"'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come; 'Tis sweet to be awakened by the lark Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words."

The Spenserian stanza, invented by Edmund Spenser and employed by him in the "Faerie Queene," is a difficult but effective form of poetry. It consists of nine verses, the first eight being iambic pentameter, and the ninth line iambic hexameter, or Alexandrine. Its rhyme scheme is a b a b b c b c c. The following from Byron's "Childe Harold" will serve for illustration:

"To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled."

The principal hymn stanzas are known as long meter, common meter, and short meter. The long-meter stanza is composed of four iambic tetrameter lines, rhyming either alternately or in couplets; as,

"Wide as the world is Thy command; Vast as eternity Thy love; Firm as a rock Thy truth must stand, When rolling years shall cease to move."

The common-meter stanza contains four iambic lines, the first and third being tetrameter, and the second and fourth trimeter. The rhymes are alternate; as,

"Eternity, with all its years, Stands present to Thy view; To Thee there's nothing old appears, To Thee there's nothing new."

The short-meter stanza consists of four iambic lines, the first, second, and fourth being trimeter, and the third tetrameter. The rhymes are alternate; as,

"Let good or ill befall, It must be good for me; Secure of having Thee in all, Of having all in Thee."

53. Blank Verse. Unrhymed poetry, usually in iambic pentameter measure, is known as blank verse. It is our ordinary epic and dramatic verse, as exemplified in Shakespeare and Milton. Blank verse has greater freedom than rhymed verse, but the attainment of a high degree of excellence in it is scarcely less difficult. It approaches the ease and freedom of prose, and perhaps for that reason it is apt to sink below a high level of poetry.

Apart from its diction and meter, the harmony of blank verse depends upon two things,—namely, its pauses and its periods. The rhythmical pause occurring in a line is called a caesura. Though usually falling near the middle of the line, the caesural pause may occur at any point, and sometimes there may be two caesuras. There is generally a rhythmical pause at the end of a verse, and when this pause is stressed by a completion of the sense the line is said to be "end-stopt"; but if the sense awaits completion in the following verse, the line is said to be "run-on." The French name enjambement is sometimes used to designate a "run-on" line. The following extract from Thomson will serve to illustrate the caesural pauses, as well as "end-stopt" and "run-on" lines:

"These as they change, Almighty Father, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasant Spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm; Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; And every sense, and every heart, is joy. Then comes thy glory in the summer months With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year."

By period is meant the conclusion of the sentence. The period or end of a sentence may fall at the end of a line or at any point in it. The period serves to break up the poem into longer or shorter parts. In Milton the sentences are generally long, and the periods thus break up the poem into a sort of stanza of varying length. "Run-on" lines are the prevailing type; and this fact, in connection with the length of the sentences and the constant shifting of the pauses, imparts to his "Paradise Lost" its peculiar organ roll. The following passage will serve to make this clear:

"Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into our world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed In the beginning how the heavens and earth Rose out of Chaos.

"Or, if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God, I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme."

These sixteen lines practically make two stanzas. Twelve lines, or three fourths of the whole number, are "run-on." The caesural pause, as will be seen on counting the feet in connection with which they occur, is exceedingly varied.

With the two foregoing extracts may be compared the following from Shelley's "Alastor," in which all the periods are "end-stopt," and divide the selection into clearly recognizable and almost regular stanzas. It will be noted that the movement and effect are very different from those of Thomson and Milton.

"There was a poet whose untimely tomb No human hand with pious reverence reared, But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness.

"A lovely youth, no mourning maiden decked With weeping flowers or votive cypress wreath The lone couch of his everlasting sleep; Gentle and brave and generous, no lorn bard Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh; He lived, he died, he sang, in solitude.

"Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes; And virgins, as unknown he passed, have pined And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes.

"The fire of those soft orbs has ceased to burn, And Silence, too enamored of that voice, Locks its mute music in her rugged cell."

It will be observed that not only all the periods, but also twelve out of the seventeen lines are "end-stopt."

54. Poetic Style. By poetic style is meant the choice and arrangement of words peculiar to poetry. While in the main poetic and prose diction is the same, still there are words and verbal combinations admissible only in poetry. Poetry strives after concreteness and vividness of expression. Such words as steed, swain, wight, muse, Pegasus, yclept, a-cold, sprent, bower, meed, isle, a-field, dight, sooth, hight, and many others, are hardly ever met with in ordinary prose. Their prose equivalents are generally preferred.

Poetry uses great freedom, called poetic license, in the order of words and construction of sentences. The principal deviations from the prose order are as follows:

(1) The verb may precede the subject for the sake of emphasis or meter; as,

"Came a troop with broad swords swinging."

(2) The verb may follow its object; as,

"Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves, And all their echoes, mourn."

(3) The infinitive may precede the word on which it depends; as,

"When first thy sire, to send on earth Virtue, his darling child, designed."

(4) Prepositional phrases may precede the verbs they modify; as,

"Of man's first disobedience, sing, Heavenly Muse."

(5) The preposition may follow the noun it governs; as,

"From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder."

(6) Adverbs may precede the words they modify; as,

"The plowman homeward plods his weary way."

(7) Condensed expressions in the form of compound epithets are frequently used; as,

"O music, sphere-descended maid!"

(8) An expletive pronoun may be used to throw the subject after the verb; as,

"It ceased, the melancholy sound."

(9) The relative pronoun may be omitted; as,

"'Tis fancy, in her fiery car, Transports me to the thickest war."

(10) Intransitive verbs are sometimes used with an objective case; as,

"Still in harmonious intercourse they lived The rural day, and talked the flowing heart."

(11) Archaic or antiquated words and modes of expression may be used; as,

"Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight."

(12) The noun may precede the adjective modifying it; as,

"The willows, and the hazel copses green."

REVIEW QUESTIONS

44. What is poetry? How is it distinguished from prose? What is the difference between poetry and verse? 45. What is the relative position of poetry and prose? Illustrate the difference. 46. What is the source of poetry? What is said of human life? What constitutes its lyric poetry? Mention some mental aspects of nature. 47. How is the poet regarded in a materialistic age? With what is the great poet gifted? What is Bailey's estimate of poets? What is said of the rank of great poets? Mention some of the world's greatest poets. 48. Why is the poet called a seer? What is his relation to his contemporaries? What does Mrs. Browning say of poets? What is said of Shakespeare? To what class of themes does the best poetry give itself?

49. What is versification? What is its unit? How are syllables distinguished? What is the function of quantity in English verse? Illustrate. What is the principle of English verse? What is a metrical foot? Define iambus? Illustrate. Define a trochee, with example. When is a verse or foot catalectic? Define a dactyl, with illustration. Define an anapest, with example. Define a spondee; amphibrach, with example.

50. How is a verse named? What is iambic trimeter? What is iambic pentameter called? What is trochaic tetrameter? Illustrate. What is dactylic hexameter? Illustrate. Mention some well-known poems written in this meter. What is anapestic trimeter? Illustrate. On what principle may a syllable be added to a foot or omitted from it? Explain the irregularities in the first two lines of Tennyson's "Break, break, break." What is said of metrical irregularities? What is their purpose? Illustrate from Wordsworth and Tennyson.

51. What is rhyme? Of what use is it? In what order may rhymes occur? Illustrate. What is a double rhyme? What other name has it? Illustrate. What is a triple rhyme? Illustrate. When is triple rhyme usually employed? What is middle rhyme? Illustrate. What is sectional rhyme? Illustrate. What is alliteration? What is said of it? Give illustrations from Mrs. Browning and Tennyson.

52. What is a stanza? What is a stanza of two lines called? of three? of four? Illustrate. Explain rhyme royal; ottava rima; Spenserian stanza. Illustrate. Explain the usual hymn meters, illustrating in each case. 53. What is blank verse? What is said of its freedom and difficulty? On what does its harmony depend? What is meant by caesura? What is an "end-stopt" line? A "run-on" line? What French name is used for the latter? What is meant by period? Into what does the period practically divide blank verse? On what does Milton's "organ roll" depend? Point out a notable difference between Milton's and Shelley's blank verse.

54. What is meant by poetic style? What is said of poetic diction? Mention some poetic words. State some of the leading deviations in construction?

ILLUSTRATIVE AND PRACTICAL EXERCISES

The following selections should be examined in the light of such questions as these:

Is it poetry or verse? What lifts it above prose? Does it treat of nature, man, or God? Is it intellectual, emotional, or both? What is the poet's idea? Is it commonplace, true, elevated, delicate, exquisite? What is the mood of the poet,—serious, playful, humorous, calm, exalted? What imaginative features has it? What concrete pictures? What figures? Is it self-restrained and classic? Is it loose and voluble?

As to structure, what is the fundamental foot? Name each line. What irregularities may exist and for what purpose? Is the movement slow or rapid? Explain the source of slowness or rapidity. What is the order of rhymes? Are they perfect or defective? Are there double, triple, middle, or sectional rhymes? Point out the alliteration. What is the effect? Name the stanza. Is it blank verse? Where does the caesural pause fall in each line? Is there variety? Are the lines "end-stopt" or "run-on"? Point out the poetic words. What is their effect? What poetic constructions are there? Divide the selections into three classes,—feeble, good, excellent.

Now all our neighbors' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning; Their ovens they with baked meats choke, And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie; And if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury it in a Christmas pie, And evermore be merry.—WITHER.

Silence in love betrays more woe Than words, though ne'er so witty; A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, My true, though secret passion; He smarteth most that hides his smart, And sues for no compassion.—RALEIGH.

Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot toward heaven. The century-living crow Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till at last they stood, As now they stand, mossy, and tall, and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker.—BRYANT.

But since, O man! thy life and health demand Not food alone, but labor from thy hand, First, in the field, beneath the sun's strong rays, Ask of thy mother Earth the needful maize; She loves the race that courts her yielding soil, And gives her bounties to the sons of toil.—BARLOW.

My days among the dead are passed; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal, And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedewed With tears of thoughtful gratitude.—SOUTHEY.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free; The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven is on the sea; Listen! the mighty being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder—everlastingly. WORDSWORTH.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.—LONGFELLOW.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.—GRAY.

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done, May He within himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." TENNYSON.

All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.—BRYANT.

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willowy spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen. Plaintive at first were the tones, and sad; then soaring to madness Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes. Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation; Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches. LONGFELLOW.

Over his keys the musing organist, Beginning doubtfully and far away, First lets his fingers wander as they list, And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay; Then, as the touch of his loved instrument Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme, First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent Along the wavering vista of his dream.—LOWELL.

And when I am stretched beneath the pines, Where the evening star so holy shines, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, At the sophist schools, and the learned clan; For what are they all, in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet?—EMERSON.

'Twas twilight and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is masked but to assail. Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown, And grimly darkled o'er the faces pale, And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear Been their familiar, and now Death was here.—BYRON.

And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost— What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime, Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, And view the enormous waste of vapor, tossed In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed, And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound! BEATTIE.

NOTE

In addition to the foregoing poetical selections, those previously given may be analyzed with reference to form, content, and mood. Their beauty or excellence will now be more clearly understood. Furthermore, it is recommended that the teacher assign brief poems, either from our standard authors or from current literature, for full analysis and criticism. The blank verse of Tennyson, Shelley, Milton, and Shakespeare might be investigated and compared at considerable length in order to determine the average length of their sentences, the place of the caesural pause, and the proportion of "end-stopt" or "run-on" lines.



CHAPTER VIII

KINDS OF POETRY

55. Classification. Poetry may be divided into four general types or classes: (1) didactic poetry, which is chiefly concerned with instruction; (2) lyric poetry, which generally gives expression to some emotion; (3) epic poetry, which is devoted principally to narration; and (4) dramatic poetry, which deals with direct representation. All these types or classes have variations and subdivisions, which call for consideration in some detail.

56. Didactic Poetry. The term "didactic" as applied to poetry involves a seeming contradiction. Instruction is a function peculiar to prose; but in the hands of a genuine poet, didactic verse may be so adorned by the imagination and so warmed by the feelings as to lift it sometimes into the realm of genuine poetry. Thus Dryden's Religio Laici, the first didactic poem of special note in our language, is essentially prosaic in theme and purpose. But its opening lines, by a happy simile, are unmistakably poetic:

"Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers, Is Reason to the soul; and as on high Those rolling fires discover but the sky, Not light us here, so Reason's glimmering ray Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day."

A didactic poem, at its best, is apt to be more or less prosaic. In estimating its worth, three points are principally to be considered: (1) To what extent has it a true poetic quality? (2) To what extent is it complete, symmetrical, and true? and (3) To what extent is it correct and skillful in versification?

Our language is specially rich in didactic poems, among which may be mentioned Dryden's Religio Laici and "Hind and Panther," Pope's "Essay on Criticism" and "Essay on Man," Young's "Night Thoughts," Johnson's "Vanity of Human Wishes," Cowper's "Task," Akenside's "Pleasures of the Imagination," Rogers's "Pleasures of Memory," Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope," Wordsworth's "Excursion," and Pollok's "Course of Time."

(1) Satire is a species of didactic poetry. It is the use of wit, irony, and sarcasm to ridicule foibles, vices, or evils of any kind. Three kinds of satire may be distinguished: personal satire, which is directed against individuals, and usually springs from malignant or unworthy motives; partisan satire, which aims to make an opposing party or sect odious; and social satire, which seeks to improve the manners or morals of society. Dryden, himself a master of the dangerous art, says,—

"Satire has always shone among the rest, And is the boldest way, if not the best, To tell men freely of their faintest faults, To laugh at their vain deeds and vainer thoughts."

The mood of satire may be various: it may be genial and pleasant; it may be earnest and just; or it may be personal, unjust, and malicious. Any species of satire may exhibit keenness of wit, but satire reaches its highest excellence only when it springs from upright motives and confines itself to truth. If there is exaggeration or caricature, as is generally the case, there still must be a substantial basis of fact. No amount of intellectual brilliancy or artistic skill can justify what is false and slanderous.

Satirical poetry is very old. Aristophanes, Juvenal, Horace were distinguished satirists of antiquity. Satire is found in almost every period of English literature. Among our well-known satires are Butler's "Hudibras," Dryden's "Mac Flecknoe" and "Absalom and Achitophel," Pope's "Dunciad," Byron's "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" and "Waltz," Lowell's "Fables for Critics," Moore's "Fudge Family in Paris," and not a few others.

(2) Descriptive poetry, or the nature epic, as it has been called, may be classed under didactic poetry. It is devoted to the description not of successive events but of successive scenes in nature. It is sober and reflective in character. Beginning with Chaucer, who delights in May time and the daisies, nature occupies a prominent place and displays an ever-unfolding richness in English poetry. Pope's "Windsor Forest" is an elaborate though artificial piece of description. Milton's "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso" are nature pictures that have never been surpassed in their graphic portraiture. Other celebrated descriptive poems are Goldsmith's "Traveller" and "Deserted Village," Thomson's "Seasons," Bryant's "Forest Hymn," Whittier's "Snow-Bound." But in poems of every class there are descriptions of nature, though occupying an incidental and secondary position.

In these nature poems there should be truthfulness of description. They should be genuine; not coldly conventional, as Pope's "Windsor Forest," but real or idealized pictures from nature. The descriptions should be specific rather than general; and if, in addition to faithful portraiture, we have the warmth and elevation that come from human emotion or from the recognition of an all-pervading Presence, the result is the highest type of descriptive poetry. These finer descriptions of nature are found in all the great poets since the days of Wordsworth.

(3) Pastoral poetry is a species of descriptive poetry. It is devoted to a portrayal of country life and manners, and generally embodies a slight degree of dramatic action. "A pastoral," says Alexander Pope, "is an imitation of the action of a shepherd, or one considered under that character. The form of this imitation is dramatic or narrative, or mixed of both; the fable simple, the manners not too polite nor too rustic; the thoughts are plain, yet admit a little quickness and passion, but that short and flowing; the expression humble, yet as pure as the language will afford; neat but not florid; easy and yet lively."

English literature is not rich in pastoral poetry. What we have is generally an imitation or translation of classical models. One of the best known English pastorals is Spenser's "Shepherd's Calendar," which contains imitations of Theocritus and Marot. Milton's "Comus" is a kind of pastoral. The purest examples of pastoral poetry are found in Pope, who has a series which he calls "Pastorals." Keats's "Endymion" has been classed with pastoral poetry, but it is not a pure example of the type.

57. Lyric Poetry. Lyric poetry gives intense expression to thought and emotion. As the name indicates, it was originally accompanied by music. Though lyric poems are short, they constitute, in the aggregate, a large part of English poetry. At the present day didactic and epic poetry is rarely written; but lyric poetry continues to flourish. Its range of theme is practically without limits.

There are numerous kinds or classes of lyric poetry, of which we may distinguish the following: (1) ballads, (2) songs, (3) odes, (4) elegies, (5) sonnets. These will now be considered in the order given.

(1) A ballad is a brief narrative poem in lyric form. The ballad was originally the production of wandering minstrels, and in its old English form it possessed a simplicity, directness, and charming crudeness that a more cultivated age cannot successfully imitate. The old English ballads, most of which were composed in the north of England, depict the lawlessness, daring, fortitude, and passion characteristic of life along the Scottish border. A group of ballads gathers about the name of Robin Hood, "the gentlest thief," as Scott calls him, "that ever was." A stanza or two will illustrate their general tone and style:

"He that hath neither beene kithe nor kin Might have seen a full fayre sight, To see how together these yeomen went With blades both brown and bright.

"To see how these yeomen together they fought Two hours of a summer's day, Yet neither Robin Hood nor Sir Guy Them fettled to flye away."

Recent poets have written ballads, among the best of which may be mentioned Longfellow's "Skeleton in Armor" and "Wreck of the Hesperus," Tennyson's "Edward Gray" and "Lady Clare," and Goldsmith's "Hermit." These are all ballads of a pure type.

(2) A song is a lyric poem intended to be sung. Songs may be classified according to sentiment or occasion. In this way we may distinguish love songs, convivial or drinking songs, political songs, war songs, national songs, religious songs or hymns. As with lyric poems in general, there is no thought or sentiment of the human soul that may not find expression in song. Burns is distinguished as one of the best of all song writers. Moore's "Irish Melodies" and "National Airs" are bright though somewhat artificial. Among the writings of nearly all our poets are pieces suitable for music.

Our hymns do not as a rule reach a high degree of poetic excellence. The reason is, perhaps, not difficult to find. The hymn writers are concerned less with a free play of the imagination and emotions than with a strict regard to theological or even dogmatic truth. But notwithstanding the difficulties of the case, not a few hymn writers have given beautiful expression to their faith, adoration, and love. Keble, Watts, Wesley, Cowper, Bonar, and many others have written hymns that give satisfying expression to a deep religious fervor.

(3) The ode, is a somewhat lengthy lyric, characterized by exalted feeling, dignity of theme, and irregular and complicated structure. Our literature contains a number of excellent and famous odes, among which may be mentioned Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," which the confident author thought would never be surpassed.

"'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne; His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound; (So should desert in arms be crowned). The lovely Thais, by his side, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride, In flower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserve the fair."

Pope's "Ode on Saint Cecilia's Day" is scarcely inferior. Collins's "Ode on the Passions" is well known, though not equal perhaps to his "Ode to Evening." Gray's "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College" and "Progress of Poesy" are deserving of mention. Shelley wrote an "Ode to Liberty" and an "Ode to the West Wind," both well worth reading and study. Coleridge's "Ode on France" deservedly ranks high, and Wordsworth's "Ode to Duty" and "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality" are almost unsurpassed. Lowell's "Commemoration Ode" is justly admired.

(4) The elegy is a meditative poem of sorrowful theme, usually lamenting the dead. English literature may boast of several elegies unsurpassed in any age or country. Spenser's "Astrophel" is a lament over the death of Sir Philip Sidney. Milton's "Lycidas" is a monody on the death of the poet's friend, Edward King. Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" is celebrated for its graphic description and beautiful thought. Shelley's "Adonais," a lament for Keats, belongs to the upper regions of song; and Tennyson's "In Memoriam" belongs to the great poetic achievements of the nineteenth century.

(5) The sonnet is a lyric poem consisting of fourteen iambic pentameter lines. It is divided into two parts: the first consisting of an octave or double quatrain, and the other of a sestet. The rhymes of the first two quatrains are usually the same; those of the sestet are variously arranged. The sonnet is an artificial and complicated poetic form; but it lends itself admirably to the development of a single poetic thought, and Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Mrs. Browning, Longfellow, Hayne, and many others have used it with great skill and power. The following sonnet by Mrs. Browning will serve for illustration:

"I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young; And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair, And a voice said in mastery while I strove, 'Guess now who holds thee?' 'Death,' I said. But, there, The silver answer rang, 'Not Death but Love!'"

As will be seen on examination, the rhyme scheme is as follows: a b b a a b b a c d c d c d. But the quatrains may have alternate rhymes, and the sestet may consist of a quatrain and couplet or of interwoven triplets, as in the following schemes: a b a b a b a b c d c d e e; a b b a a b b a c d e c d e.

58. Some Criteria. The brief lyric, above all other kinds of poetry, should be finished in form and expression. The imperfections of diction that might go unchallenged in a longer poem are inexcusable in a lyric. Delicacy of thought and intensity of feeling constitute its breath of life, and should mold for themselves a beauteous form. What is commonplace, harsh, or unmusical in expression should be avoided, unless such diction is wedded to the thought. Concrete and suggestive words are to be used rather than abstract and vague expressions. There is always a distinct gain when the poem evokes pleasing pictures.

As a rule the thought and expression should be clear; the poet should not mystify the reader nor tax too far his efforts at comprehension. Browning sometimes grievously offends in this particular. While insisting on clearness, however, we should not forget that the mystical and the musical have their place in poetry. A poem may sometimes be pleasing through its melodious and mystical character, even when it is not clearly intelligible.

Whether the poet has a distinct introduction, or whether he plunges into the midst of his theme, he should observe method and symmetry of structure; and in spite of the liveliest play of the imagination and sensibilities, he should impose a severe restraint upon himself. He should leave something to the imagination of the reader.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

55. Into how many classes is poetry divided? Name them, giving the general character of each class. 56. What contradiction is there in the term didactic poetry? How is it saved from this contradiction? Illustrate. What points are to be considered in estimating didactic poetry? Mention some principal didactic poems.

What is poetic satire? What three species are mentioned? What is said of the mood of satire? Mention some well-known satires. What is meant by descriptive poetry? What is said of nature in poetry? Mention some descriptive pieces, or nature epics. What are their criteria? What is pastoral poetry? What was Pope's conception of it? What is its place in English literature? Mention our principal pastorals.

57. What is lyric poetry? Mention the principal kinds. What is a ballad? What is said of old English ballads? Mention some recent ballads. What is a song? Name the different kinds. Who are mentioned as song writers? What is said of hymns? Why are they not better? Name some prominent hymn writers? What is an ode? What place does it hold in our literature? Name a few famous odes. What is an elegy? Mention some famous elegies. What is a sonnet? How is it divided? What is the rhyme scheme of the sonnet? Name some of our great sonneteers. 58. What are some of the criteria for judging lyric poetry? What was one of Browning's faults?

ILLUSTRATIVE AND PRACTICAL EXERCISES

The following selections should be studied in the light of such questions as these:

To what division of poetry does it belong? Is it didactic, descriptive, pastoral, satirical? What is the spirit of the piece? Is it a ballad, song, hymn, ode, elegy, sonnet? Is it elevated and intense? Is it true in sentiment and thought? Is it well constructed and harmonious? Is it clear or hazy? Is it natural or affected? What is its meter?

Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Whatever nature has in worth denied, She gives in large recruits of needful pride; For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find What wants in blood and spirits, swelled with wind: Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense.—POPE.

Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages cursed: For close designs, and crooked counsels fit; Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place; In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace: A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy-body to decay; A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit. DRYDEN.

Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause awhile from letters to be wise; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's life and Galileo's end.—JOHNSON.

The groves of Eden, vanished now so long, Live in description, and look green in song: These, were my breast inspired with equal flame, Like them in beauty, should be like in fame. Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water seem to strive again; Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree. Here waving groves a chequered scene display, And part admit, and part exclude the day; As some coy nymph her lover's warm address Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.—POPE.

Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state, Robed in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the plowman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his sithe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the vale.—MILTON.

In this, our happy and "progressive" age, When all alike ambitious cares engage; When beardless boys to sudden sages grow, And "Miss" her nurse abandons for a beau; When for their dogmas Non-Resistants fight, When dunces lecture, and when dandies write; When spinsters, trembling for the nation's fate, Neglect their stockings to preserve the state; When critic wits their brazen lustre shed On golden authors whom they never read; With parrot praise of "Roman grandeur" speak, And in bad English eulogize the Greek;— When facts like these no reprehension bring, May not, uncensured, an Attorney sing?—SAXE.

In the street I heard a thumping; and I knew it was the stumping Of the Corporal, our old neighbor, on that wooden leg he wore, With a knot of women round him,—it was lucky I had found him, So I followed with the others, and the Corporal marched before.

They were making for the steeple,—the old soldier and his people; The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creaking stair; Just across the narrow river—O, so close it made me shiver!— Stood a fortress on the hill-top that but yesterday was bare. HOLMES.

Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in. Time, you thief! who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in. Say I'm weary, say I'm sad; Say that health and wealth have missed me: Say I'm growing old, but add— Jenny kissed me.—LEIGH HUNT.

Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth, and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!

Those joyous hours are passed away; And many a heart that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells.—MOORE.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more. WORDSWORTH.

Abide with me! fast falls the even-tide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away; Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not, abide with me!—LYTE.

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait."—MILTON.

NOTE

In addition to these selections the student might classify, as far as possible, the poetical extracts previously given. In some cases, owing to brevity, this classification will be difficult. Furthermore, the teacher might assign particular didactic, descriptive, satirical, or lyric poems for special study as to form, content, and mood. The special criteria of this chapter should be applied. A comparative study of Pope's "Windsor Forest," Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," and Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey" would be specially instructive, as showing the different ways of treating nature.



CHAPTER IX

EPIC AND DRAMATIC POETRY

59. The Epic. The epic is a long poem celebrating in stately verse some important and heroic event of the past. It may be based either on history or tradition, though in our greatest epics there is a commingling of the two. The method of the epic is chiefly narrative and descriptive. The theme is generally stated in the beginning, and the narrative, frequently interspersed with episodes, pursues an even course. Homer thus begins the "Iliad":

"Of Peleus' son Achilles, sing, O Muse, The direful wrath, which sorrows numberless Brought on the Greeks, and many mighty souls Of youthful heroes, slain untimely, sent To Pluto's dark abode, their bodies left A prey to dogs and all the fowls of heaven."

Vergil begins the "AEneid" in a similar manner, and the opening lines of "Paradise Lost" follow classic models.

The structure of the epic may be determined from the fundamental conception of its nature. As a narrative of an important and heroic event, it should be simple, direct, and dignified in its treatment. The incidents should be introduced in a natural order, and their prominence should be regulated according to their relative importance. In an epic poem, as in every other creation of art, the law of symmetry should be observed.

But the epic admits of episode. The poet may stop the flow of his narrative for a time to dwell upon some incident connected with or growing out of the main theme. Such an episode is the story of the destruction of Troy in the second and third books of the "AEneid." The episode may be employed to throw light on existing conditions or to add interest to the general narrative. In the "AEneid" it serves both purposes to an eminent degree.

The epic makes extensive use of dialogue, and thus, in a measure, partakes of the nature of the drama. The introduction of the dialogue serves a double purpose: first, it lends greater vividness to the narrative; and second, it lends variety to the story, enabling the ancient minstrel, and in a less degree the modern reader, to do a little acting. Often the dialogue is highly dramatic, as in the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon in the first book of the "Iliad." A large part of our greatest epics is in dialogue.

The great epics of the world are all heroic. They celebrate great events—the Trojan war, the founding of Rome, the loss of Paradise—and bring before us a large number of heroes, divinities, and angels. The "Iliad" is made up chiefly of battle scenes, in which mighty heroes and Olympian deities take part. AEneas is the hero of the "AEneid"; but back of the tribulations through which he passes, we recognize the agency of contending divinities. And in "Paradise Lost" Milton introduces the mighty beings of heaven and hell. The epic is thus the stateliest and grandest form of poetry.

There are minor varieties of the epic, which occupy an important place in modern poetry.

(1) The principal of these varieties is the metrical romance, of which Scott's "The Lady of the Lake" or Owen Meredith's "Lucile" may be taken as the type. It differs from the grand or heroic epic in confining itself to lowlier themes, and in introducing the passion of love. The metrical romance lends itself readily to every form of romantic story. In Scott it introduces the scenes and characters of mediaeval Scotland. Byron, in "The Giaour," "The Siege of Corinth," "The Bride of Abydos," and others, works up oriental legends. Moore's "Lalla Rookh" is a beautiful oriental romance. Owen Meredith's "Lucile" is a modern love story, while Morris's "Story of Sigurd" is derived from Scandinavian legends.

(2) The metrical tale may be distinguished from the metrical romance by the absence of romantic love and adventure. It is naturally briefer in form. Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon" and Burns's "Tam O'Shanter" may be taken as types of the metrical tale. On the one side it approaches the metrical romance, and on the other the lyrical ballad. Since the days of Gower and Chaucer the metrical tale has added to English poetry some of its choicest pieces.

(3) The mock epic is, as the name suggests, a burlesque. It narrates trivial incidents in a stately manner. It is not to be taken seriously, and may be employed either to satirize or to amuse. Butler's "Hudibras" is a mock heroic satire, while Pope's "The Rape of the Lock" was intended to amuse with its pleasant conceits and to effect a reconciliation between two alienated families among the nobility. Here are the opening lines of Canto III:

"Close by those meads, forever crowned with flowers, Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers, There stands a structure of majestic frame, Which from the neighboring Hampton takes its name. Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home; Here thou, great Anna, whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea."

60. The Drama. The drama is a composition in prose or verse usually intended to be acted on the stage. Representation takes the place of narration. In order to add to the reality and interest of the representation, the accessories of dress and scenery are carefully employed. Whether in prose or verse, the laws of dramatic structure are the same.

The two principal divisions of the drama are tragedy and comedy. Tragedy represents an important and serious action, which usually has a fatal termination; it appeals to the earnest side of our nature, and moves our deepest feelings.

Comedy consists in a representation of light and amusing incidents; it exhibits the foibles of individuals, the manners of society, and the humorous phases of life. The name tragi-comedy is applied to a drama in which tragic and comic scenes are intermingled. A farce is a short comedy distinguished by its slight thought and ridiculous caricature or extravagance. A melodrama is a drama with a romantic story or plot, and sensational situations and incidents. An opera is a musical drama, the higher forms of which are known as grand opera, and the lower or farcical forms as opera bouffe.

The laws of the drama are substantially the same for all forms. There should be unity of dramatic action; that is, the separate scenes and incidents should contribute in some way to the development of the plot and to the final result or denouement. A collection of disconnected scenes, no matter how interesting in themselves, would not make a drama.

In addition to unity of action, which is obviously the one indispensable law of the drama, two other unities were prescribed by ancient authorities. The one is unity of time, which requires that the action fall within the limits of a single day; the other is unity of place, which requires that the action occur in the same locality. While evidently artificial and dispensable, these latter unities conduce to clear and concise treatment. Among the Greeks and Romans the three unities, as they are called, were strictly observed; they have been followed also by the older French drama; but the English stage, breaking away in the days of Elizabeth from every artificial restriction, recognizes unity of action alone.

The action of the drama should exhibit movement or progress, in which several stages may be clearly marked. The introduction acquaints us, more or less fully, with the subject to be treated. It usually brings before us some of the leading characters, and shows us the circumstances in which they are placed. After the introduction follows the growth or development of the action toward the climax. From the days of Aristotle this part of the drama has been called "the tying of the knot," and it needs to be managed with great care. If the development is too slow, the interest lags; if too rapid, the climax appears tame.

The interest of a drama depends in a large measure upon the successful arrangement of the climax, or the point in which the opposing forces immediately confront each other. In our best dramas it usually occurs near the middle of the piece. From this point the action proceeds to the close or denouement. The knot is untied; the complications in which the leading characters have become involved are either happily removed or lead to the inevitable catastrophe. Avoiding every digression, the action should go forward rapidly, in order not to weary the patience and dissipate the interest of the spectator. The denouement should not be dependent upon some foreign element introduced at the last moment, but should spring naturally from the antecedent action.

In addition to the five principal parts just indicated—introduction, rise or tying of the knot, climax, fall or untying of the knot, and denouement—there are three other elements or factors that need to be pointed out. The first is the cause or exciting impulse of the dramatic action, and naturally stands between the introduction and the rise or tying of the knot. The second is the cause or tragic impulse of the counteraction, and stands between the climax and the fall or untying of the knot. The third is the cause or impulse that sometimes holds the action in check for a moment before reaching its final issue, and stands between the fall and the denouement.

The structure and eight component parts of a complete or ideal drama may be represented in a diagram as follows.

C A = Introduction. / B = Rise or tying of knot. / b C = Climax. / D = Fall or untying of knot. / B E = Denouement. / D a = Cause or exciting impulse. / b = Tragic impulse. /a c c = Impulse of last suspense. / /A E

61. Characters and Manners. Apart from the plot or story the interest of a drama depends to a large extent on the dramatis personae. In the classic drama the characters are few and dignified; in the romantic drama, as first developed in the age of Shakespeare, the characters are numerous and drawn from every class of society. The same difference is found in the classic school of France, represented by Corneille, Moliere, and Racine, and the romantic school founded by Victor Hugo.

The characters should be clearly drawn and sufficiently differentiated. Each one should have his peculiar individuality, and be reasonably consistent with himself in all parts of the dramatic action. The whole world of mankind is at the service of the dramatist, and there is no type of humanity that may not be brought upon the stage. The ancient world of history or of tradition may be represented, or the stage may hold up the mirror to contemporary manners and society.

The drama should be true to the time and locality in which the action is placed. The dress and manners should be in keeping with the conditions assumed, and the tone of thought and expression should not do violence to time or place. A Carthaginian nobleman, for example, should not ascertain the time of day by means of a gold watch, nor should an unlettered rustic speak in strains of eloquent poetry. A violation of the truth in time is called an anachronism. But "in some dramas, and in some species of drama," as Ward has said, "time and place are so purely imaginary and so much a matter of indifference that the adoption of a purely conventional standard of manners, or at least the exclusion of any definitely fixed one, is here desirable." This is shown in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The drama should be moral both in tone and teaching. We may apply to the drama, as to every other species of composition, Pope's well-known couplet:

"Immodest words admit of no defense, For want of decency is a want of sense."

Indecent language and grossly immoral situations should be excluded from the stage. When this is not done, as is frequently the case, the drama, instead of uplifting, degrades humanity. This fact has brought the stage into disrepute with many excellent people. In its close or denouement the drama should not let vice triumph over virtue, nor should it make the impression that wickedness ever escapes unpunished. Such teaching places the stage in contravention with the moral order of the world, according to which, even when the punitive consequences are not openly manifest, wickedness is inevitably accompanied with some form of internal or external retribution.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1. What is an epic? On what may it be based? What is the method of the epic? Where is the theme stated? Illustrate. What should be the structure of the epic? What is meant by symmetry? What is an episode? Why may it be introduced? Illustrate. What is said of the use of dialogue? What is the nature of the great epic? What is meant by heroic here? Illustrate. What is a metrical romance? How does it differ from the grand epic? What is said of the adaptability of the metrical romance? Illustrate. What is a metrical tale? Name an example or two. What is a mock epic? For what ends may it be used? Mention a mock epic.

2. What is a drama? What is said of the laws of the drama? Name the two chief divisions. Define tragedy; comedy. What is tragi-comedy? farce? melodrama? opera? What is the difference between grand opera and opera bouffe? What is meant by unity of action? What other two unities are there? What is meant by unity of time? What is meant by unity of place? Where are the three unities strictly observed? Which is observed on the English stage? Mention the successive steps of dramatic action. What is the function of the introduction? What follows the introduction? What name did Aristotle give it? What is the climax? What is said about the arrangement of the climax? What is the fall or untying of the knot? Why should it not be protracted? What is meant by the denouement? What are the three other dramatic elements? What is meant by the cause or exciting impulse? What is meant by the tragic impulse? By the impulse of last suspense?

3. On what does the interest largely depend? What is the difference in the characters of the classic and the romantic drama? What is said of each character? Whence may the drama draw its characters? Where may the dramatist get his materials? To what should the drama be true? What is an anachronism? Illustrate. Is conformity to time and place always to be adhered to? What is said of the moral tone of the drama? What is Pope's opinion? In what two ways should the stage be moral?

NOTE

In place of the illustrative and practical exercises, as heretofore given, it is recommended that the student be referred to representative epic and dramatic productions. Besides the great epics mentioned in the text, some of the following works might be used: Scott's "The Lady of the Lake" or "Marmion," Tennyson's "Elaine" or "Enoch Arden," Dryden's "Palamon and Arcite," Byron's "Bride of Abydos" and "Prisoner of Chillon," Burns's "Tam O'Shanter," Pope's "Rape of the Lock," Goldsmith's "She Stoops to Conquer," Sheridan's "Rivals," and Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice," "Julius Caesar," and "Hamlet." To show the difference between the classic and the Shakespearian drama the student should read one or more of the plays of Euripides, Corneille, and Moliere in good translations. Victor Hugo's "Ruy Blas" is recommended as an excellent type of the romantic drama of the nineteenth century.

Apart from the criticism of diction, sentence, and figure, the pieces assigned should be studied with the view of answering such questions as the following: To what division of the epic or drama does the work belong? What is its source? Is it legend or history? What is the story? Has it a beginning, middle, and end? Is it symmetrical in structure? What episodes are introduced? Is the treatment in keeping with the subject? Is it true to fact and character? Does it faithfully portray an age or country? What customs are reflected? What is the state of society? Describe the leading characters. What is the rank of the piece? What other productions resemble it? Is it classic or romantic? Are there autobiographic elements? What light is thrown on the author? How is nature treated? What fundamental views of life are reflected? What is the moving impulse in the drama? What constitutes the introduction? Where is the climax? Is the denouement natural and satisfactory? Trace the tying and the untying of the knot. What furnishes the "tragic impulse"? Is there an "impulse of last suspense"? What unities are observed? What is the length of time consumed? What is the ethical teaching of the piece?



CHAPTER X

NATURE AND FORMS OF PROSE

62. Definition. Prose is the ordinary form of discourse. It is distinguished from poetry not only by more commonplace thought but also by the absence of regular metrical structure. Prose and poetry together constitute the great body of literature; but at the present time, which is characterized by the predominance of material and commercial interests, prose forms by far the larger part. In our popular magazines, poetry is relegated to a very subordinate place.

The forms of prose are various. They may be approximately classified under history, essays, oratory, fiction, science, philosophy, and epistolary correspondence. These classes, as will be seen later, are subject to numerous subdivisions. The last three classes—science, philosophy, and epistolary correspondence—do not come within the scope of the present work, but in general it may be said that they are subject to the same laws of truth and beauty that govern other forms of literary composition.

63. History. History is a systematic record of past events. It rests upon contemporary testimony, which may exist in the form of written documents or of oral tradition. History passes into mythology when it treats of legendary heroes and divinities, and into fiction when it treats of imaginary events. Metrical chronicles, however valuable may be the historical materials they contain, are not to be regarded as history in the true sense of the word. History presupposes change, which may take the form of progress or decadence. Without the element of change, there is nothing to relate beyond the existing state of things. English literature is very rich in historical writing of every kind, and in the century that has just passed, we meet in England with the names of Macaulay, Carlyle, and Froude, and in America with the names of Bancroft, Prescott, and Motley.

As to time, history has a well-defined and generally accepted division. This division recognizes three great periods,—namely, ancient, mediaeval, and modern. In each of these periods a general type of social condition, varying somewhat in different countries, prevailed without essential change. Ancient history extends from the beginning of trustworthy records to the fall of the Roman empire in A.D. 476; mediaeval history extends from that date to the revival of learning and the beginning of the Protestant Reformation in 1517; and modern history embraces the period extending from that time down to the present.

As to subject-matter, history has been variously divided. When it treats of human progress in all nations and ages it is called general or universal history. When it deals with a single country it becomes national history; thus we have histories of England and of the United States. When it treats of separate institutions or interests it may be regarded as special history,—as church history or a history of literature. Again, history may be divided according to the sources from which it derives its data. When based on the facts supplied in the Scriptures it is known as sacred history; when based on other sources of information it is called profane or secular history. This, however, is only an arbitrary though convenient distinction; for all history, as a record of the unfolding purposes of God, is sacred.

As to form, history is divided into several classes. A chronicle is a register of facts and events in the order of time in which they occurred. It does not enter into a discussion either of causes or effects. It is rather a source of historical materials than history itself. The "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," for example, contains valuable facts, but can hardly be regarded as a history of the Anglo-Saxons. Annals are chronicles that give the events year by year.

As to method, history may be divided into narrative, descriptive, and philosophical. Each has its definite object, by which its treatment of materials is determined. Narrative history is chiefly concerned with a systematic presentation of the facts. It is satisfied when these are clearly presented in due perspective, and afford a comprehensive survey of the period or subject treated of. Nearly all the manuals of history in common use belong to this class.

Descriptive history aims at presenting a graphic portraiture of the past. Its method is not so much narration as description. Men and events are brought forward in vivid colors. It makes the past live again before our eyes like a moving pageant; and better to accomplish this result, perspective, and even a full statement of events, are sometimes sacrificed. While narrative history is concerned mostly with the succession of important public events,—wars, changes of administration, and far-reaching legislative enactments,—descriptive or scenic history introduces, in large measure, the social life and manners. Macaulay is a prince among descriptive historians, though no better example of scenic history can be found than Carlyle's "French Revolution."

Philosophic history is concerned less with narration and description than with the underlying causes and effects of events. It regards all human events as an outward movement or evolution, which proceeds according to fixed and ascertainable laws. It looks upon history, to use the words of Macaulay, as "philosophy teaching by example." Philosophic history is a product of recent times; and among the best examples are Hegel's "Philosophy of History," Guizot's "History of Civilization," and Lecky's "History of European Morals."

It is evident that an ideal history will be a combination of the narrative, descriptive, and philosophic. The first gives the events in due order and proportion; the second clothes them in living reality; and the third explains their causes and results. But the production of such a history requires a rare combination of mental gifts; the vivid imagination required in scenic description is not usually found associated with philosophic depth. Perhaps Green's "History of England" and Bancroft's "History of the United States" are as good examples of the highest type of historical writing as can be found.

There is a very noticeable difference between the methods of ancient and modern historians. The former, it has been said, were artistic, and the latter sociological. These terms, while aiming at the facts, are neither accurate nor happy. The ancient historians, as Herodotus and Thucydides, aimed at a pleasing narrative. To attain this end, neither an exhaustive investigation of facts nor a conscientious abstention from fiction was necessary. Hence we find the works of the one filled with impossible events, and those of the other with orations confessedly fictitious; but in both cases the introduction of legend and fiction has imparted an interest that would otherwise be lacking in their works.

With modern historians, especially in the presence of the existing dominant scientific spirit, it is different. The first requisite of historical writing at the present day is absolute truth, as nearly as it can be ascertained. The modern historian is not allowed to draw upon his imagination for facts; he is held to a laborious and exhaustive investigation of the sources of information. He writes out of abundant stores of accurate information; and not content with the mere chronological narration of facts, he seeks beneath them the principles or laws that bind them together as a whole. Modern history, particularly that of the last fifty years, has a breadth, accuracy, and depth, of which the historians of Greece and Rome hardly dreamed.

64. Biography. Biography is that department of history that gives the facts and events of an individual life. It is at once an interesting and important form of history. We have a natural desire to know the lives and characters of the men who have in any way risen above their fellows, and been associated with great social, literary, or political movements. While great men are in large measure the creatures of mighty movements, they at the same time give direction to historic development. There is truth in Carlyle's idea that universal history "is at bottom the history of the great men who have worked there."

There are three general types of biography, corresponding to the three kinds of history. The first is narrative biography, which is concerned chiefly with an orderly statement of the leading facts—birth, parentage, education, marriage, and achievements—in a person's life. The second is scenic or descriptive biography, which aims at interest by means of characteristic incidents or anecdotes. The third is philosophic, which tries to trace the relation of a person's life to the age in which he lived, and to estimate the influence he exerted on his own and subsequent ages. The first is more common, the second more interesting, the third more instructive; but it is evident that the best biographies present a judicious combination of all three types.

The first essential of biography, as of history in general, is truth. When we are studying a man's life we want to know the facts; otherwise we shall not be able to judge correctly of his life and work. There are two principal sources of error in writing biography: the first is ignorance, which leads to the omission of important particulars or to a misinterpretation of those that are known; the other source of error is prejudice for or against the person whose life is portrayed. This prejudice leads, on the one hand, to such a presentation of the biographical facts as to magnify the merits of the man; and on the other, it leads to such a suppression or distortion of the facts as to detract from his just deserts. Both faults are illustrated in Johnson's "Lives of the Poets," which, though excellent in the main, are sometimes defective for lack of research, and colored by the writer's strong Tory and Anglican sentiments.

Autobiography is the story of a man's life written by himself. It is perhaps the most interesting form of biography. In autobiography the writer has the advantage of an intimate acquaintance not only with the outward facts but also with the secret influences and motives by which his life has been controlled. It takes us, as it were, behind the scenes of history; but at the same time there is inevitably the error that springs from undue partiality. And though men like Rousseau, Gibbon, and Franklin attempt to divest themselves of this prejudice, and even succeed in a remarkable degree, there is reason to suspect the omission of facts and motives that would reflect too unfavorably upon the character.

A diary is a record of one's daily occupations and experiences. It sustains the same relation to biography that chronicles or annals do to history: it furnishes the materials out of which biography is made. When the diarist is a man of prominence, as in the case of Dean Swift, his journal throws an interesting light not only upon his own life but also upon the times in which he lives. It introduces us to men in the freedom and frankness of private life. When the diary is kept, not with a view to subsequent publication but merely to aid one's memory, it becomes a valuable record of facts.

65. Some Criteria. In judging a historical work three principal points are to be taken into consideration.

(1) The first is concerned with the mode of execution. Is the outward form of the work such as is required by the laws of art? The diction should be conformable to the subject, and marshaled in correct, varied, and forcible sentences. The style should bend to suit the changing themes. The interest and impressiveness of a work, as may be seen in Macaulay and Irving, depend in no small measure upon its literary quality. Furthermore, there should be movement and symmetry. The progress of events should be followed in a natural order, and the place and treatment of each should be according to its relative importance. As in a drama, there should be a beginning, middle, and end.

(2) The second point to be considered in a history is the subject-matter. Obviously this is of prime importance, for the object of history is the preservation and communication of truth. In weighing a historical work, we should consider both the writer's sources of information and the use he has made of them. Has he gone to original and trustworthy sources of information or has he taken his materials at secondhand? Has he given them thorough or only partial examination? Has he well digested his materials, so that he writes from the fullness of assimilated knowledge, or does he present only the raw materials of history? While delightful and useful histories may be written largely of secondhand materials, it is evident that monumental historic achievements, like Gibbon's "Decline and Fall" or Carlyle's "Oliver Cromwell," must be based on exhaustive original investigation. And however useful may be the works that serve up undigested materials, they cannot be regarded as constituting history in a literary sense, for they lack the element of art.

(3) The third point to be considered in judging a historical work is the personality of the author. What is his mental caliber? He should have the breadth of view that enables him to grasp the subject in its entirety, and to cooerdinate the facts according to their relative importance. Otherwise he will dwell on insignificant details, lack largeness of movement, and, instead of sweeping forward like a river, spread out aimlessly like a dreary marsh. He should have the breadth of culture that will enable him to weigh the facts he uses. This requires familiarity with various systems of belief. Whether a theologian or a scientist, a Protestant or a Romanist, he should be able to do justice to the facts and motives of the opposite party. His love of truth should be supreme. He should have soundness of judgment in connection with a clear logical sense. He must not jump at conclusions, but base them on sufficient evidence. And then the mood, attitude, and prejudices should be ascertained. This constitutes his standpoint. Most writers have convictions or belong to schools of belief that consciously or unconsciously influence their work. A skeptic like Gibbon could hardly do justice to the rise and progress of Christianity.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1. What is prose? How is it distinguished from poetry? What is said of prose in this age? Name the principal forms of prose. Which do not come within the scope of this book?

2. What is history? On what does it rest? How is it different from mythology? from fiction? What is the relation of history to change? What is said of history in English literature? What threefold division of history is there in regard to time? Name the limits of each. As to subject-matter, how is history divided? What division is based on the sources of information? Define a chronicle; annals. As to method, what threefold division of history is there? Define narrative, descriptive, and philosophic history. What method does the best history follow? What difference is there between ancient and modern methods in history? What is the first requisite of historic writing to-day?

3. What is biography? Why is it interesting? What was Carlyle's idea? What three different types exist? What is the chief requisite? What are the two principal sources of error? What is autobiography? What advantage has autobiography? what source of error? What is a diary? Of what use is a diary?

4. In judging a history, what is the first point to be considered? What is required by the laws of art? What is said of style? What is meant by symmetry? What is the second point to be considered? What two inquiries should be made? On what are the greatest historical works based? What is the third point to be considered? What should be the historian's mental equipment? Why is it important to know his fundamental philosophical or religious beliefs?

NOTE

In place of illustrative and practical selections, as given in earlier chapters, it is suggested that the student be referred to a few leading works in the department of history. Among those that might be used, apart from popular text-books on the subject, are Macaulay's "History of England," Green's "History of the English People," Carlyle's "French Revolution," Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico," Motley's "Rise of the Dutch Republic," Irving's "Life of Goldsmith," the autobiographies of Franklin, Gibbon, and Ruskin, the diaries of Pepys and Evelyn, Johnson's "Lives of the Poets," volumes from the English Men of Letters series, the American Men of Letters series, the American Statesmen series, or any other works to which the student may have access.

The volumes assigned by the teacher should be studied with reference to diction and style as presented in Part Second of this work. In addition to this, the narrative, descriptive, and philosophical passages should be distinguished. By an analysis of a single chapter or of the whole book, the symmetry and completeness of the author's treatment may be judged. The writer's purpose and standpoint should, if possible, be ascertained, and the effect upon the work pointed out. His mood, character, and intellectual gifts should be traced as reflected in his work. The results of this investigation might be presented in the form of a written critique.



CHAPTER XI

ESSAYS AND ORATORY

66. Essays. An essay is a brief dissertation on some special subject. It aims to present its statements in a clear and interesting manner, and this careful regard for a finished form brings the essay within the scope of literature in the strict sense of the word. The essay does not usually aim at an elaborate discussion of a subject in all its phases, and it is thus distinguished from the treatise. Its origin dates from the French author Montaigne in the latter part of the sixteenth century; but since the vast multiplication of periodicals in recent years, the essay has become a prominent department of literature. There is scarcely any subject of human interest that may not be discussed in an essay.

The principal forms of the essay are as follows:

(1) The tract, which is usually a brief discussion of some religious or moral subject.

(2) The editorial, which is an editor's discussion of some theme of public interest.

(3) The review or critique, which is a critical examination and discussion of some literary work.

Two general and well-defined types of essays may be profitably distinguished. The first may be called the personal essay. It allows great freedom of treatment, and in large measure reflects the personality of the author. It has something of the ease and charm of conversation. The essays of Montaigne, of Addison, and of Lamb are of this personal type.

The other kind may be designated as the didactic essay. Its aim is the impartation of knowledge and the formation of public opinion. The personality of the author is concealed behind his statements and arguments. He does not write in the first person. In our best writing of this kind there is a careful treatment of the subject.

The method of the essay is chiefly exposition. It uses narration and description only in a subordinate way. The essayist usually has some information to impart, some argument to present, or some conclusion to be reached. His purpose naturally determines the mode of treatment. Generally there will be a beginning or introduction, a middle containing the body of treatment, and a conclusion. Very frequently, however, the writer plunges at once into his subject without the formality of an introduction.

In estimating the worth of an essay three things are to be chiefly taken into account. The first is its form, including diction, sentences, paragraphs, and arrangement. The various points brought forward should be in a natural order, and each should have the prominence to which its relative importance entitles it. There should be movement or progress in the treatment, and the essay should gain in weight as it advances to the conclusion.

The second point is the subject-matter of the essay. As the essay is not intended to be exhaustive, there should be judgment in the selection of points to be presented. A skillful writer will be recognized as much by what he leaves in the inkstand as by what he says. In the presentation of facts there should be a conscientious regard for truth. The author's originality, force, culture will be reflected in the matter and manner of his discussion.

Then, last of all, the writer's mood and standpoint should be considered. Is he serious, satirical, humorous? Is he writing from the standpoint of party or sect, or is he seeking only to know and present the truth? Is he thoroughly acquainted with the subject that he discusses? Only as we answer questions like these can we enter into full sympathy with an author and form a just and adequate conception of his work.

67. Oratory. Oratory is that form of discourse that is primarily intended not to be read but to be spoken. Its object is mingled instruction and persuasion, and it may be defined as instruction suffused with feeling. In its lofty and impassioned forms oratory attains to eloquence,—that quality which profoundly moves the hearts and wills of the hearers.

But it is well to recognize the source of eloquence, which is to be distinguished from bombast and fustian. Eloquence is not a trick of rhetoric; it springs from the moral character of the speaker, from his gifts and attainments, and from the subject and occasion. "Mere eloquence," said Webster, "does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to it; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force."

Oratory is variously divided, but perhaps no other division is better than that of Aristotle. He distinguishes three species of oratory:

(1) Deliberative oratory, which has its place in deliberative bodies. In Parliament or Congress it is concerned with questions of legal enactment, finance, or administration; in religious bodies, with ecclesiastical questions; in scientific bodies, with questions of science. At the present day a large part of oratory is deliberative in character.

(2) Judicial or forensic oratory, which is heard before courts of justice. It is chiefly concerned with human conduct in relation to law, and its aim is to determine what is legally right and just.

(3) Demonstrative oratory is chiefly occupied with the presentation of abstract or practical truth. It is heard in lectures, sermons, and other public addresses. It draws its themes from any department of human knowledge, and aims at imparting instruction, uplifting character, or influencing conduct.

A finished oration is a work of art. Ancient rhetoricians distinguished six parts, which may still be found in some elaborate specimens of pulpit or forensic eloquence. These six parts were (1) the exordium or introduction, (2) the division of the subject, (3) the statement of what is to be established, (4) the argumentation, (5) the appeal to the feelings, and (6) the peroration or conclusion.

It is evident that this scheme for an oration is, as a rule, much too artificial and elaborate for use at the present day. Modern intelligence and modern intensity of life demand greater brevity and directness. An audience of the present time rarely has patience with a discourse of more than an hour, and it generally prefers one of half that length. In a modern discourse we may generally recognize a threefold division:

(1) The introduction, which points out the relation of the subject to the occasion, or otherwise prepares the audience better to appreciate the discussion that is to follow. It should be natural, and not so lengthy as to be out of keeping with the main body of the discourse.

(2) The discussion of the subject in hand. This consists of a statement of the theme and the various facts, arguments, and illustrations that are designed to throw light upon it and establish its truth. This is the main part of the discourse, and great care should be exercised in the statement of facts and the arrangement of arguments. Personal conviction should be back of what is said, for without this tone of sincerity the most brilliant rhetoric and eloquent declamation will be in vain.

(3) The conclusion, in which the results of the discussion are presented. It should be clear and claim no more than has been fairly established in the preceding discussion. On the basis of the truth previously presented it may contain an appeal to the feelings and the will, urging the course of action that has been shown to be advisable, wise, or obligatory.

Argumentation may seek to establish the truth of a proposition in four different ways:

(1) There may be the introduction of testimony. By testimony is meant the statements of actual observers or witnesses. It rests on experience, and may be given orally or in writing; hence we have oral and written testimony.

(2) A proposition may be supported or established by analogy. Reasoning from analogy is that process by which we infer that when two objects resemble each other in several known particulars they will also resemble each other in a certain unknown particular. The planet Mars, for example, resembles the earth in shape, motion, atmosphere, change of seasons, and relation to the sun; and from the resemblance in these known particulars some persons have inferred that, like the earth, it is also inhabited.

Analogical reasoning has a prominent place in our mental operations. Analogy lies at the basis of simile, metaphor, and personification, which are often used in argumentation. We frequently use analogical processes in the practical affairs of life, inferring, for example, that there will be rain to-day because the temperature, appearance of the clouds, and the condition of the atmosphere resemble those of a rainy day last week.

But it is to be observed that the arguments from analogy give us at the best only probable truth. The degree of probability depends upon the nature and number of the resemblances upon which the conclusion is based. There must be no point of dissimilarity that would disprove the conclusion inferred.

(3) We may establish a conclusion by an array of facts. This is called inductive reasoning. We observe, for example, that A, B, C, and all other men of the past, so far as our knowledge goes, have died; and in view of these individual cases we draw the comprehensive conclusion that all men are mortal.

But this mode of reasoning, common and indispensable as it is, needs to be employed with caution. There is always danger of inferring more than the facts warrant. When the inference is based on an inadequate induction of facts, the process is called "jumping at a conclusion,"—a mistake that is frequently made. Even large inductions are not always safe. We might conclude, for instance, that, because the bulldog, hound, mastiff, setter, spaniel, terrier, and other species we have known, are accustomed to bark, therefore all dogs bark. Yet this apparently well-founded conclusion is erroneous, for there is a non-barking species in Greenland.

(4) Again, we may establish a truth by showing that it comes within an established and recognized principle. This process is known as deductive reasoning. The principle on which deductive reasoning depends is the self-evident truth that "whatever is true of the whole is true of the parts." Starting from the general truth that all men are mortal, we may conclude that A, B, and C are mortal.

The general truth that supplies the basis of deductive reasoning may be taken from various sources. Sometimes the truth is self-evident or intuitive, as the axioms that lie at the basis of mathematical reasoning. Sometimes they are truths arrived at by inductive processes. Sometimes they are maxims that have gained the assent of mankind; and again, they are the statements of an accepted philosophy, creed, code, or other recognized source of authority.

In deductive reasoning two points need particular attention: (1) the fundamental principle on which the argument is based should be well established or recognized as true; and (2) the conclusion should necessarily follow from the truth assumed in the beginning, and not embrace more than is duly warranted by it.

The general structure of an oration is determined by its object. There should be, in large measure, simplicity, unity, and progress. The language should be within the comprehension of the average hearer; the sentences, as a rule, should be brief and forcible; and the general style should be concrete rather than abstract. All parts of the oration should be bound together by the single truth and purpose at which the orator aims. The arguments should not be abstruse but clear and striking. Irrelevant matter of every kind, no matter how brilliant in itself, should be excluded; and every fact and principle should be scrupulously correct. Understatement is better than overstatement. The orator should continually advance toward his conclusion; the auditor should feel himself borne along not on a circling eddy but on the bosom of a full, strong current of thought and feeling.

It was Cicero who said that the orator should know everything. However desirable such attainments might be, they are no longer possible; but the orator should have a wide range of culture and experience. This is necessary to give breadth and proportion to his outlook upon the world. In addition to this general culture he should, as far as possible, be master of his subject; and to this end he should bestow upon his discourse careful and even laborious preparation. Without these requisites the orator is apt to prove uninteresting, inconclusive, and unsuccessful.

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1. What is an essay? What brings it within the range of art? How is it distinguished from a treatise? With whom did it originate? What gives it prominence now? Name its principal forms. What is a tract? an editorial? a critique or review? Name two types of essay. What is the character of the personal essay? Give examples. Define the didactic essay. What is the method of the essay? What parts may usually be distinguished? What three things are to be considered in estimating the worth of an essay? How should the successive points be presented? How is a skillful writer recognized? What is said of the essayist's mood and standpoint?

2. What is oratory? What is its object? What is eloquence? Whence does it rise? What is the substance of Webster's view? How did Aristotle divide oratory? What is deliberative oratory? judicial or forensic? demonstrative? What parts were anciently distinguished? What is said of this scheme? What three parts are now generally recognized? What is the purpose of the introduction? What is said of the discussion? What is said of the speaker's convictions? What is the nature of the conclusion? What four methods of proof may be used? What is meant by testimony? What are the two kinds of testimony? What is meant by reasoning from analogy? Illustrate. What is said of its use? What sort of truth is furnished by analogical reasoning? On what does the degree of its probability depend? What is inductive reasoning? Illustrate. What is meant by "jumping at a conclusion"? Give a case of erroneous conclusion. What is deductive reasoning? Illustrate. Whence may come the general truth lying at the basis of deduction? What two points must be attended to carefully? What qualities should an oration have? Why should the diction and sentence structure be simple? What should give unity to the oration? What is said of irrelevant matter? of movement or progress? What was Cicero's view of an orator's attainments? What is the advantage of broad culture? What is said of special preparation?

NOTE

In place of brief illustrative and practical selections, it is recommended that the student be referred to complete essays and orations. In addition to current literature, in which will be found essays of various kinds, Bacon's "Essays," the papers of the Spectator, Lamb's "Essays of Elia," and the essays of Macaulay, De Quincey, Carlyle, and Emerson may be used. Under the head of oratory, apart from contemporary speeches and sermons, the student might be referred to Burke's "Speech on American Taxation," Webster's "Bunker Hill Orations," Patrick Henry's "Speech before the Virginia Convention," Emerson's "Representative Men," and Carlyle's "Heroes and Hero Worship."

The essays assigned should be investigated as to form, matter, and mood or purpose. Such questions as the following may be answered: What kind of essay is it? Is it personal or didactic? What is the theme? What is the writer's aim? What is his mood? What constitutes the introduction? the body of the essay? the conclusion? What may be said of the diction, sentences, and style? What is the order of thought as determined by analysis? Is there symmetry? Is there movement? Is irrelevant matter excluded? Is the treatment lit up by humor? Is there breadth of view? What is the writer's standpoint? Is there care and self-restraint of statement?

In the case of a speech the same questions may be asked in reference to form, content, mood, or purpose. In addition the student may determine the class of oratory to which the speech belongs. He may ask such questions as the following: Is it eloquent in any part? What is the mode of argumentation? What is the form of proof? Is the argument sound and convincing? The student should analyze the speech, in whole or in part, and make a synopsis of its principal propositions and proofs. The result may be presented in a written or oral critique.



CHAPTER XII

NATURE AND CLASSIFICATION OF FICTION

68. Definition. Fiction is that form of prose narrative in which the characters, scenes, and incidents are partly or entirely imaginary. In its highest form it is a sort of prose epic; and Homer's "Odyssey" finds a parallel in Fenelon's "Telemachus." In the arrangement of characters and incidents to form a plot, fiction resembles the drama; and at the present time every notable work of fiction is apt to make its way to the stage. Like poetry in general, fiction has its principal source in the creative imagination, which, working on the basis of experience, modifies or produces character, scene, and incident.

A common division of fiction, though not consistently observed, is the novel and the romance. The novel is a fictitious narrative in which the characters and incidents are in keeping with the ordinary train of events in society. Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield," which brings before us the simple life of a country pastor, may be taken as a type. A romance is a fictitious narrative in which the characters and scenes and incidents are uncommon, improbable, or marvelous. Scott's "Ivanhoe" may be taken as a representative of the best type of romance. The one form of fiction may readily shade into the other, and it becomes difficult in some cases to determine the classification; but in general the two species are clearly marked.

69. Romanticism. During the past century there were two far-reaching movements in the field of fiction. Both came in the character of a reaction; taken together they have given greater breadth and depth to this department of literature. The first movement, which dates near the beginning of the last century, is known as romanticism. It was a reaction against the formal and the conventional. Romanticism may be defined as liberalism in literature; it is a breaking away from authority and a return to nature. It manifested itself in two particulars both in fiction and poetry: first, there was greater freedom in subject, form, and character; and second, there was a return to the past, particularly to an idealized age of chivalry in the Middle Ages. Scott was the great leader of the romantic movement both in poetry and in fiction. In their wide range of character and incident, and in their idealization of the past, the Waverley Novels are in general perfect types of romanticism.

70. Realism. Realism came about the middle of the Victorian era as a reaction against romanticism. It was born of the scientific spirit, which rendered the public dissatisfied with fanciful pictures of past ages and with the impossibilities of wild romance. Realism, as the word indicates, adheres to reality. Discarding what is idealistic or unreal in characters and situations, it aims at being true to life. All the great novelists of this period—Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot—were in the best sense of the word realists.

As an effort to represent life as it is, the worth of realism must be acknowledged. In its proper application it places the novel on an immovable basis. While idealism shows us how life might be or ought to be, realism shows how it actually is. Unfortunately, realistic writers have not, in many cases, been true to their fundamental principles. The great continental leaders of realism—Tolstoi, Zola, Ibsen—have been tainted with a fatal pessimism. Realists of this type seem to see only one side of life,—the darker side of sin and wretchedness and despair. They often describe what is coarse, impure, obscene. No doubt their pictures are true as far as they go; but the fatal defect of their work is that it does not reflect life as a whole. It does not portray the pure and noble and happy side of life, which is just as real as the other.

Except in the hands of genius, realism is apt to be dull. It gives us uninteresting photographs. There are times when we do not care so much for instruction as for amusement and recreation. This fact opens a legitimate field for the imaginative story-teller. There is to-day a decided reaction against realism in the form of what has been called the new romanticism. It does not present to us elaborate studies of actual life, but entertains us with an interesting or exciting story. Stevenson, Weyman, Hope, and Doyle have been leaders in this movement, and some of the most widely read novels of the past few years have belonged to this new romanticism.

71. Idealism. The influence of idealism in fiction should be recognized. It may tinge the work both of romanticism and of realism. It is, perhaps, to be regarded as an atmosphere rather than as a method. The aim of idealism is to soften the hard realities of life. It in a measure portrays things not as they are but as they should be; and as far as it definitely pursues this course it presents a contrast to realism. It naturally chooses for the most part the nobler types of character; and to the villains that may be introduced it metes out in due time a merited punishment. The trials of life are brought to happy issue. The hero and heroine, both somewhat above the characters of ordinary life, at length triumph over all the obstacles that beset their path. Kept within due bounds, idealism gives a hopeful and uplifting tone to fiction; but without careful restraint it is in danger of becoming false and injurious. It presents to the young a caricature of the world, and exposes them, at a later period, to bitter and dangerous disillusionment. Among our greatest novelists an idealistic tendency is very perceptible in Scott and Dickens.

72. Component Elements. In every important work of fiction there are six things to be considered, namely, the characters, the incidents, the environment, the plot, the purpose, and the view or philosophy of life. The first three elements constitute the materials out of which the novelist builds his work; the last three supply the general plan by which he builds it. The excellence of the work, as in architecture, depends both on the character of the materials and on the manner in which they are put together. When Solomon constructed his famous temple he not only used cedar and gold but also joined them together according to a wise design and noble purpose. These various elements are worthy of separate consideration.