Mbyy ^17 11674 EDUC. THE UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY