,note3 ,images of the original pages are available through ,internet ,archive4 ,see https3_/_/archive4org_/details_/cu#caibd jadjgjcaf ,transcriber's note3 ,text enclosed by underscores is in italics 7italics74 ,the spelling and hyphenation are as found in the original text4 ,there are #g footnotes3 each of them has been placed at the end of the chapter in which it is flagged4 ,,talks ,,on ,,writing ,,english ,first ,series by ,,arlo ,,bates 99 99 99 99 99 99 ,books by ,arlo ,bates4 ,,the ,,diary ,,of ,a ,,saint4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,love ,,in ,a ,,cloud4 ,a ,novel4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,the ,,puritans4 ,a ,novel4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,the ,,philistines4 ,a ,novel4 #abmo1 #a4ej4 ,,the ,,pagans4 ,a ,novel4 #afmo1 #a4jj4 ,,patty',s ,,perversities4 ,a ,novel4 #afmo1 #a4jj4 ,,prince ,,vance4 ,the ,story of a ,prince with a ,court in his ,box4 ,by ,,arlo ,,bates and ,,eleanor ,,putnam4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,a ,,lad',s ,,love4 #afmo1 #a4jj4 ,,under ,,the ,,beech-,,tree4 ,poems4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,talks ,,on ,,writing ,,english4 ,first ,series4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,talks ,,on ,,writing ,,english4 ,second ,series4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4cj1 net4 ,postpaid1 #a4db4 ,,talks ,,on ,,teaching ,,literature4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4cj1 net4 ,postpaid1 #a4db4 ,,talks ,,on ,,the ,,study ,,of ,,literature4 ,crown #hvo1 #a4ej4 ,,houghton1 ,,mifflin ,,co4 ,,boston ,,and ,,new ,,york4 99 99 99 99 99 99 ,,talks ,,on ,,writing ,,english ,first ,series by ,,arlo ,,bates ,illustration ,boston and ,new ,york ,houghton1 ,mifflin and ,company ,the ,riverside ,press1 ,cambridge ,copyright1 #ahif1 ,by ,arlo ,bates4 ,all rights reserved4 ,,preface ,these talks were given in the autumn of #ahid as a course on ,advanced ,english ,composition in the ,lowell ,free ,classes1 and that they are now printed is largely due to the fact that they were so well received by those who then heard them4 ,in preparing them1 ,i consulted whatever books upon composition came to my hand4 ,i examined some with profit1 some with pleasure1 and some1 it must be confessed1 not wholly without amusement1 or even impatience4 ,doubtless1 ,i owe something to many of these books2 but ,i am not conscious of much obligation to any save the 8,principles of ,rhetoric10 by ,professor ,a4 ,s4 ,hill1 8,english ,composition10 by ,professor ,barrett ,wendell1 and 8,english ,prose10 by ,professor ,john ,earle4 ,i have conscientiously endeavored to make the lectures as practical as possible1 stating as clearly as ,i could those things which would have been most helpful to me had ,i read and heeded them twenty years ago4 ,the necessity of holding an audience made fitting some effort to render the talks entertaining2 but ,i have never consciously said anything for the mere purpose of being amusing1 and ,i have never been of the opinion that a book gains either in dignity or in usefulness by being dull4 ,my purpose has throughout been sincerely serious1 and if the book shall prove helpful1 ,i shall have attained the object for which it was written4 ,a4 ,b4 ,,contents ,,page ,i4 ,,the ,,art ,,of ,,writing #a ,,ii4 ,,methods ,,of ,,study #bj ,,iii4 ,,principles ,,of ,,structure #bi ,,iv4 ,,details ,,of ,,diction #dc ,v4 ,,principles ,,of ,,quality #ei ,,vi4 ,,principles ,,of ,,quality ,,continued #ga ,,vii4 ,,means ,,and ,,effects #hi ,,viii4 ,,means ,,and ,,effects ,,continued #ajg ,,ix4 ,,classification #abj ,x4 ,,exposition #abh ,,xi4 ,,exposition ,,continued #add ,,xii4 ,,argument #aeb ,,xiii4 ,,argumentative ,,form #aff ,,xiv4 ,,description #aha ,,xv4 ,,description ,,continued #bjb ,,xvi4 ,,narration #baj ,,xvii4 ,,narration ,,continued #bbd ,,xviii4 ,,accessories ,,of ,,narration #bda ,,xix4 ,,character ,,and ,,purpose #beh ,,xx4 ,,translation #bfi ,,xxi4 ,,criticism #bhe ,,xxii4 ,,style #bii ,,talks ,,on ,,writing ,,english ,i ,,the ,,art ,,of ,,writing ,into all productive art enter two sorts of power1 that which is communicable and that which is incommunicable1--in other words1 that which may be taught and that which is inborn4 ,upon this fact is based the distinction between the mechanical and the fine arts1 although since both kinds of power have a share in all production nobody has ever been able to draw a sharp and definite line at which the mechanical arts end and the fine arts begin4 ,the power which is incommunicable is that of imagination1 that indefinable grace and skill1 that enchantment of creative ability which is born with rare individuals1 and for which he who is not dowered with it by nature struggles in vain4 ,it is this which has given rise to that saying as profound as it is terribly hackneyed which declares that a poet is born and not made4 ,it is this which distinguishes genius from talent2 and it is this which has so dazzled the eyes of the world as to produce the mistaken notion that since imagination is not to be learned nothing is to be learned in the realm of art4 ,this incommunicable power is the soul of fine art2 yet into fine art no less than into the mechanical arts comes also that power which may be learned4 ,this communicable power is commonly spoken of as the technical1 or as technique4 ,this any person of intelligence and perseverance can and may master if he choose1 every man according to his ability2 and this every artist must acquire1 no matter how richly he may have been gifted by nature with the magic power which transcends and dominates it4 ,it is this that musicians1 painters1 sculptors1 architects1 dancers1 and writers are set to learn when they are said to study art4 ,the world has long recognized that in painting1 music1 sculpture1 and architecture it is indispensable that technique shall be acquired2 but--absurd as it may seem--it is only recently1 comparatively speaking1 that it has been practically recognized that this is as true of poetry as of painting1 as true of literature as of any other art4 ,it is in truth only in our own day that there has been anything like a general acceptance of the fact that in literature as in the other arts technical skill must be laboriously acquired before any successful and permanent work can be produced4 ,the masters have of course known this2 but the idea that to be an author nothing is needed but pen1 ink1 and paper used to hold undisputed sway over the popular mind1 and is by no means extinct yet4 ,not long ago ,i heard a learned professor in one of the leading ,american colleges declare that he could not see what there is to learn in composition4 ,last summer a gentleman of really wide reading1 but who was brought up under the old system1 said to me3 8,by teaching composition1 ,i suppose you mean chiefly correcting the grammar and punctuation40 ,he was somewhat surprised when ,i explained that students were supposed to have mastered both grammar and punctuation before the teaching of composition as such could begin4 ,the truth is that there has never been anything like a popular understanding of the difference between spoken and written speech4 ,anybody is supposed to be able to talk1 and to learn to do so unconsciously1--a doctrine to which ,i do not wish to be understood as giving assent6--and it has been held to follow that anybody could write4 ,to write was merely to talk with the pen1 and that has commonly been held to be all there is to the matter save for the fact that some persons were born to write and some were not4 ,a personal experience of my own illustrates this1 if its introduction may be pardoned4 ,i have never forgotten the general bewilderment with which my friends met my announcement when ,i left college that ,i meant to study literature4 ,that one should follow literature as a profession was not entirely unintelligible1 if it did suggest a dire mental weakness on the part of the young man who was rash enough to take such a resolution2 but how one studied literature as a profession was beyond ordinary understanding4 8,you mean that you are going to write books10 some said tentatively4 ,my reply that such a possibility was presupposed in the study of literature just as the pleading of cases might be presupposed in the study of law only increased the difficulty of the confusing puzzle4 ,it was of course understood that there was in the law something to study2 but what1 in the name of common sense1 was there to study in literature8 ,books one sat down and wrote1 and that was the whole of it2 and ,i soon found the idea gaining ground that ,i only put the matter in this way for the sake of producing an impression1 or perhaps of covering a fixed and reprehensible intention of doing nothing4 ,i thought then that ,i had some idea of what the study of literature really meant1 and ,i gave such explanations as ,i could2 but1 alas1 the incessant work of years has chiefly served to show me how inadequate my idea was1 and how much more there is to be learned than ,i then had any notion of6 ,some of the things which experience has taught me ,i think may be of value to you2 and in these lectures ,i shall try to state them1 although ,i realize but too well how far ,i am from being able to cover or exhaust the subject4 ,i shall1 of course1 say some things which all of you know already1 and many things which some of you know4 ,i hope1 however1 to say also some things which you have not thought of1 and by arrangement and system to give fresh value and force to old ideas4 ,it is not impossible that experience has shown me things which will be practically helpful to others4 ,any man who has wrought long at a craft is likely to be able to give suggestions valuable to those who have not4 ,the sluggard is by the ,scriptures referred to the ant not on account of her intellectual superiority1 but solely because of her great practical training4 99 99 99 99 99 ,all discussion must begin with definition1 either expressed or understood4 ,there is of course no doubt that each of us has an idea what composition is1 yet to be sure that we are agreed1 it is necessary to state the meaning in which we use the term4 ,let us say1 then3-- ,composition is the art by which ideas and mental impressions are conveyed in written language4 ,nothing could sound more simple2 few things are more difficult of achievement4 ,it is not hard to convey ideas1 but it is by no means easy to be sure that they will arrive at their destination in good order4 ,impressions and ideas are delicate things1 and are most liable to be injured in the passage4 ,there are writers whose methods suggest an attempt to get eggs to market by shooting them from a cannon1--the eggs may arrive1 it is true1 but in what condition8 ,the means must be adapted to that with which one is dealing4 ,it is folly to attempt to carry soap-bubbles in a mealsack or leaden bullets in a lace handkerchief4 ,the student of the art of writing has to learn to suit his means to the end sought4 ,he must train himself to judge what manner of expression1 of style1 or treatment1 will best serve to transfer ideas from his own mind to that of the reader4 ,he must study the effect of words and of combinations of words2 the value of suggestion1 and of all the emotional effects possible in written words4 ,he must train himself to be able to use language as a skillful swordsman uses his rapier1 adapting it to every emergency1 master of it always2 he must learn to be dexterous1 adroit1 and full of resources4 ,exactly to impart an idea or an impression to another human being is manifestly impossible4 ,the character of the mind of the receiver necessarily affects and modifies whatever comes to it4 ,the thing which we say to our closest friend strikes him in a way somehow and somewhat different from that which we intend4 ,a poem by ,john ,boyle ,o',reilly expresses this so fully that ,i take leave to quote it3-- ,,at ,,best4 ,the faithful helm commands the keel1 ,from port to port fair breezes blow2 ,but the ship must sail the convex sea1 ,nor may she straighter go4 ,so1 man to man2 in fair accord1 ,on thought and will1 the winds may wait2 ,but the world will bend the passing word1 ,though its shortest course be straight4 ,from soul to soul the shortest line ,at best will bended be2 ,the ship that holds the straightest course ,still sails the convex sea4 ,i do not quote this merely as a matter of sentiment1 but because it phrases one of the most insistent and practical difficulties with which every writer must contend4 ,the study of literary art1 and indeed of all art1 is in one sense an effort at approximation4 ,perfect expression can never be reached1 and the thing after which a writer strives is to approach more and more closely toward that complete transmission of meaning which is forever unattainable while the barriers of human individuality stand between mind and mind4 ,we recognize this fact as soon as we reflect4 ,bob1 thinking of ,betty1 remarks to ,jack that he does admire a pretty girl2 and ,jack1 fondly recalling the features of ,jane1 receives the idea with all the variations which belong to an altogether different idea of feminine loveliness4 ,tom1 ,dick1 and ,harry1 returning from the races1 declare to one another that it has been a jolly day4 ,each accepts the statements of his companions according to his individual experiences1 and no one has imparted precisely the thought which was in his own mind4 ,we praise a picture1 a piece of music1 a sunset1 and the friend to whom we speak listens with a temperament and cultivation so different from our own that our words inevitably mean one thing to us and another to him4 ,the ear which hears has always its share in the impression produced as surely as has the tongue that speaks4 ,the result might be much the same whether the words in these cases were spoken or written2 but there is another element which makes an immense difference between oral and written communication4 ,the speaker adds to his words a language of emphasis1 of inflection1 of facial expression1 of gesture1 of mien4 ,he modifies what he says by what he looks2 his bearing has as important a share in the work of conveying impressions as have his words4 ,two actors taking the same text will give characters so different as hardly to seem to have anything in common4 ,a speaker may so contradict and override his speech that his hearer believes not the tongue that speaks1 but the personality and manner which declare the contrary4 ,you remember how ,emerson puts this3 8,what you are stands over you the while1 and thunders so that ,i cannot hear what you say to the contrary40 ,now the writer is confronted by the necessity of making himself intelligible without the many aids by which the speaker may help out or modify his oral communication4 ,the novelist1 it is true1 may avail himself of the simple device of describing the manner in which his characters speak4 ,he tells us that this was said with a sly look of coquetry1 while that was uttered in a voice of utter misery1 and the other thundered forth in tones of overmastering determination4 ,my washing came home in ,london last summer wrapped in a newspaper containing an installment of a blood-curdling tale which began thus3 8,eleanore shot at ,reginald from under her pellucid brows a lingering look of lurid hate40 ,all this1 however1 is at its best ineffective and unsatisfactory1 even when heroines have pellucid brows and the author is master of the art of alliteration4 ,some things are within the province of language and some are not4 ,words may describe form1 color1 sound1 and motion1 but they can reproduce none of them4 ,what they can do is to call up in the mind of the reader something which he has seen2 or aid him to construct from material in his memory some new image4 ,if one read a description of a landscape1 for instance1 he unconsciously selects bits of nature which he remembers and arranges them as nearly as may be after the pattern which the author gives4 ,on the first page of 8,westward ,ho60 there is a description of-- the little white town of ,bideford1 which slopes upward from its broad tide-river paved with yellow sands1 and many-arched old bridge where salmon wait for autumn floods1 toward the pleasant upland on the west4 ,above the town hills close in1 cushioned with deep oak woods1 through which juts here and there a crag of fern-fringed slate2 below they lower1 and open more and more in softly-rounded knolls1 and fertile squares of red and green1 till they sink into the wide expanse of hazy flats1 rich salt marshes and rolling sand-hills1 where ,torridge joins her sister ,tor1 and both together flow quietly toward the broad surges of the bar1 and the everlasting thunder of the long ,atlantic swell4 ,the reader constructs the picture as he goes on2 but unless he has actually seen 8the little white town of ,bideford0 the picture in his mind is likely to bear no very close resemblance to the reality4 ,the broad tide-river which his fancy sees is some stream of his boyhood's home1 and far enough from ,north ,devon2 the many-arched old bridge may be one which he knows or which comes to his memory from a picture1--perhaps from a photograph that a friend has brought from abroad of some hoary stone structure spanning a ,french river or a stream of ,italy4 ,the hills and the fern-clad cliffs are recalled in the same way1 their outlines identical with the curves of some spot in the ,catskills1 in ,wales1 in ,brittany1 or wherever the reader is most familiar or has been most impressed4 ,it is evident that the most carefully elaborate verbal description could not enable the artist to reproduce a scene2 and herein is manifest the limitation of words in this direction4 ,the inadequacy of words becomes the more evident when it comes to matters intellectual4 ,who has not1 even in conversation1 experienced that baffled and hopeless feeling which comes from not being able to make another understand8 ,who does not know the sensation of being shut in as by walls of stone1 so that it is impossible to reach the comprehension of the one addressed8 ,yet the speaker has a hundred advantages over the writer4 ,he has at command all the resources of gesture1 of look1 accent1 tone1 mien4 ,no man has written much and written earnestly without experiencing moments of complete despair in regard to being able to convey to his readers that which it is in his heart to say4 ,how far it is possible to overcome the obstacles which hinder communication is the study of the literary--as of every--artist4 ,we human beings are prisoned in the solitary confinement of the body1 and must needs devise means of sharing our thoughts1 as political convicts in the ,russian prisons strive to communicate by rapping on the walls4 ,every device by which intelligence may be carried more safely and surely is an addition to the intellectual resources and strength of the race4 ,on this power of mutual transference and understanding of thought depends the whole intellectual progress of men1 and on individual mastery of it rests the ability to share that progress4 ,it is only by the most careful and patient labor1 the most rigid self-discipline1 that advance can be made in a matter so difficult and so delicate4 ,if you have supposed that the art of composition is one easily acquired1 ,i beg you to lay aside that idea at the start4 ,it is true that any person who has had an ordinary school training may write a poor letter or a badly bungled paragraph4 ,some even attain to a respectable facility in the superficial expression of ordinary ideas4 ,to go beyond this1 however1 to arrive at being able really to write1 to be capable of expressing with the pen genuine thoughts and real emotions with a reasonable hope that these will reach the reader not entirely distorted out of all resemblance to what they were when they left the mind of the writer1--this requires labor long and strenuous4 ,the devils of incoherence1 obscurity1 and incompetency go not out save by untiring striving and watching4 ,this is strikingly illustrated by the great gulf between amateur and professional work4 ,many newspaper reporters are ignorant and intellectually untrained2 yet merely from continuous and earnest practice they become so dexterous in the use of words as to be able to serve their needs with surprising facility4 ,i have had well educated and cultivated men come into my office when ,i was an editor1 and spend an hour in trying satisfactorily to phrase some simple announcement which they wished printed4 ,all that there was to do was to say that such a charity needed funds1 that a subscription had been opened1 or some learned society was to meet at such a time and place2 yet the amateur would struggle with the paragraph in an agony of ineptitude which was alike pathetic and farcical4 ,when at last the conflict between mind and matter ended from the sheer exhaustion of the mind1 there would be handed to me a scrawled sheet1 recrossed and rewritten1 and in the end a miracle of obscurity and awkwardness1--the art of how not to say it illustrated to perfection4 ,then after the visitor had taken himself off1 in a condition not far from nervous exhaustion1 it was only necessary to say to a reporter3 8,make a paragraph of these facts40 ,in a couple of minutes the slip would be ready to send to the printer1 written in ,english not elegant1 but easy and above all clear4 ,the reporter had very likely not a hundredth part of the information or the experience of life of the amateur1 but he had had continued business-like drill4 ,he had written as a matter of steady work1 with the improving consciousness of an editorial blue pencil ever before his mind4 ,i have seen many definitions of the difference between amateur and professional work4 ,to my own mind it has always seemed sufficient to say that the professional is one who has learned how to do a thing while the amateur is one who has not4 ,closely connected with the difficulty of saying a thing is the difficulty of knowing when it is said4 ,anybody may write1 but only the trained writer is able to be sure that what he has written says what he supposes it to say4 ,this is of course doubly true from the need that there is of making words impart mood as well as meaning1 the atmosphere as well as the facts4 ,if it is hard to express ideas1 it is doubly hard to embody also the state of mind from which they spring and which must be understood before their real value and significance can be appreciated4 ,not only is it far from easy to know when the written word will express what is meant2 it is no less hard to be sure how much of a thought is actually on paper4 ,it requires great effort to realize that the sentence or the paragraph which we write will not mean to the reader all that we wish him to understand4 ,the thought in our mind is so vivid1 so poignant1 so vital1 that for us the words brim over with significance as a full honeycomb drips with honey4 ,the emotion which we feel in writing seems to belong inevitably to what is written1 and to be inseparable from it4 ,it is of all things most difficult for the author1 especially in an impassioned mood1 to put himself in the place of the cool and unmoved public2 yet in no other way is it possible to judge how that public will be affected2 in no other way is it possible to compare what is written with what is intended2 to estimate the power of those poor black conventional signs there on the paper to express the thought and the mood1 the glow and the fervor of head and of heart which it is their mission to carry vibrating and alive to the mind and the spirit of the reader4 ,it has often been remarked that authors are apt to be most fond of works which are not their best1 and it is notorious that the most passionately poetic mood may be that in which a writer produces his least effective compositions4 ,it is easy to see how this is connected with the point under consideration4 ,in the aroused1 imaginative1 ecstatic mood every word is suggestive1 every phrase full of meaning1 each sentence rich with emotion4 ,the writer who is carried away by his feelings is apt to go beyond the range of his judgment4 ,he puts down the sign of his mood in language intelligible only to himself4 ,he writes a sort of emotional shorthand1 illegible to every eye except his own4 ,to him it may remain beautiful because to him it recalls the exalted mood which produced it4 ,to him it is the significant and sufficient memorandum of a thing beautiful and sublime2 to others it is but a mass of words left by the elusive ,fancies which broke through language and escaped4 ,dr4 ,holmes has said1 with that quaint mingling of wit and wisdom which made him unique1 that writing a poem is like pouring syrup out of a pitcher1--some of it always sticks to the pitcher4 ,the principle holds good of all composition1 and by no means the smallest thing to be learned is to judge how completely the syrup has been poured out4 ,often it is necessary to let the mood pass away entirely before one can estimate work4 ,it is frequently well to let a manuscript lie by until the original enthusiasm of creation has faded fully1 whether this process requires more or less time than the nine years which ,horace recommended as the proper period during which a poem should remain unpublished4 ,it is perhaps not necessary to speak much of the value of a mastery of the art of composition2 but there is one point which needs to be touched upon4 ,there is a prevalent if not generally spoken idea that while this skill is an excellent thing1 it is really necessary to nobody save professional writers2 that while persons who give their lives to writing must of course master technique1 it is not at all worth while for others to bother about a thing so difficult4 ,that this error is less wide-spread than of old is evident from the increased attention which is everywhere given to composition in all modern schemes of education2 but it survives in popular misapprehension4 ,the truth is1 on the contrary1 that as society is organized to-day it is essential that every man or woman who hopes to make his or her way1 at least to anything like eminence even comparative1 shall be able to write fairly good ,english4 ,in a world so largely dominated by the printing-press as is ours in these modern days1 not only has the man who can express himself in ink a manifest advantage1 but he who cannot is hampered from the start4 ,the highest skill in composition which can be acquired is of instant practical value in every profession4 ,students of technical and scientific subjects seem to me to be as truly acquiring practical training when they are improving their skill in writing as when they are performing experiments in the laboratory or smelting ores at the furnaces4 ,in reports to corporations1 papers on sanitary engineering addressed to city officials1 schemes for railroads or telegraphs laid before legislative committees1 they will have need of all the literary cleverness that they can compass1 all the literary skill which they are able to acquire4 ,competition is fierce all along the line1 and facility in the use of the pen counts in every trade and in every profession no less truly than it does among avowed writers4 ,nor is this the whole of the matter4 ,into every-day1 common experience has the modern habit of life brought the need of being master of expression2 and even he who does not put pen to paper--if it is possible to suppose such a person to exist among intelligent people--is under the necessity of cultivating his knowledge of the art of expression to the end that he may read more intelligently and more sensitively4 ,there is great need of establishing communication with our fellow-men2 there is hardly less need of learning to establish communication with ourselves4 ,it seems sometimes as if our beings were like those ,chinese carved balls which ,tennyson calls ,laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere4 ,we strive to make our different selves know one another1 but we find it hard4 ,we are conscious of feelings1 of ideas1 of emotions1 which some sphere of our manifold being knows1 yet which to us--to the outer sphere1 to the external ,ego1 so to say--are vague and distant however keenly we long to understand4 ,the ability to phrase for others is soon found to be ability to phrase for ourselves4 ,by no means the least of the advantages1 as it is one of the greatest of the delights1 of conquering expression1 is the power of interpreting ourselves to ourselves4 ,there is a crude popular idea that the refinements of literary art are wasted1 at any rate upon the general reader4 ,so many books succeed1 at least temporarily1 which can make no slightest pretense to any grace of manner1 and which have not even the merit of reasonable accuracy1 that the student is apt to feel that these things are superfluous4 ,of course the ordinary reader does not perceive delicate shades of expression1 fine distinctions of phrase1 or subtile beauties of style4 ,very likely he does not pause to consider whether a style is good or bad2 and certainly he would be unable to analyze its merits if he attempted this4 ,it does not follow that these graces do not touch him4 ,it is by means of them that deep and lasting effects are produced4 ,susceptibility to artistic beauty is not necessarily conscious4 ,frankly1 it is to be admitted that for the instant1 evanescent1 lurid success of sensational popularity it is not necessary to write good ,english4 ,books outside of the furthest stretch of charity in workmanship and style have1 each in its day1 the dazzling1 however transient1 success of a ,roman candle or a rocket4 ,in far too many newspapers one may see how flippant pertness and vulgar sharpness can dispense with the smallest shred of good style1 may ignore syntax1 scorn accuracy1 and outrage decency itself4 ,once for all it must be allowed that whoever seeks this sort of success need not waste his time in the study of ,english composition4 ,the author of the latest scandalous novel never experiences the necessity of any exhaustive acquaintance with rhetoric1 or even of knowing much more than the outside of the ,english grammar4 ,the young women who are employed by enterprising journals to scramble around the world in the briefest possible time with a hand-satchel for luggage are apt to be as little encumbered with syntax as with trunks4 ,the purveyors of gossip to society papers are not in the least obliged to know the language in which they attempt to convey their precious information4 ,if they can discover that ,mrs4 ,cholmondely-,jones is at the ,sea ,view ,house1 their readers are not troubled at the declaration that this leader of fashion is 8stopping at the hotel for a week20--confusingly impossible as such a feat may appear4 ,all this has been said over and over1 and ,i repeat it here simply by way of reminder that there is no claim that popular success is not to be won without literary merit2 any more than it could be claimed on the other hand that popular success is insured by it4 ,it is certain that no permanent literary work can be accomplished without the mastery of a good ,english style2 and it is equally certain that command of written language is of the highest value and use4 ,sensational books make their way not because of their crudities of style and their inaccuracies1 but in spite of them4 ,if to the qualities which have given them vogue had been added literary merit1 they might have reached to permanent in place of temporary success4 ,certainly if a writer desires to impress1 to persuade1 to move1 to arouse2 if he have a report to write which he hopes may be adopted1 a theory to state which he is in earnest to have received2 a history to relate that he would have believed2 an appeal that he longs to have heeded1 a creation of the imagination by which he aims to touch the emotions of his fellow-men1 he cannot too carefully cultivate the art of communicating it4 ,in any of these cases mastery of literary technique is as essential to success as is air to breathing or light to seeing4 ,,ii ,,methods ,,of ,,study ,the question remains3 ,how is skill in composition to be gained8 ,the general principle is as simple as the details of the craft are complicated4 ,the way to write is to write4 ,perhaps the most exact image of the process is that of piano-playing4 ,just as one acquires skill in the use of the piano by innumerable exercises and continual practice1 so one attains to mastery in written language only by writing and writing and writing4 ,it is necessary to compose and recompose2 to write all sorts of things1 to prune them1 recast them1 polish them2 to elaborate and to simplify2 to weigh each word and phrase2 and when all is done to destroy the result as ruthlessly as we would destroy anything else which has become rubbish by outliving its usefulness4 ,this last point needs to be insisted upon4 ,personal vanity and that interest in self which is so naturally and so universally human1 work constantly to persuade the beginner that his poorest trials are worth preservation4 ,in the case of the pianist1 the sound of the five-finger exercise dies on the air1 and there is luckily an end of it4 ,the player cannot gather it up and send it to a magazine4 ,he cannot even without great risk of encountering personal violence impose it upon the friend whom he has invited to dine4 ,with the writer it is unhappily different4 ,his first verses he sends cheerfully and a little condescendingly to a magazine4 ,his second he distributes on privately printed slips to his friends1--and any acquaintance will serve as a friend in the distribution of privately printed poems6 ,his third effort is apt to go to some overworked man of letters1 accompanied by a note delicately hinting that the inclosure is better than anything which the recipient has done1 and requesting him to have it published at once in one of the leading magazines4 ,it is a thousand pities that the work of writers who are learning their art is not written in ink fading over night1 or which would at least vanish as soon as the manuscript had undergone revision4 ,the next best thing is for the would-be author to accustom himself to phrasing thoughts in his mind without setting them down upon paper at all4 ,this habit is of great value from the constant training that it gives1 and it is of value also because it takes its place as the study of form for the sake of form2 the effort to attain technical excellence unhampered by any consideration of producing compositions permanent in themselves4 ,the best technical training is that which is entirely disassociated from any idea that permanent work is being done4 ,no one can get on very well or very far in ,english composition who is not able patiently and faithfully to do a great deal of work simply for the sake of learning how to do it1 entirely realizing that the thing produced is of no value when it is done4 ,it is as absurd to preserve or to attempt to publish these crude experiments as it would be to practice the five-finger exercises in public1 and to attempt to persuade music-lovers to pay to come and hear them4 ,every editor knows what need there is of saying this4 ,each mail carries to the office of every magazine scores of manuscript which are nothing but the crude exercises produced in more or less unintelligent struggles with the art of composition4 ,the soul of the editor faints within him1 while on the other hand the misguided1 sensitive1 self-conscious writer is smitten to the heart when his or her exercise is sent back with a printed card declining it with a hollow mockery of thanks4 ,it is ludicrously pathetic2 and ,i dwell upon it a little because in my time ,i have been foolish enough to offend in this manner2 because as an editor ,i suffered enough from this cause to square the account beyond the cavil of the most exacting fate2 and because in the course of my literary life ,i have seen so much of this sort of thing that ,i realize how general the experience is4 ,it would be of less moment were it not for the depth of despair into which would-be authors are plunged by the return of these exercises4 ,there is no despair like the despair of youth1 and it makes my heart tingle now to recall the utter anguish with which ,i have received rejected early manuscripts--which should never have been sent to a publisher4 ,would to heaven that there were some one eloquent enough to persuade the world once and for all that literature is as surely a profession which must be learned as is law or medicine4 ,no delicate woman or sensitive man1 thrown suddenly upon her or his own resources1 turns to law or medicine1 expecting to gain a livelihood by practicing these professions uninstructed2 yet this would be hardly less logical than to expect to make a way in literature without long preparation and study4 ,nobody seems to believe this4 ,it is probably disbelieved now1 as ,i say it2 and examples of persons who have succeeded in writing with no apparent training come to mind at once4 ,it would be idle to retort to objections of this sort that quacks have succeeded in all professions2 and ,i must content myself with insisting that whether what ,i have been saying is believed or not1 it is true1 and the proofs are heart-sickeningly familiar to every man of literary experience at all extended4 ,it is important to remember that the best technical training is that in which nothing is considered but technical excellence4 ,the student should write with his entire attention fixed upon the technical excellence of the work4 ,he must think not of what he is doing1 but of how he is doing it4 ,it is a long time before the student has a right to look upon himself as a producer at all2 and the more completely he can preserve the attitude of a learner1 the better will be the results of his self-training4 ,guy de ,maupassant1 one of the most finished masters of literary art1 pure and simple1 who have written in this century1--a writer who achieved so much1 and who lacked only a supreme ethical ideal to do so much more1--indicates something of what is meant by technical training in composition in his account of his studies under ,flaubert3-- ,flaubert1 whom ,i saw sometimes1 conceived a friendship for me4 ,i ventured to submit to him some of my attempts4 ,he kindly read them1 and said to me3 8,i cannot tell whether you have talent4 ,what you have shown me proves a certain intelligence2 but you must not forget this1 young man1--that talent1 in the phrase of ,buffon1 is only long patience4 ,work40 444 ,for seven years ,i made verses1 ,i made tales1 ,i made novels1 ,i even made a detestable play4 ,of them all nothing remains4 ,the master 444 criticised them1 and enforced upon me1 little by little1 two or three principles1 which were the pith of his long and perfect teaching4 8,if one has not originality10 he said1 8it is necessary to acquire it40 ,talent is long patience4 ,it is a question of regarding whatever one desires to express long enough and with attention close enough to discover a side which no one has seen and which has been expressed by nobody4 ,in everything there is something of the unexplored1 because we are accustomed to use our eyes only with the thought of what has been already said concerning the thing we see4 ,the smallest thing has in it a grain of the unknown4 ,discover it4 ,in order to describe a fire that flames or a tree in the plain1 we must remain face to face with that fire or that tree until for us they no longer resemble any other tree or any other fire4 ,this is the way to become original4 ,having1 moreover1 impressed upon me the fact that there are not in the whole world two grains of sand1 two insects1 two hands or two noses absolutely alike1 he forced me to describe a being or an object in such a manner as to individualize it clearly1 to distinguish it from all other objects of the same kind4 8,when you pass10 he said to me1 8a grocer seated in his doorway1 a concierge smoking his pipe1 a row of cabs1 show me this grocer and this concierge1 their attitude1 all their physical appearance2 suggest by the skill of your image all their moral nature1 so that ,i shall not confound them with any other grocer or any other concierge2 make me see1 by a single word1 wherein a cab-horse differs from the fifty others that follow or precede him40 444 ,whatever may be the thing which one wishes to say1 there is but one word for expressing it2 only one verb to animate it1 but one adjective to qualify it4 ,it is essential to search for this verb1 for this adjective1 until they are discovered1 and never to be satisfied with anything else4--,pierre et ,jean1 ,introduction4 ,i have given this long quotation because it puts the case so strongly1 because it has the weight of authority so high in technical matters1 and because it touches upon several points which will come up later4 ,there are dangers in this method of which we shall speak in the proper place1 but here the thing to be emphasized is the absolute indispensability of rigorous training when one is struggling to acquire the art of verbal expression4 ,robert ,louis ,stevenson1 that beautiful master of words1 has also told us how he trained himself to that dexterity and grace which have been the delight of so great a company of readers3-- ,all through my boyhood and youth1 ,i was known and pointed out for a pattern of an idler2 and yet ,i was always busy on my own private end1 which was to learn to write4 ,i kept always two books in my pocket1 one to read1 one to write in4 ,as ,i walked1 my mind was busy fitting what ,i saw with appropriate words2 when ,i sat by the roadside1 ,i would either read1 or a pencil and a penny version-book would be in my hand to note down the features of the scene or commemorate some halting stanzas4 ,thus ,i lived with words4 ,and what ,i wrote thus was for no ulterior use4 ,it was written consciously for practice4--,a ,college ,magazine4 ,it is well in learning to write to select uninteresting subjects2 themes which depend for their effectiveness not upon what they are but upon the way in which they are presented4 ,it is the natural tendency of any inexperienced writer to set to work to find something to write about which is in itself attractive4 ,in the daily themes which ,i receive from students ,i find that the almost inevitable course of things is that the student writes upon whatever romantic or striking incidents have occurred in his life1 and that when these are exhausted he is utterly at a loss for something to write about4 ,it is not easy to persuade students that they will get training far more valuable out of careful attempts to express the commonplace4 ,it is hard for eager young writers to follow the advice which ,flaubert gave to ,de ,maupassant4 ,they are not willing to put their most strenuous efforts into the attempt to present vividly the grocer or the cab-horse4 ,yet there is nothing more valuable in training than to be thrown entirely upon one's own literary skill1 be it much or little4 ,when one deals with a subject fascinating in itself it is difficult to determine how much of the force of what is written depends upon the theme and how much may fairly be attributed to the treatment4 ,in training which is purely technical it is essential to make this distinction1 and it follows that the learner is wise to choose for his 'prentice efforts matters little attractive in themselves4 ,i have said that the way to learn to write is to write4 ,it would perhaps be better to say that the way to learn to write is to rewrite4 ,in the careful revision1 the patient reconstruction1 the unsparing self-criticism of the student who is determined to be satisfied with nothing short of the best of which he is capable1 lies the secret of success4 ,here1 as in everything else connected with the study of technique1 patient1 painstaking1 untiring work is the essential thing4 ,in regard to revision it is necessary to call attention to the fact that it must extend to the revision of paragraphs and whole compositions4 ,we are apt to confine ourselves to the remodeling and the polishing of sentences1 or1 if we get so far as to revise paragraphs1 to take each separately4 ,it is essential that we train ourselves to consider sentences as part of paragraphs and paragraphs as but portions of a whole4 ,this it is especially hard for untrained writers to do4 ,those who have taught will recognize how difficult it is to make students realize that the sentences of a theme may all be individually right while yet the theme as a whole is all wrong4 ,as a matter of practical work it is well to make a schedule of chapters by paragraphs and of the whole composition by chapters1 if the work be on so extensive a scale4 ,it is one of the tests of a properly constructed paragraph that it can be roughly summed up in a single sentence1 and a longer division may consequently be reduced in substance to as many sentences as there are paragraphs4 ,it is an excellent plan thus to summarize work1 and a little practice enables a writer to do this in his head without the trouble of putting the abstract upon paper4 ,it is evident that to learn the art of composition is no small undertaking1 but it is to be kept in mind that this art1 being the means of human expression1 underlies all study and all thought no less than it underlies all communication4 ,it aids one to understand what one reads1 what one studies1 what one thinks1 no less than it aids one to compose a poem1 to produce a novel1 to write a letter1 or to relate the latest bit of piquant gossip4 ,do not make the mistake of supposing that it is outside of your other intellectual pursuits1 save in the sense that all the rest of your education is inclosed in it4 ,we fully understand only that which we are ourselves capable of2 and to comprehend the literature of the world it is necessary to come as near to being able to have produced it as is possible to our individual capabilities4 ,,iii ,,principles ,,of ,,structure ,since it is the object of this book first of all to be practical1 it is well1 before passing to matters more intricate1 to consider for a little the elementary principles of composition4#a ,written language1 to repeat what everybody knows1 consists of words arranged in sentences1 which in turn are grouped into paragraphs1 these again being placed together to form whole compositions4 ,in all composition1 it may be remarked1 it is necessary to remember that the punctuation is as integral and as important a part of what is written as are the words4 ,it is often more easy to forgive the careless printer for altering a word than for changing punctuation1 since the reader more easily corrects an error of diction than of pointing4 ,the student has not mastered even the preliminary stages of composition who is not as sure of the punctuation of a page as he is of its grammatical construction4 ,there is a general vagueness on the subject of the mechanical forms employed in written or printed language which affects the nerves as if it were connected with the moral laxity of the age4 ,there is probably no real connection between the frequency of bank defalcations and a failure to recognize the relative values of the comma and the semicolon1 but to a literary man this ignorance is so culpable as almost to seem likely to lead to crime4 ,when an inexperienced writer gets the words down he is apt to suppose that all is well1 and frequently he does not even know when to put in a period4 ,it is necessary not only to close a sentence when it is done1 but also to bear in mind that if it is not finished putting a period in the middle does not really make two sentences of it4 ,when a tyro finds that his pen is getting out of breath1 he has a tendency to set down a period1 and then to go on with a conjunction1 supposing1 in the innocency of his heart1 that he is beginning afresh4 ,he is really only setting up the divorced better half--for the latter portion of a sentence should be the better half--in a sort of separate maintenance4 ,the period in such a case has not even the power of a divorce1 since it cannot make the separation legal4 ,a sentence is like an ingot3 if it be chopped in two1 each piece is half of the original whole4 ,it must be melted and recast to make individual ingots of smaller size4 ,it is also to be noted that students too often fail to recognize the fact that there are reasons as definite and as binding for the divisions of sentences into paragraphs as for the division of words into sentences4 ,a teacher recently told me of the definition of a country schoolboy which1 if not over-elegant1 represents pretty fairly1 it seems to me1 the attitude of the common mind toward the paragraph4 8,a paragraph10 this lad said blunderingly1 when called upon to define1 8why1 a paragraph--a paragraph--it's--it's a gob of sentences60 ,i fancy that most teachers have encountered plenty of pupils who think of a paragraph as merely a 8gob0 of sentences1--a lump accidentally broken off from the rest of the composition1 but possessed of no structural qualities of its own4 ,the analysis of sentences is common in schools1 but1 so far as ,i know1 there is little analysis of paragraphs4 ,to my thinking there is more to be gained from the latter than from the former4 ,the analysis of the paragraph calls for a wider view1 for a better comprehension of subject1 and for a more developed idea of form4 ,i do not wish to be understood as endeavoring to invent a new torture for pupils or one more device for further overburdening teachers already overloaded4 ,i merely call attention to the value as a means of mental and literary training of the study of paragraph structure in the works of the masters of style1 and to the fact that such study is an indispensable part of a literary training4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of course the ultimate appeal in all that concerns the mechanics of composition is to what is commonly called ,good ,use4 ,all written symbols by which intelligence is conveyed from man to man are arbitrary4 ,it is merely because it is agreed that the character 8,i0 shall represent a sound and that this sound shall stand for an idea1 that we are able to bring up the idea in the mind of others simply by writing the sign4 ,that there is nothing innate in the symbol is evident from the fact that other signs have been used to represent this sound1 and that other syllables have stood for the pronoun in the first person singular4 ,the examples which might be given to illustrate this point are limited only by the number of words in existence4 ,consciously or by tacit consent--oftener1 of course1 by the latter--it has been agreed to attach sounds to ideas and to represent those sounds by definite symbols4 ,it follows that he who wishes to communicate an idea in writing has no resource outside of the means which have been agreed upon by the consent of his fellow-men4 ,a writer may decide to have a new vocabulary and to write it in novel characters4 ,the difficulty is that it will be understood by nobody4 ,he is forced to use the language of men1 and to use it in the fashion in which it is employed by others4 ,he is bound by the habit of men who write1 established by custom and defined by common acceptance4 ,in other words1 he is constrained to follow ,good ,use4 ,good ,use is the general agreement in regard to conventions by means of which ideas are conveyed4 ,it is the basis of all composition1 and without an intimate knowledge of it no one can write successfully4 ,what the best general agreement is1 is to be determined by the practice of the most eminent and widely recognized authors4 ,the fact of their general indorsement and recognition is a sufficient proof that their use is intelligible to their public1 and that it is therefore safe to follow them4 ,their custom decides not because of their authority1 but because their reputation proves that their use is the one which is tacitly accepted by intelligent readers1 and which is therefore the only one that will insure comprehension4 ,there are certain things which in writing it is necessary to keep constantly in mind until they are observed unconsciously and instinctively4 ,always a writer must hold to three ,principles of ,structure and three ,principles of ,quality4 ,the division is of course arbitrary1 but it is logical and convenient4 ,the three ,principles of ,structure1--the mechanical principles1 so to say1 those which direct most obviously the mechanics of language1--are ,unity1 ,mass1 and ,coherence4 ,the three ,principles of ,quality--those which govern the inner and more intellectual character of a composition--are ,clearness1 ,force1 and ,elegance4 ,the first principle of structure1 ,unity1 has to do with the substance of a sentence or a composition4 ,it is the law which requires that every composition shall be informed with a general intention1 shall centre around one fundamental idea2 that every paragraph and every sentence shall be dominated by one essential thought or purpose4 ,it is the principle which produces the difference between a well-ordered whole and an unorganized collection of scraps2 between a rich embroidery and a sampler1 a mosaic and a crazy-quilt4 ,without ,unity as a whole a composition becomes as disjointed as a dictionary1 without attaining to the instructiveness of that necessary book2 and in degree only less from the proportionate importance of a part to the whole1 the lack of ,unity in a sentence destroys the value and effectiveness of the entire work4 ,the second principle1 that of ,mass1 concerns the external arrangement of what is written4 ,it is the rule which enjoins the putting of the chief parts of the composition1 of the paragraph and of the sentence1 in the places which most readily catch the eye or the ear4 ,this is sometimes spoken of as ,emphasis1 but the term is hardly comprehensive enough4 ,all questions of proportion come of course under the head of ,mass1 and so does whatever in the outward form of a composition appeals to the eye4 ,coherence1 the third principle of structure1 is the law of internal arrangement4 ,the relation of each part to the others must be made clear and unmistakable4 ,we are all but too familiar with the style of writing which resembles the valley of dry bones of the prophet's vision1 composition wherein the relation of one fragment to another is to be discerned only by the most careful research4 ,coherence is as the inspired prophecy of ,ezekiel1 whereby the bones came together1 bone to bone1 so that the valley was filled with an exceeding great army4 ,unity is at once the simplest and the most easily secured of these three requirements4 ,it is within the power of any writer of reasonable judgment to tell when the matter contained in a sentence concerns a single idea or several ideas so closely connected that they must belong together4 ,it is a matter of perception1 and for avoiding incongruous constructions there is perhaps no other rule so good as the simple injunction3 ,be sure that sentences have ,unity4 ,every text-book upon rhetoric warns against this fault and contains examples of it4 ,the writer who accustoms himself to realize vividly what he is saying is not likely to fall into the error4 ,the danger attending upon the effort to secure ,unity is that of ,dryness4 ,the writer who is excessively careful about confining every sentence to a single thought and every paragraph to a single group of thoughts dominated by a central idea is sometimes likely to fail of variety and richness of structure4 ,he becomes timid about admitting even proper ornaments1 and gives to his style an air of being constructed upon the model of a wall of brick masonry4 ,variety is as essential to composition as is ,unity1 and it is necessary to be careful lest in securing one the other be lost4 ,every student should become sufficiently self-critical to know in which direction he is more likely to err1 and to direct his efforts for improvement accordingly4 ,the question of ,mass is more difficult4 ,this principle governs the places of words and clauses in the sentence1 of sentences in paragraphs1 of paragraphs in longer compositions4 ,the whole matter is admirably and succinctly put by ,mr4 ,wendell3-- ,in any composition the points which most readily catch the eye are evidently the beginning and the end4 ,from which1 of course1 it follows that1 broadly speaking1 every composition--sentence1 paragraph1 chapter1 book--may conveniently begin and end with the words which stand for ideas that we wish to impress on our readers4444 ,broadly speaking1 the office of punctuation is to emphasize1--to do for the eye what vocal pauses and stress do for the ear1--to show what parts of a composition belong together1 and among these parts to indicate the most significant4 ,it is clear that periods emphasize more strongly than semi-colons2 and semi-colons than commas4 ,from this1 of course1 it follows that in an ideally massed sentence the most significant words come close to the periods1 the less significant close to the lesser marks of punctuation1 the least significant in those unbroken stretches of discourse where there is nothing but words to arrest the eye4 ,the test of a well-massed sentence1 then1 is very simple3 ,are the words that arrest the eye the words on which the writer would arrest your attention8 ,the application of this principle to books is easily seen1 and perhaps is especially obvious in fiction4 ,in an effective novel it will generally be found that some interesting and striking situation has been chosen for the beginning4 ,frequently the author makes a bold plunge into the very heart of the story in order to find an impressive passage with which to begin4 ,the more important emphasis1 that of the conclusion1 must be properly employed or the entire effect of the work as a whole is sacrificed4 ,a good example of the ill effect of failing to employ the emphatic points of a book properly is afforded by ,stanley ,j4 ,weyman's pleasing story1 8,my ,lady ,rotha40 ,the first seven chapters are occupied with an account of the rebellion of a village against its chatelaine and of her flight from her castle to avoid their rage4 ,once the ,lady ,rotha is free of the castle1 however1 the book is devoted to her adventures in a country where the ,king of ,sweden1 the great ,wallenstein1 and numerous other leaders are filling the land with war and danger and bloodshed4 ,to the very end of the tale the reader expects that the narrative will return to the castle1 and that there will appear some better excuse for the opening chapters than the need of starting the heroine on her perilous travels2 but the novel finishes without going back to the castle or telling how matters were settled there4 ,the book is so badly massed that the very force of its beginning injures instead of aiding the effect of the whole4 ,in another and better tale by the same author1 8,a ,gentleman of ,france10 the first emphasis is given to the poverty and undeserved ill fortune of the hero2 so that when in time fate leads him to better things the later joy is heightened by contrast with the earlier gloom4 ,i take these two books because they have been widely read of late1 but any novel that comes to hand is an illustration of one sort or another4 ,the danger to be avoided in endeavoring to secure effective massing of compositions is that of artificiality4 ,this is especially obvious in the construction of sentences4 ,in an uninflected language1 like ,english1 wherein the relative places of words are necessarily fixed more or less absolutely1 it is not easy to re-order the arrangement without giving to the style an appearance of artifice4 ,dexterously to overcome this difficulty is one of the things which the student has to learn1 and perhaps more upon the success with which he is able to do so than upon any other single thing will depend the effectiveness of what he writes4 ,the third principle of structure1 ,coherence1 is one of which the lack is easily perceptible1 but the securing of which is often difficult4 ,the rule is that words closely related by their share in the thought to be conveyed shall be kept together1--and so stated is simple enough4 ,no one1 however1 is likely to have written even a page upon any subject at all intricate without having to pause to rearrange the clauses of some involved sentence or of some confused paragraph4 ,a great hindrance in the struggle for ,coherence1 it should be added1 is a want of clear perception of what one wishes to say4 ,the position of words is often determined by the choice of shades of expression which are extremely delicate1 and unless the writer has an accurate and acute perception of these he cannot be sure of the order of his words and clauses4 ,it is easy enough to see how the phrases are misplaced in the stock examples of incoherence which are given in the books of rhetoric4 ,any novice could improve a sentence of this sort3-- ,he left off his old coat to marry a lady with a large ,roman nose which had been worn continuously for ten years4 ,it takes only a little thought to see the error in the phrase3-- ,the crowd turns1 departs1 disintegrates2 where it is evident that the connection is between 8turns0 and 8disintegrates10 and that the crowd departs after it has broken up4 ,not less obvious1 when attention is called to it1 is the fault here3-- ,lothair was unaffectedly gratified at not only receiving his friends at his own castle1 but under these circumstances of intimacy4#b ,it is not hard to see the difference of meaning between these two sentences3-- ,so long as men had slender means1 whether of keeping out cold or checkmating it with artificial heat1 ,winter was an unwelcome guest1 especially in the country4 ,so long as men had slender means1 especially in the country1 of keeping out cold or checkmating it with artificial heat1 ,winter was an unwelcome guest4 ,it requires a more trained perception to feel the variations which result from altering in the following example the position of 8only40 ,the theory that the poet is a being above the world and apart from it is true of him as an observer only who applies to the phenomena about him the test of a finer and more spiritual sense4--,lowell3 ,life and ,letters of ,james ,gates ,percival4 ,if we say 8is true only of him who as an observer10 we shall mean one thing1--and ,i confess to a suspicion that this is the thing which ,lowell intended6--whereas the passage as it stands asserts that the theory is true considering the poet as merely an observer4 ,it is not necessary to multiply examples4 ,every student who attempts careful expression will come upon illustrations enough in his own work4 ,the important thing is to be clearly aware of what is to be said1 and then to be sure that it is said1 and said unmistakably4 ,in the construction of sentences the coherent arrangement of words is frequently hindered by the grammatical relations2 no such limitation prevents the proper placing of sentences in the formation of paragraphs4 ,in the construction of paragraphs1 however1 even more than in the construction of sentences1 is necessary the utmost clearness of ideas4 ,it is here essential to know not only what one has to say1 but the relative strength which should be given to each link in the chain of thought4 ,the question of proportion must here have the fullest answer4 ,the relative stress which is to be given by position and the relative stress which is to be imparted by proportion are alike of the greatest importance in the making of the paragraph4 ,something of this may be shown by an example4 ,the following is a paragraph from the essay by ,jeffrey on 8,the ,characters in ,shakespeare's ,plays30-- ,everything in him ,shakespeare is in unmeasured abundance and unequaled perfection1--but everything so balanced and kept in subordination1 as not to jostle or disturb or take the place of another4 ,the most exquisite poetical conceptions1 images1 and descriptions1 are given with such brevity1 and introduced with such skill as merely to adorn without loading the sense they accompany4444 ,all his excellences1 like those of nature herself1 are thrown out together2 and instead of interfering with1 support and recommend each other4 ,let this now be read with a transposition of sentences3-- ,although in ,shakespeare everything is so balanced and kept in subordination as not to jostle or disturb or take the place of another1 and is in unequaled perfection1 yet everything is in an unmeasured abundance4 ,he gives with such brevity and introduces with such skill as to adorn without loading the sense they accompany1 the most exquisite poetical conceptions1 images1 and descriptions4 ,all his excellences1 although they support and recommend instead of interfering with each other1 are thrown out together like those of nature herself4 ,the words and phrases are identical in these two paragraphs1 save for the slight alterations and changes of connectives made necessary by transposition2 and yet the effect is distinctly different4 ,the first1 as ,jeffrey intended1 remarks that in spite of the great luxuriance of ,shakespeare's work it is always well ordered2 the second declares that although well ordered the poet's work is as luxurious as nature herself4 ,if the proportion were changed1 the effect would be varied again4 ,cutting out a few clauses from the original1 we have3-- ,everything in ,shakespeare is so balanced and kept in subordination as not to jostle or disturb or take the place of another4 ,the most poetical conceptions are given with such brevity and introduced with such skill as merely to adorn without loading the sense they accompany4 ,all his excellences are thrown out together1 and instead of interfering with1 support and recommend each other4 ,here ,shakespeare's fine ordering of his style is made more emphatic than in the original1 and a glance will show how1 by the suppression of other phrases1 the luxuriance of his work could have been given the more prominence4 ,a writer must know which of many possible shades of meaning is the one which he desires to convey1 and he is likely to be successful in his work or the reverse according to the sharpness of his own apprehension of what he is aiming at4 ,the gunner who shuts his eyes when he fires is more likely to hit the mark than is the writer who vaguely endeavors to say something likely to succeed in accurately saying anything4 ,footnote #a3 ,in this chapter and the next three ,i am so greatly indebted to ,professor ,barrett ,wendell's 8,english ,composition0 that this part of my book might almost be called a summary of his1 although ,i have of course omitted much and have introduced some things upon which he has barely touched4 ,footnote #b3 ,disraeli3 ,lothair4 ,quoted by ,professor ,hill4 ,,iv ,,details ,,of ,,diction ,the student who endeavors to apply to words the tests of ,good ,use finds himself confronted with some questions which are very easily answered and with others so difficult that even the experts of language may disagree concerning them4 ,it is of course to be supposed that we have all mastered the canons which forbid the use of ,barbarisms1 ,improprieties1 and ,solecisms1--however much we allow ourselves to be influenced by the newspapers into the habit of violating them4 ,we have not got through our early school years without having our attention called to the difference of effect produced by long and short words4 ,most of us have had more or less confusing instruction on the subject of the use of ,latin words and words which are somewhat inexactly termed ,anglo-,saxon4 ,we have all known brief but bewildered intervals during which we endeavored to live up to a noble resolution to make our vocabulary strongly ,anglo-,saxon2 and we are most of us conscious in our secret hearts that we neither did this ever1 nor ever for a moment knew how to set to work to do it4 ,it is as well for the written language of to-day that there has never been possible a practical revision of the tongue by the dropping of words of ,latin origin4 ,it is a most mistaken notion which turns attention to the race origin of words instead of directing study to their actual force in use4 ,it sounds admirably learned to talk of a diction which is too strongly ,latin or which is markedly ,anglo-,saxon2 it is possible enough to see that in general a preponderance of classical words imparts dignity and that an abundance of ,saxon gives terseness to a style2 but the man who in desiring to secure the one effect or the other goes to work to select his language on this basis is utterly ignoring the very first principles of practical composition4 ,words are to be chosen with reference to a desired effect1 and their pedigree is of no more consequence than is that of the players on a foot-ball team4 ,the boys of one descent may do better than those of another1 and words of one or of another derivation may produce a desired effect1--but the contrary may be true1 so that such a principle of selection is as absurd in one case as in the other4 ,of long and short words much the same might be said4 ,we are pretty well out of the days when it was still needful to insist upon the admonition of ,frere3-- ,and don't confound the language of the nation ,with long-tailed words in osity and ation4 ,the childish love of fine words which belongs to the infancy of literature is generally outgrown4 ,it is recognized that words are to be selected solely for their effect1 and not for extraneous pretensions4 ,in this way is to be made the choice between words general and specific1 and of words literal or figurative4 ,a consideration which is of importance in the choice of words1 and one with which we shall be concerned later on1 is that of denotation and connotation4 ,a word denotes what it expresses directly2 it connotes what it expresses indirectly2 it denotes the idea which it names1 and connotes the idea that it implies2 it denotes what it says1 and connotes what it suggests4 ,the word 8,washington0 denotes a particular man1 whose history we know1 but with that history go so many suggestions and associations that the name connotes the idea of patriotism1 military skill1 and devotion to the nation from the very hour of its birth4 ,the word 8treason0 denotes a specific offense against the government2 while it connotes all the shame with which men regard one who betrays his country4 ,in the familiar line of ,wordsworth1 ,a violet by a mossy stone1 the words denote a certain common flower beside a stone covered with another common and ordinary vegetable growth2 they connote all the beauty of the azure blossom1 the sweetness of the springtide1 the quietude of a sylvan scene1 all those lovely and touching associations which can be expressed only by suggestion4 ,it is in the fact that certain sentiments can be conveyed by indirect means only that the value of connotation lies4 ,to suggest by the choice of words those delicate and subtle ideas which are like a fragrance or like the iridescent sheen of nacre is one of the highest triumphs of literary art2 and the nice artist in words is certainly not less careful in regard to the connotation of words than he is of their denotation4 ,one of the things which often puzzles beginners is how to increase their vocabulary4 ,of course reading is one of the most effective means of enlarging one's knowledge of the language1--but it is only careful reading1 reading in which are studied the force and the color of terms as well as their literal meaning1 that is of any marked value in this direction4 ,it is said that ,thackeray was in the habit of studying the dictionary with a frank purpose of adding to his knowledge of words4 ,i have known two literary men who followed this practice1 but they both deliberately selected unusual and bizarre examples with the avowed object of adding a unique and whimsical flavor to their journalistic work4 ,such an example is of course to be shunned1 but in general there is far too little stress laid upon the use of the dictionary4 ,there should be in every preparatory school a regular exercise in the use of the dictionary1 and in it all students should be required to join4 ,the teacher should read an extract or a sentence1 or should give out words to the class1 and have the meanings and derivations actually looked up at the moment4 ,the differing values of synonyms should be examined2 and if possible something of the history of the words given4 ,the aim should be to encourage the student in the habit of having a lexicon at hand and of using it constantly4 ,another important means of increasing one's command of language is conversation1 and the value of conversation in this respect as in every other is in direct ratio to its character4 ,to talk is not enough2 it is necessary that the talker exert himself to do his best4 ,chatter is of no value as intellectual training2 it is the exercise of the mind which tells4 ,the subject of conversation may be as light as possible2 but it is important that whatever is said is said well1 whether it be a compliment to a mistress' eyebrow1 a discussion of the deepest philosophy of life1 or the latest bon-mot of the clubs4 8,every variety of gift10 ,emerson says truly1--8science1 religion1 politics1 letters1 art1 prudence1 war1 or love1--has its vent and exchange in conversation10 and it follows that conversation properly conducted helps to the power of expression in all of these4 ,better than all other means of increasing the vocabulary1 however1 is writing4 ,always the way to learn to write is to write4 ,the way to increase one's power of expression is to strive to express4 ,the habit of seeking constantly for the right word results in ability to find the right word4 ,it acts not only directly1 widening one's domain in the realm of language1 but it renders a hundred-fold more effective the use of reading and of talk4 ,it puts the mind into an attentive mood so that when a new term is met with it is remembered4 ,the perception on the alert for words becomes susceptible to them1 so that they are appreciated and retained4 ,cultivate the habit of putting things into words and the words will come unconsciously2 practice phrasing thought and the means of phrasing it will not long be wanting4 99 99 99 99 99 ,when we go on from the consideration of words to that of sentences we find that here ,good ,use is more clearly defined4 ,the rules for the construction of sentences are to a large extent more formal than those which govern the choice of terms1 and the most obvious of them are conveniently collected and arranged under the name of ,grammar4 ,grammar is the account-book of custom2 it is in reality a reckoning up of the popular suffrages in regard to verbal proprieties4 ,in other words1 grammar is the formal statement of the decisions of ,good ,use in so far as they apply to the relative forms of words4 ,it is of course not necessary to speak here in detail of these4 ,i only wish to call attention to the rules of the grammarian as a particularly well defined example of the supremacy of ,good ,use in all matters relating to language and its employment in literature4 ,it is because the general consent has decided that a certain form of the verb shall be plural that the grammarian declares it to be in that number4 ,grammars follow and formulate custom2 they neither precede nor dictate4 ,the inability of the grammarian to dictate to custom is made especially evident when we consider that thing more subtle than syntax and in composition no less important1 which we call ,idiom4 ,that a writer shall be idiomatic is as essential to writing well as the avoidance of solecisms1 yet every student of the language knows how elusive and difficult of attainment is a sound understanding of the idioms of any tongue4 ,an idiom is the personal--if the word may be allowed--the personal idiosyncrasy of a language4 ,it is a method of speech wherein the genius of the race making the language shows itself as differing from that of all other peoples4 ,what style is to the man that is idiom to the race4 ,it is the crystallization in verbal forms of peculiarities of race temperament--perhaps even of race eccentricities4 ,it is customary to define an idiom as the form of language which cannot be translated into another tongue2 and the example which is commonly given is the habit ,english-speaking peoples have of saying3 8,you are right10 whereas the ,latin form--literally translated--would be3 8,you speak rightly10 the ,french3 8,you have reason10 and the ,german3 8,you have right40 ,an idiom is independent of grammatical rules1--sometimes is in distinct violation of them4 ,it makes us say3 8,a ten-foot pole10 8,a two-dollar bill10 8,a five-acre lot10--where a plural adjective modifies a singular substantive1 or to speak more accurately is compounded with it4 ,it decides that we shall write3 8,more friends than one friend has told me10--although the subject of 8told0 is 8friends0 understood4 ,an idiom boldly ignores the derivation of words4 ,since 8circumstances0 means 8things standing around10 it is evidently logical to use the phrase1 8in these circumstances40 ,the genius of the language decides that the form shall be1 8under these circumstances20 and whoever writes 8in0 for 8under0 not only uses unidiomatic ,english1 but lays himself open to the charge of pedantry4 ,untranslatable and above rules1 ,idiom is as inviolable as the laws of the ,medes and the ,persians1 and for him who sins against it there is no pardon4 ,for idioms there is no law save that of ,good ,use1 and perhaps in the discernment of no other rules is required so critical and so nice a discrimination4 ,english which is not idiomatic becomes at once formal and lifeless1 as if the tongue were already dead and its remains embalmed in those honorable sepulchres1 the philological dictionaries4 ,on the other hand1 ,english which goes too far1 and fails of a delicate distinction between what is really and essentially idiomatic and what is colloquial1 becomes at once vulgar and utterly wanting in that subtle quality of dignity for which there is no better term than distinction4 ,the grammarian1 moreover1 wageth against ,idiom a warfare as bitter as it is unceasing4 ,it is distinctly idiomatic to use in certain cases what is known as the 8flat adverb10--the adverb in the adjective form without ly4 ,the man who writes 8speak loudly10 8speak more loudly10 8speak plainly10 8walk fastly10 8drink deeply10 8speak lowly10 8the moon shines brightly10 8the sun shines hotly10 may have the applause of grammarians and his own misguided conscience1 but he is not writing idiomatic ,english4 ,his virtue must be its own reward1 since he can never win the approval of lovers of sound1 wholesome1 living ,english4 ,those who use the language idiomatically write 8speak loud10 8speak louder10 8speak plain10 8walk fast10 8drink deep10 8speak low10 8the moon shines bright10 and 8the sun shines hot40 ,yet these idiomatic distinctions are often very delicate4 ,an adverb is sometimes properly used in its flat form with an imperative when in other cases the form in ly is proper4 ,we say1 for instance1 8walk slow1 walk slower20 but 8,he walked slowly across the field and more slowly over the bridge40 ,nothing but the careful training of the perceptions avails for distinctions such as these4 ,another idiomatic construction against which the purist waggeth his tongue and gritteth his teeth is the ending of a sentence with a particle4 ,instead of the good old idiomatic 8,where does it come from80 he would have us say 8,whence does it come80 ,for 8,where is it going to80 he offers 8,whither is it going80 ,both of his phrases are eminently respectable1 but there is sometimes a lack of vitality in too eminent respectability6 ,do not be afraid to say3 8,the subject which ,i spoke to you about20 8,the conclusion that we came to20 8,the man whom ,i talked with20 8,this is a cause to stand up for20 8,it is worth living for20 8,a name to conjure with20 and the allied phrases which would never have been tolerated for an instant if the language had been made in libraries instead of having grown up in the lives of peoples and on the tongues of breathing men4 ,professor ,reed1 of the ,university of ,pennsylvania1 admirably says3-- ,the false fastidiousness which shuns a short particle at the end of a sentence is often fatal to a force which belongs to the language in its primal character4 ,he points out that only the misapplication of analogies from ,continental languages has brought into discredit this characteristic ,english idiom4 ,he quotes ,bacon1 8,houses are built to live in1 and not to look on20 ,donne1 8,hath ,god a name to curse by80 and ,burke1 8,the times we live in40 ,he might have gone to contemporary authors1 and cited ,stevenson1 8,after expedients hitherto unthought of10 8,he was all fallen away and fallen in20 ,james1 8,the different bedrooms she has successively slept in10 8,there is almost literally nothing he does not care for20 ,newman1 8,the elect are few to choose out of20 ,lowell1 8,in accomplishing what he aimed at10 8,the words are chosen for their value to fill in10 8,the soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on1 good to live on1 good to die for and be buried in40 ,it would not be difficult to extend the list until it should include all the writers of idiomatic ,english4 ,it is necessary1 however1 to add here a word of warning4 ,allowing a particle to come at the end of a sentence or clause because it belongs there idiomatically is one thing2 letting the particle drag loosely along behind from a lack of skill or energy sufficient to manage the construction properly is quite another4 ,idiom is a cloak which may be made to cover as many vices as virtues4 ,the beginning and end of clause or sentence are the emphatic parts1 and to give the close to an unimportant word is to waste an opportunity and weaken the effect of the whole4 ,the reason why the idiomatic final particle is permissible is because it really belongs to the emphatic idea or is practically a part of the verb which precedes it4 ,in the phrase 8the times we live in10 it is evident that 8in0 is in intention part of the idea expressed by the verb1 so that the sentence does not close with the particle 8in0 but with the verb 8live in20 and so on for the other examples which have been quoted4 ,a common instance of unidiomatic use of a particle at the end of a sentence is that of closing with the sign of the infinitive4 8,do as you have a mind to0 is bad ,english because the words 8mind0 and 8to0 do not in idea belong together4 ,either the verb should be expressed1--8,do as you have a mind to do10 or the sentence should be recast4 ,however strong colloquial precedent may seem1 do not allow that forlornly orphaned sign of the infinitive to come trailing along alone as a last word4 ,the idiomatic use of conjunctions is one mark of a finished and careful style4 ,it is perhaps too much to say that if a writer takes care of his particles the other parts of speech will take care of themselves1 but it is at least true that no style can be lucid and polished in which the particles--and especially the conjunctions--have not been looked to most carefully4 ,amateur writers are apt to seem aware of the existence of only two conjunctions1 8and0 and 8but20 while they are especially careful to omit the conjunction 8that40 ,it has been remarked that one of the important means by which the ,french masters secure that wonderful clarity and vivacity of style which so few ,english authors have been able to approach is a careful and explicit discrimination of the value of connectives4 ,a stylist might be not very inaccurately defined as a writer who is always conscientious in his choice of conjunctions4 ,coleridge's remarks on this point have often been quoted3-- ,a close reasoner and a good writer in general may be known by his pertinent use of connectives4 ,read that page of ,johnson2 you cannot alter one conjunction without spoiling the sense4 ,it is in a linked strain throughout4 ,in your modern books for the most part1 the sentences in a page have the same connection with each other that marbles have in a bag2 they touch without adhering4--,table ,talk1 ,may #ae1 #ahcc4 ,this is impatiently inexact1 it may be1 but the modern tendency1 especially in careless newspaper work1 is to do away with connectives for the sake of securing briskness4 ,the result is abruptness always and confusion generally4 ,insignificant as they seem1 connectives are the articulations of the skeleton of a composition1 and unless they be flexible and delicately adjusted there is no possibility of freedom of movement in the whole4 ,certain weak idioms which are common in conversation are apt to creep into the writings of those not over sensitive to literary effects1 but these colloquialisms are religiously avoided by careful writers4 ,an example of this sort of thing is the detestable use of 8got0--as a substitute for 8have0 or as a superfluous appendage to it1--which is so conspicuous a vice in ,england4 ,in ,america this is at least theoretically frowned upon1 and indeed it is protested against by the best authorities on the other side of the water4 ,of course ,i have not space to take up one by one all the idiomatic expressions of the language4 ,these given will serve as examples1 and ,i have but to add that there is perhaps no better way of becoming sensitive to idiom than by conversing with rustics and reading the ,english classics4 ,neither method is of value without the restraining and enlightening influence of sound good judgment1 but the student who is able to criticise his own work and compare it with that of the masters will find the talk of country folk and the works of the old masters alike helpful in the formation of an idiomatic style4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the matter of long sentences or short sentences is practically the same as that of long or short words4 ,the question is what effect the writer wishes to produce4 ,if he desires to treat a subject with dignity1 to impress by gravity of manner1 or to produce a mood of solemnity or melancholy1 it is all but essential that his sentences shall be long4 ,if on the other hand it is his object to produce an effect of lightness1 to induce a feeling of gayety1 of briskness1 to make the blood run swiftly in the veins1 his style will be crisp with short sentences4 ,with even a limited amount of literary training the choice of length in sentences becomes almost instinctive4 ,something of the same principle is to be applied to sentences loose and sentences periodic4 ,a loose sentence is one in which the meaning and the grammatic structure are complete at some point before the end2 a periodic sentence is one in which sense and sentence end together4 ,if ,i say1 8,we all praise periodic sentences1 but few of us write them10 ,i have given an example of the truth of the statement4 ,the sense and the grammatic construction are both complete at the middle of the sentence4 ,if this be rewritten so as to read1 8,although we all praise periodic sentences1 few of us write them10 we have a periodic form in which sense and construction are alike incomplete until the close4 ,that closeness of structure which in an inflected language is imparted by the form of words must in ,english depend upon word arrangement2 and from this it follows that the question of making the sentence periodic must be subordinate to the matter of bringing the right words together4 ,the tendency of the language is toward a loose structure2 but between the two sorts of sentences that we are considering there is the difference that there is between giving to a person a thing in pieces and giving it to him whole4 ,in the loose sentence you present to him one portion after another1 often in a way which leaves him uncertain at the end of the different parts whether there is or is not more to come2 in the periodic1 you offer to him the whole at once4 ,evidently the latter is the more definite1 the more precise1 the more finished4 ,it is1 however1 so often impossible to make a sentence periodic without apparent effort that no style could be wholly periodic without seeming elaborately and even painfully studied2 hence as a matter of fact all good style consists of a judicious mingling of the two kinds of sentence4 ,the danger in a style too uniformly periodic is that of appearing stiff and formal2 and it seems to be true that the best and most flexible ,english contains a larger portion of loose sentences than of periodic4 ,reaching out my hand for volumes which chance to be within arm's length of my writing-table1 ,i find that of the first fifteen sentences in ,lowell's essay on ,chaucer1 ten are loose and five periodic2 of the same number at the beginning of ,henry ,james' essay on ,balzac1 nine are loose and six periodic2 at the commencement of ,stevenson's paper on ,burns the loose are to the periodic eight to seven2 ,saintsbury's essay on ,de ,quincey begins with the same proportions2 while that by the same author on ,sydney ,smith opens with thirteen loose relieved but by two periodic4 ,of course such examples are not conclusive1 but they are at least illustrative4 ,in all these matters the important thing is to train one's self to do whatever it seems well to do1 by the use of the form most apt for the effect desired4 ,since the natural tendency of the untrained writer is towards loose sentences1 it is well to conquer the art of writing periodically4 ,in this1 as in all points of the study of composition1 the thing aimed at is to be able to do with language whatever is desired2 to become as absolutely master of it as the cunning sculptor is master of the modeling-clay1 which is as plastic under his hand as if it were a part of his very thought4 ,v ,,principles ,,of ,,quality ,when an architect builds a palace1 or an edifice no matter how much humbler1 he first attends to the unity1 the proportions1 and to the strength of the structure2 after that he has to consider the harmony1 the finish1 and the adornment4 ,according to the nature and purpose of the building1 it may be given a coat of mineral paint1 such as that which made the transient fortune of ,silas ,lapham1 it may be set with clustering statues like an ,old ,world cathedral1 or it may be jeweled with precious marbles and flower-bright mosaics like the ,taj ,mahal4 ,the analogy between this process and that of the writer is close enough to excuse the somewhat florid comparison4 ,first is to be considered the mechanical form of what is written2 unity1 proportion1 and texture must be looked to1 and afterward there must be thought of the harmony1 finish1 and adornment4 ,when we have studied the ,principles of ,structure1--,unity1 ,mass1 and ,coherence1--we have next to do with the ,principles of ,quality4 ,whatever work interests a reader may be said to touch him in one of three ways3 it may appeal to his understanding1 to his emotions1 or to his imagination4 ,in other words1 it may affect him by its intellectual1 by its emotional1 or by its imaginative or sthetic quality4 ,bearing in mind that any nomenclature is a matter of convenience1 and that we use names chiefly as a means of dividing the subject into portions which may be handled less awkwardly than the whole1 we may call these three qualities ,clearness1 ,force1 and ,elegance4 ,if we examine our feelings in regard to anything which we read1 we find that it has been easily intelligible1 or that it has bothered our comprehension2 it has interested us1 stirred us1 or has left us indifferent or bored2 and it has or has not produced in us a sense of beauty and elevation of mood4 ,neither these sensations nor the qualities which produce them are sharply separable2 but the distinctions perceptibly exist1 so that for purposes of study the qualities may conveniently be treated one at a time4 ,it is easy to see that in understanding the meaning of a thing we most markedly use the intellectual faculties2 that in liking or disliking we respond to an appeal to the emotions2 and that in feeling beauty and appreciating the sthetic1 we necessarily employ the imagination4 ,the first is a question of comprehension2 the second of feeling2 and the third of taste4 ,clearness is the intellectual principle of style2 ,force the emotional2 and ,elegance the sthetic4 ,the ,principles of ,structure must precede and underlie those of ,quality4 ,speaking broadly1 we may say that it is idle to attempt to give to a composition or to a sentence ,clearness1 ,force1 or ,elegance1 unless it is already satisfactory in ,unity1 ,mass1 and ,coherence4 ,the closest attention to the laws of mechanical form1 however1 is not sufficient to secure quality4 ,for the secret of that it is needful to go further4 ,it is in ,clearness that the ,principles of ,quality are most obviously associated with those of ,structure4 ,if an author has carefully considered the ,unity of his composition1 if he has massed it properly in parts and as a whole1 if he has looked well to its ,coherence1--it is hardly possible that he should fail of being readily understood4 ,close attention to the mechanics of style will generally make a writer intelligible1 provided always that he wishes his meaning to be apprehended easily1 and that he himself knows what he is attempting to say4 ,these two considerations are of much practical importance4 ,sometimes writers do not choose to be clear4 ,george ,meredith seems often to write with the deliberate intention of forcing the reader to go slowly1--as if from the feeling that what can be read rapidly is in danger of being merely skimmed over4 ,there are others1 like ,thomas ,carlyle1 who deliberately obscure what they write1 apparently in the hope of adding by complexity an air of mystery to commonplaces and a meretricious dignity to wisdom4 ,take1 for instance1 this sentence3-- ,if for the present1 in our ,europe1 we estimate the ratio of ,ware to ,appearance of ,ware so high even as ,one to a ,hundred 7which1 considering the ,wages of a ,pope1 ,russian ,autocrat1 or ,english ,game-,preserver1 is probably not far from the mark71--what almost prodigious saving may there not be anticipated1 as the ,statistics of ,imposture advances1 and so the manufacture of ,shams 7that of ,realities rising into clearer and clearer distinction therefrom7 gradually declines1 and at length becomes all but wholly unnecessary6--,carlyle3 ,sartor ,resartus1 ii4 #c4 ,here the lack of lucidity is intentional4 ,the author has sacrificed it to the particular effect which he wished to produce4 ,he sought to give to what he wrote an air of bizarre and piquant individuality1 and it is for this that he so distorts and convulses his sentences4 ,the purpose is as conscious as that which informs the gyrations of an acrobat4 ,there is the same relation between a page of 8,sartor ,resartus0 or the 8,french ,revolution0 and a page of ordinary prose that there is between the marvelous distortions of a contortionist and the walk of a gentleman1--each1 of course1 being well in its place4 ,compare with the sentence just given1 this passage from an undergraduate's theme3-- ,chaucer's influence on the language was great1 and he helped to put the language before the people in a way that had not been done before1 so that it is evident that there was a great result from this4 ,this was because he helped to change the ,english language1 and in this way he was very influential in affecting the language4 ,here an unhappy youth1 engaged in all but mortal combat with an examination paper1 was endeavoring to say something when he had nothing to say4 ,of course he could not but fail1 since it is impossible to show clearly what one does not see clearly4 ,with these put also this1 which again is from an undergraduate's theme3-- ,if the student respects a professor1 as many do1 he can show his respect in many ways2 if he does not1 and there are teachers who do not command the respect of students 7,i do not consider the question to be confined to this school1 and in some colleges there are men on the ,faculty who are not respected1 nor do they deserve to be7 and ,i think a man should raise his hat only to ladies or to gentlemen that have ladies with them4 ,here the writer knew fairly well what he wished to say1 although he had not taken the trouble to think it out very sharply4 ,his difficulty was that he lacked technical skill in expression4 ,these examples illustrate the causes from which obscurity may arise4 ,the first is legitimate4 ,whether we agree that ,carlyle or ,george ,meredith or ,browning has carried obscurity beyond the farthest limit at which it is permissible has nothing to do with the fact that there are times when it is the right of an author to sacrifice ,clearness to some other effect which he seeks4 ,it is1 however1 fair to say that in ordinary experience these emergencies are pretty nearly as rare as the appearance of white blackbirds2 and that at least no writer has a right to discard ,clearness until he has secured it4 ,certainly no one can successfully employ obscurity as a means of producing literary effect until he has acquired the art of writing with transparent simplicity4 ,of the second cause it is sufficient to say here that no outward aid can enable the student to overcome it4 ,to think sharply and lucidly is the result of self-discipline4 ,it is a matter of mental exercise1 and while a student may be sent to a mental as to a physical gymnasium1 all strengthening of the mind as of the muscles must be the result of individual exertion4 ,there has as yet been discovered no system of intellectual massage1 by means of which the understanding may attain to the benefits of work without doing anything4 ,while rules or wise maxims help little in this matter of mental clearness1 it is a thing so important and so universally essential in all intellectual training that it is difficult to pass it without a word more4 ,if a new ,dante were to people a new ,inferno with sinners guilty of crimes intellectual1 as the stern old ,florentine peopled his with those who violated moral laws1 the most populous circle would be devoted to those who mistakenly think themselves to think4 ,there is a discouragingly large portion of mankind whose mental processes are apparently those of the oyster4 ,they are mentally so indolent or incapable that the labor of reflecting is entirely beyond them4 ,no student can afford to remain in doubt as to whether he really thinks1 or merely indulges in vague mental impressions which are to genuine thought as is the dull smouldering of a heap of wet leaves in a ,november fog to a brisk beech-wood fire on a wide hearth in a winter night4 ,macaulay is right when he says3 8,propriety of thought and propriety of diction are commonly found together4444 ,obscurity of expression generally springs from confusion of ideas40 ,he might have added that it is of great importance that the writer be able to think of his subject as a whole4 ,it is easy for the mind to grasp a small thing and it is proportionately harder for it to seize upon a greater2 yet upon the power to hold work in the mind in its entirety must as surely depend success in writing as does all vigorous mental development4 ,the third cause of obscurity1 inability to express the thought which one has1 is at once the most common1 and the most inexcusable4 ,here we are dealing with a tangible thing1 to a great extent a matter of rule1 and1 at most1 largely a question of study4 ,there is no reason why a person of ordinary intelligence should not be able to express whatever he is able to think4 ,indeed1 whoever has fully thought out an idea has already phrased it1 and if he has even a moderate amount of training in composition should have no difficulty in expressing it on paper if he will but take the necessary pains4 ,it is evident that what is clear to one reader may be obscure to another4 ,it follows that the first question to be decided is to what audience a composition is to be addressed4 ,few of us can understand this sentence from a treatise on comparative embryology4 ,the inner wall of each of the paired cavities forms a splanchnopleuric mesoblast1 and the outer wall of the whole the somatic mesoblast4 ,this is clear to readers who understand the technical language of embryology2 and for them the author wrote4 ,parallel examples might be given which would show how many sorts of writing there are which are clear to a limited audience only4 ,the reports of base-ball games are unintelligible to the average ,english reader1 while to the ,american the notes on cricket are equally meaningless4 ,the criticisms of artists upon pictures seldom convey a definite impression to those not versed in the technical language of painting2 and the same principle holds throughout all sorts of literature4 ,the whole matter then resolves itself into the simple maxim3 ,use the language of those addressed4 ,there is somewhere a story of a lady who always spoke to her maid in ,french1 because in taking the situation the girl had wrongfully claimed to know that tongue4 ,the mistress held stubbornly to the position that the maid should understand1 and she endured the discomforts of never being well served rather than abandon it4 ,much writing and not a little talking is all but as absurd4 ,constantly authors address themselves to the general public in language which they know or might know the general public will not understand4 ,whatever else the human race may be1 it is not logical2 there are few of us free from the fault of sometimes acting upon assumptions which we know to be false2 and nowhere is this fact more strikingly illustrated than in composition4 ,this question of using the language of those addressed is one which meets every teacher at the very threshold of the class-room4 ,the best instructor is not he who knows most1 but he who imparts most2 and he imparts most who most perfectly speaks the language of his pupils4 ,it is of no use daily to fire over the heads of children all the wisdom of ,solomon if it be embodied in a language which is not theirs4 ,the teacher who really teaches does not take the attitude of the lady whose maid should have known ,french2 he does not assume that pupils should understand what he says2 he simply considers whether as a matter of fact they do understand4 ,if they do not1 he sets himself with patience to re-phrase it1 and1 if need be1 re-phrase again1 until he has put it into language which the children cannot fail to comprehend4 ,it is not a question of what might be understood but of what must be4 ,it is true that this calls for a patience which is almost divine1 and there are teachers in the common schools to-day who are only preserved to us because the age of translation to heaven is past4 ,there are unhappily others who do not understand that this patient and laborious seeking after the intellectual dialect of the pupil is the only possible means of imparting instruction2 and thus it happens that some schools are taught in a language which1 while it is ,english1 is yet hardly more intelligible to the students than would be ,choctaw or the speech of ,borrioboola-,gha4 ,in writing1 the safest guide in this respect is sound1 homely common sense4 ,write without nonsense in the way of self-consciousness or affectation4 ,make it always a rule in general composition to aim at the simple1 average man2 to write so that the traditionally foolish wayfaring man need not err therein4 ,remember that the aim is not to write so that one may be understood1 but to write so that one cannot be misunderstood4 ,absurdly enough1 human vanity comes in here4 ,untrained writers are apt to feel that they lower themselves if they condescend to write for the intellectual bourgeoisie4 ,many a clever young author has come to grief because he could not bring himself to use simple language lest it should seem that he had not command of a more elaborate diction4 ,he has failed because he could not be willing to address the ordinary reader lest he thereby might appear to show that he had not the gift of speaking to the learned4 ,the great writers are men who are free from this weakness2 who are intent upon making their message understood1 and not upon preserving a foolish appearance of superiority4 ,shakespeare did not disdain to write for the ,london apprentices brawling in the pit1 or ,homer to sing for semi-barbarians half-drunken at the feast4 ,the masterpieces of literature which have been addressed to the educated few are revered2 those which have been confessedly for the many have been read and lived upon4 ,to take as instances two works written at about the same time3 8,paradise ,lost0 has been commended by critics and admired by scholars2 8,pilgrim's ,progress0 has been and is the favorite book with thousands4 ,the one has always been profoundly admired and the other has been loved4 ,i do not mean that this is all that might be said of these classics1 or that there are no other considerations in determining their worth1 but they do serve to make more clear the fact that to reach the general reader it is necessary to write for the general reader4 ,speaking the language of the average man includes also the confining of allusions to the range of his probable knowledge1 the taking for granted nothing which he may not reasonably be supposed to know4 ,the temptation to show erudition is at the elbow of every writer4 ,when1 near the beginning of this lecture1 ,i referred in an easy manner to the ,taj ,mahal1 ,i was instantly conscious that ,i had used the comparison with a pleasant sense of the air of superior knowledge which it might give4 ,however it may be with you1 the probabilities are that the ordinary reader would not be sufficiently familiar with the elaborate ornamentation of that wonder of the ,east to make my comparison to its jewelled walls effective1 and ,i left it only because ,i wanted to use it here as an illustration4 ,it is no less needful to appeal to the average emotional experiences of mankind in order to be clear to the general reader4 ,it must be remembered that all art is based on the assumption of a community of human feelings2 in other words1 upon the theory that the fundamental emotions are shared by all mankind4 ,the more closely a writer holds to common humanity1 to common human experience1 the more wide will be the range of his work1 and the more clear will he be in those very matters where clearness is most difficult of attainment4 ,the more subtile and remote from ordinary human life are the emotions and the passions to be portrayed1 the more absolute is the necessity of conveying them in terms of simple and common experience4 ,analyze one of the tragedies of ,shakespeare or of the old ,greek dramatists1 and you will find that its tremendous effects are produced by means essentially simple4 ,by keeping always within the range of the sympathies and feelings common to humanity1 the masters are able to make every stroke tell2 and this method is in the nature of things the only possible one4 ,common humanity can comprehend only what it has felt4 ,to gain ,clearness it is necessary first to avoid all vagueness of thought and all vagueness of expression4 ,it is needful to shun ambiguity of word or of phrase1 and that more subtle ambiguity which may arise from ill-considered paragraphing1 from misproportion1 or from bad arrangement of the parts of a composition4 ,it is no less important to write with a constant remembrance of the audience addressed2 to use their language1 and to appeal to the emotions and experiences which are likely to be common to the average individual of the class for which one writes4 ,inexperienced writers may make the mistake of supposing that this is the rule by which mediocrity is to be reached2 but as a matter of fact these are the principles upon which have been written the masterpieces of the world4 ,,vi ,,principles ,,of ,,quality ,,continued ,force has been defined as the quality which appeals to the emotions4 ,obviously1 what we read interests us or it does not4 ,persons who are conscious that they are not qualified to judge of the value of work1 yet who are secretly convinced that their judgment must be of value despite this fact1 are rather apt to take refuge in the annoying phrase1 8,i am no judge1 but ,i can tell what ,i like40 ,even this qualified statement is often conspicuously untrue1 but in so far as they really can tell what they like1 they are judges of the force of what they read1 their own emotions being the standard2 and in so far as they can tell why they like or fail to like1 they are judges also of the means by which force has been secured1 or for want of which it has been lost4 ,we are accustomed to associate with the term which is here used a signification more narrow and more intense than that which is given to it in this connection4 ,generally1 when we speak of a piece of literature as having force1 we mean that it has the power to move us to an unusual degree4 ,we think at once of the cyclone-swept pages of ,carlyle1 of the penetrating mysteriousness of ,kipling1 or of the fate-pervaded realism of ,hardy2 at least1 of something moving and intense4 ,in discussing force as a quality of style1 we must make the term wide enough to cover whatever power a literary composition has of arousing interest by what it is4 ,an accidental circumstance--the antiquity of a book1 the fact that it was written by a particular person1 the part which it has played in an important event1 and so on--might arouse a certain sort of interest in it1 but this would have nothing to do with the force of the composition4 ,those things which certain magazines bring out1 written by the notoriety of the hour1--the prize-fighter1 the woman who has made herself most conspicuous in ways decent or indecent1--have not in themselves anything that can be called ,force in the proper sense of the term4 ,they may attract much attention1 but it is by accidental circumstances1 and not by their quality4 8,the secret of ,force10 ,mr4 ,wendell writes1 8is connotation20 and he goes on to exemplify this thus3-- ,compare these three simple statements3 8,i found him very agreeable one afternoon20 8,i found him very agreeable one wet afternoon20 8,i found him very agreeable one wet afternoon in a country house40 ,now all that the word 8wet0 says is that the afternoon was watery2 but it clearly implies that it was an afternoon when you would not care to be out of doors4 ,all that the words 8in a country house0 state is a simple fact of locality2 but they imply that you were in a place where not to be out of doors was probably a serious trial to the temper4 ,so the last statement as a whole1 8,i found him very agreeable one wet afternoon in a country house10 suggests1 though it does not state1 that the person spoken of was one whose charms could overcome a pretty bad temper4 ,at the same time it is a phrase which ,i fancy anybody would admit to hold the attention more strongly than either of its predecessors2 and its superiority in force lies not so much in the bare facts which it adds to the first statement as in the thoughts and emotions it suggests4 ,still again1 take this sentence from one of ,m4 de ,maupassant's stories3 8,it was the #aeth of ,august--the feast of the ,holy ,virgin1 and of the ,emperor ,napoleon40 ,he states only two facts about the #aeth of ,august1 and these in the simplest of words4 ,neither by itself would hold one's attention enough to remain long in memory4 ,but put them together2 think what the ,holy ,virgin means to ,catholic ,europe1 and what the ,emperor ,napoleon means to those who are not subdued by the magic genius of ,bonaparte1--and you have a sentence that when mid-,august comes about will hover in your head4 ,yet the force of this--so greatly superior to the force of either statement by itself--lies not in what is actually said1 but wholly in what is implied1 suggested1 connoted1 in this sudden1 unexpected antithesis4 ,the thing which the writer has caused the reader to think--or even to suppose himself to think--is sure to interest him4 ,the dullest of bores is absorbed in his own words1 and in effect that which the reader receives by suggestion is his own thought4 ,what is denoted is the word of the writer2 what is connoted is for the time being the thought of the reader4 ,it is not difficult to see that ,clearness is an aid to ,force2 or1 to put it more exactly1 that a lack of ,clearness will interfere with ,force4 ,yet the one is by no means essential to the other4 ,the diction of 8,the ,ordeal of ,richard ,feverel10 that book so strong that it wrings the heart almost like a fierce personal sorrow1 is in passages so obscure as to have given rise to the rather cheap mot that the novel would be successful if it were translated into ,english4 ,almost any page of ,carlyle might also be cited in illustration2 while that ,clearness may fail to secure ,force is proved by the pellucidly stupid lucubrations of an innumerable company of authors whom nobody could fail to understand if it were possible to keep awake to read them4 ,connotation may be the result of various causes4 ,it may be produced by a swiftness and briskness of motion which so awakens and quickens the mind that the reader is aroused to thought1 and seizes each idea presented as if he had himself originated it4 ,it is this sort of force that we mean when we speak of the vivacity or the brilliancy of a work4 ,the secret lies chiefly in passing quickly from one significant point to another4 ,this involves1 it is apparent1 the power of selecting the significant1 and of bringing this out while avoiding the unessential4 ,the effectiveness of the sensational story depends largely upon a quality closely allied to this1 although here it is a matter not so much of style as of material4 ,the tale which moves rapidly from situation to situation1 so that the reader seems to share the adventures of the characters1 often owes as much to the swiftness of its progress as to the nature of the story told4 ,it owes more1 as a general thing1 to the vividness with which the exciting situations are imagined and presented4 ,the more real a thing seems to the reader1 the more suggestive it must be to him1 and the more likely is he to share the sensations set down1 so that for the moment it seems as if he were actually experiencing them4 ,in other words1 the more real the narrative1 the more suggestive it becomes4 ,one great means of producing this sense of reality either in narrative or in any other kind of composition1 whether in the setting forth of thoughts1 or in the telling of events1 is in making what is written specific4 ,the specific term is apt to be more suggestive than the general from the fact that it presents to the mind an idea which can be grasped readily4 ,when one reads that the ,indians are on the war-path and are ravaging the country1 one has a vague feeling of horror2 but if one is told that the ,red ,men have crossed the bounds of ,big ,lick ,reservation1 have murdered and scalped a settler named ,john ,thing1 have burned his cabin1 and carried off his wife and children1 there is no vagueness about it4 ,the impression becomes at once vivid and forceful in what it denotes1 and stirring in what it connotes4 ,it is from a misapplication of this fact that modern fiction has fallen into that vice which has been known as ,realism--perhaps because it is less real than any other sort of fiction ever devised4 ,it is apparently by a perception of the effectiveness of the specific1 that ,realists have been led into the error of believing in the effectiveness of the minute4 ,before leaving the quality under discussion it is well to say a word about what is called 8reserved force40 ,our respect for a writer is always increased by feeling that he might do more than he is doing4 ,we are led on by a desire to see what greater things he will accomplish4 ,the feeling in reading an author who is evidently doing his utmost is not unlike that felt in crossing a bridge which shakes with the footfall4 ,it may carry us over the stream1 but on the other hand it may break under us4 ,i once heard a lady explain her dislike for a certain youth by saying3 8,i never could endure a man who is always doing his darnedest60 ,the expression is unhappily vulgar1 but it does seem to me to be humanly expressive4 ,we do not like to feel that we have come to the end of the resources of a friend or of an author4 ,how then does a writer produce an impression of reserved force8 ,the phrase meets one in book reviews1 and to inexperienced writers is apt to convey little but bewilderment4 ,one way in which the finished literary craftsman secures the impression of reserved power is by deliberately making the minor parts of his work weaker than those more important4 ,in other words1 he gains the effect of reserved strength by reserving strength4 ,often it is well in the revision of a composition to lessen the stress of expression in unimportant passages2 to soften down1 as it were1 all portions except the high lights4 ,the natural tendency of every earnest writer is to express himself as vigorously as possible1 and in the first draft this is well1--provided always that he has the self-control and the skill so to modify in revision the less important parts that the emphasis shall be properly proportioned4 ,shading in literature is a matter which it is not easy to explain without examples much longer than it is possible to use here4 ,it must be learned by the study of masterpieces4 ,it is well to keep in mind1 however1 that it is oftener the result of a clever softening of minor passages than of a heavier emphasis upon important portions2 and above all that the secret of shading and of reserved force as well is proportion4 ,it is rather comparative than absolute stress which is effective4 ,vehemence is not vigor4 ,make up your mind clearly what points you wish to bring out most sharply2 that is half of the process3 then see to it that the remaining parts of the composition are kept subordinate to these2 that is the rest of it4 ,largely1 too1 is a sense of reserved force imparted by smoothness and ease of style4 ,a style which is rough generally seems hard and labored4 ,to carry the reader forward easily seems to be to carry him surely1 and gives the impression that the writer could go faster and farther if he but chose4 ,one of the secrets of smoothness is the art of easy transition from one paragraph to another1 from one sentence to another1 from one thought to another4 ,in ,macaulay's essay on 8,machiavelli10 for instance1 after speaking of the correspondence of the ,italian1 the author continues3 ,it is interesting and curious to recognize1 in circumstances which elude the notice of historians1 444 the fierce and haughty energy which gave dignity to the eccentricities of ,julius2 the soft and graceful manners which masked the insatiable ambition and the implacable hatred of ,csar ,borgia4 ,we have mentioned ,csar ,borgia4 ,it is impossible not to pause for a moment on the name of a man in whom the political morality of ,italy was so strongly personified1 etc4 ,and so the essayist goes on to draw a comparison between ,csar ,borgia and ,machiavelli1 which he had of course intended from the first1 but which he has had the art to introduce as if it were a sudden thought4 ,the effect is as if the name of ,borgia had suggested the parallel2 and not only does this give an air of spontaneity1 but it also impresses the reader with a feeling of security in the resources of the writer4 ,if the mere mention of a famous name can bring so much from his mind1 it is evident that that mind must be most abundantly stored4 ,more subtle1 and therein so much the more admirable1 is the art which links together the parts of a composition simply by closeness of meaning4 ,to illustrate it would take too much room1 but all the great essayists afford examples1 and it is in them that this detail of literary skill may most conveniently be studied4 ,another matter closely connected with ,force is that of beginning and ending well4 ,if the opening sentence of a composition interest the reader he is ready to go on1 while an effective close leaves him with a pleasant impression of what he has been reading4 ,in a composition divided into parts or chapters1 it is especially important to see to it that the separate portions end effectively4 ,the general verdict upon a book is largely made up of the sum of impressions received from the endings of sections4 ,here again the reader will find examples in all the masters1 but a few may be given4 ,in a vein almost familiar1 but in entirely good taste1 ,lowell begins his superb essay on ,chaucer3-- ,will it do to say anything more about ,chaucer8 ,can any one hope to say anything1 not new but even fresh1 on a topic so well worn8 ,this very statement of the difficulty provokes the reader to go on to see how that difficulty is overcome4 ,in somewhat the same vein is ,saintsbury's beginning of his paper on ,hogg3-- 8,what on earth10 it was once asked1 8will you make of ,hogg80 ,i think that there is something to be made of ,hogg1 and that it is something worth making4 ,or take the opening of ,stevenson's 8,gossip on ,romance30-- ,in anything fit to be called by the name of reading1 the process itself should be absorbing and voluptuous2 we should gloat over a book1 be rapt clean out of ourselves1 and rise from the perusal1 our minds filled with the busiest1 kaleidoscopic dance of images1 incapable of sleep or continuous thought4 ,the intoxication of the ideal which this gives us is so full of suggestion1 it brings up so vividly the best delights that have marked our reading1 that our minds are awake and alert from the start4 ,we are not only ready but eager to go forward under the guidance of an author who has so charming a conception of what sort of a treat he should strive to give the reader4 ,endings are if possible even more important1 and they are carefully studied by masters of style4 ,take this conclusion of ,lowell's 8,abraham ,lincoln30-- ,never was funeral panegyric so eloquent as the silent looks of sympathy which strangers exchanged as they met that day4 ,their common manhood had lost a kinsman4 ,one puts down the book with that suggestively solemn phrase sounding on in the brain like the reverberation when a great bell ceases its knell for a hero4 ,or re-read the brief description of the tombstone of ,hester ,prynne1 which closes 8,the ,scarlet ,letter10 and which ends with a phrase so haunting3-- ,it bore a device1 a herald's wording of which might serve for a motto and brief description of our now concluded legend1 so sombre is it1 and relieved only by one ever-glowing point of light gloomier than the shadow3 8,,on ,a ,,field1 ,,sable1 ,,the ,,letter ,a1 ,,gules40 ,or take the wonderful ending of that chapter in 8,vanity ,fair0 which gives a description of ,waterloo1 and in a single sentence shows its relation to the story and brings the tale into closest connection with all of history and all of human life3-- ,the darkness came down on field and city1 and ,amelia was praying for ,george1 who was lying on his face1 dead1 with a bullet through his heart4 ,it is of course unnecessary to go on with examples4 ,the student can find them abundantly for himself4 ,the point is that in his own work he shall remember to look carefully to this detail1 since there is no single matter more closely connected with the effect of a composition4 99 99 99 99 99 ,it is evident that the power to interest and to arouse by suggestion must depend largely upon the extent to which the writer is able to enter into the reader's mood4 ,in other words1 that writer is most effectively suggestive who is most completely and practically sympathetic4 ,the foundation of whatever is really vital must be in the genuine feeling and the actual experience of the author4 ,this experience1 it is true1 may be actual in the imagination only1 but it must have been felt as a reality4 ,the secret of sympathy is in the well-known line of ,sidney3-- 8,fool10 said my muse to me1 8look in thy heart and write60 ,it is idle to hope to hold any reader1 or to move him strongly1 unless we are really interested ourselves2 and it is equally impossible to touch him if there be any suspicion on his part that we are not dealing with him with perfect frankness4 ,what we write must be real to us1 and it must be told with perfect frankness1 if we are to reach the hearts of those we address4 ,there is perhaps no advice more wholesome for young writers than that they confine themselves absolutely to their own experience whenever it is in any way possible4 ,if an illustration is to be given1 a figure employed1 a comparison used1 let the illustration1 the figure1 the comparison be found in the things of which the writer has actual knowledge4 ,it is not alone that this will insure a vitality which is hardly to be imparted to anything taken at second hand1 but1 what is of more importance1 it will also make it at least more probable that the writer keeps within the experiences of his readers4 ,of the things which one has actually seen and felt1 it is easy to judge how far they are usual2 and the more closely a writer confines himself to usual things1 the more forceful his style is likely to be4 ,a remark of ,lowell's contains by implication a hint which we shall do well to notice here4 ,what he ,dryden valued above all things was force1 though in his haste he is willing to make shift with its counterfeit1 effect4--,dryden4 ,the word 8force0 is here used in the sense of vigor and lasting power1 its meaning being somewhat more limited than that in which we are using it as a technical term4 ,it is the same in essentials1 however1 and the distinction which is brought out in the sentence quoted is one not to be overlooked4 ,effect is the transient1 whereas force is the permanent3 effect startles1 force holds2 effect is the sham1 force the true4 ,the worst type of style which sacrifices force to effect is the sensational novel1 or the so-called 8breezy0 journalism4 ,to startle1 to shock1 to produce a sensation1 at whatever sacrifice of probability1 of reason1 or of good taste1--the thing is unfortunately too well known to need particularization4 ,an effeminate form of striving for effect is what is known as 8fine writing40 8,fine writing0 is a fault so gross that it is not necessary to waste many words on it4 ,it need only be said that there is no more certain indication of a hopelessly diseased literary taste1 or of a hopelessly depraved habit of composition1 than this absurdly antiquated verbal vice4 ,of course no writer who produces literature is guilty of it1 but ,i somewhere have picked up an example which so happily illustrates all that could be said on the subject that ,i cannot forbear to quote it4 ,it is from a novel called 8,barabbas10 by ,miss ,marie ,corelli1 and is part of the description of the appearance of ,christ before ,pontius ,pilate4 ,water having been brought1 ,pilate1 according to ,miss ,corelli1 thus proceeded3-- ,slowly lowering his hands1 he dipped them in the shining bowl1 rinsing them over and over again in the clear1 cold element1 which sparkled in its polished receptacle like an opal against the fire4 ,the ,bible finds it possible to say all of this that is necessary in the words3-- ,pilate took water1 and washed his hands4 ,miss ,corelli's ingenuity in expanding and distorting has won its reward1--her novel has been warmly commended by ,queen ,victoria4 ,even really great writers are not always free from this fault1 although here it is apt to be from some mixture of humorous intent that they fall into it4 ,instead of 8she hardened her heart10 ,george ,meredith writes1 in one of those irritating sentences which are too frequent in his books1 and which affect one like freckles on the face of a goddess1 8,she turned her inward flutterer to steel40 ,force1 then1 depends upon suggestion1 and this is secured by sincerity1 by appeals to human experiences common to all1 by freedom from affectations1 and by attention to such details as proper beginnings and endings4 ,other means of securing it we shall deal with later4 ,here it is enough to insist again that the great secret of ,force lies in earnestness1 sincerity1 and sympathy4 ,to pass from ,force to ,elegance is to advance from the more subtle to the most subtle4 ,it is not difficult to be definite in speaking of ,clearness2 it is less easy in discussing ,force2 while1 at the very outset of the consideration of ,elegance1 we are met by the fact that it is hardly possible even to define this third principle of quality4 ,indeed1 it is perhaps not too much to say that nobody is even fully satisfied with this name for the sthetic quality4 8,elegance0 is the term which is coming to be accepted as1 on the whole1 the most convenient and satisfactory offered2 but ,i suppose that nobody would feel inclined to insist strongly upon this especial word4 ,mr4 ,wendell writes3-- ,elegance is that distinguishing quality of style that pleases the taste2 444 the sthetic quality of style1 that subtle something in a work of literary art which makes us feel delight in workmanship4 ,beauty1 some call it2 charm1 others2 others still1 grace1 ease1 finish1 mastery4 ,the name does not much matter2 the quality matters greatly4 ,it is this more than all else that gives lasting value to literature4 ,there is in style an indefinable power of reaching the emotions of the reader which is beyond the effect of what is actually said1 even beyond the effect of what is suggested4 ,the quality which makes intelligible actual statement is ,clearness2 that which brings home to the reader the wealth of suggestion which may lie behind what is directly said is ,force2 while beyond both is that quality of style which conveys the intangible1 which carries to the mind of the reader emotions too delicate to be confined in words1 which touches and arouses as fineness of color or line or sound moves us in painting or sculpture or music4 ,this is what we mean by ,elegance4 ,it is the sthetic effect produced purely by the literary form2 by the perfection of the relation between the end sought and the means employed2 by the complete mastery of technique1 and the employment of all the resources of art for the embodiment of the imaginative in literary form4 ,i am aware that my definition may make the matter less clear rather than more plain1 but the thing is too elusive to be caught in the trap of a simple definition4 ,elegance is the quality in which the imagination most directly makes itself manifest4 ,it is the most tangible proof that a writer possesses that power which at the start we spoke of as inborn and incommunicable4 ,as a matter of workmanship1 and so far as it may be learned1 ,elegance is chiefly the ability to convey in words the mood of the writer4 ,it depends largely upon an exquisite sensitiveness to the indirect effect of words and of word-combination4 ,it is to be cultivated by training the mind to consider always the value of terms in their connotation2 to weigh them not only by their direct meaning1 but by their association1 and by the ideas and ideals and emotions which they bring to the mind2 and by developing taste in literary construction4 ,to write with ,elegance1 it is also necessary to keep in mind the effect upon the reader of the emotional word-color4 ,the suggestions of words are dependent in part upon the mere vocal effect of the sounds producing them1 upon the harmony of the sentence1 the tone-value and cadence of clause and paragraph4 ,all these things are elements which must be considered4 ,completely to master all these1 so as to work upon the mind and imagination of the reader at will1 is of course within the power of the great imagination only2 but every student may advance toward it4 ,we are none of us able satisfactorily to define beauty1 or to explain the pleasure which it excites2 yet there is no one of us who has not recognized both4 ,why a curve is more pleasing to the eye than a straight line may be too deep a question2 but none the less may one safely appeal to the universal experience that there are certain lines1 certain forms1 certain colors1 certain sounds which give us pleasure4 ,with equal assurance may one appeal to the universal instinct which is gratified by the adaptation of ends to means2 to the innate human sense of the rightness of what is fitting2 the constant pleasure in order1 in appropriateness1 in harmony4 ,it is this instinct1 this sense1 this pleasure1 which underlies the sensitiveness of the mind to what we call ,elegance in composition4 ,the quality which we are discussing is1 more than any other1 dependent upon the personal taste and culture of the writer4 ,the thing to be said to the student is perhaps this3 8,elegance is the result of a keen and acutely imaginative perception of the fitness of things1 and of a quick appreciation of beauty1 with the power to convey both by a delicate adaptation of literary means to literary effects40 ,a keen and acute perception of the fitness of things can only be acquired by the development of the taste4 ,this is an affair of culture in its broadest sense1 and it is hardly possible to separate here the question of literary excellence from that of general development4 ,the study of the masterpieces of literature--always with earnestness and with sympathy--is the most direct means of improving a sensitiveness to literary fitness and to literary beauty4 ,the adaptation of means to ends we shall go on considering throughout these talks2 and now1 as always1 it is necessary to remember that the way to learn to write is to write4 ,the way to achieve ,elegance is to labor for it with that persistence which is in itself the best compensation which ,heaven has bestowed upon man for all other boons denied4 8,persistence1 persistence1 and persistence0 is the motto which the student must engrave on his heart4 ,there will always remain the personal equation4 ,no student can afford to close his eyes to the fact that all men are born intellectually unequal4 ,to one has ,nature given gifts of appreciation1 of apprehension1 and of expression1 while from another she has withheld them4 ,this personal difference affects all work1 and it affects work more and more strongly as we draw nearer to that quality in literature which is incommunicable4 ,steadily1 since the beginning of these talks1 have we been advancing toward those fields of composition where comes into play that power which is the gift of the gods only2 that imaginative essence which some men are dowered with at birth1 and which some go seeking their whole lives through with insistence pathetically vain4 ,the one thing important is1 that the student not only accept his individual limitations1 but that he do not stop short of them4 ,it is necessary to realize that one has not genius1 and then to work as if one had2 and it is amazing how much may be done in this way4 ,nature1 for instance1 plainly intended that ,matthew ,arnold should not write elegant prose1 and she absolutely forbade him to write poetry1 yet he succeeded in doing both4 ,the earnest student of literary art should resolutely refuse to be satisfied with any thing short of the miracle of the impossible1 and haply so he may sometimes attain to it4 ,,vii ,,means ,,and ,,effects ,when the student has come to have a clear idea of what is to be sought in composition1 he naturally goes on to inquire by what means a writer can gain the ends desired4 ,it has been shown that there are certain principles which govern the mechanical structure of language1 and also that there are as well principles which have to do with the quality of what is written4 ,the next step is to examine the especial means which are at the command of the worker1 and what effects may be secured by the use of given means4 ,it has already been said and insisted upon that it is necessary to know accurately what effect the writer desires to produce2 and it is to be added that it is especially needful to realize from the start what is to be the conclusion of a work1 great or small4 ,the end of a composition is its consummation1 the climax toward which all else conducts the reader1 the ultimate effect to which all other effects are subordinate4 ,the writer who sets out to go nowhere in particular1 it has been said1 is little likely to arrive anywhere4 ,it is also to be remembered that1 unless he is clearly aware what is to be his strongest point1 he is not in a position to make all other parts properly subordinate to this1--to secure that careful proportion of emphasis which is one of the great essentials of all good work in whatever province of art4 ,before he begins to write1 the writer must make up his mind how he intends to end4 ,he may1 it is true1 modify to some extent the first idea of the form in which this climax of his work is to be put1 but it is safe to lay down as a general rule that he shall not essentially alter it4 ,whether one sits down to write a novel1 a tale1 an essay1 an editorial1 or a simple paragraph1 let him know at least what the conclusion is to be1 whether he is aware of the steps by which he is to reach this or not4 ,the minor points may be thought up as one proceeds1 but the end1 which is in a manner the reason of the existence of the whole1 must be clear in the mind of the writer from the very start4 ,it is this thing which ,mr4 ,walter ,pater means when he speaks of-- ,that architectural conception of a work which foresees the end from the beginning1 and never loses sight of it1 and in every part is conscious of all the rest1 till the very last sentence does but1 with undiminished vigor1 unfold and justify the first4 ,the conclusion being well defined in the writer's thought1 the next thing to be determined is the point of view4 ,the point of view is to any composition what the hypothesis is to a proposition in geometry4 ,it is the assumption of personality and of attitude which is presupposed from the start1 and which must be rigidly maintained to the end4 ,if a writer is describing a landscape1 he is obliged to fix in his own mind the point from which he is to consider that landscape as being seen1--whether near or remote1 from hill or plain1 from a bridge1 a window1 or it may be from the deck of a vessel4 ,if he hopes to produce an impression which shall be clear1 or to bring up vividly in the mind of the reader the thing described1 he must not forget where the reader is supposed to be placed4 ,if at the start he writes as if the view were remote1 and then forgets and speaks of it as if it were near at hand1 he destroys the consistency of the work and makes all ineffectual4 ,another easily appreciated illustration is to be found in novels which are written in the form of an autobiography4 ,since the story is supposed to be narrated by one of the characters1 it follows that nothing should be told which that person could not know4 ,the introduction of scenes at which he could not have been present1 of talk which he could not have heard1 of thoughts which he had no means of discovering1 completely dispels the illusion4 ,if these things must be used1 care must be taken to show how the narrator came to know them2 since otherwise the hypothesis with which the author started is violated by the alteration of the point of view4 ,the reader may or may not realize why the story loses its effect of reality1 but he cannot fail to feel that it does lose it4 ,the same principle applies to everything that is written1 even to the most trivial paragraph4 ,consciously or unconsciously1 the writer at the start assumes a certain mental attitude toward the subject of which he writes1 and this attitude he must carefully preserve4 ,of course the point of view may be progressive1 as when one describes the scenery as viewed from a car window or shows the change of opinion2 but in this case the motion is part of the original hypothesis4 ,the first assumption must be adhered to1 since to change the point of view is to break faith with the reader1 and to break faith is to lose his confidence4 ,the philosophy of the matter is simple and obvious enough4 ,it is the aim to induce the reader to submit1 for the time being1 his personality to that of the writer2 to induce him to see with the eyes of the author1 and to think with the author's mind4 ,the slightest jar may destroy all illusion2 the least difficulty may make the reader assert the supremacy of his own individuality4 ,if even unconsciously his judgment is offended1 his own consciousness is sure to assert itself1 and he gives himself up no longer4 ,in practical work1 the secret of preserving one mental attitude is largely that of being clearly aware of it4 ,this detail of composition is perhaps most easily understood in its application to description or narration1 but it must be as clearly realized in all composition4 ,it is of high importance to determine beforehand what is the attitude of the writer both toward the subject and toward the reader addressed4 ,the effect of a failure to observe this is found in a great many letters1 and1 perhaps ,i may be pardoned if ,i add1 especially in feminine letters4 ,the mind of woman is so flexible1 so versatile1 so capable of seeing many sides to a subject which to the duller masculine intellect seems to have but one1 that it not infrequently happens that in a single page of a woman's letter there will be half a dozen points of view1 or even that seeming impossibility of two or three points of view at once4 ,often the application of this principle is so subtle that the tyro is entirely at a loss to know what is the matter with his sentence4 ,take these examples3-- ,the crowd turns1 departs1 disintegrates4 ,i noticed that the hat was of soft felt1 and one might easily guess that it had been bought at a bargain sale4 ,it lent a comfortable sense of satisfaction to its owner1 and suggested to him the idea of going to church4 ,in the former1 the writer's point of view is that of one looking out of a window at a crowd1 and it is proper that he should say 8turns1 departs20 but after the crowd has departed he cannot see whether it disintegrates or not4 ,if he should say1 8,turns1 disintegrates1 departs10 one could find no fault4 ,in the second example1 the point of view is at first that of an observer who sees the hat on the head of a stranger2 then1 without warning1 it is shifted to the mind of any observer1--8one10--and then1 in a twinkling1 to the thought of the wearer himself1 which has been by the hat turned to the idea of going to church4 ,we shall have to do later with the point of view in its application to the various sorts of composition4 ,here it is enough to add the warning to inexperienced writers3 ,do not write to discover what you think1 or how you feel about a subject4 ,these questions are to be settled before writing is begun4 ,in half the themes which ,i read1 it is apparent that the writer has been going ahead in a sort of forlorn hope of ultimately learning his own opinions4 ,to be in doubt when one begins1 either of where one is bound or of how the attempt to get there is to be made1 is as fatal in writing as in horse-racing4 ,there is a good deal of what might be called the ,june-bug style of composition4 ,just as a beetle bangs his clumsy thick head against a window or a netting in hope that he may chance to strike a place where he can get through to the lamp within1 so the ,june-bug writer goes banging absurdly down his page1 bumping against any obstacle1 trusting to fate and the chapter of accidents to show somewhere and somehow a way through4 ,the man who has learned to write does not begin until he has an idea what his way through is to be4 ,this being clear in his mind1 he goes consistently toward it1 and his consistency is what is called keeping the point of view4 ,the point of view being selected1 it is often necessary to give the reader a clue to it4 ,sometimes it is needful to use no inconsiderable amount of skill to bring him to accept it4 ,the well-trained reader always endeavors to put himself into complete sympathy with an author4 ,the author is bound to make this as easy as possible1 and even1 if may be1 to render it inevitable1 to the end that the reader shall be forced to share the outlook of the writer1 whether with conscious willingness or not4 ,in obvious matters1 like descriptions1 the simple device of naming the point of view is enough4 ,when ,keats begins a poem1-- ,i stood tiptoe upon a little hill1-- he gives the point of view4 ,so does ,spenser when he opens the 8,faerie ,queene30-- ,a gentle knight was pricking on the plain4 ,equally is ,lowell giving the point of view in the opening of the essay on ,chaucer1 already quoted3 8,will it do to say anything more about ,chaucer80 ,here he at once puts the reader into the attitude of examining with fresh attention a subject which has been greatly discussed2 by implication he intimates that there is still enough wheat in the often-threshed straw to make it worth while once more to turn it over4 ,with equal skill and felicity he puts the reader into the mood in which he writes of ,carlyle by the first sentence of another essay3-- ,a feeling of comical sadness is likely to come over the mind of any middle-aged man who sets himself to recollecting the names of the authors that have been famous1 and the number of contemporary immortalities whose end he has seen since coming to manhood4 ,the reader perceives at once that the subject which is to be treated is to be regarded as of less assured permanence of importance than has been sometimes held4 ,evidently ,lowell would not allude to the many transient so-called immortalities if he had not at least a suspicion that the contemporary reputation of ,carlyle is likely to be lessened by time4 ,the key-note is struck1 and what follows is governed by it4 ,the secret of holding the reader to the point of view consists largely of keeping strictly to it in writing4 ,if the author does not change his position1 the reader is unconsciously drawn to it4 ,there is a persuasive power in mere persistency which is recognized by any one who has had to do with an obstinate person1 and this power tells in literature as fully as in domestic life4 99 99 99 99 99 ,we come next to figurative language1 so called2 and at this point it used to be the fashion to overwhelm the student with a list of dreadful names which was in itself enough to paralyze the mental processes1 and to discourage at once and forever all aspiration after excellence4 ,the appalling words synecdoche1 metonymy1 antonomasia1 asyndeton1 anacolouthon1 parrhesia1 onomatopoeia1 and the rest1 seemed to fascinate the soul of writers on composition as completely as they dazed and stupefied the understanding of the unhappy student4 ,pedants have amused themselves by darkening wisdom with words without knowledge1 until it is all but impossible to come at anything practical in the old-fashioned books1--which were invariably called 8treatises40 ,it has been found that this is idle1 and for the most part it has been laid aside4 ,a few terms are for convenience still used1 but in these days the effort1 instead of being to give learned and pompous-sounding treatises on the art of composition1 is if possible to set down what will assist the student in learning literary expression4 ,one of the first literary devices of which man's mind availed itself in its efforts to communicate ideas1 was the use of figures4 ,the thought moves naturally from the near to the remote1 and from that which is known to that which is unknown4 ,if we attempt to describe or explain a thing1 we instinctively compare it to something which is familiar4 8,it is like this10 we say2 8it is similar to that thing which you know40 ,it has often been remarked that all language is full of what ,trench happily calls the fossil remains of metaphors1--words which were once used to convey an idea by comparing it to something known1 but of which the figurative force is now forgotten4 ,it is hardly necessary to give examples1 because every student has had his attention called to this class of words2 but their number illustrates how natural comparisons are1 and how constantly they are called to aid expression4 ,to comparison it is customary to give two names1 according as the likeness is stated explicitly or is implied4 ,if a writer says1 8,the officer followed his victim like a sleuth-hound10--a phrase which used to come into all the detective stories1--he makes an explicit comparison between the officer and a hound4 ,if he writes1 8,the sleuth-hound of justice followed the track of his prey10--a phrase still to be met with in newspapers of a certain class1--the comparison is the same1 but it is assumed instead of being explicitly stated4 ,to the expressed comparison is given the name 8simile20 to the comparison assumed1 the name 8metaphor40 ,it is of no great practical importance--unless in the line of encouraging carefulness in the discrimination of words--whether the distinction of names is carefully observed or not1 but it is of some convenience in study4 ,the object of using figures is to add ,clearness1 or ,force1 or ,elegance--or all of these--to the presentation of an idea4 ,constantly it happens that1 by declaring that an unknown thing is like some known thing1 the writer enables the reader to form an idea of it as it is4 ,when in ,job we read the beautiful simile1 8,my days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle10 we are impressed by the passage of life with a vividness which could not be secured by any mere assertion1 no matter how strong4 ,the physical fact is so easily grasped that it makes more clear the intellectual reflection4 ,in the same wonderful poem--and no one studying literature either for profit or for pleasure can afford to neglect the book of ,job--there are beautiful figures enough to teach the art of using them were it otherwise forgotten4 8,man is born unto trouble1 as the sparks fly upward20 8,i caused the widow's heart to sing for joy20 8,the house appointed for all living20 8,he maketh the deep to boil like a pot20 8,thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age1 like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season10--it is impossible not to see how in every case the thought is made more clear by the comparison4 ,it is evident1 too1 that in each case cited the expression has gained not only in ,clearness but in ,force4 ,the moment a likeness is suggested1 the mind of the reader is led to make the comparison1 and is thus alive and alert2 while in each case the figure suggests far more than any bare statement of fact4 ,since the secret of ,force lies in connotation1 in the suggestiveness which leads the mind onward into the mood so that it seems to itself to originate the ideas which are really given to it directly or indirectly by the author1 it follows that in the use of figures is one of the most effectual means of securing this quality4 ,job says1 8,my days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle10 and with the plain statement of the brevity of life come suggestions of the inevitableness of this brevity2 we seem to see man tossed by the hand of the unseen1 as a shuttle is thrown by the hand of the weaver1 flung to and fro without power to stay or to resist4 ,the whole despairing mood of the afflicted patriarch is summed up in the single simile4 ,to come nearer to our own times1 take that simile which is perhaps the most beautiful in ,english literature outside of ,shakespeare3-- ,fair as a star when only one ,is shining in the sky4 ,what is suggested is all the serenity of the eventide2 the hush which comes between the daylight and the dark2 the sense of peace2 that feeling that a mystery is being wrought before our very eyes1 when out of the faintly rose-purple haze of the sky throbs into radiance the first star4 ,there is1 too1 that sense of restfulness that belongs to the twilight coolness1 and1 in some undefinable way1 an idea of purity and innocence too high and too subtle to be defined4 ,the gain in ,force from such richness of suggestion is evident4 ,even more closely than with ,clearness or ,force is the use of figures connected with ,elegance4 ,more than any other means at the disposal of the writer does this help to establish the mood which the author desires to share with his reader4 ,more1 perhaps1 than any other means may figures be moulded to manifold uses1 and thus they have large share in that adaptation of the means to an end1 in which1 as has been said1 lies the secret of ,elegance4 ,the proper use of figures is a thing which it is of the utmost importance for the student to master thoroughly2 and ,i have ventured to set down a few rules which may be useful in practical work3-- #a4 ,never use a figure without a definite purpose1 and never simply for its own sake4 #b4 ,never subordinate sense to figure4 #c4 ,make all figures easily comprehensible4 #d4 ,never make a comparison without realizing fully what it is4 #e4 ,never push a figure too far4 ,the reason for giving the first rule is1 that so many young writers--,i say young writers as a matter of courtesy1 since there are plenty of old ones of whom it is no less true6--are given to the fault of piling up figures in much the same way that a tasteless milliner sometimes puts on her bonnets all the artificial flowers that can be made to stick to them1 or as a stupid architect kills the design of a building by overloading it with ornaments4 ,figures exist for the style1 and not the style for the figures2 and from this follows not only the first rule1 but the second also4 ,to make the figure of more importance than the thing which it is to illustrate or to reinforce is to exalt the servant above the master4 ,the third rule is justified by the fact that figures are used to increase the lucidity of style1 and that in a manner all comparisons are to be looked upon as in the nature of illustrations4 ,it follows that they must1 in order to fulfill their function1 be easily understood themselves4 ,examine this passage3-- 444 ,the ,wandering ,jew has seen ,men come and go as the fixed ,pyramids ,have seen even the steadfast polar star ,shift in its place4 ,to see any force in this1 it is necessary to be aware that1 since the ,pyramids were built1 the ,north ,star has been altered in the precession of the equinoxes4 ,a writer has no right to appeal to such special knowledge4 ,this is one of the reasons why there are so few of the discoveries of modern science1 rich and varied as they are1 which can effectively be used in simile4 ,the allusions would not be commonly understood4 ,another reason1 equally potent1 is that in general the connotation of scientific facts is too practical and uninspiring to add to the interest of poetic or imaginative themes4 ,in old days it was the fashion for minor poets to go as far afield as possible for similes1 which were dragged into verse as a ,comanche ,indian drags into camp his captives4 ,foot-notes were generously provided for the enlightenment of the reader1 and nobody seemed to see the absurdity of illustrating a thought by a figure so obscure that it had itself to be explained4 ,the tropes of the minor poets of the last century remind one of the remark of the ,scotch goodwife about a learnedly obscure commentary on the ,scriptures3 8',tis a braw wise book1 na dout2 an' the ,bible does explain it wonderfu'40 ,if a writer will hold to his own experience for his similes1 he will have little difficulty in deciding what is likely to be readily understood by the general reader2 and if he will remember that1 provided that there be nothing vulgar or ludicrous or commonplace in its suggestion1 the more homely an allusion the more effective it is likely to be1 he cannot go far wrong4 ,the rule never to make a comparison without realizing fully what it is should be regarded as being as binding as a moral precept4 ,if this be obeyed1 there is no danger of the production of that hybrid microbe with which the pages of sensational fiction swarm1 which is known as the mixed metaphor4 ,i took up in the smoking-room of a steamer not long ago a novel called 8,half a ,million of ,money10 by ,miss ,amelia ,b4 ,edwards4 ,i opened to a page on which was this sentence3-- ,trefalden cast a hasty glance about the room1 as if looking for some weapon wherewith to slake the hatred that glittered in his eye4--,chap4 xciv4 ,i give carefully the origin of this1 since it seems like an absurd mock simile manufactured for the occasion4 ,if the author had felt the force of the word 8slake10 and how it involves the idea of thirst1 she could not have coupled it with 8weapon0 or with 8glittered in his eye40 ,a thirst which is slaked with a sword and glitters in the eye needs only to be realized to be cast aside4 ,goethe1 in speaking of ,klopstock1 once said3-- ,an ode occurs to me where he makes the ,german muse run a race with the ,british2 and indeed1 when one thinks what a picture it is1 where the girls run one against the other1 throwing about their legs1 and kicking up the dust1 one must assume that the good ,klopstock did not really have before his eyes such pictures as he wrote1 else he could not possibly have made such mistakes4--,conversations of ,goethe1 ,november #i1 #ahbd4 ,of these lines of ,montgomery1-- ,the soul aspiring pants its source to mount1 ,as streams meander level to their fount1-- ,macaulay observes3-- ,we take this to be1 on the whole1 the worst similitude in the world4 ,in the first place1 no stream meanders or can possibly meander level with the fount4 ,in the next place1 if streams did meander level with their founts1 no two notions can be less like each other than that of meandering level and mounting upward4--,cited in ,bartlett's ,familiar ,quotations4 ,it would be easy and it would be amusing to go on with examples of mixed figures and figures which are ineffective1 but the point hardly needs further illustration4 ,pushing a figure too far is a fault less common in these days than it has been at some periods of our literary history when fashions in writing were more ornate than at present4 ,if a writer realizes what a simile means1 he is not likely to fall into this error4 ,it is when he introduces a figure for the sake of the figure1 and not for the purpose of strengthening or making more clear what he is saying1 that this fault occurs4 ,these lines of ,cowper may serve as an example3 ,man is a harp1 whose chords elude the sight1 ,each yielding harmony disposed aright2 ,the screws reversed 7a task which1 if ,he please1 ,god in a moment executes with ease71 ,ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose1 ,lost1 till ,he tune them1 all their power and use4 ,if this stopped with the second line1 it might do well enough2 but when the attention is forced to the consideration of the mechanical details of the harp1 and the image of ten thousand thousand strings and a corresponding number of screws1 and the notion applied to a man bereft of his wits1 the idea becomes absurd1 and whatever value the figure might have is entirely lost4 ,a clear realization of what he is doing will also prevent the writer from mingling figure and fact4 8,he was the guardian genius of ,ireland1 and had served with eloquence and credit in legislative halls10 could hardly have been written by one who felt clearly the meaning and significance of the figure4 ,to realize how a guardian genius would look in legislative halls would have brought him at once to his senses4 ,it is always necessary to have sharply defined in the brain whatever one is saying1 but this is especially true of any use of language which invites the reader to loose his grasp upon absolute1 literal fact4 ,the difference between simile and metaphor is one which need not be pressed very sharply4 ,it is to be observed that as writing becomes more excited or impassioned there is less need of insisting upon formalities2 so that as the writer warms his readers1 he may assume a likeness instead of explicitly stating it4 ,at the beginning of a passage it may be better to say1 8,napoleon swept like a tempest over ,europe10 whereas later1 the reader having become interested in the theme1 it is fitting to write1 8,napoleon1 the tempest which was sweeping over ,europe40 ,there is probably no better rule than for the writer to do that which at the moment seems to him most natural1 and then in revision to see if it strikes him as it did when he wrote it4 ,personification may be conveniently regarded as classed with simile and metaphor4 ,it is somewhat out of fashion1 but if it is used it is to be governed by the rules given above4 ,one who realizes what he is saying in the phrase1 8,hope told a flattering tale10--who sees that he is representing ,hope as a beautiful and seductive being1--is not likely to go on to add1 8but this hope was founded upon a delusion10 because he cannot conceive a young nymph or goddess as being founded upon anything4 ,he will naturally and without effort carry out the figure1 and say1 8but she beguiled us20 or1 8but all her flatteries were delusions40 ,the truth is1 that the mind will generally go in the right direction if it is given a fair chance4 ,it is only when we hamper it with rules not understood1 when we force it to go in paths which we suppose to be laid out by conventions1 or when we endeavor to make it pace according to our vanity1 that it goes astray4 ,be natural in the use of figures1 and you will seldom be wrong4 ,,viii ,,means ,,and ,,effects ,,continued ,few means of literary effect are more subtle than ,variety4 ,it must pervade all parts of a composition1 yet it is to be perceived only by its effects4 ,its absence is at once noted1 and at once destroys the beauty and attractiveness of any work2 yet to define ,variety is as difficult as to tell how it is to be secured4 ,stevenson gives a rule as wise as it is hard to follow3 8,the one rule is to be infinitely various40 ,the need of variety in the use of words is evident4 ,the fault of repetition is sufficiently obvious1 yet it is very easily committed4 ,the fact that a sentence has been written in a given form often makes that seem the only correct way of expression4 ,no one but a thoroughly trained writer can be as sensitive to errors in his own work as to mistakes in the writings of others2 and so it happens that unless one is very careful the same word may appear two or three times in a passage where synonyms would be better than the repetition4 ,that richness in synonyms which is one of the finest characteristics of ,english does away with any necessary difficulty in attaining variety in diction4 ,in writing1 and yet more in revising1 the value and force of synonymous terms cannot be too constantly kept in mind4 ,a knowledge of these1 with that cardinal virtue of writers1 the dictionary-habit1 should carry any student triumphantly past all dangers of monotony in words4 ,one caution should perhaps be added3 ,do not be afraid to repeat a word as often as is really necessary4 ,i quoted in an earlier chapter a sentence from ,lowell which illustrates what ,i mean3 ,the soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on1 good to live on1 good to die for and be buried in4 ,or notice the repetition of 8man0 and of 8department0 in this from ,macaulay3-- ,a man possessed of splendid talents1 which he often abused1 and of sound judgment1 the admonitions of which he often neglected2 a man who succeeded only in an inferior department of his art1 but who in that department succeeded preminently4--,on ,john ,dryden4 ,here the judicious repetition of the subject holds the whole closely together1 and saves the attention of the reader from fatigue4 ,it serves1 also1 to mark the distinction between the first half1 which is a specification of the causes of failure1 and the second half1 which states the effects that followed from them4 ,the recurrence of 8department0 adds to the emphasis in a way which may easily be appreciated by replacing it by a pronoun4 ,repetitions so cleverly used as this are of course not defects but beauties4 ,the variation of form is an art more cunning than that of the changing of the word4 ,look at this sentence from ,stevenson1 and notice how much is gained by the alteration of the construction3-- ,how often and willingly do ,i not look in fancy on ,tummel1 or ,manor1 or the talking ,ardle1 or ,dee swirling in its ,lynn2 on the bright burn of ,kinnaird1 or the golden burn that pours and sulks in the den behind ,kingussie6--,pastoral4 ,to put 8talking0 before its noun and 8swirling0 after the substantive it modifies1 to see to it that no two phrases shall have the same form1 may seem small matters1 and yet it is by devices of this sort that the skillful artificer of words gives to his style finish and charm4 ,the ability to command a variety of forms gives to the writer the power of repetition without seeming to repeat4 ,often it happens that it is well to re-say a thing1 either for the sake of putting it in a light somewhat different from that of its first presentation1 or to enforce it more strongly4 ,this is especially true1 it may be1 of writing which is expository or argumentative1 but the need of repetition of ideas is common to composition of all sorts4 ,to vary the cadence of the sentence so that the ear shall never be wearied by monotony1 cunningly to mix long and short paragraphs so that no single form constantly repeated shall tire the attention1 is indeed a difficult art to acquire4 ,no rule can be given for variety2 the very idea of rule for variation involves a contradiction of terms1 since it is the essence of variation to be irregular4 ,the student must train his ear and his mind by reading the best authors2 but the most that instruction can do is to call attention to this matter1 and thus to afford a clue to what may be the real if unsuspected cause of a writer's dissatisfaction when his work appears vaguely dull and unattractive4 ,variety is closely connected with ,elegance4 ,the adaptation of the sentence structure to the thought1 and yet more the subtler adaptation to the mood1 are refinements of composition which it takes long to acquire2 but with every advance toward a mastery of them the learner has come nearer to the secret of that consummate skill in fitting means to effects which is the soul of the highest style4 ,each must do it for himself2 for the secret of variety cannot be told farther than it is revealed in the words of ,stevenson1 with which we began3 8,the one rule is to be infinitely various40 ,upon variety depends largely that delightful and elusive quality which we call ,euphony4 ,no writer or reader can be long insensible to that music of words which is as intangibly tangible in prose as in poetry1--different in the one from the other1 but as real and truly a source of delight in speech as in song1 in prose as in verse4 ,it is true that what is written is not necessarily read aloud4 ,it is written in silence1 and untrained writers fail to realize that although it be read in silence1 the eye is the ear of the mind1 and all melody or lack of melody will be subtilely felt in the soundless perusal4 ,all that has been said of variety applies as well to this quality2 and1 indeed1 it is perhaps hardly necessary to give two names where the two things are so closely interwoven4 ,intangible as this quality may seem1 it is yet one of the most striking in literature4 ,take this sentence from ,walt ,whitman1 and see if it is possible for any reader not to be offended by its close3-- ,nor shades of ,virgil1 nor myriad memories1 poems1 old associations1 magnetize and hold on to her4 ,or suppose one said3-- ,if for the city of ,athens nature did much1 it is not to be denied that art did a great deal more4 ,the ear is dull which does not perceive the difference between this and the sentence as ,newman wrote it3-- ,if nature did much for ,athens1 it is undeniable that art did much more4 ,examples might be multiplied indefinitely1 but it is better that the student find them for himself4 ,sensitiveness to euphony and the practical acquirement of a euphonious style are greatly aided by the habit of reading aloud the works of men who are masters1 and it is well to test in the same way whatever is written4 ,the ear is more readily trained by the voice than by any other means4 ,it is possible to suppose that what we have written must sound well as a matter of course2 but if we read or hear it read aloud1 and find that it does not please the ear1 only one stupid with self-conceit will leave it unaltered4 ,a melodious diction is apt to be made up more largely of short words than of long ones1 and of words easily pronounced than of those trying to the tongue2 yet it is no more possible to achieve a euphonious style simply by using words short and easily pronounced than it is to make a beautiful brook by digging a channel which shall be entirely straight and free from obstructions1 or to build a beautiful temple by collecting exquisite marbles4 ,construction is more than material4 ,one of the means by which it was formerly the fashion to strive after pleasing sound in diction was the use of alliteration4 ,this device is somewhat in disrepute in these days1 because it has been so notoriously abused4 ,the sensational novelist could no more do without alliteration than without the historical present tense4 ,the patent medicines are alliteratively labeled2 comic operas and pseudo-,queen ,anne cottages at little watering-places have been baptized with titles with reduplicated initials1 until the writer who indulges in alliteration feels something as does the professor who sees his title blazoned on the shingle of the barber and the boot-black4 ,yet this pleasant device cannot be spared4 ,there is in our blood some trace of the fondness for it which made it serve the old bards instead of rhyme4 ,it must be employed more cunningly than of old1 and as it were slipped into the literary web surreptitiously4 ,here are instances3-- ,a man is a bundle of relations1 a knot of roots1 whose flower and fruitage is the world4--,emerson3 ,history4 ,in making education not only common to all1 but in some sense compulsory on all4--,lowell3 ,new ,england ,two ,centuries ,ago4 ,all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action4--,id43 ,rousseau and the ,sentimentalists4 ,here there is little more than the repetition of the initial of a prominent word1 marked by the same place in successive cadences4 ,often alliteration in modern prose of the best sort is carried much farther4 ,here are a couple of examples from ,stevenson3-- ,i know a child of ,suffolk whose fancy still lingers about the lilied lowland waters of that shire4--,pastoral4 ,a task in recitation that really merited reward4--,the ,manse4 ,of course ,i am speaking only of prose4 ,the diction of poetry is governed by different laws1 and the reduplication of sound is a recognized and not infrequent ornament of verse used to a degree which would not be tolerated in prose4 ,in the latter it is important that alliteration shall appear to be rather the consequence of the subject than an extraneous ornament4 ,once a writer introduces into prose a word which is evidently or even apparently chosen for its initial1 he has given the reader a suspicion of artificiality which is fatal to the best effect4 ,alliteration is1 however1 more readily allowed in epigram and antithesis than in plain1 straightforward passages4 ,the writer is permitted some especial graces of ornament when he attempts either of these1 as a child may without remark wear its best raiment to a party when its companions would jeer at such display at school4 8,forms are the food of faith10 writes ,newman4 8,all mankind love a lover10 ,emerson says4 ,these epigrams are openly alliterative4 ,no less so is the well-known antithesis of ,macaulay1 8,the ,puritans hated bear-baiting1 not because it gave pain to the bear1 but because it gave pleasure to the spectator40 ,the epigram has the great advantage of recalling the proverb2 and proverbs will ever be dear to the heart of man as the purses in which have been preserved the homely wisdom of the world4 ,it is perhaps in part because of its family likeness to the proverb that it seems not unfitting for the epigram to balance word against word in a way which would seem artificial in any other form of expression4 ,the mention of epigram and antithesis reminds us that it is well to speak briefly of both4 ,antithesis is the setting formally against each other of contrasting thoughts4 ,i might make an example if ,i wrote3 ,epigram is a sword with one edge2 but antithesis is a blade with two4 ,i should at the same time be expressing to some extent the characteristics of these verbal forms4 ,antithesis defines by differences2 epigram emphasizes a single idea4 ,one confesses its artificiality by its balanced structure2 the other endeavors to hide it under an appearance of lucky spontaneity4 ,antithesis is obviously deliberate2 epigram must have an air of quickness1 as if it were the birth of the moment4 ,the former belonged to the elaborate style of a more ceremonious age2 the latter has been cultivated in the prose of our own time until it has almost become a vice4 ,the above paragraph1 which is largely antithetical1 shows the limitation of this form4 ,it is not possible long to continue this sort of writing without wearying the reader with a sense of artificiality4 ,such pleasure as the present age is willing to take in undisguised effort in prose is largely confined to the epigram4 ,an epigram is a notion rounded like a snowball for throwing4 ,looked at in another way1 it is a thought packed for quick transportation4 ,it is wit or wisdom given wings2 or1 if it be neither1 it is at least an idea with its loins girt for running4 ,sometimes it is a base or worthless reflection set in terse phrase1 like a fly in amber2 or a cruel insinuation wounding like a wasp with envenomed sting4 ,at its best it is a jewel of price2 at its worst it is a drop of subtle poison4 ,here1 somewhat at the risk of confusing by a variety of images1 ,i have tried to write a short paragraph which is practically all in the form of epigrams4 ,it is in turn evident that although less obviously artificial than antithesis1 epigrams are apt to lack spontaneity1 no matter how much they strive for it4 ,it is difficult to incorporate them into ordinary prose so that they shall seem really to be an integral part of it4 ,an epigram is apt to be like a shell1 so complete and individual in itself that it is hard to make it appear to be a part of any other whole4 ,skillfully handled1 the epigram gives crispness and vigor to a style1 but by so much the more as it is effective if successful it is damaging if it fails4 ,it is to be remembered1 too1 that the habit of striving for any especial verbal form is a dangerously fascinating one4 ,it is easy to fall into the way of making phrases for their own sake1 instead of for the purpose of expressing what one has to say4 ,an epigram is valuable and commendable only in so far as it serves the purpose for which it is contrived4 ,the ,greeks used the word originally to signify a verse inscribed on a tomb1 and not a few modern epigrams are the epitaphs of thoughts killed in making them4 ,we are accustomed to-day to employ the word for any concise and terse expression of thought1 and to call that style epigrammatic which is distinguished by conciseness and by brief and pregnant sentences4 ,broadly speaking1 so long as the writer keeps in mind that the epigram is to aid expression1 and that intention is never to be sacrificed to form1 the more of these qualities his style has the better4 ,he must remember1 moreover1 that the ear must be relieved by sentences of varied length4 ,the successful epigram is almost always brief1 and it must contain an element of novelty4 ,one of its chief claims to attention is that it puts its thought in a form which excites surprise4 ,it is like the ,german bonbon1 which parts with a startling snap and discloses a gift within4 ,the more it has the air of being the result of an instantaneous1 happy inspiration1 the more effective is it4 ,an epigram must seem at least to be like the poet1 born and not made4 ,this matter of novelty concerns more than epigram4 ,words and phrases become worn as surely as coins which have long passed from hand to hand4 ,epithets which have been constantly repeated lose the force of their original intent and fail to produce their first effect4 ,the masters of style do not hesitate now and then to coin new words with which to serve themselves in the attempt to produce pungent effects which old terms no longer yield4 ,carlyle is an extreme example of this1 and a list of the extraordinary novelties which he boldly made for his own use would fill pages4 ,he exposed himself to the danger of losing the impression which he produced as soon as the words invented lost their first novelty1 and no doubt something of the diminution of the influence of ,carlyle which we have lived to see is due to this very cause4 ,the ordinary writer is not allowed thus to serve his need by invention4 ,he must be content to take words already in use1 and must display his ingenuity by contriving so to employ them that from old terms he brings freshness of effect4 ,the novelty which is within the reach of all is that of originality4 ,it seems at first startling to speak of originality as within common reach when we take up every day books wherein the writers show so absolute a lack of all originality that they shake one's very belief in original sin4 ,yet remember what ,flaubert said to ,de ,maupassant3 8,the smallest thing has in it something unknown4 ,discover it4444 ,that is the way to become original40 ,life can never appear the same to any two human beings1 because no two look at it with the same eyes or with the same mind4 ,the original writer is he who sets down his own thoughts1 who shows to others what is exactly in his own brain and heart4 ,it is not within the power of every author thus to create profoundly fresh and inspiring works2 but it is within the reach of all to say something which shall be at once new and individual and vital4 ,what is called individuality is the result of this frank and sincere speaking of the thought which comes to the writer and as it comes to the writer4 ,it is needful to be on one's guard lest sometimes instead of being guided by sincerity and natural honesty one fall into the trick of using particular forms of diction or construction4 ,we are all exposed to the danger of imitating ourselves4 ,having once written a thing which by its honesty and frankness was impressive1 there is a temptation to go on repeating the same thing or to try to do something which shall seem like it4 ,in this way arise what are known as mannerisms4 ,the difference between individuality and mannerism is that between sincerity and egotism2 between personality and affectation4 ,individuality in style is an honest embodying of that which makes the writer different from any other man alive2 mannerism is the sham--if unconscious--effort to appear different4 ,be truthfully exact in saying nothing but what is really felt1 and individuality is as sure as mannerism is impossible4 ,read what ,lowell says of ,chaucer3-- ,chaucer seems to me to have been one of the most purely original of poets4444 ,he is original not in the sense that he thinks and says what nobody ever thought or said before1 and what nobody can ever think and say again1 but because he is always natural2 because1 if not absolutely new1 he is always delightfully fresh2 because he sets before us the world as it honestly appeared to ,geoffrey ,chaucer1 and not a world as it seemed proper to certain people that it ought to appear4 ,there you have the whole of it4 ,he who is least concerned about being original1 and most engrossed in expressing precisely the thought and the feeling which have come to him1 is in the end the writer who is most vitally and perennially fresh4 ,think new thoughts always if you can2 but above all do not put a thought upon paper unless you so honestly and sincerely think it that it does not occur to you to consider whether anybody else has or has not said this thing before4 ,,ix ,,classification ,thus far we have spoken of the general principles of composition1 and of qualities which are common to all attempts to express thought by written language4 ,there are so many ways1 however1 in which composition may be employed1 that for further consideration it is convenient to divide it into classes4 ,we have come to the place where it is well to serve ourselves with some division of the sorts of writing1 just as we before found it well to serve ourselves by the separation of general principles4 ,classification is necessary in any study1 not only for convenience in handling1 but for clearness of conception4 ,if ideas are arranged systematically1 they not only are remembered more easily1 but their mutual relations are discovered1 and their relative values more accurately estimated4 ,it is of importance1 however1 to recognize that in all investigations classification is not an end1 but a means4 ,he who classifies clears the way for future work1 either of his own or of others1 but he does not necessarily reach anything permanent or effective in itself4 ,the student of botany may analyze and tabulate all the plants in the land2 but if he has not reached out toward general truths and fundamental principles1 it cannot be said that he has learned much4 ,he has amused himself1 perhaps has had a good deal of healthful out-of-door life1 and a certain amount of mental gymnastics1--but that is the whole of it4 ,classification1 and especially classification which is not original1 is not the attainment of knowledge in any high sense4 ,i pause to comment upon this at more length than the connection warrants1 strictly speaking1 because the subject is one of so great general importance4 ,everywhere in his studies the learner finds classification set up as a ladder by means of which he may climb to knowledge4 ,most students fall to counting the rungs of the ladder1 to measuring the spaces between them1 to informing themselves carefully who made it4 ,unless in the waste of time there is no harm in this1 if1 after all1 the ladder be really used1 and if the learner be clear-headed enough to realize that all this is of no more than relative value4 ,classification is the means by which the mind is able to master a subject1 but it is not the subject itself4 ,to classify originally it is necessary to understand the relations of things1 and the investigators by whom classes are defined must of course be thoroughly well informed in regard to the facts upon which arrangement is based4 ,the ordinary student is constantly in danger of accepting the formal schedule instead of the truths which it represents2 of filling his mind with nomenclature instead of principles2 of being1 in a word1 satisfied with system in place of knowledge4 ,all essential and ultimate knowledge is natural1 and all classification is artificial4 ,classification is founded upon natural facts1 but it is an enumeration rather than an elucidation4 ,it arranges2 it does not explain4 ,understand that ,i do not undervalue classification4 ,the student can no more advance without it than he could climb to a roof without a ladder4 ,i merely wish to impress upon you the fact that in all work--and perhaps especially in scientific work--it is of the highest importance to keep steadily in mind that it is not the ladder but the ascent which is of consequence2 that the aim is not the schedule but the secrets of wisdom to which it helps us4 ,thus it is that it is not for any value in the distinction itself1 but solely as an expedient for our convenience in acquiring knowledge which is of worth1 that we divide the sorts of composition4 ,we classify1 as in microscopy it is necessary to make sections for ease of examination4 ,do not fail to classify2 but do not fail also to remember that nomenclature is not knowledge1 that classification is not wisdom4 99 99 99 99 99 ,it is hardly necessary to remark how varied are the effects which writers may endeavor to produce4 ,one is intent simply upon giving a clear and prosaic account of some matter2 making a straightforward appeal to the understanding1 and not troubling himself to go beyond this4 ,a second is bent upon conveying to his readers some emotion1 overpowering or delicate1 painful or joyous1 as the case may be4 ,a third aims only to amuse2 a fourth is determined to convince1 to persuade1 or to overcome2 and so on through the long list of objects which are conceivable as coming within the scope of the writer's range of intention4 ,obviously1 the treatment must be varied as the effect sought alters1 and we divide compositions into classes by their most strongly marked characteristics4 ,different authorities have varied the number of divisions1 and ,i have not felt bound to follow any of them4 ,it seems to me well to assume that the kinds of composition are ,exposition1 ,argument1 ,description1 and ,narration2 and to take up their examination in this order4 ,from the classification commonly received this differs in a change of order and in the omission of ,persuasion4 ,some writers1 indeed1 include here both ,criticism and ,translation2 but ,criticism is really a species of exposition1 while ,translation is whatever sort of composition its original may happen to be4 ,that ,persuasion should so long have been retained in the list is curious1 although not so strange as might appear from the name4 ,persuasion1 in the strict sense of the term1 is of course not a kind of composition1 but a quality of style4 ,an argument1 an exposition1 a narrative1 must alike be persuasive to succeed in winning the reader4 ,indeed1 persuasion is a quality essential to all art4 ,in the sense of being that which leads others to submit their personality to the artist1 it is necessary to painter1 musician1 sculptor1 and architect1 no less than to writer4 ,as used to designate a department of composition1 ,persuasion has been that which addresses1 which appeals to the passions directly4#c ,the term is not a happy one1 since it would seem that the vocative--the mood of address--might include denunciation1 or invective1 or praise1 as well as persuasion4 ,the obvious explanation of the use of such a division of composition seems to be that it was made to provide a place of dignity for oratory4 ,in the days of our forefathers the art of eloquence held a high station1 such as it is not likely to occupy soon again2 and it was evidently felt that there should be a separate department for it in formal rhetoric4 ,persuasion as a division of composition seems to have been provided for oratory1 much as a sinecure is established for a court favorite2 but since platform eloquence has fallen somewhat into obscurity1 it has been realized that ,exposition and ,argument cover the whole ground4 ,if such a division were to exist still1 it would be better to call it ,oratory and be done with it2 but if there were to be a fifth kind of composition1 there is more ground for trespassing on the domain of ,narrative and naming it ,dramatization4 ,as a reason for departing from the time-honored custom of putting ,description and ,narrative before ,exposition and ,argument1 ,i might perhaps content myself with saying that it is being found by instructors in whose judgment ,i have the highest confidence that the new order is the better4 ,this is in part due to the fact that inexperienced writers naturally suppose that they can describe and narrate without having had especial training1 and it is less difficult to detach them from bad habits of composition1 if they begin with a sort of writing in which they have not contracted faults already4 ,to put pupils in advanced composition first upon ,description and ,narration is apt to be to expose them to the danger of repeating whatever bad literary habits they may have1 since it is in these forms of production that they are most likely to have contracted them4 ,another point of importance is that ,description and ,narration are so much more attractive and easily emotional than ,exposition and ,argument4 ,i have already said that technique can be readily mastered only in an unemotional way4 ,the great performers upon musical instruments have almost always been those who were trained technically while they were still so young or so undeveloped that the emotional capabilities of their nature were not matured4 ,there is great danger in allowing the emotions to be aroused while training which is merely technical is going on4 ,awaken in the pupil all interest in technical perfection which is possible2 to excite his emotional interest in subject or sentiment is dangerous1 and obstructs his progress in the cultivation of skill in form and technique4 ,technical facility is gained by work not in itself inspiring1 but done with the most patient exactness for the sake of the power it gives4 ,assuming1 then1 that it is convenient to consider composition as being divided into the four sorts named1 and that there are sufficient reasons for taking them in the order given1 we find it necessary next to define4 ,making broad definitions1 and leaving finer distinctions to be considered later1 we may say3-- ,exposition is a statement1 an explanation1 or a setting forth4 ,argument is the endeavor to establish the truth or falsity of an idea or a proposition4 ,description is the endeavor to present a picture4 ,narration is a record of events4 ,if a traveler1 for instance1 should write of the ,acropolis at ,athens1 he might treat the subject in any one of several ways4 ,if he discuss its architectural character1 its beauty1 and the sthetic feelings of delight which this awakens1 if he explain its use1 or make statements of any sort about it1 he is making an ,exposition2 if he endeavor to establish the truth or untruth of especial views of its use1 of theories of its age1 or of any matters subject to controversy1 he passes into ,argument2 if he by words strives to call up in the mind of the reader a picture of that glorious ruin1 he is describing it2 while1 if he tell the story of the temple1 he is evidently dealing in ,narrative4 ,it is hardly necessary to say that these varieties of composition melt into one another4 ,in a work of any extent1 it is generally probable that all of them will be employed4 ,as an engraver1 cutting his block of box-wood1 uses first one tool and then another1 according to the line demanded by the picture1 striving to bring out the effect which the artist desires1 so the skilled writer takes up one variety of composition after another1 employs now this and now that4 ,it is the old question of adapting the method to the end sought1 the effort to the effect desired4 ,in almost any book there will be found ,exposition1 ,argument1 ,description1 and ,narrative1 as in a single rose are sepals1 petals1 stamens1 and pistils4 ,we study these separately1 but always the art of writing is one as the rose is one4 ,footnote #c3 ,professor ,hill's definition of ,persuasion seems to me to make it an argument which appeals to selfish prejudices or emotions4 ,x ,,exposition ,doubtless you all remember the amazement of the 8,bourgeois ,gentilhomme0 of ,molire when he suddenly discovered that he had been speaking prose all his life without suspecting it4 ,we may be in the same situation when it first becomes clear to us that without being aware of it we have been making expositions from the time we began first to speak4 ,the statements1 the explanations1 the opinions which we give by hundreds every day are simply expositions in little4 ,what we have to do now is merely to discover if possible what are the principles which will make the same sort of thing effective when it is carried further than in common speech1 and is put in written instead of in spoken words4 ,to expound is to set forth the nature1 the significance1 the characteristics1 and the bearing of an idea or a group of ideas4 ,exposition therefore differs from ,description in that it deals directly with the meaning or intent of its subject instead of with its appearance4 ,a good deal which we are accustomed inexactly to call description is really exposition4 ,suppose that your small boy wishes to know how an engine works1 and should say3 8,please describe the steam-engine to me40 ,if you insist upon taking his words literally--and are willing to run the risk of his indignation at being willfully misunderstood1--you will to the best of your ability picture to him this familiarly wonderful machine4 ,if you explain it to him1 you are not describing but expounding it2 you are not making a ,description but an ,exposition1 in so far as these words are applied in our present sense4 ,the exact boundary lines of ,exposition--or1 for that matter1 of any sort of composition--it is impossible to draw sharply4 ,not everything which claims to explain really makes clear1 any more than all which wears the air of virtue shall escape scorching in 8the everlasting bonfire40 ,one thing merges into another1 and in the end all composition1 as has been said and repeated already1 is an indivisible whole4 ,the inexactness with which all terms of classification are used and must be used in literature is illustrated by the extension of the word 8essay10 under which are grouped so many sorts of expositions4 ,it has become the custom to apply this name to almost any brief monograph of leisurely or reflective character4 ,the critical papers of ,hazlitt1 the historical orgies of ,macaulay1 the humorous confidences of ,charles ,lamb1 and the argumentative tracts of ,newman on theology or of ,ruskin upon social questions1 are all loosely classed together as essays4 ,in contemporary writings1 the suggestive medival studies of ,vernon ,lee1 papers by ,walter ,pater from which the life has been exquisitely elaborated1 the intimate revelations of nature by ,richard ,jefferies or ,john ,burroughs1 the delightful word-sonatas of ,stevenson1 and the criticisms of ,leslie ,stephen1 fine and scholarly1 are all given the same convenient name4 ,the term 8essay0 is not unlike that useful contrivance known to travelers as a 8hold-all10 into which may be huddled whatever there is not room for in more dignified receptacles4 ,fortunately the harm done is too small to matter4 ,if a thing is good it is of no great consequence what we call it4 ,in an age like this1 when the magazine flourishes and newspapers are thick strewn like sodden leaves in a ,november storm1 the exposition is naturally one of the most common and one of the most practically useful of all forms of composition4 ,the modern endeavor to make all men understand everything of course renders necessary an enormous amount of expository writing2 so that the press turns out daily and hourly an innumerable number of small essays upon all imaginable topics4 ,we live in an expository era4 ,the scientific spirit demands that all knowledge shall be set forth1 often to the discouragement of more imaginative forms of composition4 ,this sort of work is certainly the one for which there is to-day the most constant and urgent call4 ,the utilitarian would get along pretty much to his own satisfaction if no other form of writing than ,exposition had been invented2 and this is a utilitarian age4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of all the qualities which we have hitherto considered1 the one most likely to tell in ,exposition is ,clearness4 ,in practical work the essential thing here is to make accurately intelligible the meaning which the writer would convey4 ,in all more delicate matters this is impossible without recourse to the higher arts of literary technique2 but in general all grace of style1 all persuasiveness of presentation1 all elegance of proportion and of manner1 are subordinated to this primary necessity of lucidity4 ,if one is striving to produce permanent literature these must not be neglected2 but as far as common1 practical1 workaday prose is concerned1 everything else is considered as of less importance than the conveying to the reader with sharpness the exact significance of what the writer is endeavoring to phrase4 ,two things may be briefly remarked in passing3 ,first1 that this characteristic need of clear-cut accuracy makes especially appropriate the taking up of ,exposition at the start2 and second1 that this sort of composition is of great help in intellectual growth4 ,it is not that the other forms of expression do not call for accuracy4 ,there is as much need for exactness in the imparting of fine shades of emotion suggested by a description or by a narrative as in the statement of an opinion4 ,it is more easy1 however1 for the student to grasp the more tangible matter than the more subtile4 ,he more readily appreciates the process of direct expression than that of delicate implication4 ,it is true that ,exposition in its higher forms deals with thought and emotion2 but even there it handles them rather in a direct than in an indirect manner1 rather by statement than by suggestion4 ,it is not difficult to see how the practice of this sort of composition is an aid to intellectual progress4 ,indeed1 education is after all largely the phrasing for ourselves a statement of the truths of life and of the world about us4 ,this sort of writing forces the learner to think sharply and clearly1 to realize his thoughts4 ,exposition leads the student really to think instead of contenting himself with that mental muddlement in which the mind goes around and around1 playfully like a kitten chasing its tail or earnestly after the fashion of a squirrel in his wheel1 but getting ahead in neither case4 ,the two qualities which are1 after clearness1 most valuable in this species of writing are unity of the whole work and progression4 ,the nature of ,unity has already been sufficiently commented upon1 but it is worth while to speak of a mechanical device by which much can be done to secure it4 ,this is the making of a plan of an exposition before writing it4 ,i have seldom found a student who willingly wrote out a skeleton of an exercise1 and authors are hardly less reluctant to bother to put upon paper the plan of an essay4 ,i am aware from my own experience how many excuses for not doing this necessary piece of drudgery may be invented by the evasive mind4 ,it is of course a bore1 when the head is full of a theme1 to be obliged to stop and in a cold-blooded manner construct the framework of the essay which we are eager to dash off at full speed4 ,yet in the end it is a saving of time4 ,it is better to do this in the first place than to have to pull the work to pieces afterward4 ,when the mind is alert and excited1 make notes1 phrase the vital portions of the essay1 set down the significant thoughts which come to you2 but before attempting to write the completed whole have all these notes1 these images1 these phrases1 arranged with reference to a plan1 a schedule of the entire composition4 ,this may be slight1 but it should be essentially complete in the sense that it covers the whole ground4 ,i believe it to be practically impossible for any writer to secure unity in a work of any extent without making a preliminary plan of some kind2 and only men of rare gifts and much experience can safely carry this in the head4 ,it is certainly true that the inexperienced writer should not trust himself to attempt any composition more than a page or two in length without actually writing out a skeleton beforehand4 ,as a matter of practical work1 a young writer who is attempting an exposition should begin by thinking out his subject and putting his thoughts on paper4 ,he should strive to phrase them well when he makes his first memoranda1 for thoughts are like metal1 much more malleable when they are hot4 ,often an ugly phrase which could without much trouble have been improved when it was making becomes stubbornly intractable after it has been for a time on paper4 ,it is convenient to have these notes on slips of paper1 since it is thus easy to arrange and to rearrange them4 ,it is also of importance to consider how a subject will appear to a reader whose views are opposed to those of the writer4 ,think up all possible objections that might be made to the ideas expressed4 ,turn the subject over1 and examine the wrong side2 this is the best way to judge of the strength and the smoothness of the seams by which the parts are joined to make a whole4 ,the next step is to arrange the thoughts noted down4 ,make a plan of the essay with reference to its logical continuity4 ,look at the framework as a single thing4 ,remember that it is upon the completeness and sufficiency of this that the finished work must depend for its unity and its effect as a whole4 ,to this scheme fit your notes4 ,do not trouble as yet about ornament or finish unless pregnant illustration or happy phrase suggest itself unsought4 ,you cannot afford to go seeking these graces until the more substantial portions of your work are practically complete4 ,write slowly or swiftly according to your temperament1--but whatever your temperament do not suppose that good work is to be done otherwise than systematically and thoroughly4 ,once the form is complete1 the more you finish and polish the better4 ,it is true that it is possible to polish the life out of a composition2 but this is a danger much farther along the road than ,i should presume to act as a guide4 ,i do not suppose that any author liable to spoil his work from over-finish is likely to trouble himself about what ,i may say on the subject2 and certainly this fault lies so far ahead of most of us that we need not from fear of it stay our hand4 ,when the essay is planned and written and polished1 and if possible laid aside and taken out and polished over again1--why1 then1 ,i am tempted to say1 the wisest rule is that given by ,edward ,lear for the making of 8,crumbobblious ,cutlets30 8,procure some strips of beef1 and having cut them into the smallest possible slices1 proceed to cut them still smaller1--eight or perhaps nine times40 ,when you have made the work as good as you can make it1 proceed to make it better still1--eight or perhaps nine times6 ,it is not impossible that it may occur to you that this sounds a good deal like hard work4 ,i said to you in the beginning that to succeed in writing is a laborious task4 ,it is a task infinitely interesting1 and it is this which makes it endurable4 ,the fine arts are possible only because men do not spare labor even if what is done must be wrought in the sweat of the brow and with the blood of the heart2 art lives because the artist works from love1 and does not count the cost4 ,unless the worker is willing thus to labor at literature1 he will do well to leave it alone4 ,if his heart is not in it he will in the end but waste good paper and ink which might have served better workmen for better uses4 ,keeping still to practical details1 we may note that it is well to accustom the mind to measure compositions by the number of words4 ,this is the professional method1 and it is the only way of coming at a fairly accurate idea of the size of a work and the proportionate length of its parts4 ,it is not difficult to get into the mind a standard in the number of words one usually writes on a page4 ,once this is done1 the rest is easy4 ,the page becomes a personal measure of extent1 and by it one without difficulty estimates the bulk of the whole or any part of a manuscript4 ,whoever has dealings with periodicals or with publishers is sure to come to this question of the number of words sooner or later1 and it is well to learn it early4 ,one of the cleverest of ,american playwrights told me that he had made a careful study of the dramas of the modern ,french authors to see how many words they use to produce an effect4 ,so many words he found to be the average for a love scene1 so many in this situation and so many in that4 ,it was not that he endeavored to follow exactly these rules2 but he was thus getting at the secrets of construction4 ,this was a practical method of judging proportions4 ,the incident is worth mention not only as an illustration of the way in which words are used as a measure in literature1 but also as showing how tirelessly and with what minute care the professional worker is willing to labor4 ,one of the first practical uses to which the student is called to apply this measure of the number of words is that of estimating proportion4 ,the space given to any division of a subject1 the number of words in which it is embodied1 largely determines its relation to the whole4 ,it is somewhat difficult to illustrate this point1 but by way of indicating the sort of analysis which it is well for the student now and then to make of essays which he finds especially effective1 ,i must give an example4 ,i have taken ,macaulay's essay of ,machiavelli1 and made a summary of it with a view of showing the proportionate length at which this clever author writes of the different points upon which he touches4 ,in this paper he is setting forth his view of the character of that dazzlingly clever ,italian whose family name has furnished the language with an epithet for whatever is most trickily cunning1 while by an absurd paradox his ,christian name is held to have given us an affectionate pseudonym for the devil1--8,old ,nick40 ,the whole monograph is something in the nature of a special plea1 and without great violation of propriety might be smuggled under ,argument4 ,it is an attempt to show that the characteristics in the writings of ,machiavelli which have made his name a hissing and a byword belong rather to the time than to the man4 ,after a brief introduction follows a statement of the disrepute in which ,machiavelli has been held4 ,this is intentionally made strong to the verge of absurdity1 and to it is added a brief acknowledgment that 8,the ,prince10 ,machiavelli's famous and infamous book1 is indeed shocking4 ,this requires about three hundred and fifty words4 ,assuming the attitude which he wishes the reader to take1 that of a puzzled seeker for truth1 ,macaulay states several theories which might account for the moral obliquity of the ,italian1 yet points out that his personal career was elevated1 patriotic1 and just2 and that there is in 8,the ,prince0 much good as well as much evil4 ,he also calls attention to the fact that at the time the book was written it apparently shocked nobody4 ,to this are given about eight hundred words4 ,this leads directly to the conclusion which is the key-note of the whole essay3-- ,it is1 therefore1 in the state of moral feeling among the ,italians of those times that we must seek for the real explanation of what seems most mysterious in the life of this remarkable man4 ,this proposition being the one which it is the aim of the essay to establish1 nearly seventy-five hundred words1 almost half of the whole1 are given to tracing the growth of the peculiar conditions of moral sentiment which obtained in ,italy in the time when ,machiavelli wrote4 ,the subject is led on toward the next point in this way3-- ,every age and every nation has certain characteristic vices4444 ,posterity1 444 finding the delinquents too numerous to be all punished1 444 selects some of them at hazard to bear the whole penalty4444 ,in the present case the lot has fallen on ,machiavelli2 a man whose public conduct was upright and honorable4 ,the essayist then turns from the man to his work1 pointing out the merits of his novels1 comedies1 and letters4 ,about twenty-three hundred words are given to this1--rather more than an eighth of the paper4 ,some eighteen hundred follow on his public services4 ,his struggles to establish a regular army are emphasized1 both because here he appears to the best advantage1 and because this line of thought is artfully made to lead up to and to suggest the view of 8,the ,prince0 which is put forward immediately after3 the view that the book was really designed to forward the substitution of a regular army for the mercenary troops which had demoralized all ,italy4 ,the proportion is here admirably judged4 ,enough space is given to the matter to make the point seem one of dignity and weight1 yet not so much as to let it appear as if the author were insisting upon it too much4 ,the economy of effect is observed throughout2 enough is always done1 but never too much4 ,we have now1 roughly speaking1 thirteen thousand out of the not much over sixteen thousand words in the essay2 and the author has practically done his work4 ,he has pretty well developed his theory1 and the remainder of the monograph is given to making it more clear and to enforcing it4 ,to the personal merit of ,machiavelli is devoted about a quarter of the entire essay2 to the immorality of the age and its influence upon him1 nearly one half2 to the admirable way in which he played his part in public life1 nearly an eighth4 ,to the hatred and abhorrence of ,machiavelli which the essayist desires to overcome1 he gives directly but three or four hundred words in the whole sixteen thousand4 ,proportion so careful and so effective as this can only be the result of studied and accurate design4 ,a word of caution may not be amiss4 ,proportion is to be determined not by the interest of the writer or by his ease in writing upon particular points1 but by the relation of the parts to the whole4 ,the reason for saying this is that almost any author is liable to be led away by the facility with which it is possible for him to enlarge upon certain points4 ,an opportunity presents itself for the introduction of a charming episode2 there is a temptation to develop a thought1 a sentiment1 a seductively favorite theory2 and the result of yielding to this is apt to be a violation of unity4 ,what the old-fashioned writers--as if confession were an excuse--were accustomed to confess by saying1 8,but this is a digression10 hopelessly injured the effect of a composition as a whole4 ,only the clever and cunning artificer of style can introduce digressions without marring the fair proportions of the complete work4 ,proportion1 here as elsewhere1 is emotional as well as mechanical4 ,one must bear in mind the fact that a few emphatic words are of more account than many mild and commonplace ones4 ,consider not only the space given to particular portions of a work1 but the stress laid upon them4 ,and here it is well to consider a feature of human frailty4 ,such is man's weakness that blame always counts for more than praise4 ,if ,i were to say to you that looked at from a purely literary standpoint 8,the ,heavenly ,twins0 is morbid and unhealthy rubbish2 that 8,trilby0 is a pleasant transient excitement2 but that 8,the ,return of the ,native0 seems to me the most notable ,english novel since ,thackeray--you would have no difficulty in remembering that ,i condemned 8,the ,heavenly ,twins20 you would have a fairly clear idea that ,i had been less enthusiastic than is the general public about 8,trilby20 and you would perhaps recall vaguely that there was something else--really it is astonishing how quickly a name slips from the memory6--which ,i praised4#d ,the point is one to be remembered when one is dealing with delicate shades of emphasis4 ,as ,i have more than once used ,carlyle in warning1 it is no more than fair to mention him here as one of the masters of emotional emphasis4 ,he had an instinct for the proportion of stress1 and used it with the greatest success4 ,it is an excellent lesson in the study of this quality to analyze the cumulative and unified effect of the stronger chapters of the 8,french ,revolution40 ,i have spoken of progression as being one of the important matters to be considered in connection with ,exposition4 ,perhaps a better name for what ,i mean would be continuity4 ,it is necessary to arrange ideas in a logical order which is not only unbroken1 but which is perfectly obvious4 ,it is not enough that the author is aware how one thought logically follows another2 he must make it evident to all who read4 ,he must remember that so long as the connection of ideas is clear and inevitable the reader is led on unconsciously2 while every pause which the reader is forced to make to see how one statement follows from another leaves him less fully in the author's control4 ,so great a thinker and so great a writer as ,emerson materially lessened the circle of his readers by a lack of this very quality4 ,the ordinary student often finds it hard to supply the thoughts which make the sequence of ideas complete4 ,emerson stalks like a giant from mountain peak of thought to mountain peak1 while the reader is often sorely puzzled to know how to cross the deep gullies between4 ,emerson was a genius1 and prophesied so gloriously on his mountain-tops1 that we struggle forward after him despite all difficulties4 ,those who are not geniuses cannot hope that readers will follow their lead unless the road is shown and the chasms bridged4 ,one may go farther than this in insisting upon the need of continuousness in literature4 ,the present age is impatient of being called upon to take trouble in apprehension1 so that it is necessary to use every art--whether of connectives1 of arrangement of thought1 of sequence of ideas or incidents--to make more inevitably evident the connection of parts4 ,indeed1 this must be not only plain but easy and attractive4 ,to blaze out a path through the woods avails in pioneer life and in the beginnings of literature2 but when civilization has advanced1 the way must be graded until it is comfortable to the foot accustomed to smooth pavements and velvet carpets4 ,sequence in expository writing should usually be so complete that the reader goes forward so glidingly that the mere progress itself shall be a pleasure4 ,footnote #d3 ,a droll incident happened in connection with this illustration when these lectures were first delivered4 ,as the audience left the hall one lady said to another1 a stranger3 8,i beg your pardon1 but could you tell me the name of the third book that was given1--the one that the lecturer said we should forget80 ,this was of course conclusive of nothing1 but it was amusingly to the point4 ,,xi ,,exposition ,,continued ,in expository writing--and indeed the rule might safely be applied to all composition--it is wise to proceed from the near to the remote2 from cause to effect2 from the physical to the mental2 from the clear to the obscure2 and from that which is generally allowed to that which is doubtful or disputed4 ,it is well to proceed from the near to the remote4 ,we do not say 8,all the way from ,london to here10 but 8,all the way from here to ,london40 ,the exception would be when the point of view is that of one in ,london1 since then that city would be the near1 and 8here0 the remote4 8,near0 in this connection is always near to the point of view4 ,we say1 8,what we do will be talked of all the way from here to ,london40 ,we say also1 8,when ,tom came home from ,england last year1 he was ill all the way from ,london to here40 ,we begin with that which the mind accepts most readily4 ,the principle is the same which we have already found to underlie the use of figurative language4 ,there the unknown is made clear by comparison with the known2 and it is well to lead the mind from what is near1 physically or mentally1 to what is remote4 ,take this example from ,stevenson3-- ,it is difficult to see why the fellow does a thing so nameless and yet so formidable to look at1 unless on the theory that he likes it4 ,i suspect that is why2 and ,i suspect it is at least ten per cent4 of why ,lord ,beaconsfield and ,mr4 ,gladstone have debated so much in the ,house of ,commons1 and why ,burnaby rode to ,khiva the other day1 and why the ,admirals courted war like a mistress4--,the ,english ,admirals4 ,this was published in ,england1 and at a time when the speeches of ,lord ,beaconsfield and ,mr4 ,gladstone were matters of every-day comment in the newspaper2 the ride to ,khiva was famous1 but not so near in place or in realization1 while the bravery of the ,english ,admirals was part of history stretching back for centuries4 ,here is illustration from ,lowell3-- ,j4 ,h41 one of those choice poets who will not tarnish their bright fancies by publication1 always insists on a snowstorm as essential to the true atmosphere of whist4 ,mrs4 ,battles1 in her famous rule for the game1 implies winter1 and doubtless would have added tempest1 if it could be had for the asking4 ,for a good1 solid read also1 into the small hours1 there is nothing like that sense of safety against having your evening laid waste1 which ,euroclydon brings1 as he bellows down the chimney4--,a ,good ,word for ,winter4 ,here we are given the pleasant saying of a neighbor1 such as any of us might have heard2 we go on to ,mrs4 ,battles1 dear to every reader of ,elia2 and from that to ,euroclydon1 the wind which put the apostle in danger of his life4 ,the same principle of course holds good in dealing wholly with ideas4 ,speaking of ,leonardo da ,vinci1 ,walter ,pater writes3-- ,he brooded over the hidden virtues of plants and crystals1 the lines traced by the stars as they moved in the sky1 over the correspondences which exist between the different orders of living things1 through which1 to eyes opened1 they interpret each other2 and for years he seemed to those about him as one listening to a voice silent for other men4 ,from the idea of the virtues of plants and crystals1 things which one might hold in the hand1 the mind is led to the stars1 far yet visible2 while only after this is introduced the mysterious and intangible bond which has been conceived of as existing between all living things4 ,last of all is the suggestion of that thing still more remote1 the silent voice heard only by the artist of all men who walked the earth4 ,i read in a scientific book the other day1 in the description of a proposed machine1 8,on account of difficulty in handling and great weight1 this is unsuitable40 ,here the effect is put before the cause1 and the result is a loss of smoothness in progression4 ,the point of view is that of a scientist who knows all about the machine1 and he should have written3 8great weight and consequent difficulty of handling40 ,if the point of view were that of an investigator1 the phrase might perhaps properly be1 8difficulty in handling consequent upon the great weight10 because the investigator would discover first the difficulty and then reflect upon the cause4 ,this may seem a little like hair splitting1 but no principle can be too closely examined1 and for the student there is no such thing as being too careful in the study of means and effects4 ,we shall have occasion to speak of this matter again1 particularly in its application to description4 ,here it is enough to add that the simplest course is to follow in writing the order which seems most natural2 and then in revision to apply the rule given at the beginning of this chapter4 ,the order which seems most natural will generally be that in which the thoughts have presented themselves to your own notice1 and a perception of this order is one of the advantages which belong to the collection of material from personal experience4 ,whoever has done literary work is likely to have discovered how constantly the literary mind must be on the alert4 ,the daughters of the horse-leech that in the ,scriptures are said continually to cry 8,give6 ,give60 are less insatiable than is the greedy pen of the professional writer4 ,like the grave1 it has never enough4 ,he who makes literature a profession must take for his model the barnacle at high tide4 ,as that busy and tireless unpleasantness grasps ceaselessly with finger-like tentacles1 so the mind of the writer must be always reaching out1--grasping1 grasping1 grasping1--until the accumulation of ideas1 of facts1 of impressions1 with the realization that this is literary material1 becomes a second nature4 ,life itself must for the professional writer be so much material4 ,joy and sorrow1 hope1 disappointment1 whatever he sees and feels1 must yield him something which he may set down in words for the instruction or the delight of others4 ,it is not that his feelings are less genuine than those of others2 it is not that he writes of his emotions as if they were his own2 it is simply that a sort of sub-consciousness takes note always of the world around him and of the world within him no less1 seizing all fact and emotion as stuff for the web it weaves4 ,and here1 at the risk of setting down a platitude1 it may be well to say that it seems to me of the utmost importance that the professional writer1 and especially the young aspirant for literary honors1 keep a note-book4 ,it is as foolish to start upon a literary career without the habit of jotting things down as it would be to put to sea without water in the casks4 ,the need is especially great if one is going into any sort of journalistic work1 because there is always danger of being called upon to produce 8copy0 without warning and without material offered either by the editor or by circumstances4 ,there is at such times a great practical value in a well-filled note-book1 while the moral support is perhaps of importance even greater4 ,no man who has had literary experience will fail1 ,i believe1 to realize the folly of trusting to memory to hold and to bring forward at the right time the thoughts1 the reflections1 or the facts which come to one unexpectedly4 ,the memory is apt to be a careless servant4 ,it mislays1 it injures1 it mars the things which are intrusted to it4 ,it is necessary to acquire the habit of setting thoughts down1 and of setting them down at once4 ,do not delude yourself with the notion that you will recall in the morning the clever phrase or acute deduction which your brain evolves after you are tucked safely into bed at night2 that you can put upon paper at the end of the journey the incident which struck you in traveling4 ,you may remember to make the record later1 but a thought is like a sunset1--the instant it reaches its full glory it begins to fade4 ,what is written while it is fresh has a vitality1 a spontaneity which nothing can have that is recalled and set down later4 ,if you are reading and the thought of the author suggests a reflection1 throws a sudden illumination upon some spot in your mind hitherto in darkness1 do not wait to finish the chapter1 but interrupt your reading to write it down4 ,it is a bother4 ,no reader likes to break off to use pencil and note-book1--but the professional writer is forbidden to consider whether he like a thing or not1 if it will assist his progress4 ,the first thing in his life is his art1--moral questions aside1--and to this he is to sacrifice everything4 ,of the cultivation of the habit of observing1 one is almost ashamed to say anything1 so often has this been discussed4 ,every one who discourses upon this subject has spoken of the prime necessity of training the faculties of observation2 yet every one who shall discourse hereafter is likely to be called upon to say the same thing4 ,remember that if you lack material for writing1 the fault is entirely your own4 ,the world is around you1 infinite and inexhaustible2 the question is whether you take what is at hand4 ,our daily walks and ways afford us all that is needed--except the eye to see and the heart to understand4 ,yesterday--which you remember was a sharply cold day--,i had occasion to go down town4 ,i noticed at least three things any one of which a clever writer might make the theme of a charming little essay4 ,i saw in the street-car a large1 middle-aged man1 coarsely dressed1 and of rather a forbidding face4 ,he was seated in a corner1 and gave an impression of surly ill-nature4 ,a little1 thin1 weazened lad of not more than six or seven1 with pinched features and starved look1 poorly clad1 and seeming to have been always cold or hungry when he was not both1 came in and took the seat next to this man4 ,there was nothing to indicate that the two knew each other1 and indeed the boy's air showed plainly enough that they did not2 but when the poor forlorn little fellow blew on his small1 grimy fists1 in vain attempt to warm them1 the big1 sulky-looking man put out a great hand hardly cleaner1 took the boy's blue fingers between his palms1 and held them there to warm them4 ,his grim face hardly relaxed1 but the kindliness of the act1 and the queer mingling of astonishment and pleasure on the child's face1 made the incident good to see4 ,again1 on ,washington ,street ,i passed a woman in ,quaker garb1 who stood looking in at the window of a jeweler4 ,she regarded placidly1 yet with an inscrutable look1 the gems on velvet cushions within4 ,what she was thinking it would not be easy to say2 but what a delightful essay ,charles ,lamb might have written 8,on a ,quakeress looking in at a ,jeweler's ,window06 ,half an hour later ,i passed the silk counter of one of the large dry-goods stores4 ,there a couple of nuns were selecting a sumptuous white brocade1 examining it with an air serious and absorbed1 and yet subtilely suggestive of feminine delight in the beauty of the stuff4 ,what to them were the pomps and vanities of this world that their taste should be concerned in a purchase so incongruous8 ,did they buy a new robe wherein the image of some ,madonna is to shine forth in splendor at the coming ,christmastide1 or the garment which some young novice shall wear at her mystic spousals with the church1 thenceforth to know no raiment but the strait livery of the sisterhood8 ,i grant you that one does not chance upon three things so suggestive as these in every trip down town2 but there is always something4 ,learn to see and to hear4 ,seeing and hearing are more matters of the brain than of eye and ear4 ,train the mind to observe1 and no less train it to phrase2 then the whole question of material is settled4 ,exposition demands1 of course1 the exercise of reason as well as of observation1 but the two are closely bound together2 and the mind which is trained to see is as sure to reason about what it sees as the plant which thrusts its rootlets into rich soil is to grow4 ,,xii ,,argument ,it is one of the most trying conditions of human life that conviction is not proof4 ,it is hard to be brought face to face with the fact that the most ardent belief does not make a thing true4 ,we have most of us known moments when it seemed that there could be no justice in the universe because some hope or some faith which we have cherished with the whole soul was found after all to be but a delusion4 ,truth in this world must be tried not by desire but by reason2 and we can hardly be too careful in studying the processes by which reason attempts its proofs4 ,argument has been defined as the endeavor to establish the truth or the falsity of an idea or a proposition4 ,naturally a written argument is supposed to be addressed to others1 but the methods used in constructing it are those which we employ in examining a theory or a proposition in our own minds4 ,it is necessary to study these for the sake of using them in composition2 yet it is of no less importance that we apply their principles to our thinking4 ,it may seem to you that ,i have a tendency to treat ,english ,composition as if it involved the whole duty of man1 but it is certainly true that the advantages of familiarity with legal processes may be very great1 not only intellectually1 but ethically4 ,since conviction is not proof1 either in things emotional or things ethical any more than in things intellectual1 it follows that it is essential to be provided with the means of testing the many propositions and ideas which life puts before us4 ,it is not my intention to discuss ,argument as a means of spiritual advancement1 yet it is not amiss to call attention to its great value1 even for one who never intends to write at all4 ,looking at ,argument simply as a division of composition1 we need not have difficulty in perceiving its importance4 ,no intellectual necessity is more common than that of endeavoring to make others think or believe as we think or believe4 ,the effort to establish truth by argument is one which from the dawn of civilization has occupied the best powers of mankind4 ,openly1 in avowed reasoning1 or covertly1 in cunningly disguised forms1 those who write are constantly arguing for one theory or another1 for some idea1 for some conviction4 ,the writer who is trained to the craft of logic has the same advantage in discussion with one who has not that a trained boxer has in an encounter with a green hand4 ,it must be evident to any one that ,argument is closely allied to ,exposition4 ,much discussion may be resolved into a dispute over definitions1 and when thinkers disagree it is more often about terms than about principles4 ,it has happened before now that men have gone to the stake upon a question whether a thing in regard to which everybody was in substantial accord should be called by one name or by another2 and it is evident that ,exposition may sometimes be more effectively convincing than formal ,argument1 since if a truth is clearly set forth it is likely to carry conviction with it4 ,macaulay's 8,machiavelli10 which we have examined1 goes very near the line of ,argument1 since1 as has been said1 it is essentially an endeavor to prove that the vices of the ,italians of the fifteenth century were national rather than personal and individual4 ,indeed1 in perhaps the majority of expositions of any complexity there is likely to be an underlying basis of argument4 ,it is difficult to suppose a logical sequence of facts or ideas which does not involve argumentative reasoning1 at least tacitly4 ,here1 as everywhere in composition1 one form passes into another1 and no arbitrary line of division can be drawn4 ,exposition and ,argument are constantly united2 and moreover it is true that the latter is constantly given the guise of the former1 so that at first glance a chain of logical reasoning is easily mistaken for a simple statement of facts4 ,to quote once more from the 8,machiavelli30-- ,when war becomes the trade of a separate class1 the least dangerous course left to a government is to form a standing army4 ,it is scarcely possible that men can pass their lives in the service of one state without feeling some interest in its greatness4 ,its victories are their victories4 ,its defeats are their defeats4 ,the contract loses something of its mercantile character4 ,the services of the soldier are considered as the effects of patriotic zeal1 his pay as the tribute of national gratitude4 ,to betray the power which employs him1 to be even remiss in its service1 are in his eyes the most atrocious and degrading of crimes4 ,this is a complete argument1 easily reducible to logical terms4 ,it opens with the proposition that if war becomes a trade the nation should enlist and control the army2 and the remainder of the paragraph is taken up with the proof of this statement4 ,it is not all expressed2 but it may be said to consist of three propositions supported as follows3-- ,first3 ,men who make war a trade are likely to betray a country4 ,men likely to betray are a danger4 ,hence1 men who make war a trade are a danger4 ,second3 ,men in standing army become identified with the country4 ,men identified with the country less likely to betray4 ,hence1 men in standing army less likely to betray4 ,third3 ,whatever most decreases chance of betrayal is best4 ,to form standing army most decreases the chance of betrayal4 ,hence1 to form standing army is best1 or least dangerous4 ,this illustrates how intricately interwoven is ,argument with other forms of composition1 and how easily one may overlook the fact that he is reading or writing it4 ,formally speaking1 the difference between ,exposition and ,argument is the difference between peace and war4 ,one is a hidden and the other an avowed struggle4 ,in ,exposition the writer declares2 in ,argument he defends4 ,in the former there is no necessary endeavor to convince4 ,the writer concerns himself with setting forth facts1 views1 or theories2 he nominally deals with statement pure and simple4 ,in the latter he attempts to enforce assent to his proposition2 to convince is his declared and primary object4 ,exposition is the teacher2 ,argument1 the soldier4 ,the danger of ,argument is that of all contest4 ,to make an effort to effect a given thing1 to endeavor to enforce a view1 is of course to expose one's self to the chance of arousing opposition4 ,it is to invite attack1 and to run the risk of defeat4 ,for this reason it is necessary to use not a little shrewdness in deciding whether it is best to put what one has to say into the form of declared argument4 ,often it is wiser to endeavor to produce an exposition so clear that it shall carry with it the conclusion which the writer desires to establish4 ,it is at least safe to assert that in writings meant to convince1 the more fully the appearance of not arguing can be maintained the more satisfactory will be the effect4 ,the reader will certainly go as far as he can be made to suppose himself and not the author to be drawing conclusions4 ,most editorial argumentative writing1 and especially that which deals with political questions1 is almost of necessity disguised in a semblance as close to ,exposition as possible4 ,where passion is aroused1 prejudices excited1 and the mind of the reader armed against attempts to convince1 whatever is done must be done in a way calculated to soothe rather than to excite4 ,when ,argument avowed and formal is attempted1 no pains should be spared to make it irresistible4 ,reasoning which does not succeed is the strongest presumption against the proposition it seeks to defend4 ,indeed1 logic which fails seems almost to establish the truth of the opposite proposition4 8,he that taketh the sword shall fall by the sword10 and he who advances an argument must either prevail by it or fall altogether4 ,the proposition which before it is argued is viewed at worst with indifference is discredited and disbelieved when once an attempt to establish its credibility has been made and has failed4 ,the strength of an argument lies in that quality which is called logical accuracy4 ,to cover the whole subject of reasoning minutely it would be necessary to go over the entire field of formal logic2 but here we must content ourselves with considering points which are essential and which pretty fairly cover the needs of argumentative composition in a literary sense4 ,before beginning a chain of reasoning it is wise to fix what is named the burden of proof4 ,in other words it is well to decide how much one is called upon to prove4 ,it is important to know whether the presumption lies for or against the proposition at issue1 to be clear what may be assumed4 ,in many cases this has no especial practical bearing1 but it is well to be sure where one stands4 ,it is always easier to defend than to attack1 and in so far as a writer can put from him the burden of proof1 in so far he has rendered his task lighter4 ,the received theory and the existing state of things have in their favor a presumption which may be advanced by him who argues in their favor and which must always be done away with by him who reasons against them4 ,the writer who attacks civilization1 for instance1 who decries the existing religion or the value of literature1 has upon him the burden of proof2 while he who defends them has the advantage of an affirmative assumption4 ,the former is called upon to produce arguments to prove his claim2 the latter need do no more than to refute the reasoning of his opponent4 ,on the one hand it is a question of attack2 while on the other it is a matter of defense4 ,the first thing in establishing a line of argument is to define clearly the proposition to be proved4 ,nothing further can be done until the writer has made the question at issue clear beyond all possibility of mistake4 ,it is necessary to force one's own mind to an understanding so sharp and exact that confusion is impossible4 ,the most common failing of mankind is mental ambiguity2 and nothing is more frequent than for writers to be entirely mistaken in what they suppose themselves to mean4 ,the whole so-called ,socratic method of reasoning--the most teasingly irritating form of logic ever devised2 the ,spanish-fly form of conviction--consists chiefly in badgering an opponent into a realization of the fact that he does not know what he is talking about2 that he is entirely wrong in his notion of his own meaning4 ,the philosopher who in these less patient days should devote himself to questioning so vexing as that with which ,socrates is said to have roasted opponents in his time would run imminent risk of a broken head2 but the class of illogical arguers against whom he contended is with us to this day4 ,once the proposition is clear in the mind1 it is necessary to find means to convey it to the understanding of others2 to convey it1 be it remembered1 so that it shall arrive with meaning and sharpness of outline unimpaired4 ,it is the old question of ,clearness4 ,an idea which leaves one mind with all the beauty and symmetry of a snow-crystal often gets to another mind as a mere formless drop of snow-water4 ,to the end that the proposition come to the reader with the identity and form uninjured1 it is often needful to declare at the outset the sense in which are used the words1 terms1 and phrases which follow4 ,the only sure way of dealing with a doubtful case is to say plainly3 8,when such a word is introduced1 it means exactly this40 ,in close writing such defining is almost always essential to the success of the work4 ,you may remember1 as an illustration1 how ,ruskin defines his terms at the beginning of 8,modern ,painters40 ,in this way only is it possible to avoid the pitfalls which the varied meanings of the language spread for the foot of the unwary4 ,some of the many possible errors are dangerous1 some easily detected4 ,no one1 for instance1 need be fooled by a fallacy like the following3-- ,an artist is an interpreter of the beautiful4 ,mr4 ,rothschild's chef is an artist4 ,hence1 ,mr4 ,rothschild's chef is an interpreter of the beautiful4 ,there may be those whose respect for gastronomy is so high that they would not shrink from this conclusion1 but taking the argument as it stands1 it is evident that the word 8artist0 is used in a double sense4 ,in the first assertion it signifies one who labors in what we call the fine arts2 one gifted with that incommunicable power of which we spoke at the beginning of these talks4 ,in the second assertion1 the word 8artist0 signifies one clever and skillful in the practice of his profession4 ,to take a more serious illustration1 the much mooted question whether ,walt ,whitman is or is not a poet can be argued only after an agreement upon the sense in which 8poet0 is to be understood4 ,if 8poet0 means one who writes verse in metrical forms1 the proposition cannot be even discussed1 because the fact that ,whitman did not write formal metrical verse is admitted by everybody4 ,if1 on the other hand1 the term 8poet0 be extended to include writers of imaginative and dithyrambic prose1 a discussion becomes almost inevitable4 ,most of the magazine essays which nominally deal with the question stated are really occupied chiefly with the inquiry1 8,what sense shall we give to the term #8poet'80 ,it is true that the ordinary reader will often fail to make a distinction of this sort4 ,if he be told that the point at issue is ,whitman's poetic standing1 he will generally accept the statement1 however widely the discussion may depart from the proposition4 ,it might seem to follow that it is of little consequence whether a writer is logical or not2 but it is always to be remembered that the fact that a reader does not know by what means he is impressed does not necessarily weaken the impression4 ,indeed1 it is probably true that those who are least aware of the processes of literature are often those most vividly affected by them4 ,the writer who has command of literary forms1 who understands clearly what he desires to do and how it is best done1 will reach and control the mind of the reader1 and need not be disturbed by the fact that the latter does not in the least appreciate the art which has seized and which holds him4 ,it is of the highest importance to keep in mind when defining propositions or terms that the basis of all discussion must be mutually accepted by writer and reader4 ,until a starting-point where these two are in accord is found1 it is manifestly idle to attempt to draw inferences4 ,the writer who argues with the view of convincing the general public is forced to take as premises truth universally allowed1 and facts generally known or which can be supported by easily convincing evidence4 ,he is at the outset met with the difficulty that words are seldom free from ambiguity1 and that fact and fiction are as inextricably intertangled as are the rootlets of two trees growing side by side4 ,the nicest judgment must be used in determining how far any statement is admittedly true2 not1 be it noted1 how far it is true1 but how far common consent admits its verity4 ,the premise of any argument addressed to the general reader can go no farther than general conviction goes4 ,even here a writer is often hampered by the fact that the sense of ambiguity is apt to cling to any question concerning which there has been dispute4 ,this is especially true of subjects about which there has been extensive controversy4 ,it is admitted by everybody1 for instance1 that there are things in ,scripture which are not to be accepted with absolute literalness2 yet to assume this in argument is almost inevitably to arouse suspicion if not opposition4 ,no matter how carefully the writer endeavors to keep within bounds of common belief1 the uncertainty and the doubt which belong to the proposition in its extreme are apt to interfere with its being given even the weight which it may deserve when carefully guarded4 ,the best guides here are two3 that homely1 domestic angel of the mind which we call common sense1 and the sincere desire to arrive at and to establish the truth1 as distinguished from eagerness to win in argument4 ,if a writer can divest himself of a wish to prevail even if wrongfully1 he has increased tenfold his chance of winning rightly4 ,if he can bring his mind to the attitude of simple1 unsophisticated truth-seeking1 without affectation and without vanity1 he is in the best possible condition for arguing successfully4 ,enthusiasm tells in this as in any other form of composition2 but ,argument is primarily an appeal to the intellect1 and since the reason of the reader is aroused to meet the logic advanced1 the writer has need of all his coolness and self-control in devising and arranging his arguments4 ,the choice of the line of proof which is to be employed is one of the most delicate matters connected with this form of composition4 ,if one undertakes to convince1 it is evident that no means which may secure conviction should be slighted2 and it is of importance to select the train of reasoning along which the mind of the reader will move with the least opposition4 ,here advice cannot avail much4 ,the student must depend upon care1 good judgment1 and practice1 with the study and analysis of the masterpieces of reasoning4 ,the choice of methods in arguing is the selection of the order of battle2 on it depends much of the success alike of attack and of defense4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the sense of the proposition1 the meaning of the terms1 and the line of argument having been determined1 they must be held to firmly to the end4 ,no defect in disputation is more common than that of shifting ground4 ,sometimes1 especially in debate1 this is deliberate4 ,a clever dialectician1 one who is able deftly to twist words to varied uses and to turn phrases about1 has little difficulty1 if he finds himself cornered1 in altering his position completely4 ,he easily confuses the terms so that the point at issue is changed4 ,he raises a cloud of phrases under cover of which his attack is shifted to another quarter1 as a line of battle is sometimes altered behind a cloud of smoke4 ,this is less often possible in written conflict than in oral1 yet there it may sometimes be done4 ,it is at best1 however1 merely a temporization4 ,what is set down in 8the cold permanence of print0 may be examined until its inaccuracies are brought to light4 ,the swiftness of speech and the glamour of personal persuasiveness will cover fallacies which could avail nothing if put upon paper4 ,any change of position1 moreover1 is a confession of weakness2 and once it is observed1 the effect of the entire chain of reasoning is weakened1 if not destroyed altogether4 ,a change of base in argument is the result of deliberate intention less often than of mental confusion4 ,few of us realize how seldom we think clearly2 how much more rarely we think clearly and consecutively2 and how most rare it is that we think clearly1 consecutively1 and logically4 ,much training is required to bring the mind to the power of holding fast to a single issue in discussion1 of persisting in a single line of proof1 of resisting all temptations to turn to side issues4 ,nor is this solely from a lack of intellectual power2 it is in part due to an instinctive desire to escape unwelcome results4 ,one of the surest indications of a firm and well-disciplined mind is that it does not shrink from its own conclusions4 ,the natural1 human tendency is to escape from a distasteful result of investigation or reasoning by assuming that the process must be wrong because the decision arrived at is unpleasant4 ,yet to dislike a proposition is not to disprove it4 ,to protest against the fact established by sound logic no more destroys it than the wail of a child brings down from heaven the round yellow moon for which he cries4 ,all intellectual growth and all character stand upon the willingness of the mind to accept and to act upon the conclusions at which it arrives by the exercise of its best reasoning powers4 ,it is much to be able to think2 it is more to dare to think2 but it is most of all to be able to accept without shrinking or evasion the results of thought1 whether one's own or others'4 ,,xiii ,,argumentative ,,form ,it is proper and perhaps even important that the student shall learn the distinction which is made by logicians between reasoning which is inductive and that which is deductive4 ,as a matter of practical work in the writing of arguments1 the distinction is of less importance than might seem from the formality with which these terms are treated2 but as ,induction and ,deduction are words which the true logician cannot mention without at least a seeming impulse to cross himself1 it is well to know what the difference is4 ,induction1 then1 is reasoning from the particular to the general2 the establishment of an hypothesis by showing that the facts agree with it4 ,it is preminently the scientific method4 ,by observing natural phenomena1 the scientist conceives what the law which governs them must be4 ,this idea of the general principle is then the hypothesis which he attempts to prove2 and his method is to examine the facts under all conditions possible1 establishing his proposition by showing that the facts are in accord with it4 ,deduction is the converse of this1 and consists in drawing out particular truths from general ones4 ,a universal proposition may be regarded as a bundle in which are bound together many individual ones4 ,it is the work of deduction to take these out1--to separate any one of them from the rest4 ,the general truth1 8,all metals are elements10 includes in it the especial truths1 8,iron is an element10 8,gold is an element10 and so on for each metal which could be named4 ,deduction is the process of separating one of these from the whole4 ,speaking broadly1 scientific reasoning is more likely to be inductive1 while other reasoning is more likely to be deductive4 ,as a matter of practical composition1 ,argument is the statement of a proposition1 and the arrangement of the proofs which the writer believes will establish its truth4 ,the essential matter is to begin with some truth or fact generally acknowledged1 and to lead the mind of the reader on by deductions which cannot be disputed1 until the proposition to be proved is reached as an unassailable conclusion4 ,this process may be very simple1 or extremely complex2 the steps may be slight1 or they may be1 like the platforms of the pyramids1 barely scalable4 ,in discussing methods1 it is necessary to use some technical expressions which it is well to define3-- ,a ,term is a word or combination of words used to name some thing or idea in reasoning4 ,a ,proposition is a statement of the relation between two terms4 ,if we say1 8,the man is a patriot10 we have a sentence in which is a statement of the relation between the thing 8man0 and the thing 8patriot40 ,this is therefore a proposition4 ,here the terms are 8man0 and 8patriot10 because these are the names of the things of which we speak in reasoning4 ,we might now make another proposition1 this time general1 and say1 8,a patriot is a valuable citizen40 ,here the terms are 8patriot0 and 8valuable citizen10 and the proposition asserts a relation between them4 ,if these two propositions are examined1 they are found to have in common the term 8patriot10 and it is seen to be possible to draw from them another proposition4 ,if the man of whom mention is made is a patriot1 and a patriot is a valuable citizen1 it is evident enough that the man must be a valuable citizen4 ,it is merely an application of the principle that things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other4 ,and this brings us to a third definition3-- ,a ,syllogism is a group of three propositions1 of which1 if the first two are true1 the third must follow as a deduction from them4 ,a complete syllogism has just been given3 ,the man is a patriot2 a patriot is a valuable citizen2 hence the man is a valuable citizen4 ,it is possible to draw a third proposition only from two that have one term in common4 ,it follows that there are three terms in a syllogism1--the first and second propositions having one term alike1 and each having a particular term which reappears in the third proposition4 ,this third proposition is that which the endeavor is made to prove4 ,to establish a proposition by syllogism1 then1 it is necessary to find two others which contain each one of its terms1 and which have a term in common4 ,it is necessary to add that not from every pair of propositions which contain a common term is it possible to draw a third1 and thus to form a syllogism4 ,if we say1 8,a rose is a flower10 8,a lily is a flower10 we have two propositions which have a common term1 yet we cannot go on to make the third proposition1 8,hence a rose is a lily40 ,the term which is common to both propositions must in one of them be spoken of as a whole1 or in a general way4 ,logicians say that it must be 8distributed20 in other words1 one assertion must cover the term in its entire extent4 ,in the first syllogism which we examined1 the common--it is usually called the 8middle0--term is in the second proposition spoken of in a general way4 8,a patriot is a valuable citizen0 is an assertion of all patriots4 ,in the false syllogism1 8,a rose is a flower2 a lily is a flower10 there is nothing said of all flowers1 and yet 8flower0 is the middle term4 ,the rose is one flower1 the lily is one flower1 but until there is something said of all flowers it is not possible to draw out a new conclusion1--to form a syllogism4 ,he who wishes to exercise his wits with pretty mental gymnastics may learn from books on logic that there are a great many varieties of syllogisms4 ,there are twenty-four valid ones1 and a crowd of poor relatives1 which exist under the discrediting title1 8imperfect syllogisms10 and which1 paradoxically1 are of no use until they have been 8reduced40 ,when it is added that each has a fine ,latin name1 the reader may appreciate that he is here being spared a good deal4 99 99 99 99 99 ,although it is not possible to take space for a very intricate example of the skeleton of an argument1 it is hardly fair to give nothing more complex than a simple syllogism2 and the following may assist the formation of a more clear conception of the form in which reasoning should be put4 ,suppose the proposition which is to be proved to be1 8,the ,norsemen discovered ,america before ,columbus40 ,taking a few of the more obvious arguments which might be advanced in support of this proposition1 and arranging them so as to begin with the more generally allowed and easily proved1 we have3 #a4 ,the frequent appearance in ,european literature before ,columbus of allusions to a land across the sea4 #b4 ,the story in the ,icelandic ,sagas4 #c4 ,norse remains in ,america4 ,these proofs will be sufficient for purposes of illustration4 ,let us examine them in detail a little4 ,under each of these proofs--which it is convenient to call subordinate propositions--lies a syllogism1 whether it is fully stated or not4 ,the writer must be entirely clear in his own mind what this is1 whether it seem to him well to state it explicitly or not4 ,here the syllogism of the first subordinate proposition1 briefly stated1 is3-- ,allusions to a land over sea prove knowledge of such a land4 ,in pre-,columbian literature are allusions to land over sea4 ,hence there must have been knowledge of such a land4 ,this brings us face to face with the necessity of supporting premises with facts4 ,to support the first sub-proposition there must be citations from pre-,columbian literature4 ,this is a mere matter of research4 ,one reason for putting this especial proof first is that in supporting it it is possible to begin with facts which cannot be questioned4 ,it is true that the very next step will bring us upon doubtful territory1 but we start from firm ground4 ,the moment that the passages are quoted1 the possibility occurs to the mind that they may be taken to refer to lands then known1 or as the expression of mythical fancies4 ,these objections must be met4 ,an argument can no more pass an unanswered objection than a locomotive can cross a bridge from which a span is missing4 ,reasons must here be given for connecting with the ,new ,world the passages cited4 ,it will be no less important to show the reasons for supposing that the information which the ancient writers possessed of the ,new ,world came from the ,norsemen4 ,the rest may all be allowed1 and yet be held to have no bearing on the thing to be proved1 so that this link in the chain must be made strong and evident4 ,this last point illustrates the sort of questions which are likely to arise in regard to arrangement4 ,is it well to introduce here the proofs that this knowledge of another continent came from the ,norse1 or would it be better to wait until the ,icelandic ,sagas have been spoken of8 ,in the latter case1 the parts of the argument may be more closely bound together1 and it gives an air of fairness to the whole when the writer is willing to go back a good way in his argument to take up possible objections and answer them4 ,against this is to be balanced the possibility that the reader may be put into a suspicious state of mind by finding that a doubtful point is passed over1 and so be less easily convinced than he otherwise might be4 ,the writer of an argument must consider these things1 and upon the good judgment with which he settles such questions much of his success depends4 ,in this first sub-proposition there is no need of stating formally the syllogism involved1 since1 if the first or major premise is successfully defended1 the rest follows obviously4 ,as a matter of practical arrangement1 then1 the sub-proposition and its defense might stand in this order3-- #a4 ,the discovery of ,america by the ,norsemen is proved by the allusions in pre-,columbian literature to a land over sea4 a4 ,citation of passages4 b4 ,proofs that these do not refer to the ,eastern ,hemisphere4 c4 ,proofs that they are not mythical allusions4 d4 ,proofs that they do refer to ,america4 e4 ,proofs that the knowledge shown came from ,norsemen4 ,when these points are established1 the first sub-proposition1 with its underlying syllogism1 may be looked upon as proved1 and the next may be taken up4 ,i have not studied the question of the discovery of ,america by the ,norsemen closely enough to know that the line of proof given is the best possible1 but it serves well enough to illustrate the general form of the skeleton of an argument4 ,each of the subordinate propositions must be divided and subdivided if necessary1 until the divisions can be handled easily and proved conclusively2 and the writer will do well to test the strength of his argument by making a complete chain of the syllogisms involved1 seeing which rests upon another1 so that the arrangement may be conformed to principles of natural sequence4 ,one important matter in reasoning is never to claim too much4 ,care must be taken not to put upon a proof a greater strain than it will bear4 ,it is also an obvious rule that it is wise to insist upon no more than is absolutely needed to establish the proposition in hand4 ,sometimes it is wise to indicate that more might be proved1 but in general the assent of the reader is to be treated as a bank account to be drawn upon as far as it is necessary1 but in no case beyond the actual need of the occasion4 ,it is well never to waste strength in proving more than is essential1 and always to avoid a side issue as one shuns a road leading to sure destruction4 ,often it is a wise device in argumentation to establish a point and leave the reader to perceive its import4 ,here as everywhere a thing which the reader is led to do for himself is a hundred fold more effective than anything which can be done or said for him4 ,the phrase1 8,is it not possible that these facts prove this80 has won more converts than the boldest assertion3 8,these proofs make it impossible to doubt40 ,man that is born of woman is born to obstinacy as the sparks fly upward1 and if he be assured that he cannot or shall not doubt1 he is apt to begin to doubt from simple contrariety4 ,yet it will not do to run any risk of leaving the reader in doubt as to what has been established by the arguments given4 ,it is often necessary to insist that a proposition is proved4 ,a victory is hardly recognized as a victory until the trumpets are blown1 and an argument is scarcely concluded without some sort of a declaration of success4 ,where the line is to be drawn between the extreme of leaving to the reader the perception of what is proved and that of insisting that a demonstration has been made must depend upon the audience addressed4 ,the writer of an argument has especial need to be sure to whom he speaks4 ,he must consider the knowledge of his audience1 their views1 and especially their prejudices4 ,it is in relation to the last that there comes into play what it has been the fashion to call ,persuasion4 ,although ,argument is an appeal to the intellect1 there are few chains of reasoning which fail to appeal also to the emotions4 ,it is hardly possible to conceive of a discussion which will not to a greater or less degree touch the passions of those addressed4 ,much is effected by keeping in mind the natural prejudices of the reader1 and so framing arguments that they shall appeal directly to the emotions by the personal or selfish nature of their deductions4 ,an illustration is to be found in political harangues1 which1 while nominally devoted to proving the wisdom or advisability of some party measure1 are really only clever attempts to convince that the measure is for the personal advantage of voters4 ,this is1 of course1 the abuse of this form of argument4 ,the legitimate use of this appeal to the passions is in the putting of reasoning sound and wholesome in itself into a form which shall captivate the hearer or reader4 ,it is the lavishing upon the composition of all the graces of manner1 of style1 of ornament1 which the writer can compass1 to the end that the reader shall be attracted and inclined to accept the conclusions set down4 ,stevenson speaks of a somewhat different matter in words which are strictly applicable here3-- ,whatever be the obscurities1 whatever the intricacies of the argument1 the neatness of the fabric must not suffer1 or the artist has been proved unequal to his design4 ,and1 on the other hand1 no form of words must be selected1 no knot must be tied among the phrases1 unless knot and word be precisely what is wanted to forward and illuminate the argument2 for to fail in this is to swindle in the game4--,cont4 ,rev41 vol4 xlvii4 7#ahhe71 p4 #eea4 ,almost as often as with the establishment of our own reasoning1 are we concerned in argument with endeavors to overthrow the logic of an opponent4 ,frequently it is necessary to refute views opposed to that which is being put forward4 ,it is in general wise not to bring this in too soon4 ,it is well to predispose the reader in favor of the conclusion to be defended1 and then to take up contrary opinions4 ,sometimes a broad statement at the beginning to the effect that objections exist is politic2 and in any case it is important that there be no slightest appearance of shirking or evading the issue4 ,when the writer is conscious that the weight of popular sentiment or general opinion is against him1 he may sometimes command attention and provoke interest by boldly plunging at once into an attack upon commonly received theories4 ,audacity always commands attention1 and if it be reinforced by ability it is no less sure of admiration4 ,a striking example of this method is to be found in ,colonel ,ingersoll's attacks upon the ,bible and religion4 ,however one may be shocked by his violations of good taste1 and whether one does or does not agree with his methods or his conclusions1 it is impossible to deny his success as a speaker4 ,the very boldness with which he has attacked has insured a hearing4 ,this form of discussion calls for dash1 courage1 and confidence1--and it is sometimes the result of sheer impudence4 ,only he who has great powers and perfect command of them can reasonably hope to succeed here4 ,for answering the arguments of others1 and indeed for the proper examination of one's own1 it is necessary to give attention to the numerous fallacies which may creep into reasoning1 by design or by accident4 ,these are to be completely mastered only by the minute study of logic2 but some are so common that they should be considered here4 ,the first fallacy is that of the confusion of terms1 such as that found in the attempt to prove the chef to be an interpreter of the beautiful1 or in the question whether ,whitman was a poet4 ,the second fallacy which in practical writing it is well to be on guard against is the non sequitur4 ,there is much advanced as argument--as for instance in political editorials--where consecutiveness is confounded with causality4 ,post hoc ergo propter hoc is the phrase which sums this up3 ,after this1 therefore because of this4 8,we shall die after eating this meal1 therefore this meal is the cause of our death10 is an example of this fallacy4 ,put in this way the absurdity is evident2 but a genuine fallacy1 lurking under words as the conventional serpent of school-girl compositions and of temperance orators lurks beneath flowers1 is a different thing4 ,here is part of an editorial from one of the leading ,new ,york daily journals3 ,the vote of ,senator ,x4 is a striking illustration of the power of money among the law-makers of this great nation4 ,the vigorous and unscrupulous support which has been given to this bill by ,mr4 ,a41 the western billionaire1 is known to everybody2 and equally well known is the fact that hitherto ,senator ,x4 has been counted among the stanch opposers of the iniquitous measure4 ,senator ,x4 is known to have had a private interview with ,mr4 ,a4 on the evening before the vote was taken1 and the result was evident when next morning the ,senator gave his support to the bill which he had before steadily opposed4 ,in the especial case to which this refers there may or there may not have been bribery2 but it is well to bear in mind that this editorial proves nothing4 ,it amounts merely to saying that the vote happened after the interview and was therefore the result of it2 so that it is in reality one of those fallacies which in a simpler form appear so absurd4 ,yet readers in abundance accept this sort of thing as proof1 especially when political prejudice inclines them to believe it4 ,it would seem that a little common sense and a little care in examination were all that could be needed to dispose of specious errors of this class1 yet they every day prevail4 ,the third fallacy is that of analogy4 ,analogy proves a probability1 but it cannot establish a certainty4 ,if a young woman has refused a dozen suitors1 it is manifestly absurd to say that this proves that she will be equally unkind to the thirteenth4 ,politicians reason by analogy that a ,state which hitherto has gone ,republican or ,democratic may be counted upon to give a majority for its old party2 when1 lo1 a change comes suddenly1 and the conclusion is found to be false4 ,that we have always liked the novels of a certain author does not insure that we shall be pleased with his next2 that the sun has always risen does not prove that it will rise to-morrow morning2 that men have from time immemorial been born with one head does not prove that a child may not be born with two1--as testify the freaks of dime museums4 ,it is true that analogy often establishes a probability so strong that it amounts to a moral certainty4 ,we are justified in acting upon the assumption that the sun will rise to-morrow1 and in assuming that any given child of whose birth we hear has but one head4 ,it is important in arguing1 however1 to bear in mind the difference1 whether in one's own reasoning or in that of an opponent1 between analogy and absolute proof4 ,things which are like the same thing are like each other2 but things that are like the same thing are not necessarily equal to each other4 ,the practical rules which may be given for the writing of ,argument are chiefly recapitulations of what has been said4 a4 ,begin with clear understanding and clear statement of proposition and of terms4 b4 ,plan argument with reference to the especial point to be established and to the audience to be addressed4 c4 ,proceed generally from the more obvious to the less clear1 and from the weaker to the stronger proof4 d4 ,be acutely alive to fallacies in any reasoning which is to be refuted1 but to fallacies in your own work no less4 e4 ,never force a proposition or a proof beyond its value4 f4 ,concede all side issues and irrelevant matters if by so doing you do not lessen the chain of reasoning in points really important1 and especially if in so doing you can foster a disposition favorable to your position4 g4 ,always remember that assertion is not argument4 ,to these rules might not inappropriately be added the saying of ,sophocles3 8,truth is always the strongest argument40 99 99 99 99 99 ,the practical application of ,argument to literary work is not difficult to discover4 ,the most obvious use of this sort of composition is in the plea of the lawyer1 the editorials of the newspaper1 the essay establishing scientific theories1 literary opinions1 or the like4 ,whoever writes at all1 however1 even if it be but in simple private correspondence1 is sure to employ ,argument sooner or later1 and to a greater or less degree4 ,it may be in defense of a friend1 the justification of one's own acts1 in proving the value of a new invention1 supporting political or scientific views1 in urging a particular line of investment1--in short1 in any one of a thousand different ways4 ,in one shape or another1 reasoning comes constantly into play4 ,he is merely a 8mush of concession0 who never attempts to bring another to his way of thinking4 ,indeed1 he who does not endeavor to make others think as he thinks may be suspected of never thinking at all4 ,life is a continuous conflict1 the strife for the survival of the fittest4 ,the instinct to make our opinions prevail is in the blood of the meekest4 ,civilization differs from barbarism chiefly in that the strife has become intellectual instead of physical2 and intellectual conflict is but another name for ,argument4 ,since our lot is cast in a civilized state of society1 to neglect this form of composition is to neglect the manual of arms of the battalion in which ,fate has enrolled us6 ,,xiv ,,description ,description is at once the most common and the most difficult of the varieties of composition4 ,it is apparently a thing which nobody fears to undertake1 while it is certainly one which only a master is able to do really well4 ,everybody attempts it1 yet there are probably in literature fewer fully successful descriptions than there are examples of any other sort of writing whatever4 ,a description is an endeavor to call up before the mind of the reader a picture of the thing described4 ,nothing is easier than to make a catalogue of things which one has seen2 to schedule the details of a landscape1 the particulars of a building1 a room or a person4 ,to convey a clear and accurate idea of the whole is most difficult4 ,the untrained writer is apt to make of his attempts at description a mere running memorandum of points which he remembers in a scene4 ,he sets down a list of matters more or less important1 not because he can thus make the whole vivid and real to the reader1 but because they are true4 ,the result is that he has forced the truth to convey a falsehood--if indeed it be made to convey anything intelligible4 ,no student can go far in the examination of any of the arts without discovering that the object of expression is not so much to tell the truth as to produce an impression of truth4 ,the literal truth may easily give a false impression1 and becomes in that case the most vicious of falsehoods of which art is capable1 just as the telling of facts with intent to deceive is the most dangerous form of lying4 ,the thing to be sought is not accuracy of statement1 but accuracy of perception1 and the means must be subordinated to the effect4 ,it follows that even more vitally important than that all details be true1 is that they be significant2 that they not only appeal to the memory or the reason of the writer1 but that they have a creative effect upon the mind of the reader4 ,the author may remember that all the things which he sets down are true1 yet it may be that all which he writes is false in its result4 ,in morals it is fitting that we give credit for good intentions1 no matter what the result of them may be2 in authorship the intention is of no consequence whatever4 ,the result is the only thing to be taken into account4 ,here to fail is to fail1 whether one meant well or ill2 and from this there is no escape4 ,i am of course keeping strictly to the definition of ,description which has been given4 ,in that form of ,exposition which is frequently called ,description1 the giving a scientific or practical account of a thing1 accuracy of detail is of the first importance4 ,if one is called upon to 8describe0 a machine1 it is not usually meant that he shall try to present to the mind a picture of it1 but that he shall expound it4 ,this is not ,description in a literary sense1 and with this we have nothing now to do4 ,in the sense in which the term is used as naming a department of composition1 ,description is not scientific1 but emotional2 not categorical1 but literary2 not intellectual1 so much as visual4 ,the description of a landscape falls short of its intent just so far as it fails to call up before the inner eye the image which was before the mind of the writer1--save in so far as from the nature of language any word-picture must fall short4 ,if a passage designed to paint a scene does not make the reader seem actually to see that scene it cannot be held that the author has fulfilled his intention4 ,it must be recognized once and for all that words cannot really paint4 ,no artificer can labor intelligently until he has learned not only the possibilities but also the limitations of the means at his disposal4 ,in writing it is important to remember what words cannot do as well as what they can effect4 ,the most that the writer can hope to do is to revive in the mind of the reader images which the latter has seen4 ,in speaking of the limitations of language in the first of these talks1 ,i reminded you that when we read the description of a landscape we construct an image out of material already in the mind4 ,words cannot paint2 that is the province of another art4 ,the painter is able to present fresh forms1 colors1 combinations1 new landscapes1 strange and unknown figures1 and all varieties of visual novelty4 ,the writer must content himself with a reawakening and a rearrangement of forms1 figures1 colors1 images1 already in the reader's mind4 ,his effect of novelty must come from fresh and untried combinations2 from the vividness with which he is able to arouse these remembered images until they appear so real as to seem new4 ,it easily follows that the writer who understands his art will cunningly avail himself of images which are likely to be stored in the minds of his readers4 ,it is the same principle which directs us to appeal to common emotions1 to the general experiences of mankind4#e ,let us examine a little this extract from an account of a walk in the woods in ,england3-- 8,looking between the trees1 ,i saw a little circular glade1 two or three score feet across4 ,it was covered with soft1 thin grass1 speckled with palely blue scabiosas1 and set round with tall1 slender trees4 ,on one side was a strange imitation of the great trilith at ,stonehenge1 formed by two tall boulders across which had fallen the trunk of a large beech tree40 ,in ,america the reader might not know what scabiosas are1 but as this was written in ,england1 where1 in some parts at least1 the pale blue blossoms of the flower are common in every field1 the audience addressed would probably not be puzzled by this word4 ,it is to be supposed that even there1 however1 there would be many who would fail to feel any force in the phrase 8the great trilith at ,stonehenge40 ,a few might have seen it1 and others might be familiar with pictures representing it2 but the chance of finding this image in the mind of the reader was so small as to render its use at least ill-advised2 and especially so as the comparison is that of a trifling thing to a great one4 ,the reader who recalled ,stonehenge would be likely to feel that there was small excuse for likening a tree trunk tumbled across a couple of boulders to the magnificent and mysterious monuments of ,salisbury ,plain4 ,an example of the fact that even in dealing with the supernatural a writer has no resource save images already known may be found in any story dealing with the weird4 ,take this from ,rudyard ,kipling's tale1 8,the ,return of ,imray10 where the spirit of a murdered man is haunting the house3-- ,we were alone in the house1 but none the less it was too fully occupied by a tenant with whom ,i did not wish to interfere4 ,i never saw him1 but ,i could see the curtain between the rooms quivering where he had just passed through2 ,i could hear the chairs creaking as the bamboos sprung under a weight that had just quitted them2 and ,i could feel when ,i went to get a book from the dining-room that somebody was waiting in the shadows of the front veranda till ,i should have gone away4 ,this is perhaps not one of ,mr4 ,kipling's happiest passages1 since it insists somewhat too strongly upon the corporeal bulk of the phantom1 but it illustrates the point which we are considering4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of the greatest importance in ,description is the point of view4 ,first there is the question of the physical point of view4 ,the writer must know certainly and clearly at what point he has placed the reader to look at the landscape1 the person1 or the scene which is described4 ,in the first lecture ,i quoted the description which opens ,kingsley's 8,westward ,ho60 ,there the point of view is that of one approaching the 8little white town of ,bideford10 but there is at the very outset a violation of propriety which injures the force of the whole4 8,the little white town of ,bideford10 the author says1 8which slopes upward from its broad tide-river paved with yellow sands1 and many-arched old bridge where salmon wait for ,autumn floods40 ,the 8yellow sands0 and the salmon are details which are known to one familiar with the town1 but they are not apparent to the stranger1 they are not evident from the point of view chosen1 and their introduction at once confuses the impression4 ,goethe1 who was keenly alive to all the details of literary workmanship1 commented upon a passage in ,scott which violates the point of view4 ,in talking with ,eckermann he said3-- ,it is a peculiarity of ,walter ,scott's that his great talent in representing details often leads him into faults4 ,thus in 8,ivanhoe10 there is a scene where they are seated at a table in a castle-hall1 at night1 and a stranger enters4 ,now1 he is quite right in describing the stranger's appearance and dress1 but it is a fault that he goes to the length of describing his feet1 shoes1 and stockings4 ,when we sit down in the evening and some one comes in1 we notice only the upper part of his body4 ,if ,i describe the feet1 daylight enters at once1 and the scene loses its nocturnal character4--,march #aa1 #ahca4 ,the point of view may of course be progressive4 ,the reader may be led on through a landscape or through the rooms of a house1 for instance4 ,in this it is necessary to keep clearly in mind and to make evident to the reader every alteration in the point of sight4 ,properly used1 this method may be very effective2 but the least vagueness inevitably leads to confusion4 ,no description can be successful if there is any uncertainty in regard to the station of observation4 ,the reader must know where he is looking from as well as what he is at4 ,he may not1 it is true1 realize this1 but the writer must realize it for him4 ,what has been said of the physical point of view may be applied to the emotional4 ,the feeling of the spectator influences the impression made upon him by that at which he looks4 ,do not forget the mood in which you expect your reader to see the mental picture which you are endeavoring to present4 ,if you introduce into the midst of a highly wrought and exciting tale a description of a scene so closely connected with the narrative that it is important for the reader to see it clearly1 you have to consider that if you have the hold you should have upon him he is aroused by the story1 and will look with quickened eyes upon the view your words present4 ,you may therefore give him1 quickly and sharply1 details such as imprint themselves on the brain in moments of excitement4 ,the principle is one so obvious as hardly to need further illustration2 but it is not to be looked upon as of small importance because small space is here given to it4 ,much modern description may be said to be entirely emotional1 in the sense that it aims rather to produce the emotions aroused by a scene than to picture the scene in its physical aspect4 ,a recognition of the difficulty of presenting a visual image has brought this about1 just as it has brought about the discarding of the old-time fashion of cataloguing details4 ,the modern heroine1 for instance1 is seldom described by the best novelists4 ,two or three characteristic particulars are generally considered sufficient to suggest the whole1 or one touch is cunningly added to another in the body of the narrative1 so that the image is formed almost imperceptibly4 ,it is convenient to consider ,description as being of two sorts1 although no sharp line can be drawn between them4 ,one method may be called ,direct ,description1 and the other ,suggestive ,description4 ,the names indicate the distinction1--an attempt to call up a picture by the enumeration directly of the characteristics of an object or a scene1 or to suggest it by an imaginative figure4 ,the former is the simpler1 the more common1 the less subtle4 ,the difference between these sorts of description may perhaps be appreciated by contrasting two passages1 the first from ,shelley's 8,mont ,blanc10 and the second from ,coleridge's 8,hymn before ,sunrise in the ,vale of ,chamouni40 ,shelley1 dealing directly with his subject1 and enumerating actual features of the scene1 writes3-- ,thus thou1 ,ravine of ,arve--dark1 deep ,ravine-- ,thou many-colored1 many-voicd vale1 ,over whose pines and crags and caverns sail ,fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams4 ,coleridge1 on the other hand1 suggests a picture rather than gives one directly3-- ,hast thou a charm to stay the morning star ,in his steep course8 ,so long he seems to pause ,on thy bald1 awful head1 ,o sovran ,blanc6 ,in the one case there is a statement of particulars1 and from these separate features the reader is expected to build up the scene before his mental vision4 ,in the other there is merely a suggestion of the morning star hovering lingeringly over the snowy1 awe-inspiring crest of the mighty mountain4 ,it seems to me that in this especial instance ,coleridge1 for once at least1 has the better of ,shelley1 and that the implied picture is more vivid and effective than the picture more carefully elaborated4 ,to take an illustration from prose1 let us contrast the description which ,dickens gives of ,sairey ,gamp with that of ,mrs4 ,fezziwig4 ,of the former he says3-- ,she was a fat old woman1 this ,mrs4 ,gamp1 with a husky voice and a moist eye1 which she had a remarkable power of turning up and only showing the white of it4#f ,having very little neck1 it cost her some trouble to look over herself1 if one may say so1 at those to whom she talked4 ,she wore a very rusty gown1 rather the worse for snuff1 and a shawl and bonnet to correspond4444 ,the face of ,mrs4 ,gamp--the nose in particular--was red and swollen2 and it was difficult to enjoy her society without becoming conscious of a smell of spirits4 ,of the other lady ,dickens merely remarks3-- ,in came ,mrs4 ,fezziwig1 one vast substantial smile4 ,good as the former of these descriptions is of its kind1 it seems to me that if this were all that we were told about these two characters1 we should have in the mind a more distinct picture of ,mrs4 ,fezziwig than of ,mrs4 ,gamp4 ,one is not obliged to share this opinion1 however1 to appreciate the difference between the two methods4 ,in ,direct ,description1 the first thing to be considered1 after the point of view is selected1 is what is the central idea of the picture which is to be produced4 ,it is apt to be the fact that from a description the reader gets one clear and vivid impression to which all else is subordinate1 and beside which all else is comparatively vague4 ,it is therefore often wise to put all the real stress upon the points to be accented1 leaving the reader to imagine the rest4 ,the matter of selecting the central thought is of the more weight1 since it is important that this be given clearly to the reader at its first presentation4 ,whoever has tried to alter a mental image knows how difficult it is to change a picture which is already defined in the imagination4 ,if the mind in constructing a picture has conceived of a mountain as standing on the right1 and afterward finds that the author intended it to be on the left1 it is on the right that that mountain is likely to remain in the ideal landscape4 ,i have always been a little troubled by the fact that in his description at the commencement of 8,the ,merry ,men10 ,stevenson1 careful and exquisite artist though he was1 speaks of the 8great granite rocks that 444 go down together in troops into the sea1 like cattle on a summer's day20 and then1 a little later1 declares that 8on calm days you can go wandering between them in a boat for hours1 echoes following you about the labyrinth40 ,from the comparison to cattle1 ,i always get the idea of boulders much smaller than the second sentence shows to have been intended4 ,the readjustment is an unpleasant break which jars upon the reality of the whole4 ,in the first example which ,i gave you1 we are told that the writer saw a glade1 covered with soft1 thin grass1 speckled with flowers4 ,it is added that the glade was set round with trees1 and then that on one side were a couple of tall boulders1 across which had fallen a large beech tree4 ,this does not seem the natural or the effective order4 ,the eye would first notice that the glade was set about with trees1 next that there was the large fallen tree1 lying across the boulders1 and only after this see that the ground was covered with flower-spotted1 thin grass4 ,here is another example which illustrates the same error3-- ,vervain saw before him a rude mob1 armed with all sorts of improvised weapons4 ,they had evidently caught up scythes1 bill-hooks1 axes1 or whatever came first to hand4 ,in the midst of them his eye distinguished ,henley and ,western1 and they were all led by a large1 coarse man with a red cap1 who seemed to have some authority over them4 ,they were marshaled into a rude order1 the lines being wavering and uneven1 and all were evidently fiercely excited4 ,the author speaks first of a 8rude mob10 a phrase which calls up a formless and confused mass of men4 ,we are next told that in the midst the spectator recognized two acquaintances1 then that there was a leader1 and after that that the crowd was moving in rude order1 with uneven lines4 ,this last statement forces the reader to alter1 if he can1 his first impression1 and instead of imagining a confused crowd1 to think of a company irregularly organized4 ,if the writer had really seen in his own mind the thing of which he wrote1 he would in the first place have spoken of the mob as a company led by a leader conspicuous in his red cap1 and marching in wavering lines4 ,after this he would have been conscious of the rough and improvised weapons1 and only after all these things had forced themselves upon his attention would there have been any recognition of individuals4 ,to select the central idea it is generally safe to consider what one's own first or strongest impression was or would be at sight of the thing pictured4 ,the effective order is usually that which would be the actual experience of the reader if he were standing in the flesh at the point of view indicated by the author4 ,this is the natural method1 and while it has its dangers1 it is at once practical and logical4 ,in any case1 there must be some reason for the order1 so that the reader may be led from one point to the next4 ,consecutiveness is the logic of ,description and ,narration4 ,as an example of describing where the details are arranged as they would be likely to catch the attention of the spectator1 we may take this picture from that classic of ,american literature1 ,sylvester ,judd's 8,margaret30-- ,the pond covered several hundreds of acres1 its greatest diameter measuring about a mile and a half2 its outline was irregular1 here divided by sharp rocks1 there retreating into shaded coves2 and on its face appeared three or four small islands1 bearing trees and low bushes4 ,its banks1 if not really steep1 had a bluff and precipitous aspect from the tall forest that girdled it about4--,ch4 i4 ,or this exquisite bit from ,stevenson3-- ,the river there is dammed back for the service of the flour-mill just below1 so that it lies deep and darkling1 and the sand slopes into brown obscurity with a glint of gold2 and it has but newly been recruited by the borrowings of the snuff-mill just above1 and these1 tumbling merrily in1 shake the pool to its black heart1 fill it with drowsy eddies1 and set the curded froth of many other mills solemnly steering to and fro upon the surface4--,the ,manse4 ,dickens observes this natural order in many of his detailed pictures of persons4 ,the portrait of ,mr4 ,grimwig may serve as an example3-- ,at this moment there walked into the room1 supporting himself by a thick stick1 a stout old gentleman1 rather lame in one leg1 who was dressed in a blue coat1 striped waistcoat1 nankeen breeches and gaiters1 and a broad-brimmed white hat with the sides turned up with green4 ,a very small-plaited shirt-frill stuck out from his waistcoat1 and a very long steel watch-chain1 with nothing but a key at the end1 dangled loosely below it4 ,the ends of his white neckerchief were twisted into a ball about the size of an orange2 the variety of shapes into which his countenance was twisted defy description4 ,he had a manner of screwing his head round on one side when he spoke1 and looking out of the corners of his eyes at the same time1 which irresistibly reminded the beholder of a parrot4--,oliver ,twist4 ,this elaboration of particulars is somewhat out of fashion4 ,particulars are grasped by the eye so quickly that the deliberation of words is apt to destroy proportion1 while it is also true that the reader is in danger of forgetting the beginning before he reaches the end4 ,it is perhaps worth while to give an example of the abuse of this method1 since all inexperienced writers have a tendency to mistake a catalogue for a description4 ,it is manifestly idle to pile up particulars1 unless they are kept subordinate to some central thought4 ,here is the description of the heroine of a modern ,english novel1 8,a ,chelsea ,householder30-- ,to begin1 then1 ,muriel was tall1 with a slight1 erect figure1 a quick step1 and an air of youth and vigor which did the beholder good to look at4#g ,her face was oval1 as nearly oval at least as a face can be in which the chin is a good deal more pronounced than is usual in classic beauties4 ,the cheeks were pale1 paler than they had any business to be1 judging by the rest of the physique1 the most noticeable fact in point of coloring being that the eyes1 hair1 brows1 and lashes were all of the same1 or pretty nearly the same1 color--a deep1 dark brown1 inclining to chestnut above the temples1 from which the hair was brushed courageously back1 so as to form a small knot at the back of the head4 ,her eyes--not1 perhaps1 by the way1 a strikingly original trait in a heroine--were large and bright2 indeed1 brighter or pleasanter eyes have seldom looked out of a woman's face1 their beauty consisting less in their size and color than in this very vividness and brightness1 which seemed to shine out of the irises themselves4 ,for all that1 the face in repose was not exactly a bright one1 or rather the brightness came to it only by fits and starts1 its prevailing expression being a somewhat sober one1 a sobriety giving way1 however1 at a touch1 and being replaced by a peculiarly sunshiny smile and glance4 ,this is not the whole of the paragraph1 but it is enough for our purpose4 ,there need not be a better example of how not to do it1 or of how much may be said about a thing without conveying any definite idea of it4 ,for my own part1 ,i have no idea whatever how ,muriel looked1 and long before ,i got half through her verbal portrait ,i had ceased to care4 ,few faults are more common than this furnishing a list of particulars in the expectation that the reader will construct therefrom the picture which the author has not been clever enough to make clear--a method1 it might be added1 not unlike the system of punctuation adopted by the late so-called ,lord ,timothy ,dexter1 who put all the points together at the end of his book1 and directed his readers to distribute them at their own pleasure4 ,it is hardly needful to remark upon the prime necessity of clearness in description1 but it is perhaps not amiss to remind beginners that it is not possible to picture a thing which the writer does not himself see4 ,if he is writing of an imaginary landscape and speak of a tree1 he should be able if he choose to count the branches of that tree as clearly as if it in reality stood before him4 ,unless he know whether the heads of the flowers tip to the right or to the left1 whether the sheep on the hillside of which he writes are nearer the fence on the one side or to the stone wall on the other1 unless he can with inner vision actually see the shape of the heroine's head and the length of her fingers1 the slope of her neck and the folds of her gown as if she were in bodily presence before him1 he cannot describe any of these things4 ,he cannot tell what he does not know4 ,more than that1 he cannot tell to others as much as he knows2 so that unless he be able to see a good deal more than he wishes to impart1 he will fail to convey as much as he desires4 ,it is of importance to cultivate the habit of visualizing things1 if one intends to describe them4 ,the mind should be trained to conceive of them as visibly before it4 ,this is the only way of arriving at the power of vivid portrayal4 ,it is easy to go through the books of great writers and select those which show that the authors have this power of visualization4 ,if a writer has it not1 no skill of diction or of construction can avail to supply its lack4 ,in ,description we have again occasion to emphasize the rule which was given in ,exposition3 proceed from the near to the remote2 from the physical to the mental2 from the obvious to the obscure4 ,homer1 surpassed in happiness of epithet by ,shakespeare only1 affords abundant illustrations of this point4 ,he says1 for instance3 8,wheels round1 brazen1 eight-spoked20 8shields smooth1 beautiful1 brazen1 well-hammered40 ,the particulars are given in the order in which they would naturally be observed4 ,that the wheel is round and that the shield is smooth1 the eye perceives at once4 ,the second glance adds the fact of material1 and so on4 ,what is meant by taking up the physical before the mental is illustrated by the following sentence from a theme picturing the appearance of a harbor in the ,west ,indies3-- ,in the distance ,i saw six or seven vessels in quarantine for yellow fever1 all flying yellow flags4 ,the process of the mind is here reversed4 ,the spectator sees the flags and reflects that they indicate quarantine for yellow fever4 ,it is not1 as a general thing1 well to intersperse these mental comments4 ,it may properly be done in a case like this1 because in reading1 as in seeing1 the mind is likely to inquire what is the signification of the yellow flags2 and it is well to answer this question in order that the reader's attention do not wander in search of an answer4 ,if this is to be done1 however1 the physical appearance which gives rise to the interrogation should be given first4 ,to reverse the order is something like giving first an answer and then the conundrum to which it belongs4 ,it is as bad as mixing metaphors to mingle physical and mental characteristics4 ,in a description of the volcano of ,kilauea ,i found this sentence3-- ,the combination of vivid red and green contrasted with the deathlike quiet and grandeur of the crater4 ,it is not possible to contrast physical qualities like color with emotional ones such as quiet and grandeur4 ,it is like multiplying pictures by potatoes4 ,of effects used in ,description the appeal to the sight is manifestly by far the most effective4 ,indeed1 it is to be questioned whether any other is of use save in very rare instances4 ,of course the individual temperament of the reader has much to do with this matter1 and ,i am perhaps influenced by the fact that while it is very easy for me to see things in imagination it is rather difficult for me to hear them4 ,there is no question1 however1 that an appeal to the sense of hearing is with the average reader less likely to be convincing than that to sight4 ,it seems to me also that the use of smell is less often successful than either of the others1 and yet ,kipling has shown how effective this may be if employed by a master4 ,the mention of odors is more likely1 perhaps1 to belong to description by suggestion than to description simple and direct4 ,an important element in ,description is movement4 ,this consists in showing the details of a picture as if the mind of the reader were moving from one to another4 ,it is secured by naming them as they would be observed2 by presenting them as they would successively become apparent to some other person2 or by exhibiting them in connection with their effects4 ,perhaps ,i may be able to show this by three brief pictures of a peasant girl4 #a4 ,she was a beautiful peasant girl1 tall and slender1 dressed in the fashion of the country1 and carrying in her hand a bunch of scarlet poppies4 ,her snowy coif was pushed back1 showing brown cheeks1 a mass of black hair1 and bright1 startled eyes4 #b4 ,paul watched the tall1 slender peasant come up the flowery lane1 twirling in her hand as she walked a handful of flaming red poppies4 ,he was sure that she had not noticed him1 and he smiled at the unconscious beauty of her brown face1 clear eyes1 and black1 wavy hair4 #c4 ,the artist's gaze was suddenly arrested by a tall peasant girl1 who walked slowly up the lane4 ,he stopped to watch her1 attracted by the grace of her slender figure1 and noting appreciatively the effect against her gray gown of the scarlet poppies which she was twirling in her brown hands4 ,as she drew nearer1 and unconsciously pushed back the snowy coif1 an involuntary exclamation escaped his lips at the brilliancy of the eyes which flashed out at him from beneath her black1 tumbled hair4 ,such movement as there is in the first of these depends upon the arrangement of the particulars in the order in which they would naturally be perceived by the reader2 in the second this order is shown to be natural by presentation of the details as if they were seen by a spectator2 while in the third the effect is heightened by the introduction of the emotions aroused in the mind of the artist by the sight of the girl4 ,whether these examples make the fact clear or not1 there is no question that the last form is the most effective4 ,it is not always available1 nor is it always appropriate2 but when it is possible it is more vivid and persuasive than any other method4 ,there is in it more suggestiveness1 and hence there is more force4 ,as a practical example of the use of this method1 this from ,thomas ,hardy may serve3-- ,how very lovable her face was to him6 ,there was nothing ethereal about it2 all was real vitality1 real warmth1 real incarnation4 ,yet when all was thought and felt that could be thought and felt about her features in general1 it was her mouth which turned out to be the magnetic pole thereof4 ,eyes almost as deep and speaking he had seen before1 and cheeks perhaps as fair2 brows as arched1 a chin and throat almost as shapely2 her mouth he had seen nothing at all to equal on the face of the earth4 ,to a young man with the least fire in him1 that little upward lift in the middle of her top lip was distracting1 infatuating1 maddening4 ,he had never before seen a woman's lips and teeth which forced upon his mind1 with such persistent iteration1 the old ,elizabethan simile of roses filled with snow4--,tess of the ,d',urbervilles1 xxiv4 ,footnote #e3 ,a pleasant if a little exaggerated illustration of the way in which pictures are made up from materials in the mind is afforded by this account of the vision of ,rome which a boy conjured up in his mind3 8,rome6444 ,i tried to imagine what it would be like when ,i got there4 ,the ,coliseum ,i knew1 of course1 from a woodcut in the history-book2 so to begin with ,i plumped that down in the middle4 ,the rest had to be patched up from the little gray market-town where twice a year we went to have our hair cut2 hence1 in the result1 ,vespasian's amphitheatre was approached by muddy little streets1 wherein the ,red ,lion and the ,blue ,boar1 with ,somebody's ,entire along their front1 and 8,commercial ,room0 on their windows2 the doctor's house1 of substantial red brick2 and the faade of the ,new ,wesleyan ,chapel1 which we thought very fine1 were the chief architectural ornaments2 while the ,roman populace pottered about in smocks and corduroys1 twisting the tails of the ,roman calves and inviting each other to beer in musical ,wessex40--,,kenneth ,,graham3 ,the ,golden ,age4 ,footnote #f3 ,sic4 ,footnote #g3 ,sic4 ,,xv ,,description ,,continued ,description by ,suggestion is perhaps not to be called ,description in the exact meaning of the word1 but in so far as it is an attempt to call up an image it is proper to consider it so4 ,even if it seem but an attempt to induce in the mind the spirit of a scene1 a character1 or a thing1 it may still be treated as ,description1 since the main purpose is to bring vividly to the thought of the reader the image of the thing spoken of4 ,it has already been said that words can add no material image to those in the mind1 but must work by the rearrangement of what is already there4 ,if ,i read the account of a little rustic pond ,i call to mind some sheet of water that ,i have seen4 ,if ,i have lived in the ,south the picture is likely to be that of a lakelet bordered by moss-hung trees1 while if my experiences have been confined to ,new ,england ,i shall involuntarily think of northern foliage and scenery4 ,i shall in any case construct out of old images this new one4 ,now the mind is best able to do this for itself if simply properly aroused and guided instead of being too minutely directed4 ,in direct description the author adds particular to particular1 bidding the reader put one detail in place by the others4 ,if a writer do this with sufficient skill1 he may succeed in inducing the consciousness of the reader to follow him2 but always he is leading and the other is being led4 ,on the other hand1 when a suggestion is used the reader is aroused to take1 as it were1 the initiative4 ,when ,dickens calls ,mrs4 ,fezziwig 8one vast1 substantial smile10 he stimulates the reader to picture the woman for himself4 ,here the imagination of the one who reads takes the lead instead of following4 ,it goes by the path pointed out by the author1 but it goes by itself4 ,the result is that freshness and clearness of impression which belong only to what the mind does or seems to do voluntarily4 ,this is perhaps making more of a show of psychology than the occasion calls for or than my knowledge of that difficult science warrants2 but at least it may serve to emphasize once more the fact that whatever the writer can induce the reader to do for himself is sure to be greatly more effective than anything which the writer can do for him4 ,herein lies the value of suggestive description4 ,it arouses the mind to be actively receptive4 ,another way of putting the same thing would perhaps be to say that avowed description appeals more to the understanding1 while suggestion addresses itself more directly to the imagination4 ,the simplest form of any description is of course the epithet4 ,this in literal description is apt to be ineffective from its meagreness4 ,in suggestion it is often rich and satisfactory4 ,when ,homer speaks of the 8swift-footed ,achilles10 he has not pictured the hero1 yet he conveys by the implication of the epithet an image which is not without distinctness4 ,the same is true of such ,homeric phrases as 8far-darting ,apollo10 8laughter-loving ,aphrodite10 or 8ox-eyed ,juno40 ,in the same way into a single simile may be condensed a description by suggestion which could be given directly only by pages4 ,to go to the 8,iliad10 again1 take this example3-- ,as the gusts speed on1 when shrill winds blow1 on a day when dust lies thickest on the roads1 and the winds raise together a great cloud of dust1 even so their battle clashed together1 and all were fain of heart to slay each other in the press with the keen bronze4--,lang's ,iliad1 xiii4 ,there is here no direct picture1 yet the mind sees the confused and furious onslaught more clearly than if all its details were enumerated4 ,lowell notes a happy instance of this sort of picturing by intimation when he says of ,chaucer3 ,sometimes he describes amply by the merest hint1 as where the ,friar1 before setting himself down1 drives away the cat4 ,we know without need of more words that he has chosen the snuggest corner4 ,another remark which ,lowell makes in this connection ,i cannot pass without quoting3-- ,when ,chaucer describes anything1 it is commonly in one of those simple and obvious epithets or qualities that are so easy to miss4 ,is it a woman8 ,he tells us that she is fresh2 that she has glad eyes2 that 8every day her beauty newed40 ,notice the phrase1 8those simple and obvious epithets or qualities that are so easy to miss40 ,whatever we may learn later1 we all begin by supposing that it is imperative for a writer to go far afield1 and to discover traits1 epithets1 and thoughts that nobody has used before4 ,here as in all writing he succeeds best who most carefully confines himself to just those traits1 epithets1 and thoughts which people have used before1 but who so uses them that they have new force4 ,he must feel so keenly whatever he writes that his words shall seem new because of the conviction behind them2 and the reader will find a continual charm in this discovery1 as it were1 of the meaning of familiar terms4 ,in common practice it is seldom that either of the two sorts of composition which ,i have named is used alone1 and the most successful method is that which happily unites them4 ,no literature can go far or effect much which does not call suggestion to its aid1 and this is perhaps more emphatically true in ,description than in any other division of composition4 ,description is really a kind of continued comparison of the image which is in the mind of the writer with things which the reader may be supposed to have seen4 ,as in the use of comparison in simile1 suggestion is the most effective tool at the hand of the craftsman4 ,it might be added that the rules given for the use of figures will be found1 by one who takes the trouble to examine them1 to be practically and directly applicable to ,description4 ,i have spoken carefully thus far as if ,description had to do with nothing save the picturing of the physical4 ,there was perhaps danger lest the word 8picture0 might seem forced if too soon applied to things mental and intangible4 ,description1 however1 has as one of its common and legitimate functions1 perhaps as its highest office1 the picturing of conditions of mind1 of states of emotion1 of all sorts of mental experiences4 ,its office is to call them up so vividly that the reader shall realize and share them4 ,not that he shall feel them as his own1 but as if he saw them with the most intimate and sympathetic comprehension of them4 ,if the reader received the sorrow of ,king ,lear as his own1 he would be in danger of going mad as ,king ,lear went mad4 ,if he shared as a personal experience the love of ,romeo for ,juliet1 no other maid of actual flesh and blood would satisfy his devotion4 ,it is not as a personal but as an imaginative experience that one is to enter into these passions4 ,the description of an emotion is an endeavor to give a picture of it in much the same sense that a picture of a landscape is given4 ,the reader does not in either case mistake the mental impression for the actual thing1 but in both instances he is moved by the completeness and reality of the portrayal4 ,we come here very close to ,narration1 and to what has been said of the description of physical things there is not much which need be added to cover the case of immaterial things4 ,the principles are much the same in one effort as in the other4 ,in the bringing up of emotions and states of feeling it is more often wise to use the suggestive method4 ,the question is moreover one of greater subtilty and delicacy4 ,in the one case as in the other it is generally well to be governed by the order in which the details of the reality would present themselves to the inner sense4 ,the natural is apt to be the most effective order4 ,it is well1 too1 to go from the near to the remote1 from the likely to the unlikely1 from the simple to the complex4 ,it is perhaps not amiss to make here an especial point of the phrase which has been used two or three times already in other connections3 ,proceed generally from the physical to the mental4 ,if without too evident artifice the physical can be made the introduction to the mental state1 the impression is almost sure to be vivid4 ,the picturing of sensations is at once the most surely effective and the most richly suggestive4 ,rudyard ,kipling is a master of this4 ,he constantly leads the mind of the reader to emotions through description of a physical sensation2 and it is largely by his skill in this that he overcomes the difficulty of dealing with themes and emotions which are so far from the ordinary experience of an occidental audience4 ,stevenson is another author who understood well the use of the physical4 ,his wonderful description of the flight through the heather in 8,kidnapped0 is one of the most brilliant examples of this sort of writing in modern--indeed1 why should one not say in all8--literature4 ,in summing up1 it seems to me just to say that he who would paint with words must have not only the power of writing well1 but he must also possess three especial qualities4 ,he must be able to perceive a general effect2 he must be able to analyze this general effect into the details which produce it2 and he must have the ability so to express these particulars that their relative values shall be preserved4 ,the reader must first be given a broad idea of the thing1 the scene1 the person to be pictured4 ,this is no less true in a case where the object is to fix the attention upon details than where the aim is to give a broad impression4 ,the mind does not1 ,i believe1 grasp the details until after it has received the wider impression1 and it is necessary to make the latter the background of the former4 ,a remark which is made by ,fuseli upon painting may be applied here4 ,he observes that breadth is attained not by the omission of details1 but by their submission4 ,while it is idle to catalogue1 it is not needful to omit anything which is of use in conveying the picture sought4 ,as long as the details are made to submit to the central thought1 are kept clear and subordinate1 there is no call to suppress them4 ,above everything must the writer of ,description see clearly what he wishes to picture1 feel genuinely what he desires to communicate1 and confine himself to that which is seen and felt by him1--by him alone out of all the persons who walk this earth4 ,if it is with vague sensations that he is dealing1 they must yet be clear and real to him2 if it is with the emotions of imaginary persons1 it is with their emotions as these are felt by him4 ,this is the most difficult task in literary art2 it is1 too1 when properly accomplished1 the most splendid triumph of literary skill4 ,,xvi ,,narration ,the more fascinating any literary work1 the more difficult it is to write about it satisfactorily4 ,the mention of the ,d',artagnan ,romances brings up so vivid a suggestion of life and stir1 of adventure and fire1 that any essay which discourses of these superb novels is almost sure to seem tame by contrast4 ,in the mere names of 8,tom ,jones10 8,henry ,esmond10 8,the ,scarlet ,letter10 there is so much potency that simply to use them as illustrations involves the danger of rendering dull and opaque by contrast the surface of exposition in which they are set like jewels4 ,even the specification of ,narration as a division of composition connotes so many pleasant sensations that he must be a clever man who can deal with the technicalities of this sort of writing without boring his readers4 ,it is to be remembered1 however1 that before 8,the ,lesson in ,anatomy0 could be painted ,rembrandt had to learn how canvas is prepared and how colors are mixed2 that the ,ninth ,symphony could not be composed until dry details of counterpoint and harmony had been mastered4 ,it is apt to seem to the inexperienced writer as if to study the technique of art is to brush the bloom from the peach4 ,he likes to feel that only what is spontaneous can be fresh and vital2 and he forgets that in art spontaneity is impossible until the technical method has been so perfectly mastered that the creative impulse is unhampered by inability to express itself4 ,it is not the untrained and the inexperienced who are able to be nave and fresh in art1 but only the master to whom technical excellence has become a second nature4 ,having in a former talk declared ,description to be the most difficult sort of composition1 ,i am tempted now to make a bull1 and to declare that ,narration is more difficult still6 ,indeed1 this would hardly be extravagant1 were it not that the natural1 instinctive interest of mankind in whatever is a story comes to the aid of him who writes a narrative4 ,narration as it exists in practice1 however1 is hardly to be considered alone4 ,of all varieties of composition1 this is the one which most comprehensively embraces all other forms4 ,it demands all the resources of the literary artist4 ,exposition1 ,argument1 and ,description are all enlisted in the services of the story-teller2 and are so blended in the woof of his web that they can scarcely be disassociated from the narrative itself4 ,a succession of events can be fully told only in words4 ,even when we see a clever pantomime--as1 for example1 8,l',enfant ,prodigue10 which was extensively played in this country by a ,french company a year or two ago1--we are forced to supply in our minds a sort of running interpretation of the acts as they go on before us4 ,music may interpret continuous emotions1 but its inadequacy to tell a definite tale is abundantly shown by that odd hybrid known as 8programme music40 ,painting may give a succession of related themes1 but between the moments chosen for representation there are gaps which break the continuity4 ,to convey a complete and continuous account of events there is no resource in all the arts but words4 ,it naturally follows that ,narration is more intimately connected with actual life than any other sort of writing4 ,it is the events of life which move us1 and the history of these arouses the feelings as no expository or argumentative page can arouse them4 ,it is hardly necessary to enumerate all the many forms which ,narration takes4 ,histories1 biographies1 plays1 novels1 romances1 anecdotes1 epics1 stories long and stories short1 the account of a journey and the folk-tale through which the fairies frisk fantastically1 are all included under this division4 ,the tedious twaddle and sea-water of 8,the ,voyage of the ,sunbeam10 and the quivering pages of 8,les ,misrables10 the account of a fire or a burglary in the morning paper1 the anecdote over which a pair of drummers chuckle in a ,western railway car1 and the delicate romances of ,hawthorne1--beautiful and pure as delicate frost-work seen by moonlight1--all these belong here1 and all these are but a part4 ,it is manifestly impossible to take up each variety separately1 even were it at all worth while4 ,we must be content to concern ourselves with general principles4 ,fortunately it is not difficult so to phrase these that they shall be applicable to narratives of all sorts4 ,so many so-called stories written by inexperienced writers are merely memoranda for tales1 undigested and unarranged1 that there is sufficient excuse for being somewhat rudimentary in our treatment of the subject4 ,while young authors continue to give us the material for narratives instead of properly formed and finished ,narration there is at least the chance of doing good4 ,the first requisite in setting out to tell a story is to have a story to tell4 ,it is true that not a few modern novels might be cited as seeming to prove the opposite of this proposition4 ,there is a recent school of fiction in which the first principle seems to be that if one is to attempt to tell a story he must above all things else be careful not to have one in his remotest thought4 ,the patron saint of such writers seems to be the needy knife-grinder of ,canning1 with his 8,story6 ,god bless you6 ,i have none to tell1 sir40 ,the world in general1 however1 still holds logically to the old theory1 and believes that to have something to relate is essential in ,narration4 ,it is not that the theme of a narrative need be elaborate4 ,there are many successful novels and stories with plots extremely simple4 ,not one of ,miss ,wilkins' ,new ,england idyls--those charming sublimations of the homely--has complexity or intricacy of subject4 ,the only point is that the writer have in mind some definite and consecutive narrative1 with a beginning and an end1 and that he tell it as a narrative1 and not as an ,exposition or an ,argument4 ,the whole matter is well summed up in the phrase of ,anthony ,trollope3 8,the writer1 when he sits down to commence his novel1 should do so1 not because he has to tell a story1 but because he has a story to tell40 ,it would hardly do at this late day to insist1 however1 that the object of a story shall be simply or even primarily the narration of incident4 ,it has been greatly the fashion during the last score of years to subordinate incident to any one of several things4 ,many of the greatest novelists of the present half-century have deliberately subordinated events to the study of character4 ,there are not a few modern novels which can be adequately described only as emotional dissecting-rooms4 ,they display the most wonderful cleverness in dismembering emotions1--too often without having a living figure or a convincing incident from one cover to the other4 ,it is but fair to add that there are also fictions which seem to justify this method1 whether we like it or not4 ,for our sins1 moreover1 the malevolent deities that deal in literary plagues have sent upon us that mongrel monstrosity1 the novel with a theory4 ,the more harmless are in the form of simpering eccentricities1 or in the shape of childishly nave whimsicalities2 in the more hurtful sort authors often highly gifted lavish their powers in support of theories as generous in intention as they are mistaken and sentimental when tried by the facts upon which they are founded4 ,we have1 too1 the theological novel1 and the indecent novel1 and more sorts than it is at all worth while to mention1 in all of which the telling of a story is made the excuse for the exploiting of some view4 ,of these1 however1 we shall have occasion to speak later in connection with the moral purpose in fiction4 ,it has been remarked by ,stevenson that in stories in which incident is made subordinate to character-drawing the interest is sure to be less vivid4 ,he remarks3-- ,in character-studies the pleasure we take is critical2 we watch1 we approve1 we smile at incongruities1 we are moved to sudden heats of sympathy with courage1 suffering1 or virtue4 ,but the characters are still themselves1 they are not us2 the more clearly they are depicted1 the more widely do they stand away from us1 the more imperiously do they thrust us back into our place as a spectator4444 ,it is not character but incident that woos us out of our reserve4 ,something happens as we desire it to happen to ourselves2 some situation1 that we have long dallied with in fancy1 is realized in the story with enticing and appropriate details4 ,then we forget the characters2 then we push the hero aside2 then we plunge into the tale in our own person and bathe in fresh experience2 and then1 and then only1 do we say that we have been reading a romance4--,a ,gossip on ,romance4 ,all these considerations are of interest to the student1 and they should all be taken into account when he is looking for a subject or when he is considering methods4 ,as a matter of practical work1 it is probably true that nobody goes to work to construct stories without having some theme1 some dominating suggestion in mind4 ,he will therefore form his plot or shape his subject according to this germinating thought1 without for the moment taking theories much into account4 ,have a theme he must1 and to my thinking the more objective this is the better4 ,the more it deals with outward things and shows what is within through them2 the more it has of incident and is concerned with the actualities of life2 the more it has of broad realities as distinguished from the trivialities of existence1 the more likely it is to succeed4 ,in the treatment of a theme1 the first thing is to be sure that it is thoroughly known to the writer4 ,i do not mean that it is necessary to know every detail4 ,i do mean that what is known should be apprehended clearly2 that there should be no doubt about the end and the beginning1 whatever vagueness there may be about the minuti of the way from one to the other4 ,it is especially important in story-writing that the author know his characters before he write about them4 ,it is generally safe to compose half a dozen chapters before beginning a novel1 chapters which are not to be used in the book at all1 but which serve to make the author acquainted with the personages he is to deal with4 ,if every young novelist would study the methods of ,hawthorne in this respect it would be to his advantage4 ,any one who is at all accustomed to examining literature critically knows how almost universal it is that new authors show in the first third or quarter of their books that they are slowly becoming aware of the natures of the characters in their fiction4 ,often the middle of the work is reached before the writer has any clear or intimate knowledge of the men and women whom he is trying to picture4 ,i do not believe in hard and fast rules for the construction of stories4 ,methods of work must vary with individual temperaments4 ,my own way of work naturally seems to me the most logical1 but ,i realize that this is a question which each writer must decide for himself4 ,personally1 ,i find it necessary to know the general course of a story1 and above all to know the end1 before ,i can begin it4 ,once these are clear and true in my mind1 ,i deliberately consider the beginning4 ,i say 8deliberately consider0 because the succeeding steps have so much the air of being involuntary4 ,once ,i have decided where to begin1 ,i devote myself to the study of my characters4 ,i walk the streets with them2 they have a share in my waking and in my sleep4 ,i know the general course of the history ,i am trying to tell1 but the details ,i am content to learn slowly4 ,the thing which ,i endeavor to do is to be sure of the character of those who are involved in this history4 ,i am not without a feeling that an old fellow who sits in solitary state in the attic of my brain tells me the incidents of the narrative1 but the acquaintance of the actors ,i must make for myself4 ,not only must a story be known to the writer but it must for the time being at least be true to him4 ,he must believe it as he writes2 he must be completely possessed by a sense of the verity of what he is telling1 or he cannot persuade the reader to accept it as real4 ,it may seem to you that this is equivalent to saying that a novelist must be a good deal like the ,white ,queen in 8,through a ,looking ,glass10 who practiced until she was able to believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast4 ,the difference is that the novelist does not have to practice4 ,the characters become so vital in his mind1 they act so independently and with so evident a will of their own1 that it is impossible not to feel that their story is actual4 ,of course ,i do not mean that if the novelist were put on oath he would affirm that the tale is true2 yet it seems to me that if ,i were called upon to swear that a story which ,i had written were not true1 ,i should go about forever after with a humiliated sense that ,i had committed perjury4 ,i think it is the experience of every novelist that characters in a tale will often act apparently at their own good pleasure and in open defiance of the intention of the writer4 ,they are not infrequently almost as independent of the will of the author of their being as the modern child is said to be independent of the will of the author of his4 ,i have myself struggled to force characters to do a certain thing and have written and rewritten certain chapters in my effort to make them follow my wishes4 ,i could set down the words which declared that they had done the thing which ,i desired1 but ,i knew that ,i was lying and ,i was conscious that my characters knew that ,i knew it1 so that of course there was nothing to do but to tear up the falsehood and tell the truth4 ,the explanation of all this is1 ,i suppose1 that the superficial conclusions of the mind are corrected by the unconscious logic of the imagination4 ,the characters of the personages in the story being what they are1 the personages must inevitably behave in a certain way1 and an underlying perception of this fundamental truth prevents an imaginative author from being able to treat his fictitious people as puppets4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the importance of knowing the end from the beginning is the same whether one is telling an anecdote or is writing a history1 a romance1 or a biography4 ,it is necessary to discriminate clearly in regard to the climax of an anecdote1 as it is to be sure of the climax of a novel4 ,everybody knows how the story which in the mouth of one man is racy and pointed becomes stupid and ineffective the moment it is told by another4 ,i have to thank an ,english gentleman for having unconsciously furnished me with an example of the disadvantage of relating an anecdote with the wrong end first4 ,he told in the smoking-room of a ,london hotel an incident which ,i dimly remembered as being in ,james ,dodds' 8,biographical ,study of ,chalmers10 and ,i made a note of his version in order to compare the two4 ,this is ,dodds' story3-- ,chalmers was present at an evening party where a very accomplished lady was discoursing most eloquent music from the fashionable opera of the day4 ,when she was at the overture and the recitatives he looked perplexed1 as if listening to a medley of madness2 but when she struck upon some lively and expressive airs1 he turned with a look of great relief to the gentleman who was next to him3 8,do you know1 sir1 ,i love these lucid intervals60 ,this is the way in which the ,english gentleman told it3-- 8,i say1 don't you know1 ,dr4 ,chalmers called tunes lucid intervals4 ,wasn't that deuced good8 ,lucid intervals1 by ,jove6 ,he heard a lady sing1 don't you know1 and that's what he said4 ,he didn't mean all tunes of course2 but she'd been playing things1 you know1 and putting in instrumental fal-lals and crazy things on the keys1 and finally came to a song4 ,i call that devilish witty1 don't you know60 ,it is hardly necessary to give examples of this fault1 and this seems absurd and extravagant4 ,it came so providentially1 however1 at the very time when ,i was writing these lectures1 that it was not to be resisted4 ,it is excellent practice for the student to write out stories or incidents which come under his observation1 and good things which he hears said or told4 ,there are few exercises in which it is more easily possible to interest an ordinary class in composition than work of this sort1 and it may be made of a good deal of value4 ,to be really of use it is necessary that the story be told and retold until it is in the best possible form that the student can compass4 ,it should be done as carefully as if it were a great and complete narrative4 ,i said in another talk that ,i am not willing to concede that conversation is an art which comes by nature1 and the justice of this must be especially felt by one who listens when story-telling is the order of the day4 ,those who succeed in telling a story well are those who have taken the trouble to learn how4 ,it is a mistake to suppose that the carelessly spoken anecdote which is so felicitously put that it seems to be the thought of the moment has cost the narrator nothing4 ,he has consciously labored to attain the art of telling things well2 and while here as everywhere natural gifts count1 the man who cultivates a small talent can generally outshine him who leaves a great talent to take care of itself4 ,i have perhaps spoken so as to give the impression that a story makes itself4 ,i mean nothing of the sort4 ,it is true that the first germ of a fiction is often caught in the mind as a plumy-winged seed of the wild clematis is caught in the cranny of a wall4 ,sometimes a chance word1 the sight of a face in the crowd1 a bit of information or talk1 will become the suggestion from which a story will grow4 ,it must be nurtured1 however1 if its growth is to be vigorous or symmetrical4 ,it must be brooded over and watched2 it must be nourished and tended4 ,when a story is well formed in the mind and the characters are well defined1 it will grow and develop spontaneously1 but it must be given a good start first4 ,in other words1 the theme must be dwelt upon until it is so completely a part of the thought that the mind will carry it forward unconsciously1 and the tale will seem to be going on of itself4 ,it is customary to say that all narrative has four elements3 first1 what happened1--the plot or story2 second1 what persons were concerned1--the characters2 third1 the situation1 which is both in time and space1--in other words the when and the where2 fourth1 the central motive1--the thing of interest or significance for which the whole is told4 ,these elements seem to me to be likely to come to the writer in the order in which ,i have named them4 ,sometimes he is aware of the central purpose first1 especially in fiction written with a declared motive2 but this does not appear to be the natural order in the case of fiction really imaginative4 ,an author must of course have a comprehension of the central motive before he begins to write1 but he deduces it from his plot rather than forms a plot to embody the idea4 ,all this analysis is of more value in revision of work or in criticism than in actual composition4 ,the writer who is really alive and interested in what he is doing thinks of his story as a story and as a transcript from life1 not as a combination of four elements4 ,in this same line of criticism and revision it is well to note that ,narration is necessarily specific1 progressive1 and cumulative4 ,it is specific in that it deals with facts rather than with theories1 with incidents rather than with deductions1 with events rather than with reflections4 ,it is progressive in that the interest must move forward1 and the theme must advance with the incidents4 ,a collection of incidents does not make a narrative any more than a pile of lumber makes a house4 ,there must be a sequence of events related to each other by the tie of cause and effect4 ,narration is cumulative because this chain of cause and effect must lead to some conclusion1 some climax1 some end4 ,even in the relation of the most trifling anecdotes these three qualities are to be found1 and in their perfection lies the secret of the greatest works of literature4 ,the theorists who excuse inartistic and unsymmetrical fiction by the theory that a novel should be a piece cut out of life and having neither beginning or end1 forget that that which is comely and fit1 so long as it is part of the living tree-trunk1 becomes an unsightly block when it is chopped out4 ,it must be shaped and finished to be again beautiful4 ,the story which has by relation been taken from its place in actual life must be worked and polished by art2 it must become a whole in itself or it is forever an uncomely log1 crudely disfiguring the landscape and fit only to be used as material for work or to feed the fire4 ,,xvii ,,narration ,,continued ,the point of view is of no less importance in ,narration than in ,description4 ,it is perhaps not so strictly observed1 because to the ordinary writer it is less obvious4 ,as a rule it is not specifically announced4 ,if a tale is in the form of an autobiography1 as 8,robinson ,crusoe10 for instance1 or 8,henry ,esmond10 the point of view is of course that of the perceptions of the character who relates4 ,to this the author must confine himself1 and every time that he introduces incidents1 words1 or thoughts which this character could not have known he violates it4 ,he breaks the continuity and interrupts the impression of the reader4 ,less obviously1 many novelists practically hold to the personality of one or two of their characters for their point of view4 ,without any specification of the fact1 they refrain from telling anything which might not have been known or felt by these personages4 ,an admirable illustration of this method is 8,the ,scarlet ,letter40 ,throughout the entire book there are practically only three individualities through whose perceptions the reader is called upon to look4 ,the author does not claim at any point to be confining himself to these or to any one of these2 yet the comments and reflections which are outside the observation of ,hester ,prynne1 ,arthur ,dimmesdale1 and ,roger ,chillingworth are so close to them as almost to seem part of their thought4 ,what is not actually within their perception is little more than the author's expression of their unformulated emotions or interpretations of their motives4 ,more than two thirds of the book is given from the standpoint of the inner life of the wearer of the scarlet letter1 and the greater portion of the remainder is from that of the minister4 ,of course the writer may1 if he choose1 take as the point of view the position of all knowledge4 ,he may decide to speak as one who knows every thought4 ,the inexperienced writer is especially likely to be fond of this method4 ,he is apt to dance about in a confused and confusing will-o'-the-wisp ubiquity4 ,the early days of story-writing are marked by a delightful sense of omnipotence and omniscience which seldom outlives the completion of the first novel4 ,while this feeling lasts the author holds it a sort of duty to allow his readers to look in turn through the eyes of each of his characters4 ,it is as if he were proprietor of a peep-show4 ,he cannot bring himself to defraud the reader by putting him off with anything less than a glimpse through every peep-hole4 ,whatever is the point of view chosen1 it must1 as in all other sorts of composition1 be held throughout4 ,the point of view of a single character is that which gives most intensity to a tale4 ,the character chosen becomes the embodiment of the thoughts and emotions of the reader for the time being1 and dominates all others4 ,this is perhaps even more emphatically true when this is done by implication4 ,the assumption of a single personality in the story as that which shall dominate seems to come from the absorbing interest of the author in this character1 and it almost surely not only makes this the most significant figure in the tale1 but imparts to the story fervor and strenuousness4 ,it is perhaps well to add a word of warning4 ,it is not wise to expect too much from the reader in the way of coming to a point of view remote from his ordinary attitude of mind4 ,the short stories of ,miss ,wilkins tacitly ask the reader to assume the mood of an observer who sees the pathetic and yet humorous quality in homely life4 ,they owe their success in no small degree to the simplicity of this point of view and the consistency with which it is kept throughout4 ,in 8,pembroke0 the same author goes farther1 and tacitly asks us to regard the quarrels of obstinate and ill-tempered rustics with the profound seriousness demanded by the crushing blows of inexorable fate4 ,it is asking too much4 ,we cannot look upon these rural contests of obstinacy with the solemnity demanded by a ,greek tragedy4 ,it is a far cry from the 8dipus0 or the 8,antigone0 to 8,pembroke20 and ,miss ,wilkins makes too great a demand upon the reader when she seems to assume so profound a solemnity4 ,it seems to me that herein lies one secret of the disappointment felt in reading 8,pembroke0 after the delights of the author's short stories4 ,the selection of incidents is naturally a matter of the greatest importance in the construction of any narrative1 whether historic or fictitious4 ,it is evident that it is impossible to tell the whole truth about any person1 whether it be a character real in flesh and blood or one of the personages so much more real in imagination4 ,a novelist cannot set down all the particulars of the life of those about whom he writes1 and in the case of any story it must be only the significant incidents that will attract the reader4 ,the literary code which professes to find all facts of life of equal value is on the face of it absurd1 and had the men who claim to hold it lived up to their creed their novels would never have got beyond manuscript4 ,choice is necessary1 and the great principle of choice is significance4 ,when we speak of significance1 we of course mean the relation of the incident to the central motive of the narrative4 ,the rule is that details are to be introduced or omitted as they do or do not form an essential part of the whole4 ,if the writer have not the art so to weave in his most interesting and novel incident that it shall be an integral portion of the web1 he must omit it4 ,the taste of our time has very little patience with that excrescence which used to be known as an episode4 ,whatever is told should help forward the general plan of the work4 ,the space and the importance given to each portion must manifestly be determined by its value in the entire scheme4 ,proportion is in effect the same here as in any other form of composition1 a matter which depends upon the intention of the whole4 ,the young writer who is moved to delight a waiting and to his fancy impatient world with a new work of fiction has generally read a good many stories1 and is likely to have gained from them some unconscious sense of proportion4 ,this may save him from utter failure1 but he is likely to stumble over two serious obstacles4 ,in the first place he is sure to have his favorite situations1 and is apt to linger over these in a fond belief that his readers will be as charmed as he is with these portions of his tale4 ,in the second place1 he is likely to feel a certain security in using incidents which are taken from real life4 ,of the first of these it is sufficient to say that such is the perversity of fate that it almost never happens that the reader agrees with the writer--especially with the untrained writer--in regard to the most interesting portions of a book4 ,indeed1 it is not amiss for a writer to be a little suspicious of the parts of his work which he regards with most favor4 ,it is of importance to cultivate a dispassionate habit of mind1 and always to judge the value of portions with relation to the whole rather than with reference to the author's likes or dislikes4 ,the second point is one which needs to be emphasized4 ,the moment a man begins to write1 his friends begin to offer true stories for use1--not one out of a hundred being usable2 and they invariably commend these subjects by saying that they are things which really happened4 ,it is impossible to make the general public understand that the fact that a thing happened is rather more likely to be against it as literary material than in its favor4 ,facts are admirable from their suggestiveness4 ,no fiction is of value which is not founded upon them4 ,they are to be used1 however1 as material which must be shaped and moulded before it can be used4 ,they are the rocks from the quarry that must be dressed before they are fit building material4 ,the danger lies in accepting actuality instead of literary propriety as the measure of value4 ,there is perhaps no rule more useful or more necessary to young writers of fiction than to beware of the truth4 ,if in a first novel are found scenes and incidents which are unreal and extravagant1 the chances are that these are the things which have been confidently taken from real life1--and which have become hopelessly unreal in the transfer4 ,in ,narration as in ,description the thing sought is not the truth but the impression of truth4 ,the question is not whether what is told is true1 but whether it seem true4 ,we all know extraordinary incidents which are real yet which are too improbable to be used in fiction4 ,the reason is obvious4 ,it is necessary for fiction to be probable1 while truth is free from all restrictions4 ,the novelist is never allowed to take refuge behind the fact that a thing is veracious4 ,he may tell whatever he has the art to make appear true1 but the criterion of his success is the semblance of verity rather than verity itself4 ,aristotle formulated all this long ago1--8,prefer an impossibility which seems probable to a probability which seems impossible40 ,the philosophy of the matter is that fiction is tried by truth to the laws which lie behind fact1 and that it is no less true in being false than reality is in being true4 ,it is to be remembered1 however1 that probability is largely a matter of consistency4 ,there is always an implied hypothesis1 a certain set of conditions tacitly agreed to1 by which the truth1 or rather the apparent truth1 of any narrative is to be tried4 ,if one is writing history1 the hypothesis calls for actual facts and things which really occurred2 if it is a novel which is in construction1 actuality is no longer demanded1 but probability according to the time and place is essential2 an author may go farther by writing avowed romance1 and may put events impossible and improbable into the very midst of the life of to-day1 if he will but keep them consistent throughout4 ,it is a question of what the writer attempts to do4 ,if he choose frankly to cut loose from fact and write a fairy story1 the hypothesis gives his fancy range1 and here it is the strict truth which must be shunned as a violation of the implied conditions4 ,in a number of folk tales we read passages like this3-- ,then the fox stretched out his tail1 the king's son seated himself upon it1 and away they went over stock and stone1 so that the wind whistled through their hair4 ,it would be manifestly a violation of the rules of fairy lore to say instead3-- ,then the fox stretched out his tail1 and the king's son tried to seat himself upon it2 but of course it would not support him1 so he rolled over in the mud4 ,to thrust facts upon the reader here is to depart from the standard4 ,when we sit down to read fairy tales we have tacitly consented to believe the impossible1 and upon this assumption fairy lore becomes1 in the happy phrase of ,douglas ,jerrold1 8as true as sunbeams40 ,all this1 however1 is the exception1 and as it is an exception which is sufficiently obvious1 it is enough to mention it4 ,the general rule for ,narration is3 ,in writing history select details with reference to their significance and their truth2 in fiction with reference to their significance and their probability4 ,in every case1 significance is an essential quality4 ,it is so easy to confound minuteness with subtlety2 to suppose that to be finical is to be true2 to assume that to be exact is to be effective2 that more than one gifted author has come to grief and has wasted his powers through these errors4 ,the measure of subtlety1 of truth1 and of effectiveness1 is the relative value as measured by the central idea of the composition4 ,the order of events in a narrative depends chiefly upon the principle of cause and effect4 ,since every cause produces its effect1 it follows that the sequence of incidents will generally be practically chronological4 ,where there are a number of threads involved and the plot is complicated1 a good deal of ingenuity is often required to keep things clear1 and to secure at the same time a continuous progression in the narrative4 ,this is a problem with which the historian has almost always to deal1 and upon his cleverness in solving it depends much of his success4 ,the only rule to be given is that the writer shall have a careful and definite plan4 ,in a simple tale it is often possible to depend upon the knowledge of the end to be reached1 and to trust to one's instinct for the rest4 ,with an intricate theme this will not do4 ,if one is driving a mild-mannered horse in a light wagon1 it is usually enough to know the general direction1 since it is possible from time to time to stop to inquire the way2 in running a complicated system of railway trains the same method would be madness4 ,one matter involved in this question of the order of incidents is that of where and how a story shall begin4 ,often it is wise to commence with a striking incident or situation1 and it is rare that a story can be effectively begun without there being more or less which must be told of what has gone before the actual tale4 ,much care is needed in managing this4 ,it is one of the simplest devices1 and it remains one of the most effective which have been devised1 to have all explanations of this sort made to some personage in the tale instead of to the reader directly4 ,if a story start with the striking appearance of the hero in some extraordinary situation1 it is much more effective and pleasing to have the spectators1 those who in the narrative are represented as seeing him1 ask and obtain information in regard to his past and to the events which brought him to this place or situation1 than it is for the author in a deliberate manner to set out to inform the reader4 ,never presume on the reader's patience and indulgence4 ,the 8gentle reader0 of old-fashioned literature does not exist now1 if indeed he ever existed4 ,the modern reader is far more ready to be bored than to be interested1 and all devices for persuading and holding his attention must be carefully attended to4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of essential importance in story-telling is movement4 ,this is an advantage in other forms of composition1 but indispensable in ,narration4 ,there can be no sense of unity1 no continuity of interest1 unless there is a constant sense of progression4 ,a story can no more stand still than can life4 ,when the incidents cease to carry the reader forward1 it is as if the heart stopped beating4 ,each incident in a narrative1 as in existence1 must stand in relation to what comes before it of effect to cause1 and to what follows it of cause to effect4 ,it is necessary to make the reader feel that he is ever going forward1 now slowly and now swiftly1 according to the exigencies of the tale4 ,contrast1 variety1 relative importance1 have all to be considered4 ,when the reader is eager to reach some culmination1 when he is excited in regard to some crisis in the narrative1 it is often wise to condense days into a sentence1 hours into a phrase4 ,again1 there are times when it is important to prepare the mind for a situation1 to go slowly in order that an effect be produced by the cumulative force of trifles4 ,no hard-and-fast rule can be given to govern this progression4 ,the technical means by which swiftness or deliberation are secured are simple and easily learned4 ,the whole matter is pretty well covered by the statement that many words and minute details retard movement1 while few words and a suppression of particulars give rapidity4 ,when to employ these means the writer must learn from the study of the work of the masters1 from the careful consideration of what result he wishes to insure1 and above all by a close examination of the manner in which effects are produced in real life4 ,naturally1 the movement is swifter as the tale nears its conclusion1 and in passages which deal with exciting and intense emotions4 ,illustrations are hardly possible in limited space1 but the climax of any masterpiece may serve as an example4 ,description and dialogue must be subordinate to the movement of a story1 as they must be subordinate to the general purpose4 ,speaking broadly1 dialogue aids swiftness of progression1 and description delays it2 yet an over-abundance of talk may retard as effectually as profuse word-painting4 ,with dialogue we shall have to do later1 and here it is enough to say that talk which really belongs to the tale1 which helps the story forward1 adds sprightliness to the movement4 ,we all know how the elder ,dumas makes dialogue increase the vivacity and the rapidity of movement of his dashing romances4 ,what can be told in the speech of the characters in a narrative seems generally to go forward with more briskness than what is related in the words of the author4 ,the mention of ,description brings us to the scene of a narrative4 ,the setting of a tale is not unlike the mounting of a play4 ,when the use of nature in fiction was fresher than now the affair was very simple4 ,it was only necessary to bring in gloomy skies and wailing winds as accompaniments for a doleful situation1 or to have the flowers1 the sunshine1 and the birds properly specified when things were going happily4 ,the birds sang most obligingly for the old novelists1 utterly ignoring the habits which ornithologists had with painful care observed1--they warbled when they were wanted1 although they were called upon at times of day when they had never before dreamed of piping up3-- ,singing gladly all the moontide1 ,never waiting for the noontide4 ,in less artistic fiction there is still something of this method4 ,there are many transiently popular novels where in the closing chapter the autumn rain still falls dismally upon a lonely grave1 or the summer sun--the ,june sun--and the obliging dicky-birds decorate the wedding of the long-persecuted but at last triumphant heroine1 transcendently lovely in white satin4 ,in really serious work the matter has become more intricate4 ,nature must be used without the appearance of design4 ,it is recognized that no man can command the weather1 and the trick of seeming to manage the elements is no longer tolerated4 ,art must conceal art4 ,even contrasts have been used until it is necessary to be very cautious in employing them4 ,the villains no longer steal through smiling gardens whose snowy lilies1 all abloom1 and sending up perfume like incense from censers of silver1 seem to rebuke the wicked4 ,the thing sought now is the appearance of naturalness4 ,simplicity and directness are the prime qualities to be kept in mind4 ,set a story carefully1 but above all things be sure that it does not appear that pains have been taken4 ,the finest art is that which works with apparent frankness1 seeming to display its methods without disguise1 yet in reality producing its effects by a skill which is utterly beyond perception4 ,one of the faults most common with beginners is self-consciousness4 ,the inexperienced writer is apt to show that he is not sure how what he writes will be received4 ,cultivate the attitude of being conscious of nothing but the story to be told4 ,above all1 do not seem to apologize4 ,in fiction as elsewhere apologies are apt to breed contempt4 ,the writer who seems to plead to be excused inevitably suggests that there is need of excuse4 ,tell a story or leave it1 but never take the middle course of telling it with apologies1 direct or indirect4 ,often the self-conscious author shows that he secretly fears that he will be thought to lack cleverness if he allows himself so to be imposed upon by his characters as to think them real4 ,if they are not real to him he should not be telling their history4 ,the slightest appearance of doubt on his part ruins all illusion and the story along with it4 ,on the other hand1 it is a mistake to expect the reader to share an emotion simply from being told that it is felt by the writer4 ,every phrase like 8,i felt10 8,i was amused10 8,i was enraged10 and so on1 which is not amply supported by the narrative1 weakens the effect4 ,it is generally enough to destroy the entire flavor of any ordinary witticism to tell the reader that it is droll4 ,it sometimes will do to say that the characters of the tale thought a thing funny1 but even this is a somewhat dangerous expedient4 ,if a thing does not strike the reader as amusing1 it is of little use to inform him that it is his duty to find it so4 ,an author has no business to put himself in the attitude of a verger who leads pilgrims from one historic spot to another1 saying in effect at each1 8,here it is necessary that you feel yourselves thrilled60 ,when everything else has been said1 the essential thing in regard to ,narration is that it shall be interesting4 ,it is the old question of ,force4 8,tediousness10 observes ,dr4 ,johnson1 with his usual sententiousness1 8is the most fatal of faults40 ,he might have added that it is a fault so serious that it overcomes all excellences4 ,macaulay inquires1 8,where lies the secret of being amusing8 and how is it that art1 eloquence1 and diligence may all be employed in making a book dull80 ,dullness is less easily forgiven in narrative than in any other form of composition4 ,the avowed aim of a story is to entertain2 and if it fail of this1 its merits count for nothing4 ,the specific methods by which interest may be secured or increased must be studied with the realization that the very existence of narrative depends upon them4 ,the first point is to be interested one's self4 ,in other words1 the first great secret is earnestness4 ,the second is closely allied to it4 ,it is to be perfectly straightforward4 ,this secret is sincerity4 ,the first of these calls for the telling of a thing as if the writer really cares for it1 as if it is something which seems to him richly worth relating2 while the second insists that he shall treat his readers with every appearance of frankness4 ,he shall appear to conceal nothing which it is for the interest of the tale for him to tell1 and he shall try to take no advantage by telling that of which he is not himself completely persuaded1 nothing which does not seem to him a vital portion of the history1 real or fictitious1 which he set out to relate4 ,hawthorne1 when asked the secret of his style1 said3 8,it is the desire to tell the simple truth as honestly and as vividly as one can40 ,many entire books on rhetoric have less wisdom in them than is in this single sentence4 ,making a somewhat different division of the subject1 we may say that interest in ,narration comes from three sources3 the plot1 the incident1 and the development of character4 ,the story which depends upon plot alone goes by quickly4 ,only while it has novelty can it command attention1 and it is scarcely to be read a second time4 ,the tale which depends upon incident alone--if there be such--would be not unlike a book of anecdotes1 too fragmentary to be effective as a whole4 ,that in which the drawing of character is the chief feature is likely to be heavy and sure to be restricted to a limited audience4 ,in the masterpiece1 plot1 incident1 and character-drawing are combined4 ,the great novelists have never essentially varied in their methods1 and in the work of ,cervantes1 ,fielding1 ,thackeray1 ,hawthorne1 and the rest1 style1 character1 and story are all integral parts of the whole4 ,it is perhaps not amiss to say here a word in regard to the collection of material and to what is meant by the study of nature4 ,i have already repeated the truism that the writer must ever be on the alert for material4 ,if he is to write stories he is to undertake the reproduction of human life1 and it is above all needful that he understand human life4 ,he cannot be too careful in his consideration of the world about him4 ,he must be constantly examining the acts of his fellow men2 constantly saying to himself3 8,what were the motives which led to that act8 ,what were the feelings aroused by that experience8 ,what the emotions in such a situation80 ,he must make his own inner experience the test1 and from the less divine the greater4 ,he may to a great extent judge the motives which actuate men and women in important crises from those which have moved him in circumstances seemingly trivial4 ,a well-known ,new ,england story-teller said to me once when ,i praised a tale in which she had shown most vividly the remorse of a man who had committed a great crime3 8,it will amuse you to hear how ,i knew what that man's feelings were4 ,once when ,i was a child ,i burned up my sister's doll in a fit of anger4 ,the remorse ,i suffered over that foolish performance was the material that ,i made my story out of40 ,there is a good illustration of the way in which the creative mind works4 ,from the nature of its own emotions it is able to appreciate the feelings of others1 and to see that in feeling there is more question of degree than of kind4 ,his own being is the only one into which a writer can really look4 ,what he finds in his own heart is the key by which to read the cipher which is written in the hearts of others4 ,narration is the form of literature which most universally appeals to men1 and it is no less that form which most affects human conduct4 ,men who could not be brought to give ear to a sermon may be taught by a parable or moved by a tale4 ,it is in narrative that prose rises most surely and indisputably to the rank of a fine art1 so that while the masterpieces of fiction remain it will be impossible to question the right of prose literature to claim a place beside painting1 sculpture1 music1 and poetry4 ,art is the regenerator of the world1 and in modern times it is in the form of fiction that it most easily and most widely reaches the hearts of men4 ,,xviii ,,accessories ,,of ,,narration ,the range of ,narration is so wide that it is well to look a little more carefully at the means of producing effects in this especial department of composition4 ,the subject is at once so fascinating and so complicated that it would not be difficult to make an entire course of lectures upon it1 although in the end we might be brought to the humiliating consciousness that no amount of lecturing could make novelists of us4 ,in the limits of these talks it is impossible to do more than to consider briefly the more important matters which occupy the attention of the story-teller2 and those which first come to mind are the things which it is customary to name ,local ,color1 ,dialect1 ,dialogue1 ,character ,drawing1 and ,moral ,purpose4 ,local color in the modern sense was invented in the present century4 ,it is true that the writers of other times had employed the same device before1 but it has been consciously sought and has been supplied with this name within recent times4 ,it might be asked by a cynic why the quality is any better now that it is ticketed and talked about in reviews than it was in the days of ,theocritus and ,kalidasa and ,boccaccio2 but so many things have been used before modern generations were thought of that if we are not to have the privilege of regarding things as new when they have been newly named we are likely to be at a desperate loss for novelty4 ,by local color is now meant the bringing out of the peculiarities of the locality where the scene of a tale is laid4 ,it is evident that there is no spot so poor as not to have characteristics which distinguish it from all others4 ,it is the aim of many modern story-tellers to give this especial local flavor with the most faithful and often painful vividness4 ,indeed1 there are not a few recent stories which seem to exist for no other reason than to exploit the accidental qualities of remote and hitherto undescribed places4 ,this is an age in which competition between periodicals has waxed warm1 and to the desire of editors to procure novelties is largely due the increase of the already rather tiresomely abundant examples of local color and of dialect4 ,an air of freshness may be imparted to a tale by laying the scene in places practically unknown in fiction4 ,accidents of custom and manners arrest the attention for the moment1 and it is due to this fact that the great mass of stories marked by this peculiarity have succeeded4 ,the principle is not unlike that of drawing a crowd to the theatre by new scenery4 ,a tale which is really vital can do without local color1 as a really strong play succeeds without elaborate setting4 ,this is not1 however1 the whole of the matter4 ,a good play may be helped by novel effects of scenery and a tale good in itself may be improved by local color4 ,detailed description of local peculiarities may make more clear to the reader the character and the motives of the personages in a narrative4 ,all men are influenced by their surroundings1 and to be familiar with unusual social conditions is often essential to the understanding of acts or opinions which have been done or held under them4 ,to make intelligible the story of ,hester ,prynne and ,arthur ,dimmesdale1 ,hawthorne was obliged to set forth something of the manners and morals of colonial days4 ,scott could not have made comprehendable the tale of ,rob ,roy without giving some idea of what life in the ,highlands was like in the time of that redoubtable chieftain4 ,the author must in any case impart to the reader whatever special information is necessary to the best effect of his fiction4 ,the comment which it seems fair to make in this connection is that here is to be applied the rule which should govern the management of all details in narration1--namely1 that everything shall be kept subordinate to the central purpose of the work4 ,so long as particular description aids in bringing out more clearly the main idea of the whole1 so long as it is used as a means and not as an end1 so long as the setting is kept subordinate to the story1 so long it is good4 ,the moment what is called local color is allowed to dominate a story1 it must injure the permanent effect4 ,the literary mechanic who is writing stories simply to sell them will usually find it easy to dispose of studies of local peculiarities which are piquant1 whether they are true or not4 ,there is nothing to object to in this1 but this work is not to be confounded with legitimate ,narration1 and it is not to be looked upon as permanent literature4 ,local color is accidental rather than essential4 ,it depends upon circumstances which belong to a place rather than to human nature4 ,it follows that it is not in itself of permanent interest1 and that work depending upon it for interest must go by as soon as the novelty is passed4 ,the work of ,miss ,wilkins1 ,miss ,jewett1 ,miss ,brown1 and the rest1 has attracted attention through the fidelity with which it presented peculiarities of ,new ,england rural life4 ,the claim to permanent value in each1 however1 rests on other and higher grounds4 ,in so far as they are true to the fundamental and essential characteristics of humanity1 in so far as they deal with the constant emotions of men and women as men and women1 and not as eccentric types evolved by peculiarities and environment1 they have permanent value--and no farther4 ,closely allied with local color1 and indeed in many cases hardly to be distinguished from it1 is dialect4 ,we are all familiar with a certain strange appearance which has of late years come over the pages of the magazines1 a sort of epidemic of which the most prominent characteristics are the misspelling of words and a plentiful spattering of apostrophes1 as if the secret of literary art lay in eccentric and intermittent orthography4 ,we have been instructed that these startling productions were dialect stories1 and whether we have professed to like them or not has depended largely upon our daring to say what we thought4 ,there are1 it is true1 dialect stories which we must all admire and enjoy1--many of them in spite of their strange language rather than because of it1--but none the less is the multiplicity of tales in dialect a visitation not unlike the ,egyptian plague of swarming flies or of sprawling frogs4 ,the object of the use of dialect is of course to produce what might be called a personal local color4 ,to personages who belong to nationalities other than his own a writer often gives phrases in their own tongue or conforming to the idiom of their own language in order to convey a lively impression of their being foreigners4 ,to produce a vivid sense of the fact that his characters are ,creoles of ,new ,orleans and to suggest all the romantic flavor of life among them1 ,george ,cable used dialect in that delightful book1 8,old ,creole ,days20 to make the reader realize the especial local and race peculiarities of one character or another ,thomas ,nelson ,page used one negro dialect in 8,marse ,chan0 and ,joel ,chandler ,harris another in 8,uncle ,remus40 ,in these and similar cases the dialect used is really1 as far as the general reader is concerned1 an unknown tongue4 ,its correctness or incorrectness cannot be judged by the general public to which these tales are addressed1 and its use must therefore be flavor rather than accuracy1 impression rather than information1 picturesqueness rather than literalness4 ,the proper use of dialect is often a great aid in characterization4 ,some figures it is all but impossible to individualize without this means4 ,there are figures in ,scott which would not be at all the same thing if stripped of their dialect2 while in each of the stories mentioned above there are instances of the same thing4 ,it is to be remembered1 however1 that this is a subsidiary purpose4 ,in other words it is a detail of fiction4 ,dialect is written for the sake of the story1 and woe to that author who produces a story for the sake of a dialect4 ,the tales of the 8,soldiers ,three10 the 8,window in ,thrums10 8,old ,creole ,days10 succeed for other qualities than the dialect1 and the dialect is good because it helps to make effective something better4 ,it is even not improbable that with a large body of readers these and kindred books succeed only in spite of their dialect1 since even at its best this perversion of language is apt to be in itself somewhat irritating even if not perplexing4 ,actually to reproduce a dialect as it is spoken is a feat so difficult that it is worse than idle to attempt it outside of works on philology4 ,dialectic peculiarities are always largely matters of accent1 of voice quality1 and of inflection4 ,the sounds of vowels and consonants may be indicated1 but it is all but impossible to set down the rising and falling of the voice which is the most characteristic quality of these forms of speech4 ,printed words cannot reproduce that species of intoning which has so large a share in making unintelligible to foreigners the speech of ,london cabmen and porters4 ,indeed1 it is to be doubted whether any written dialect is to be regarded as a very exact reproduction of the genuine thing1--a statement which would probably be regarded with contemptuous anger by the devotees of the dialect story1 if any still survive4 ,certainly it is true that dialect does not have to be genuine to be successful4 ,the dialect of the 8,biglow ,papers0 was never spoken on the face of the earth4 ,it is none the worse for that1 so far as ,i can see4 ,it has the effect for which it was intended1 and nothing more could reasonably be asked4 ,mr4 ,lowell made it with the most careful patience1 and apparently believed in it with beautiful faith4 ,he set nothing down1 or rather he tried to set nothing down1 which he had not heard from the lips of ,yankee rustics2 but in the first place no one man ever used all those distorted words and phrases1 belonging sometimes to different localities2 and in the second1 letters cannot reproduce the peculiar sounds and accents of rural ,new ,england4 ,yet this dialect has imposed for a quarter of a century upon no inconsiderable portion of the ,american reading public1 and it will probably continue to impose upon ,english readers until the end of time4 ,the inability of readers to judge of the accuracy of dialect is inseparable from its use4 ,how many are acquainted with the vernacular of 8,thrums10 the patois of ,new ,orleans ,creoles1 the dialect of ,mexican mining camps1 or the speech of the half-breeds of ,canada or the ,west ,indian islands8 ,no danger that the general reader will measure work by reality obliges the writer of dialect to be accurate4 ,the only restraining influence is the difficulty of making a manufactured dialect consistent and convincing4 ,the story-teller studies dialect as it is spoken1 not for the sake of being right1 but because this is the surest way to obtain the appearance of being right4 ,the only essential thing is to be convincing4 ,the danger in the use of dialect is not far to seek4 ,its literary value is that of flavor4 ,as long as this fact is recognized it may properly be employed4 ,the difficulty is that the great and inglorious company of imitators have written dialect for its own sake1--or perhaps for their own sake6--and thereby not only have produced things dreadful to contemplate1 but have so wearied the soul of readers that it has become dangerous to use it legitimately4 ,dialect in literature is a condiment and not a viand2 it is mustard and not beef2 it is never to be employed for its own sake any more than are commas and capitals1 paragraphs and periods4 ,almost every inexperienced writer who tries his hand at dialect--and most experienced ones--will overdo it4 ,the ,french1 with their instinctive literary sense1 may well be studied in this connection4 ,they understand that the value of patois is its suggestiveness1 and they go in its use just so far as is necessary to impart the flavor required1 and there they stop4 ,this is the legitimate method4 ,i have nothing to say of those disfigurements which appear in some of the periodicals1 sketches which are written for the sake of exhibiting a special dialect4 ,they do not come under the head of literature except in the sense in which the word includes the dictionary and thesaurus4 ,they may be of interest to the student of philology1 but they cannot concern the imaginative reader4 ,the best quality which dialect can give is an impression of individuality1 of quaintness or remoteness from conventional and hackneyed experiences4 ,it must be written with care and sobriety4 ,the writer must remember that the day is definitely past when it was possible to produce effects simply by misspelling4 ,it is well to keep in mind also that even the ability to write a dialect never so perfectly is not necessarily a reason for using it4 ,the employment of local forms of language1 like local color1 must be subordinate to the purposes of the story4 ,it is always a means and never legitimately an end4 ,it is1 moreover1 a good deal discredited by over-use and abuse1 so that it must be employed with double caution4 ,one more word of warning it seems well to add4 ,the employment of dialect and of local color as a means of producing literary effect is apt to impart to work a transient character4 ,their effect is less likely to be permanently pleasing than that of almost any other thing legitimately among the resources of the story-teller4 ,the principle that it is well to appeal to ordinary experiences and to ordinary tastes comes in here4 ,the general reader soon tires of dialect unless it be very simple and is supported by all other devices within the range of art4 ,to write dialect is likely to be at best to sacrifice permanent to temporary success4 ,the greatest writers have usually employed it sparingly4 ,shakespeare almost never resorted to it2 ,fielding scarcely used it at all2 ,scott tried it much more largely1 but the ,scotch speech was all but universal among his people1 and it has certainly been oftener a hindrance than a help to his continued success2 ,thackeray put little of it into his best work2 ,hawthorne passed it by2 and even ,dickens depended upon it very little1 despite the temptations which his characters constantly offered4 ,thomas ,hardy has given us the best rustics since ,shakespeare with not much more than an indication of dialect4 ,i do not wish to insist upon the point too strongly1 but the principle seems to me a sound one1 and it is certainly worth the consideration of any student of the art of writing fiction4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the art of writing dialogue is by no means the least difficult thing which the story-teller has to learn1 and there are very many who are not able to acquire it to the end of their days4 ,if a rule could be devised by which good and pleasing dialogue could be written1 it would go far toward making it possible for every man to be his own novelist4 ,to give to the talk of a tale the air of naturalness and ease1 to make it take its place in the story and be attractive without being too clever or too formal1 to give it character and consistency1 to impart to it movement and vivacity1 to be sure that it helps forward the narrative in which it is set1--all these difficulties must be overcome before an author can be said to write good dialogue4 ,the first essential in dialogue is naturalness4 ,some authors get on without this1 but they get on in spite of lacking it and are constantly hampered by the lack4 ,the most striking instance of this in modern fiction is probably ,george ,meredith1 a novelist who makes his way with more encumbrances than any other living man of genius4 ,take1 for instance1 this bit1 chosen almost at random3-- 8,have you walked far to-day80 8,nine and a half hours4 ,my ,flibbertigibbet is too much for me at times1 and ,i had to walk off my temper40 444 8,all those hours were required80 8,not quite so long40 8,you are training for your alpine tour40 8,it's doubtful whether ,i shall get to the ,alps this year4 ,i leave the ,hall1 and shall probably be in ,london with a pen to sell40 8,willoughby knows that you leave him80 8,as much as ,mont ,blanc knows that he is going to be climbed by a party below4 ,he sees a speck or two in the valley40 8,he has spoken of it40 8,he would attribute it to changes40 --,the ,egotist1 viii4 ,this does as a matter of fact somewhat help forward the story from which it is taken1 but could anybody get from it the idea that two living beings were talking together8 ,the great principle of the impression of truth instead of a servile imitation of truth is the secret of good talk in fiction4 ,it is necessary to keep clear on the one hand of formality and stiffness1 and on the other of stupid closeness in mere imitation4 ,in actual talk there are inaccuracies1 broken sentences1 phrases of which the meaning is evident from some glance or gesture1 repetitions and careless constructions1 all of which would lose their force or gain undue importance if set down in print4 ,to preserve or too closely to imitate these characteristics of genuine conversation is to give an impression of unreality1 or commonplaceness and even of vulgarity4 ,the rambling speech is often pleasantly and appropriately imitated4 ,the inimitable ,nurse in 8,romeo and ,juliet0 stands at the head of talkers of this sort1 but there are excellent specimens in the fiction of our own century4 ,miss ,austen possessed the secret of this futile volubility to perfection1 and ,mrs4 ,stowe's best literary work is her management of the discursive talk of ,sam ,lawson4 ,that conversation should be in keeping with the characters speaking is one of those things so obvious that it is unsafe to leave them unsaid4 ,it is another application of the principle of the point of view4 ,the natural tendency of the beginner is to put into the mouths of his personages not what they would say but what he would have them say4 ,if he sufficiently realize them in his own mind there will be little danger of this4 ,the remedy is to know his characters4 ,the people in any book will talk consistently if they are real to the author4 ,they will say what they wish to say and not what he wishes them to say1 and that is the whole secret4 ,most young writers compose pages of dialogue which seems to them clever1 which1 when it is written1 they read over with tender admiration1 generally not without a little amazement that they have done so well and a conviction that this at least imparts distinction to their book1--when as a matter of fact the whole thing is simply an amateurish mistake4 ,it is one of the many pitfalls which egotism and inexperience dig for the unwary writer1 who forgets that success can be achieved only when the end of a work is the work and not the worker4 ,the elaborator of his own opinions into the form of talk is not writing dialogue2 he is but making a weak concession to his individual vanity4 ,his punishment is that he cannot deceive the public4 ,readers may not know their right hands from their left1 but they know when they are bored1 and they are always bored when the progress of the tale is interrupted to afford an author opportunity to display himself4 ,anthony ,trollope puts this matter well in his 8,autobiography30-- ,there is no portion of a novelist's work in which this fault of episodes is so common as in dialogue4 ,it is so easy to make two persons talk on any casual subject with which the writer presumes himself to be conversant6 ,literature1 philosophy1 politics1 or sport may be handled in a loosely discursive style2 and the writer1 while indulging himself1 is apt to think he is pleasing the reader4 ,i think he can make no greater mistake4 ,the dialogue is generally the most agreeable part of a novel2 but it is only so as long as it tends in some way to the telling of the main story4 ,it need not seem to be confined to this1 but it should always have a tendency in this direction4 ,the unconscious critical acumen of a reader is both just and severe4 ,when a long dialogue on extraneous matter reaches his mind1 he at once feels that he is being cheated into taking something that he did not bargain to accept when he took up that novel4 ,he does not at that moment require politics or philosophy1 but he wants a story4 ,he will not1 perhaps1 be able to say in so many words that at some certain point the dialogue has deviated from the story2 but when it does he will feel it4--,ch4 xii4 ,of course the matter is made more complicated by the fact that it is often the office of dialogue to indicate character rather than action4 ,how far the writer may introduce talk simply to illustrate mental characteristics or moods is a thing to be decided by each writer for himself and learned by observation4 ,it is not amiss for a young writer to consider carefully how far he is himself able to enjoy this in the work of others2 and in any case he must learn to distinguish between what is written genuinely to illustrate mental traits and that which is really put in simply to show his own cleverness4 99 99 99 99 99 ,there are two points in the writing out of dialogue which it is well to keep in mind3 first that care must be taken never to leave the reader in doubt who is speaking1 and second that interspersed comments be used with skillful nicety4 ,in a conversation which consists of a somewhat extended succession of short speeches it is often hard for the reader to keep in mind without effort who say them1 unless they are labeled2 while on the other hand to come upon a constant repetition of 8said he10 8said she10 8said ,tom10 8said ,jane10 is as irritating as bumping over a corduroy bridge in a cart without springs4 ,it is worth the author's while to take all possible pains to give explicit indication of the personality of the speaker wherever this is needed and equally to omit it where it is superfluous4 ,here is an example from a second-rate novel3-- 8,i'm off on ,monday10 said he4 8,not really10 said she4 8,yes1 ,i have only come to say good-by10 said he4 8,shall you be gone long80 asked she4 8,that depends10 said he4 8,i should like to know what takes you away10 said she4 8,i dare say10 said he1 smiling4 8,i shouldn't wonder if ,i know10 said she4 8,i dare say you might guess10 said he4 ,there are so many devices for avoiding repetition that only gross carelessness can commit a fault like this4 ,the abundance of terms which may be used--said1 remarked1 observed1 replied1 returned1 retorted1 asked1 inquired1 demanded1 murmured1 grumbled1 growled1 sneered1 explained1 exclaimed1 and the rest of the long list of words of allied meanings--leaves the writer of ,english without excuse if he fail to vary the words of specification in dialogue4 ,there are1 too1 many ways of evading the need of employing any of these4 ,frequently the nature of the talk indicates sufficiently the speaker2 and it is often possible and well to introduce the name of the character addressed4 ,the simple device of altering the relative position of the verb and the subject is not to be despised4 ,in the extract just given the ear would receive as a relief and a boon a single 8he said0 among so many 8said he's40 ,opening ,stevenson's 8,treasure ,island0 almost at random1 and taking the words on a couple of pages which indicate the speakers and their utterances1 ,i find these3-- ,observed ,silver4444 ,cried the cook4444 ,returned ,morgan4444 ,said another4444 ,cried ,silver4444 ,said ,merry4444 ,agreed ,silver4444 ,said ,morgan4444 ,said the fellow with the bandage4444 ,observed another4 ,on a couple of pages of one of ,hardy's books the phrases are3-- ,said a young married man4444 ,murmured ,joseph4444 ,dashed in ,mark ,clark4444 ,added ,joseph4444 ,said ,henry4444 ,observed ,mr4 ,mark4444 ,whispered ,joseph4444 ,said ,mr4 ,oak4444 ,continued ,joseph4 ,the variety does not come by chance1 but by care and a finely trained perception of the value of trifles4 ,it is of importance that the exact significance and intensity of the verb employed be taken into account4 ,there is a distinct difference between 8dashed in0 and 8continued20 between 8cried0 and 8exclaimed40 ,the author should have a sense of the mood and manner of his personages so clear and so fine that only one of all the possible words shall seem to him fit4 ,if his dialogue is at all related to real life1 it will so vary in its fine shadings that the terms indicating the manner of utterance will vary naturally and inevitably4 ,the interspersion of comments in dialogues is another matter of detail which greatly increases or lessens the finish of work4 ,it is often possible to give a much more lively and vivid presentation of the speakers if amid their talk are mixed bits of action or even of description4 ,the two things to be observed are that there shall not be too much of this and that the interpolations shall be significant4 ,the movement of the current of conversation must not be hindered4 ,trifles may be effectively used1 yet it is one of the most difficult points of literary art so to use them4 ,it is a good thing for the student to write little sketches in dialogue form2 stories in which he is forced to depend almost entirely upon the talk itself for characterization and narrative4 ,readers as a rule do not care much for this sort of thing1 and it is to be done as part of the training of the workman rather than for itself4 ,to sum up this matter1 it may be said that in interspersing comment1 as in all else that has to do with dialogue1 the great secret lies in realizing the persons speaking and in allowing them to utter their own words1 instead of making them speak the words of the author or stand aside while the author expresses his thoughts himself4 ,,xix ,,character ,,and ,,purpose ,the secret of character-drawing of course lies largely in the ability to understand and to appreciate character1 but in its application to practical work it largely resolves itself into the power of realizing the personages of the tale4 ,a striking example of how a vitalizing imagination can and may make the actors in a fiction real in spite of all drawbacks is furnished by ,george ,meredith4 ,george ,meredith's style is a teasing madness2 his characters talk as no human beings ever dreamed of talking2 and yet these personages are so actual1 so individual1 so human1 that it is impossible not to feel that if one of them were pricked1 real1 red1 warm human blood would flow4 ,they existed so vividly for the author that they exist vividly for the reader and convince in spite of all the author's mannerisms4 ,the relation of an author to his puppets has been well put by ,trollope when he says3-- ,the novelist has other aims than the elucidation of his plot4 ,he desires to make his readers so intimately acquainted with his characters that the creatures of his brain should be to them speaking1 moving1 living1 human creatures4 ,this he can never do unless he know those fictitious personages himself1 and he can never know them unless he can live with them in the full reality of established intimacy4444 ,he must learn to hate them and to love them4 ,he must argue with them1 quarrel with them1 forgive them1 and even submit to them4--,autobiography1 xiii4 ,deliberate description of persons is seldom of much effect4 ,says ,stevenson3-- ,readers cannot fail to have remarked that what an author tells us of the beauty or the charm of his creatures goes for naught2 that we know instantly better2 that the heroine cannot open her mouth but what1 all in a moment1 the fine phrases of preparation fall from her like the robes from ,cinderella1 and she stands before us1 self-betrayed1 as a poor1 ugly1 sickly wench1 or perhaps a strapping market-woman4--,a ,gossip on a ,novel of ,dumas's4 ,the same principle holds with mental traits4 ,it is of little use to announce1 and especially to announce early in a tale1 what the character of an actor is4 ,if the author declare that the fictitious person is this or that1 he gives the reader a measure by which to criticise his performance4 ,he puts into the hands of his public a rod wherewith to scourge him for whatever falls short of intention1--and if tried for falling short of intention1 who shall escape8 ,if the reader is left to judge of character by deeds1 he becomes himself responsible for any opinions which he may choose to hold4 ,the rule which every student should adopt for himself is that character is to be indicated first by the acts of the personages in a tale1 and secondly by their talk4 ,description of character may be suggested1 but it should not be direct if it is possible to avoid this4 ,of course ,i do not mean that there may not be a good deal of direct comment on character4 ,i do mean1 however1 that while it will probably entertain the author to write this and may help him in understanding the people about whom he writes1 the effect upon the reader will in most cases be exceedingly small4 ,if you are in the habit of analyzing your mental experiences1 ,i am confident that you will bear me out in saying that we are seldom much affected by any declaration on the part of the writer that a character is good1 bad1 or indifferent4 ,if we have drawn the same conclusion from the story1 that is from the events and the conversations1 we may agree with the author2 if we have not1 we do not in the least accept his estimate4 ,this may seem a covert attack upon the whole school of analytical fiction1 but it is meant merely to be a warning to practical workers4 ,there is nothing in all literary art more enticing to a novelist than the vivisection of character1 and especially in this introspective age is it difficult to write objectively and without what might be called mental rummaging4 ,it is impossible not to feel that all this minute analysis of character1 however interesting as psychological tract or treatise1 distinctly injures the effect of a work as a whole4 ,it changes the characters from living beings to subjects on the dissecting-table1 and destroys the vitality of the tale4 ,it is in our time the prevailing fashion1 but it is of our time no less the literary disease4 ,in the masterpieces of fiction it is seldom found2 and the book which is heavily weighted with analysis is desperately sure of going soon to the bottom of the pool of oblivion1 no matter by how much wit or wisdom it may be buoyed up4 ,often a single significant detail will throw more light on a character than pages of comment4 ,an example in perfection is the phrase in which ,thackeray tells how ,becky ,crawley1 amid all her guilt and terror1 when her husband had ,lord ,steyne by the throat1 felt a sudden thrill of admiration for ,rawdon's splendid strength4 ,it is like a flash of lightning which shows the deeps of the selfish1 sensual woman's nature4 ,it is no wonder that ,thackeray threw down his pen1 as he confessed that he did1 and cried1 8,that is a stroke of genius60 ,of drawing characters from life much the same may be said as in regard to taking incidents from life4 ,real characters are excellent points of departure1 and in the study of mental traits it is possible to hold much more closely to nature than in the reproduction of incidents4 ,it is easy to pass the line of probability in incident1 but one may go far before he cross the line of probability in character4 ,it follows that there is in character much more material which may be taken directly from life into fiction1 without especial modification4 ,the chief difficulty here is--or at least so it seems to me--that it is less easy to make an actual person real in the mind as part of a fiction than it is to realize a person practically imaginary4 ,if the writer in his thought and imagination get as perfect a conviction of a personage in his story when he is drawing him directly from life as when he shapes him from pure imagination1 there is no reason why he should not use the living man as his model1 and often he may in this way gain greater consistency of development4 ,character-drawing belongs rather to novels than to short stories4 ,the short story practically deals with character as it shows itself in a crisis or in a brief and rapid series of events4 ,there is here no great opportunity for showing the development of character1 but only for exhibiting how character is manifested under crucial and significant circumstances4 ,the method must be varied according to the conditions1 and almost perforce the writer of the short tale is forced to deal chiefly in suggestion1 both of outward and inner conditions and traits1 rather than in extended exposition4 ,in any case1 however1 the same fundamental principle holds1 that the clearness of the impression produced upon the reader depends upon the command of technical methods which enables a writer to impart what he feels and upon the sharpness with which he realizes the character he depicts4 99 99 99 99 99 ,when there is talk of moral purpose in fiction most persons are either a little indignant or a good deal inclined to get out of the way4 ,if they think how much useless talk has been wasted over the phrase they are impatient2 if they recall how dull much of this talk has been1 they are bored by the very idea4 ,indeed1 one is sometimes tempted to take refuge in mere flippancy1 and to try to shut off discussion by declaring that while it is true that there was formerly such a thing as moral purpose in literature this has in these degenerate days entirely given place to an immoral purpose4 ,yet despite this impatience the fact remains that the matter is one of the most important connected with the art of fiction4 ,what is generally meant by the question whether a story shall have a moral purpose is whether it shall convey an avowed lesson1 whether1 in short1 it shall be undisguisedly or at least deliberately didactic4 ,to this there seems to me but one answer possible1 whether from a literary or an ethical point of view1--and that is an unqualified negative4 ,from the point of view of political and social economics it might appear that this statement is too sweeping1 but closer examination1 ,i believe1 shows it to be sound4 ,take1 for instance1 8,uncle ,tom's ,cabin10 a book which has been at least as widely read as any ever produced in this country4 ,whatever may have been the opinion in the quarter of the century in which the book saw the light1 it would probably be impossible to find to-day a critic of reputation who would place it above mediocrity considered simply as literature4 ,as a means of aiding a great social reform it is one of the most noteworthy intellectual productions of the time4 ,its reputation was of course due largely to the accidental association with a great political movement1 but its influence makes it a historical document of the highest possible interest4 ,from the literary point of view its moral purpose is a mistake1 and is a drag upon it2 just as the question of the reform of the ,court of ,chancery is a drag upon 8,bleak ,house40 ,we may admire the reformatory effects of these novels1 but our interest in this is historical in so far as it exists at all4 ,when the critics took ,mrs4 ,humphry ,ward to task for so heavily freighting 8,robert ,elsmere0 with metaphysical discussion and disquisition1 that lady published a defense of her methods4 ,she declared that she could not 8try to reflect the time without taking account of forces which are at least as real and living as other forces1 and have as much to do with the drama of human existence40 ,she misses the real point4 ,she assumes that the objection is to the choice of subject which she has made in writing her book4 ,the trouble is not simply that she has concerned herself with theological scruples4 ,it is that she has made her moral obvious as a moral2 and1 what is of perhaps even more importance1 that she has not the art to make her theme show through it the fundamentally human emotions with which1 and with which only1 art is properly concerned4 ,it is not the province of art to deal with the question of limited interests except as they depend upon and illustrate human life in its wide meaning4 ,art cannot stop at so confined an inquiry as whether a man shall be a ,mohammedan1 a ,catholic1 or a ,protestant or an ,agnostic4 ,the novelist who would succeed permanently must go deeper than that4 ,the essential principle of conviction which is common to all humanity must be shown through the conflict between differing creeds4 ,here the matter is that of emotions and principles general to all men1 although the especial circumstances in which these are exercised may be particular and individual4 ,in so far as 8,robert ,elsmere0 is significant of that passionate fidelity to truth which is respected by all mankind it is vital and significant2 but it is mistaken and transient in so far as it is concerned with the discussion of accidental rather than with general truth4 ,i use 8accidental0 here in a purely literary sense4 ,i am not estimating the value of creeds4 ,i mean simply to say that all men as human beings are not interested in the question whether ,agnosticism or the ,church of ,england is to be preferred2 while every true man is concerned with the fact that it often costs much for a human being to follow his most profound inner conviction4 ,this brings me to what ,i should say is the first principle involved in this matter4 ,literature as an art should deal with those ethical questions only which are of universal human interest4 ,we have noticed already that whatever a reader is led to do for himself is more real and more vital than anything which can be done for him4 ,this principle1 carried farther and higher1 underlies the fact that mankind will give little heed to any 8record of intellectual conceptions0 of life1 while they will be moved and led by a 8reflection of life0--in other words by those tales which are the embodiment of human emotions and human passions4 ,to be told what some man thinks that life should mean to us may interest but is not likely to move us deeply or to change us4 ,to be shown1 vitally and vividly1 what life has meant to any human being can hardly fail to reach our emotions and to affect the whole mental being4 ,life can teach more than any man can teach4 ,the novelist who preaches is tacitly assuming that his individual belief is of more value than the inferences which a reader would draw from a faithful picture of life4 ,the race avenges itself upon such an egotist4 ,it does not reason about it1 but it lets his book die4 ,where is the didactic novel that has outlived its generation8 ,to be didactic is at best to be temporary4 ,the very essence of all art is that the motive of a work shall be inherent in it and not an outside purpose2 but even aside from this1 the moral purpose which shows itself as such defeats its own object4 ,the lesson which is elaborated for us belongs in the sermon1 and sermons are apt to be of effect so transient that it is necessary to have a fresh one at least once a week4 ,the teaching of a genuine work of art is permanent4 ,it is hardly conceivable that the race should outlive the teaching of ,dante or ,shakespeare4 ,the hypothesis upon which the 8moral purpose10 so called1 is introduced into fiction is that men shall be moved to accept its teaching4 ,the objection which it seems fair to urge against this is that the ethical lesson conveyed indirectly is so much more effectual2 and that it is not wise to waste the opportunity and to dull men's minds to the legitimate effects of fiction4 ,what the sincere novelist does is practically to say to his reader3 8,here is a portion of life as it seems to me it is or might be4 ,i tell you the whole of its reality or its possibility as far as ,i can perceive it4 ,what it means1 what is the lesson to be drawn from it1 you must discover for yourself4 ,in the first place the emotions which ,i have felt in writing the tale cannot be directly expressed4 ,i have endeavored to suggest them1 and that is all that can be done by means of language4 ,in the second place1 the moral of life will be vital only to him who draws it for himself40 ,of course it is impossible to determine how far one novelist or another would definitely say to himself anything of this sort2 but ,i believe that this is the position consciously or unconsciously taken by every serious writer of fiction4 ,no conviction1 no opinion1 no faith is vital which is not the original growth of the mind which holds it4 ,we may induce it4 ,we may advance ideas1 we may even formulate views1 and suppose that we have converted another to our own position1 be it intellectual1 moral1 sthetic1 or religious4 ,we may have secured a sort of conformity2 the other may even himself suppose that he thinks as we do2 but until he feels that we think as he does there is little hope that genuine opinions have taken root in his mind4 ,it is only when the life within him has consciously put into tangible form its own belief that he is in any permanent way1 in any real sense1 convinced4 ,conviction which is forced upon one by deliberately didactic books is like a costume1 assumed willingly or unwillingly as the case may be1 but only an outer covering4 ,conviction which is wrought in one by inner emotion in reading the story of ,arthur ,pendennis1 of ,colonel ,newcome1 of ,effie ,deans1 of ,jean ,valjean1 of ,hester ,prynne1 is a change in the very fibre of the moral being4 ,the one is a view1 and the other is vitality2 one is a theory1 and the other is belief2 the one is a creed1 but the other is character4 ,,xx ,,translation ,as the intimate intercourse of the inhabitants of the earth increases1 the necessity of setting over literature from one tongue to another is every day greater4 ,one nation is no longer content with its own science or its own literature4 ,each is greedy for the intellectual treasures of the whole race4 ,whatever of thought1 of experience1 of imagination has been recorded by the men of any country1 is of interest to the readers of all1 and there is therefore a steadily increasing demand for versions of foreign books4 ,translation has come to be almost a distinct profession4 ,the increased exercise of the art has raised greatly the standard of excellence demanded4 ,it is true that there is still a great deal of slip-shod work offered to the public1 but even cheapness is ceasing to be an effectual recommendation for bad translations when good ones are to be had4 ,it is now necessary for the writer who makes this his business to learn his trade pretty thoroughly4 ,the days of schoolboy renderings are about over1 and some translators1 like ,miss ,katherine ,wormeley1 have raised their work to so high a level that it is almost entitled to take rank with original production4 ,translation is in the mind of the general public associated with rendering into extremely scraggly ,english the 8,commentaries0 of ,csar or the 8neid0 of ,virgil4 ,most of us have been through experiences like that of ,betty in 8,a ,woodland ,wooing30-- 8,just listen to this stuff4 ,i've got the rest of it1 but ,i can't make head or tail out of this40 8,well1 what is it80 demanded ,bob4 8#8,him likewise perchance furious alike impelling1 and the spoils of the gean deity whatsoever by means of madness notwithstanding to be about to be sacrificed4' ,there1 that is the very best ,i can make out of it40 8,well10 returned ,bob1 with brotherly candor1 8you are a muff4 ,that's plain enough4 ,don't you see3 #8,he also declared himself about to be sacrificed1 an offering to the insatiate gean deity2 not caring to live1 moreover1 impelled by furious madness1 but ready alike to finish and be forgotten4' ,that is as easy as rolling off a log40--,ch4 iii4 ,this idea1 however1 it is needful to lay aside if the subject is to be discussed intelligibly1 for ,translation has come to be treated as a serious matter1 and to be developed like any other intellectual pursuit4 ,the first fact to be accepted in considering ,translation is that it is impossible exactly to render into one language what has been written in another4 ,the race that has made each tongue has impressed its own character upon it in every syllable1 in every idiom4 ,it is not difficult to repeat in one speech the general idea of what is said in another1 and for practical purposes this is often all that is required4 ,the directions for making a machine1 the particulars of a shipment of grain1 the questions one asks in shopping may with no especial difficulty be changed from language to language4 ,when it comes to thoughts1 and still more when emotions are to be dealt with1 it is impossible to give in two tongues precisely the same shade of meaning4 ,the delicate aroma of a piece of literary art is as surely diminished or lost in translation as a man becomes a foreigner and noticeably strange when removed from his own country to another4 ,even in practical affairs this is sometimes a serious consideration4 ,the meaning in different languages of the phrases most nearly equivalent is so far from being identical that in important treaties between nations of differing speech it is necessary to agree beforehand what tongue shall be considered authoritative in case of dispute4 ,in scientific books it is common to find that a translator is forced to add the original to his version of some sentence or phrase because there is no exact equivalent4 ,words cannot completely express thought in any case1 and to this constant infirmity of language is in translation added the difficulty that the words of one tongue cannot accurately represent the precise shade of idea phrased by another4 ,professor ,wendell remarks3-- ,each language names ideas in a way peculiarly its own4 ,the common agreement on arbitrary symbols that at length results in the vocabulary of any language is sure to produce symbols that stand for peculiar aspects of real thoughts and emotions which language tries to define1--for aspects in other words which differ from those named by any other tongue2 and what is thus plainly true of words by themselves is just as true of words in combination4444 ,in its vocabulary1 in its grammar1 in its entirety1 each language must express the lasting meaning of life in aspects different from those expressed by any other4--,stelligeri1 p4 #ajc4 ,it follows that the best that a translator can hope to do is to give the nearest approximation to the original that the language into which he is changing it is capable of4 ,the problem is not unlike that of the engraver who is endeavoring to reproduce a picture painted with the brush4 ,at every point he is forced to decide what combination of lines and spaces will best represent the work before him4 ,he knows that it is impossible by any arrangement of lines actually to reproduce the brush-work of the painter1 and so he goes on considering what effect among those within his reach most nearly approaches this4 ,the methods of the translator of course vary with the nature of the original with which he has to deal4 ,in rendering documents which have to do with practical affairs the chief consideration is strict exactness of idea4 ,if one attempts to translate a scientific treatise1 the most important point is absolute accuracy4 ,it is in any case necessary to write correct and clear ,english1 but ,force and ,elegance may for the moment be left practically out of consideration1--or1 rather1 are considered as in importance subordinate to ,clearness4 ,to say in our tongue as precisely as possible what the author has said in his is the translator's first care1 and to express1 too1 the material1 literal1 scientific meaning of this as it would appear to a reader of the original4 ,here there is no question of atmosphere1 of suggestion1 of connotation4 ,the emotional element of literature may and indeed must be ignored here4 ,the intellectual quality is the only thing to be regarded4 ,all this is comparatively easy4 ,if one knows the languages from which and into which he is translating1 he should have no especial difficulty in changing a scientific paper from one to another4 ,his knowledge of the subject will of course affect the ease and accuracy of the result2 and of course the comparative richness of the scientific vocabulary of the languages is to be taken into account4 ,in general terms1 however1 this sort of translation calls for the exercise of the intellectual faculties only2 and whatever depends upon the intellect may be acquired by any one who has an intellect1 if he choose to take the trouble4 ,when it is a question of a version in another tongue of literature in its higher sense the matter at once becomes more complicated4 ,here there is not only the idea to be considered1 but the suggestion1 the flavor1 the peculiar quality of style and individuality4 ,there must be an attempt to give some impression of the effect produced in the original by euphony1 by what we speak of as word-color1 meaning thereby the melody and the peculiar quality which terms have from suggestions so subtle that it is all but impossible to analyze them4 ,all these requirements thrust themselves upon the translator1 and he must struggle to achieve the impossible in transferring these from one language to the other4 ,the difficulties of the undertaking are well illustrated by ,george ,henry ,lewes1 in the following passage3-- ,words are not only symbols of objects1 but centres of associations2 and their suggestiveness depends partly upon their sound4 ,thus there is not the slightest difference in meaning expressed when ,i say1 8,the dews of night began to fall10 or1 8,the nightly dews commenced to fall40 ,meaning and metre are the same2 but one is poetry1 the other prose4 ,wordsworth paints a landscape in this line3-- ,the river wanders at its own sweet will4 ,let us translate it into other words3 8,the river runneth free from all restraint40 ,we preserve the meaning1 but where is the landscape8 ,or we may turn it thus1 8,the river flows1 now here1 now there1 at will10 which is a very close translation1 much closer than any usually found in a foreign language1 where1 indeed1 it would in all probability assume some such form as this1 8,the river1 self-impelled1 pursues its course40 ,in these examples we have what is seldom found in translations1 accuracy of meaning expressed in similar metre2 yet the music and the poetry are gone1 because the music and the poetry are organically dependent upon certain peculiar arrangements of sound and suggestion4--,life of ,goethe1 #b;d ed41 p4 #dff4 ,quoted in ,genung's 8,practical ,rhetoric40 ,it is in the rendering of works which belong to that department of literature to which is given the name belles-lettres that translation is most difficult and also most common4 ,poetry1 fiction1 essays1 and kindred forms are most frequently the subject of the worker at this craft4 ,here the form is often of importance as great as that of the idea4 ,to give merely a literal version of the exact ideas in the original would do no more toward reproducing it than a photograph does toward reproducing the ,sistine ,madonna or a plaster cast the ,venus of ,melos4 ,indeed1 of the formally literal translation it is hardly too much to say that it really represents the original no more than a collection of paint-tubes containing all the colors in a painting would represent the picture4 ,the value in the painting lies in the manner in which the tints have been arranged and varied1 blended here and contrasted there4 ,in literature1 the value lies in the cunning blending and contrasting1 the arrangement and variety with which ideas are presented4 ,shelley said of the chant of the archangels which opens the 8,prologue in ,heaven0 of ,goethe's 8,faust0 that not only is it 8impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification10 but that 8even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation40 ,every one who has attempted to translate a work of imaginative merit must appreciate this4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of course1 the first thing which a translator considers is the setting over of the ideas from one tongue to another1 yet it seems to me a great mistake to make first a version which is simply literal1 and then to try to mould it over into forms of literary grace4 ,of course1 this is a matter which must to a certain extent depend upon individual temperament1 but it is certainly true here as in other work that a phrase or a sentence can be more readily shaped and modified while it is fresh than when it has cooled and hardened4 ,translation is no mechanical operation1 and no mechanical excellence will suffice4 ,it is therefore well to aim at excellence of quality from the first1 instead of attempting to add it as it were by an afterthought4 ,the first and essential requisite in making a translation is that it be ,english4 ,by this is meant not only that it shall be made up of ,english words4 ,it is not even sufficient that it be made up of ,english words so arranged that they may be understood4 ,it is necessary that the ,english shall be sound and idiomatic4 ,the ideal translation preserves nothing in its style to indicate that it was not originally written in the tongue in which it stands4 ,it is the aim of the translator to approximate as closely to this standard of excellence as he is able4 ,the sentence-structure of the ,german is more elaborate and more extended than our own4 ,it is necessary that the translator of ,german works do not model his ,english version after this peculiarity of the original4 ,the paragraph structure of the ,french is peculiarly broken and brief2 yet the writer who sets work over from ,french into ,english is not permitted to let this fact determine the manner of his paragraphing in the latter language4 ,still more important is it that the idiom of the alien speech shall not leave its traces upon the style of the translation4 ,this is the point in which all mechanical training fails4 ,a friend gave me the other day a copy of the sign which was placed above the electric-light button in the chamber that he occupied in a hotel at ,geneva3 8,one is begged on entering the room to press the button to let the light1 and on parting again to extend it40 ,the man who wrote this rather remarkable direction knew his vocabulary tolerably well1 but he had no idea of the ,english idiom4 ,you have all of you seen innumerable examples of the same sort of blunder1 and it is one which can be avoided only by an intimate acquaintance with the tongue into which one is translating4 ,of the three great languages with which the translator is likely to have to do1 ,french is by far the most idiomatic1 ,german the least1 while ,english in this respect stands midway between the other two4 ,the problem in dealing with idioms is to find in one tongue expressions which are rather the equivalents of the original than a literal translation4 ,the most nearly satisfactory renderings of the plays of ,aristophanes which are to be found in our literature are those of ,john ,hookham ,frere1 and they are probably among the least literal4 ,aristophanes was one of the most idiomatic of classic authors1 and he indulged in slang as well as in idiom4 ,to give an impression at all approximating to that of the original it is necessary constantly to depart from the exact words of the ,greek text1 especially when an attempt is made to preserve the feeling of the metrical effects of the comedies4 ,in 8,the ,birds10 the literal meaning of a certain passage is this3 8,come 444 as many as in the furrows incessantly twitter around the clods so lightly with blithesome voice40 ,this is rendered by ,frere3-- ,rioting on the furrowed plain1 ,pecking1 hopping1 ,picking1 popping1 ,among the barley newly sown4 ,the difference between the literal version and the other is that from the latter the reader gets something of the impression which the ,greek carried to its auditors1 while from the former nothing is to be obtained beyond the plain and exact meaning4 ,those who have examined the translation of the 8,phormio0 which was furnished to the audience when that play was acted at ,harvard in #ahid found there numerous illustrations of this use of equivalents in place of exact meaning4 ,the character of the dialogue made it proper to employ modern slang to give the impression which the original conveyed to the audience for which it was written4 ,accordingly the ,latin phrase which literally means 8,gird up your loins0 was translated 8,brace up60 8,bring the old man0 was rendered 8,trot out your old man60 8,now what will be the talk of folk80 is made to read 8,why1 what will ,mrs4 ,grundy say80 ,the whole is an amusing though perhaps somewhat extreme example of the modern idea of translating by the emotional equivalent instead of by the literal equivalent2 of giving the phrase which shall make on the ,english-speaking reader the impression made by the original upon the reader who spoke the tongue in which the work was first written4 ,the method of turning foreign works into ,english which has until recently been the popular one is admirably illustrated by the versions of ,german novels which have been so successfully made by ,mrs4 ,a4 ,l4 ,wister4 ,mrs4 ,wister once said to a young woman who applied to her for aid in getting translating to do1 and who justified her application upon the ground that she was an excellent ,french and ,german scholar3 8,that is not the question4 ,the thing is whether you are able to write ,english well4 ,anybody can find out the meaning of a ,french or ,german text2 that is simply a matter of using a grammar and a dictionary4 ,the secret of making an acceptable translation lies in the ability to express that meaning in good ,english40 ,this is admirably said1 but it does not cover the whole ground4 ,it is of the first importance that the translator write good ,english1 but it is hardly to be supposed that the use of grammar and lexicon will give a writer that intimate and sympathetic acquaintance with foreign idioms without which it is impossible to make a version satisfactory in the modern sense4 ,mrs4 ,wister is an excellent example of what might more correctly be called a 8paraphraser0 than a 8translator40 ,it has been her custom to select some popular ,german novel1 and from that to make a story which seemed to her likely to please the ,american public4 ,she has allowed herself the widest liberty1 even to the extent1 if ,i am not misinformed1 of suppressing characters and modifying situations which did not please her1 or of otherwise altering the story in important particulars4 ,the success with which her books have met has justified her practical wisdom in adopting this method of following literature as a bread-winning business4 ,she set out to please the average story-reader1 by providing for the market pleasantly exciting1 clean1 and entertaining books4 ,she has done it well1 and she has achieved the end she sought4 ,there is always in the mind of the literary man some doubt how far one author has the moral right thus to bejuggle the work of another1 even in translation4 ,one who has written cannot help being influenced by a sort of sub-consciousness of what his own feelings would be if a translator were to work such a transformation upon one of his books4 ,letting this pass1 however1 it is to be said that popular demands in regard to the quality and veracity of translations have steadily advanced4 ,the paraphraser is now forced to appeal to a public intellectually lower than that he formerly addressed4 ,the literary grade of the admirers of ,mrs4 ,wister's books is probably distinctly below what it was ten years ago4 ,her school may be said practically to have had its day2 and the translator in the best sense has taken the place of the paraphraser4 ,it is not that the translator may not take liberties1 as we have already seen in speaking of idiom4 ,it is that where before liberties were taken for the pleasure or from the caprice of the paraphraser1 variations are now supposed to be made by the translator for the sole purpose of imparting to the reader a better idea of the impression produced by the original on those who read it in its first form4 ,miss ,wormeley1 for instance1 is publishing a version of the comedies of ,molire4 ,she has decided that she can give the ,american reader who is unacquainted with ,french a better idea of the plays by rendering them into prose than by attempting the rhymed verse of the original4 ,to the average ,american of to-day the effect is undoubtedly more satisfactory than that of any metrical version could be4 ,this is an extreme instance1 and it involves the difficulty of retaining the beauties and value of poetical forms in translation1 but it illustrates the length to which variations from the original may legitimately go if they are made in the line of fidelity to the impression of the original4 ,the two great principles in translation1 then1 are faithfulness to the impression produced by the work in its own language1 and faithfulness to the tongue into which it is rendered1 especially in idiomatic constructions4 ,it is to be remembered that the difficulty of producing a satisfactory version is never an excuse for any failure4 ,the fact that one undertakes to make a translation is equivalent to a profession of ability to cope with whatever obstacles the task may present4 ,the value of translating as a help toward literary facility is a thing which should not be overlooked by the student4 ,whatever increases ease in the handling of language is of worth1 and especially valuable is whatever forces the writer to greater exactness in the use of words and phrases4 ,reading aloud in ,english from a book in another language is excellent practice in the line of training the mind to quickness in the use of words2 and this is especially good for one going into newspaper work4 ,it is going a little out of our way to comment here on the translation which comes into school work1 but a word may not be amiss4 ,it is always to be remembered1 both by teacher and by pupil1 that translation involves two languages1 and one as fully as the other4 ,too often work of this sort is done as if the foreign language was the one to be considered exclusively4 ,students are allowed to give an approximate meaning of the ,latin or the ,french which they are reading1 putting their so-called translation into a verbal jargon which uses the ,english vocabulary1 but which is no more ,english than the dictionary becomes a poem from having in it the words used in poetry4 ,this is unfair to the student in several ways4 ,it makes him hate what he is doing2 it prevents his ever having anything like a proper or true idea of the value of the literature which he is mangling out of a foreign tongue into mongrel ,english4 ,it destroys his feeling for his own language1 and it makes it all but impossible for him to be taught ,english composition4 ,more than one teacher who agonizes in spirit over the themes of his or her pupils1 wondering why it is seemingly so impossible to teach them to write even reasonably well1 might find an answer to the perplexing question by considering the ,english into which they are allowed to render their work in the languages4 ,if pupils are let to translate from ,french and ,german and ,latin into a sort of schoolroom dialect1 inexact1 unidiomatic1 and lifeless1 it is gross stupidity to expect that they will fail to be influenced by this4 ,a pupil's education is a unit4 ,as long as it is assumed that his training in the languages is one thing1 in mathematics another1 and in geography or history a third1 there is a constant loss of energy in counteracting the effects of this mistake4 ,every branch must be taught with a view to every other1 and learned with a view to every other2 and especially evident is it that in all teaching the matter of the proper use of the language of the learner should be kept always in sight4 ,the translation which injures the pupil's use of his own tongue does him a harm which cannot be atoned for by any knowledge it gives him of another4 ,it must by this time be apparent that translation in the best sense is really so closely allied to original work as hardly to be distinguished from it4 ,in fact no writer can hope to produce successful versions of works of imagination who has not himself a genuine literary gift1 carefully trained4 ,the pathetic idea of so many young women that because they have taken lessons in ,french and ,german they can make their living by translating from those languages is quickly and painfully crushed by any attempt to carry it into practice2 but there is far from being any adequate conception even among general writers of how difficult an art really good translation is4 ,yet so rapidly is public taste being educated in this matter that poor versions from other tongues become every day more and more futile and ineffective4 ,,xxi ,,criticism ,criticism is the estimation of work by defined standards4 ,in its application to literature it is the trying of whatever is written4 ,it is1 so to say1 the balance-sheet of composition4 ,criticism is a sort of ,exposition1 yet it is well to consider it by itself because it has so much the nature of a general survey of the whole field of composition4 ,indeed1 since literary training depends so largely upon self-criticism1 it is essential to understand its methods and principles before one can hope to progress fast or far4 ,there has never before been a time when there has been so much talk about the art as in the latter half of this century1 and seldom a time when there has been less of the genuine article4 ,matthew ,arnold preached the gospel of criticism1 and the world went on its uncritical way very much as before4 ,there have even been doubts expressed whether there was after all any such thing save in theory4 ,that entertaining ,philistine1 ,mr4 ,andrew ,lang1 has declared that criticism is nothing but the expression of personal opinion1 and has strengthened his position by pretty consistently living up to the assertion4 ,the definition has been somewhat widely accepted2 and it is certainly true that much which in common speech is called criticism is nothing more or less than an expression of prejudice or opinion4 ,indeed1 in common speech the word is pretty generally used to signify mere fault-finding4 ,there is1 however1 no more propriety in using the verb 8to criticise0 in the sense of 8to censure0 than in the sense of 8to praise40 ,it means neither4 ,its nearest synonym is 8to estimate10 or 8to measure40 ,criticism is appreciation based upon comparison of work with defined standards4 ,to criticise is to form or to express an opinion4 ,it is as far from blame on the one hand as from praise on the other2 but it establishes the reason for either4 ,as a branch of ,exposition it is a written estimate4 ,the principles of the art are the same whatever is the nature of the work to which judgment is applied1 but we shall speak of it here chiefly as applied to literature4 ,the first necessity in criticism is that of a standard4 ,without definite standards there can be no measurement of work4 ,there is no estimating the truth or falsity of anything unless there is first some idea of truth2 the merit or the worthlessness of a thing cannot be measured unless there be some ideal by which it may be judged4 ,until one has personal standards by which to measure life he cannot be said to have any moral identity2 until he has standards by which to estimate ideas1 he has no intellectual identity2 until he has definite and defined standards by which to criticise literature it is hardly possible to consider that he has literary identity or that he is entitled to lay claim to any literary opinion as his own4 ,i have spoken in a former lecture of that irritating class who take refuge behind the phrase1 8,i do not know what is good or bad1 but ,i know what ,i like40 ,the phrase is a confession of either mental incapacity or of mental slothfulness4 ,it means either 8,i am too stupid to think out the reason why this pleases me10 or 8,i am too lazy to think40 ,it is a moral duty for one to know why one likes or dislikes a thing4 ,i do not mean that we can go to the ultimate analysis of the reasons why beauty delights and ugliness pains4 ,i do mean that the possession of reason lays on a man a moral obligation to use it2 and that so far as his individual reason can go1 it is his duty to examine the grounds of his feelings4 ,how is a man to have the courage of his dislikes if he does not know upon what they rest8 ,it is the duty of every rational creature to have opinions4 ,in order to have opinions it is necessary to estimate belief and feeling4 ,in order to estimate it is needful to have standards4 ,all this being so1 how are standards to be obtained8 ,there is unfortunately no market where they are to be bought2 and the mere mention of acquiring them fills untrained and timorous minds with a shuddering sense of horribly laborious undertaking4 ,yet in its plainest form the matter is simply to know what one believes2 and that is the first step in any mental development which can claim to be genuine4 ,this does not mean that criticism is to be a matter of personal opinion in the sense of its being arbitrary liking or disliking4 ,it means that the first standard by which all work must be tried is that of its truth2 and that to be able to measure its truth it is necessary to know what one regards as truth4 ,to be able to estimate the verity of a book it is essential that one have definite opinions in regard to the truth as it concerns life and humanity1 and that one be not in the least in doubt what those opinions are4 ,criticism by vague opinions is like weight by an uncertain balance4 ,for individual criticism1 moreover1 it is absolutely essential that judgment be made by truth as it appears to the critic1 and not by his idea of what others may think to be truth4 ,his knowledge of what others believe is to influence him in establishing a standard1 not in his measurement of works by it4 ,in other words1 we all are and should be affected in our decision of what is truth by the opinion of our fellow-men4 ,when we have made up our mind that a certain thing is true1 we try work by it as a standard without reference to the belief or the disbelief of others4 ,this is a matter which reaches far4 ,it seems to me that it is hardly possible to insist too strongly in education upon the need of realizing one's opinions4 ,what many persons call their mind is merely a sort of mental protoplasm from which a mind may with care be developed1 and the most effective means of development is that of defining clearly the things which we believe and of assuring ourselves as exactly as may be what to us is and what is not truth4 ,our idea of truth is the standard by which we estimate the thing that a work expresses1 whether in idea or in impression4 ,to estimate the mechanics of a book1 its technical finish1 and all that has to do with workmanship1 it is necessary to study the masterpieces of literature4 ,to judge of what may be done and what may therefore be fairly demanded1 it is necessary to examine those works which have stood the test of time and which are pronounced good by the verdict of mankind4 ,it is difficult to form our standards from contemporary writings because in them what is permanent is apt to be obscured by the temporary4 ,literature shows the relation of men to their time and the relation of man to life4 ,in the classics of all languages1 in the books which have lived from generation to generation1 the temporary drops out of sight while the essential remains4 ,a story which showed the relation of the men of the ,restoration to the great struggle between ,puritanism and ,royalty was of poignant and even bitter interest to the readers of that time because each reader was a partisan on one side or on the other4 ,to-day we have no personal feeling in regard to these political and religious differences1 which without the aid of foot-notes we very likely do not even understand4 ,only the essential and human remains4 ,we read such a tale with a perception only of the revelation which it makes of the nature of permanent human emotions4 ,we get from it only the truths which have to do with the relation of man to life1 not as it is for one party or sect1 but as it is for man as a human being4 ,when 8,uncle ,tom's ,cabin0 was new1 it was hardly possible to look at it from a literary standpoint1 because from one side or the other of the great anti-slavery question its readers felt passionately its moral purpose4 ,we are already far enough away from the anti-slavery struggle to be able to examine the book critically1 and to decide upon its literary qualities without reference to its political or moral weight4 ,it is only when time has practically eliminated the temporary and accidental in a work that we are able to look at it in a temper dispassionate enough to allow us to get from it an idea of the essential qualities which shall be to us a standard4 ,the things which we are thus to learn from the study of the masterpieces and the classics of literature1 are3 first1 the laws of province1 and second1 the possibilities of literary expression4 ,by the laws of province--which is a somewhat formidable name for a not very complicated thing--,i mean what is the province of each variety of literary form4 ,this would include1 for instance1 the consideration of the consistency of fairy tales1 the discussion of a moral purpose in fiction1 methods in writing history or biography1 and all the many matters of this nature4 ,if we are to consider how well a novelist has done his work1 it is necessary that we have some clearly defined notion of what comes properly within the scope of a novel2 if we are to criticise a romance1 a history1 an essay1 it is in any case needful that we be acquainted with what the experience of permanent literature and the judgment of the masters have decided to be the proper range of each sort of writing4 ,this is what is meant by the laws of province4 ,it is only by the careful study of the best works of these several sorts that we become qualified to judge how far a new production holds by the laws which should govern a composition of its kind4 ,this is the more difficult as these laws are largely unwritten1 and from the nature of things must be differently applied in different cases4 ,one thing must be said in regard to the authority of the classics1 the masterpieces of literature to which we are to go to learn our standards4 ,the young author is apt to feel that it is a mark of weakness to confess that he is influenced by the example of those who have gone before him4 ,he protests1 often pretty vigorously1 against this autocratic rule of authors long since dust strewn as far as waters flow or the wind speeds4 ,he feels that it is for the living to make laws for the living1 and this generally means in his own case a willingness to make such canons1 or at least a determination to be a law unto himself4 ,the difficulty is that he does not recognize the true state of things4 ,the domain of literature is not a despotism1 but the most absolutely free of all republics4 ,no author1 no matter how great he be1 can force the public to accept his book or can impose his works upon the generations4 ,it is by the suffrages of the readers of the world that he stands or falls1 and if there was ever given in the whole world a disinterested and impartial vote1 it is precisely this decision which the world makes upon the merit of works4 ,what we call the classics are the books which the world has decided are good4 ,it is the consensus of the opinion of mankind that dominates here4 ,the opinion of individuals is often wrong4 ,i doubt if the verdict of generations upon a book ever errs substantially4 ,yet another thought is of importance4 ,to write is to endeavor to communicate thought4 ,it is manifestly inconsistent and illogical not to choose that method of communication to which the world will listen4 ,the measure of the world's willingness is to be found in the works which the world has permanently approved4 ,we learn our standards from the masterpieces of literature1 we say2 we might say3 ,here are the books which show what form of composition will be attended to by the world which the writer wishes to address4 ,to see how far successful a given author has been in doing what he attempted1 it is well to compare his work with this4 ,the forming of standards of mechanical excellence is of course founded on the same principles as those by which we determine what ,i have called the laws of province4 ,there is no hard-and-fast rule by which to define exactly the limits of one department of literature or another1 and the only thing which can without qualification be said is that no one can write criticisms which are of any lasting or indeed of any transient value who is not well acquainted with the great body of good ,english literature4 ,one thing should be kept constantly in mind in writing criticisms1 and that is that the critic must appreciate and hold to the point of view of the author criticised4 ,the great point is to know what the author tried to do1 and to judge how far he has succeeded in doing it4 ,if a book is written for the general public1 for instance1 it is manifestly unfair to complain that it does not meet the needs of the specialists2 and equally would it be unfair to find fault with the volume carefully prepared for the specialist for not being adapted to the average reader4 ,be sure that in writing a criticism you are clear in regard to what it is proper to expect from a given book1 and in regard also to what the work is or is not as judged by the standard thus established4 ,criticism must first of all things be definite4 ,one of the powers first to be called into play in forming an estimate of any work is that of analysis4 ,it is impossible to compare the qualities of a composition with the standard in our mind1 without separating those qualities from each other4 ,we must be able to say that this passage has ,force1 that that has ,elegance2 to see that the work as a whole possesses ,force but lacks ,clearness2 and so on for any and all the characteristics which may be found4 ,it is necessary to study the effect which a work produces1 and again to be able to tell upon what means those effects depend4 ,in no other way can we put ourselves in a position to estimate fairly and conclusively the value and the lasting merit of that which we criticise4 ,i have more than once reminded you that literary work that is worth the name is a severe labor4 ,it has never seemed to me worth while to attempt to lure you on with delusive persuasions of easy roads to literary perfection4 ,all literary work which is worth doing is laborious and long2 and of all literature which is generally included under the head of belles-lettres it seems to me that criticism is intellectually the most severe4 ,it is so largely a matter of pure intellect that it even seems more arduous than it is4 ,in writing poetry or fiction1 or indeed any purely creative work1 the pleasure of creation arouses the emotions and kindles the fancy4 ,one can now and then give the rein to his mind1 so to say1 and let the steeds of his imagination start off for a dash4 ,in criticism the imagination has no office save that of being sympathetic and of entering into the mood of another4 ,the strain on the attention and the judgment is constant2 and that there are no more good critics is to be accounted for by the explanation--which is almost an excuse--that criticism is so difficult an art4 ,when all other qualifications for criticising have been considered1 there remains that most elusive1 most essential of all1--taste4 ,taste is a fine sense of the fitness of things2 a perception of the proper proportion in work1 and of the limits to which the expression of feeling or emotion can go4 ,it is closely allied to a sense of humor in its quality4 ,it is no less a delicate appreciation of the fitness of means to effect1 and of the propriety of the ways by which an author has endeavored to impress his readers4 ,taste is the self-respect of the imagination4 ,it determines the line beyond which the fancy cannot go with dignity4 ,it is that faculty by which we decide that one shade of incongruity is humorous and touching1 yet that the shade but a trifle deeper is vulgar and repulsive4 ,the knowledge how far things should be carried2 sensitiveness to literary propriety2 delicacy to finest differences of effect1 are all dependent upon this faculty1 which underlies all sthetic perception4 ,how to improve it1 refine it1 develop it1 is the question of all culture4 ,goethe says3-- ,taste should be educated by contemplation1 not of the tolerably good1 but of the truly excellent4444 ,the best 444 when you have fully apprehended1 444 you will have a standard1 and will know how to value inferior performances without overrating them4--,conversations4 ,there is little that can be added to this4 ,the best books well read will do all for the taste that definite outward cultivation can do4 ,the rest is a matter of inner growth4 ,no one is fitted to criticise work until he has learned to appreciate work4 ,even a felon may claim to be tried by his peers1 and surely an author is fairly entitled to at least this grace4 ,the peer of an author in this sense is the man who sympathetically is able to understand him2 who is trained to perceive what is the aim of a book1 and so is in a position to judge how far it has succeeded or failed4 ,until one is conscious of having attained to this he should at least be modest in his judgments2 he should define his opinions for himself1 but he will not claim that infallibility which belongs only to the critic of the highest rank and which is claimed only by those of the lowest4 ,all this has to do with criticism as it should be1 and as it is at its best4 ,this is what men like ,sainte-,beuve1 ,leslie ,stephen1 ,taine1 ,lowell1 and those of their rank have made it4 ,if the question is that of writing what are called criticisms for the press1 and especially for the daily press1 the matter is not entirely the same4 ,a newspaper is a business enterprise4 ,the publishers have not established it in the interest of abstract virtues1 and they generally care neither more nor less for ideals1 whether literary or otherwise1 than the broker or the banker next door4 ,they conduct their business very much as business which depends directly upon public support is conducted everywhere4 ,they endeavor to learn what the largest number of buyers will like1 and this they endeavor to supply4 ,if too many newspapers of to-day are nothing more or less than mental dram-shops or bagnios1 the men who have not too much principle or self-respect to keep them have at least the defense1 such as it is1 that they print what the public proves itself most eager to buy4 ,the general public is neither willing nor able to enjoy genuine criticism1 and the publishers do not give it to them4 ,criticism as it is to-day practiced as a matter of literary work1 is apt to mean the writing of perfunctory book-reviews1 notices of plays and concerts and pictures1 all to entertain the reader or to provoke him to buy4 ,there are a great many persons1 moreover1 who either have no time to read1 or no mind to read the books of the day1 yet who wish to appear to have opinions in regard to them4 ,it is for this class that the great bulk of book-reviews are written4 ,the publisher of a newspaper is aware that by furnishing what will with the unthinking pass for opinions he can on the one hand please unintelligent subscribers and on the other gratify the book publishers from whom come advertisements4 ,there are very many reviewers who are too honest to say a thing which they do not believe1 yet who are aware that if they said all that they think they would not be able to hold their places for a day4 ,i do not wish to be unjust to the newspapers4 ,i am too lately out of an editorial chair myself to be in a position to reflect upon them too hardly4 ,i must say1 however1 that it is the aim of every newspaper to please the publishers if it is possible1 and that there are not half a dozen in the country--if there are any--which are not in their reviews influenced by other considerations besides the merit of the works noticed4 ,i should as soon think of taking my political opinions from a paid stump-speaker as my literary judgments from the book-reviews in a newspaper4 ,the intellectual furnishing of a mind which is guided by them is like the plenishings of a room supplied with second-hand furniture purchased on the installment plan and decorated with cigarette-advertising lithographs4 ,in its high and proper sense1 however1 criticism is not alone a matter of literature1 but of life as well4 ,culture is mainly a matter of self-criticism4 ,we do not really know unless we are fully aware what we know4 ,in other words1 the distinction between conscious knowledge and vague impression is the measure of development4 ,the correctness of self-estimate marks the difference between the cultivated and the uncultivated mind4 ,it might on first thought seem as if this confounded culture with self-consciousness4 ,on the contrary it distinguishes it from that painful weakness4 ,self-consciousness arises from a doubt of the mind2 an inability to tell what is one's true value and one's true place4 ,culture is a fair and reasonable appreciation at once of one's mental merits and shortcomings2 a knowledge of one's intellectual rank4 ,this fairness of estimate enables the possessor of this quality to take his intellectual place without false shame on the one hand or false pride on the other2 two faults which are the warp and woof of self-consciousness4 ,education is not acquisition1 but assimilation2 and assimilation is impossible without that mental judgment which is the best and final form of criticism4 ,mental advancement is possible only by the establishment in the mind of well-defined standards1 and the measuring by them of the thoughts1 the ideas1 the opinions2 and to establish definite standards and to measure by them is criticism1 the tonic of the mind4 ,,xxii ,,style ,the question which these talks set out to consider was what one can do to learn to write well4 ,i began by saying that there are two sorts of power which enter into literary production1 the communicable and the incommunicable1 that which may be taught and that which is inborn1 the technical and the imaginative4 ,naturally we have discussed chiefly the power which may be learned1 those details of structure and of quality which depend upon means which we are able to analyze4 ,the subject of which ,i wish now to say a little is connected rather with those powers and qualities which can be directly neither acquired nor imparted4 ,we cannot close without some consideration of ,style1 that thing most elusive and intangible in its elements1 yet most definite and recognizable in its effects2 and ,style in its more exact sense is a matter which has to do less with the mechanics of literature than with the creative impulse of the mind4 ,regarded in its higher aspect it is closely linked with the imagination1 that faculty which1 if the figure were not too mathematical1 one might call reason raised to the nth power4 ,the term style is commonly used rather indefinitely to indicate either technical finish or the more subtle qualities of literary expression4 ,of course as far as it is to be understood in the former sense1 we have been discussing it from the very beginning of these talks4 ,if we understand it to mean merely correctness or even elegance of language1 the proper proportion of the different parts of a composition1 the accurate choice of words and the judicious employment of figures and of ornaments1 we may be said to have dealt with all this in the previous lectures4 ,if ,i were to attempt to sum up concisely the more important points of what ,i have said1 hitherto1 it would be possible to cover a large portion of the ground by saying that the secret of literary ease and finish lies in attention to details4 ,in my youth and in the dame-school in which ,i began to learn to write it was the fashion to set down moral and improving sentiments in the copy-books1 and one of them was the sententious maxim with which you are all familiar1--8,trifles make up perfection1 but perfection is no trifle40 ,the hackneyed saying is a good deal nearer to being exact than are most didactic aphorisms4 ,it is certainly true that though perfection is above all trifles yet a trifle may spoil it4 ,the slightest touch breaks a bubble1 and a single bad epithet will spoil a passage otherwise effective4 ,to neglect details is to neglect the whole4 ,it is true that to consider only details is to deprive the work of all unity4 ,it is like finishing carefully all the pieces which are to be set in a mosaic and neglecting to consider the design of the whole4 ,i need not repeat here what has been said of the need of dealing with any literary work as a unit2 but it is necessary to keep this in mind4 ,conceive a thing as broadly as possible4 ,look at it in the large2 see it as clearly as you are able in its general outlines2 and make it the aim of your labor to embody in words this broad conception firmly and clearly4 ,when this is accomplished go over your work with a microscope to discover if there be anything in it which will prevent or injure the effect4 ,indeed1 if you hope to be finished artists in words1 it will be necessary that you see to it that every detail not only does not lessen the effect of the whole1 but that it is a positive advantage and addition4 ,it is only by such care in the management of trifling particulars that the finest results are to be obtained4 ,going beyond all these largely mechanical matters1 we come to the consideration of a more intangible1 and yet a higher thing4 ,suppose that you came upon these three passages in some book which did not give their authorship4 ,could you1 although you had never seen them before1 suppose that they had been written by the same author8-- ,of this thing1 however1 be certain3 wouldst thou plant for ,eternity1 then plant into the deep infinite faculties of man1 his ,fantasy and ,heart2 wouldst thou plant for a ,year and ,day1 then plant into his shallow superficial faculties1 his ,self-love and ,arithmetical ,understanding1 what will grow there4 ,a ,hierarch1 therefore1 and ,pontiff of the ,world-will we called him1 the ,poet and inspired ,maker2 who1 ,prometheus-like1 can shape new ,symbols1 and bring new ,fire from ,heaven to fix it there4--,sartor ,resartus1 iii4 #c4 ,the figure of that first ancestor1 invested by family tradition with a dim and dusky grandeur1 was present to my boyish imagination1 as far back as ,i can remember4 ,it still haunts me1 and induces a sort of home-feeling with the past1 which ,i scarcely claim in reference to the present phase of the town4 ,i seem to have a stronger claim as a resident here on account of this grave1 bearded1 sable-cloaked and steeple-crowned progenitor1--who came so early1 with his ,bible and his sword1 and trode the unworn street with such a stately port1 and made so large a figure1 as a man of war and peace1--a stronger claim than for myself1 whose name is seldom heard and my face hardly known4--,the ,custom ,house4 ,an obese person1 with his waistcoat in closer connection with his legs than is quite reconcilable with the established ideas of grace1 with that cast of feature which is figuratively called a bottle-nose1 and with a face covered all over with pimples4 ,he had been a tender plant once upon a time1 but1 from constant blowing in the fat air of funerals1 had run to seed4--,martin ,chuzzlewit4 ,whether the reader recognized in these passages the hand of ,carlyle1 of ,hawthorne1 and of ,dickens would of course depend upon his experience2 but if he had any susceptibility to literary expression1 he would appreciate the fact that they are somehow different4 ,he would feel the distinction which arises from those essential qualities1 both of matter and of manner1 which distinguish one piece of literature from every other composition whatever4 ,to the sum of these qualities we give the name ,style4 ,style in this sense is the individuality of a work4 ,what personality is to a human being1 that is style to a composition4 ,indeed1 one would be doing no great violence to language who defined this quality as the 8personal equation0 of a work4 ,style is the personal impress which a writer inevitably sets upon his production4 ,it is that character in what is written which results from the fact that these thoughts and emotions have been those of the author rather than of any other human being4 ,it is the expression of one man's individuality1 as sure and as unique as the sound of his voice1 the look from his eye1 or the imprint of his thumb4 ,it is the quality which gives to the work of a master-mind1 a mind in which the intellectual individuality is well developed1 a flavor so unique that no man familiar with literary effects can mistake it for that of any other4 ,it is style in this sense which is proof of authorship so conclusive that if we had authenticated and solemnly sworn declarations from both ,shakespeare and ,bacon that the latter wrote the plays attributed to the former1 we should still know beyond all peradventure that this could not be4 ,the final appeal in a case of doubt of authorship is the internal evidence4 ,i do not mean to assert that mistakes may not arise here as in all other human affairs2 but ,i do mean that it is inconceivable that any great imaginative work should be produced which should fail of bearing in it the incontestable mark of its author's personality4 ,we say that one writer imitates another's style so cleverly that it is not possible for the counterfeit to be distinguished from the real4 ,this may sometimes be true of the trifles of literature1 though ,i doubt if even here the genuine expert could not detect the imposition4 ,in those writings in which a genius has expressed his inner being1 in which his imagination has unveiled itself1 in which that true self that dwells in every human creature and with which we sometimes feel that we are hardly acquainted in our own case1--in these it is impossible that the stamp of his personality should not be impressed upon the work4 ,it follows in the case mentioned that one thing of which a literary man is pretty likely to be sure is that whoever wrote the plays attributed to ,william ,shakespeare1 it is outside the limits of conceivable literary or human possibilities that they were written by the author of the poems and essays avowedly the work of ,francis ,bacon4 ,there are those who would deny the truth of this illustration1 ,i believe1 but there is nobody who denies that an imaginative writer stamps the character of his mind upon his productions4 ,this matter of individualism is one of the most elusive and yet one of the most tangibly persuasive of all matters connected with literary art4 ,suppose two authors to be equally correct1 equally well informed1 well trained1 and to write upon subjects in which we are equally interested4 ,it will still be true that one will please us more than the other4 ,there will be a certain quality1 an almost intangible flavor about one book which is lacking in the other4 ,one author will maintain a dignity in his attitude toward his subject1 or he will possess a persuasive manner2 in one way or another his individuality will charm us4 ,we say that we are pleased with his style4 ,we mean that the individual quality of what he writes has attracted us4 ,to go back a little farther in analysis1 what we say means practically that in the nature of the mind and the character of the author there is that which appeals to us as human beings or to us in particular as individuals4 ,here we touch upon an important principle which underlies this whole matter4 ,the secret of charm in style lies in character4 ,you have all heard innumerable times the saying that 8,style is the man40 ,in other words1 style as a matter of structure in composition is the indication of what a man can do2 style as a matter of quality is an indication of what he is4 ,the ways in which individuality shows itself are numerous4 ,each writer1 for instance1 may be said to make his own vocabulary4 ,he consciously increases his knowledge of words1 deliberately chooses certain terms for particular uses1 and carefully decides upon the especial term which in each case seems to him best adapted to convey his meaning4 ,besides this he unconsciously has a preference toward this word or that1 he is influenced by association1 by the suggestions which are aroused in his mind by this synonym or that1 and is in every decision swayed in one direction or another by the fineness of his perceptions1 the nature of his temperament1 and by all those minute and mingled elements which make up what we know as character4 ,all these conscious and all these unconscious causes help to bring it about that every writer shall make for himself what ,walter ,pater calls a 8vocabulary faithful to the coloring of his own spirit20 and the same principle may easily be traced through all the divisions of the literary art1 whether they be of structure or of quality4 ,it follows that to talk of style in the higher sense is to consider character in its broadest and deepest extent4 ,it is impossible to discuss any question of human life to its farthest limits without finding that it rests upon an ethical basis4 ,the best method of phrasing aspiration and passion in art cannot be determined until we have searched out the nature of passion and of aspiration2 until we have fixed upon some theory of man's relation to life and truth1 and this is what is meant by ethics4 ,if one examined far enough1 it is probable that it would appear that the same is true of things which seem to us infinitely trivial4 ,there is as truly a moral reason why children making mud pies in the gutter should not quarrel as there is that ,dante's 8,divine ,comedy0 is an immortal work4 ,if we search deep enough1 the reason why the children are amused by their mud pies is as surely to be found in the relations of human beings to life as is the reason of the spiritual exaltation which may come from the appreciative reading of the poet4 ,i said the other evening that it might seem that ,i had a tendency to speak of ,english ,composition as if it involved the whole duty of man2 we have now come to the place where it is evident that it does4 ,we cannot go into so extensive an examination as the foundation of morals and the elements of character1 so that ,i shall content myself with pointing this out1 leaving each to make--or not to make1 as he pleases--such reflections and such deductions as fit his own need and his own inclinations4 ,it is strictly in the line of literary work1 however1 to comment once more upon the use of books in intellectual development as applied to style4 ,what a man reads affects what he writes indirectly by its effect upon what he is1 as we have before seen that it has a direct and swift agency in shaping his methods of expression4 ,what the company he keeps is to a man's character1 this to his style are the books he reads4 ,a writer cannot accustom himself to the pages of the masters of literature and be content to write meanly and incorrectly4 ,he may not consciously contrast his work with theirs1 but the influence of their example is with him always4 ,in very trying circumstances1 ,i once said to a workman against whom falsehood seemed to be proved1 8,in spite of everything1 ,i do believe that you have been telling me the truth40 ,he answered me with a simplicity which was nothing less than noble1 8,if you knew my wife1 sir1 you'd know that ,i couldn't live with her and lie40 ,i learned afterward that this was the exact state of the case4 ,his wife was a rather silent woman1 and ,i do not believe that she had ever lectured her husband on truth-telling4 ,it was simply that one could not live in her influence and be willing to be guilty of falsehood4 ,in the same way one cannot live familiarly with good literature and knowingly write bad4 ,it is not that one imitates good authors4 ,any imitation is bad art1 because there should always be in what is done the ring of genuine1 personal conviction4 ,the imitator is not giving expression to that within him which is so real and so strong that it will not be suppressed4 ,he is trying to show that he can feel as some one else has felt1 that he can write as somebody else has written4 ,it is a sham1 and the reader feels that it is a sham4 ,imitation1 moreover1 is at best but a reproduction of the more obvious peculiarities of work1 while at worst it is a catching of tricks1 mannerisms1 and faults4 ,it may be added1 too1 that it is oftener at its worst than at its best4 ,anybody can imitate the defects of a style1 and few its virtues4 ,in these days nobody reads avowedly for style directly4 ,there was once an idea that it was well to select an author of standing and deliberately attempt to catch his manner1 or1 as the phrase went1 to 8form one's style on the master40 ,the idea was about as sensible as would be the notion that it were well for a young man not wholly satisfied with his features to 8form0 his nose after that of the ,apollo ,belvedere4 ,style is the expression of selfhood4 ,no writer can embody his own individuality in the expression of the individuality of another4 ,learn from the masterpieces what is good use in diction1 in construction1 in arrangement2 learn from them to be strenuous1 persuasive1 and sincere in whatever you do2 but do not for a moment think of obtaining from them that personal flavor which can come only from the writer himself1 and which is the thing which makes style in its highest sense4 ,it is the development of the personality of the writer which saves a composition from becoming mechanical4 ,in the first of these talks ,i quoted the instructions which ,flaubert gave to ,guy de ,maupassant1 in which he said3-- ,whatever may be the thing which one wishes to say1 there is but one word for expressing it2 only one verb to animate it1 only one adjective to qualify it4 ,it is essential to search for this word1 for this verb1 for this adjective1 until they are discovered1 and to be satisfied with nothing else4 ,this ,i commended to you as sound and necessary advice4 ,from our present point of view1 however1 it is to be seen that this is the attitude of a student rather than that of an artist4 ,in other words it is rather the way to learn to write than the way to write4 ,so painfully minute a method as that which ,flaubert recommended to his pupil would bring to an end all spontaneous or impassioned writing4 ,the mind should be trained by these severe and careful methods until exactness of expression becomes a second nature4 ,then for good or for bad one must write as one is impelled to write at the particular moment4 ,in revision the most strict requirements may be held to1 so long as there is kept in mind the danger of revising the life out of imaginative writing and of refining until spontaneity is lost4 ,work should be revised with patient1 with inexhaustible care2 but it must be revised delicately4 ,no formal correctness1 no perfection of epithet or propriety of diction1 can atone for the sacrifice of the intangible qualities which in the original form express the mood of the writer1 and are to a composition what the personality is to a human being4 ,in all the talks which preceded this we have been considering work as that of the student who is preparing to write rather than as that of the author who is actually producing4 ,when we talk of style we are dealing with the production of literature4 ,the student who has not mastered details in the most painfully minute manner has not fitted himself for that perception of a subject on broad lines which is the condition of successful production4 ,william ,blake has said3 8,in order to know what is enough1 it is necessary to know what is more than enough40 ,the student must have acquired thoroughly the highest degree of elaboration possible in order that he may be able to judge what is proper and effective in any given case4 ,he cannot fairly judge how far it is safe to go1 unless he is keenly aware of what it is to go too far4 ,in considering a literary work as a whole and in treating it as an expression of his own particular and peculiar individuality1 it is well for a writer to bear in mind a phrase of ,mr4 ,george ,saintsbury1 the ,english critic4 8,the first rule of literature10 he says1 8is that what is presented shall be presented not merely as it is1 but transformed1 and1 if ,i may say so1 disrealized40 ,this is easily and obviously true of fiction4 ,it is manifestly impossible to give a realized picture of life as it actually exists1 to tell everything which must have happened to characters1 how they eat and sleep1 shiver when getting into their baths in the morning1 find their egg too much or too little cooked at breakfast1 get out of breath in hurrying to catch a street-car1 and all the rest of the innumerable trifles which make up the bulk of life4 ,on this plan the simplest story would be expanded into as many volumes as 8,clarissa ,harlowe40 ,the same principle of selection and departure from reality is no less true of everything which is written4 ,the thoughts which a philosopher weaves into a profound system do not come to him in sequence1 beautifully arranged4 ,if he followed the actual order of nature1 he would put down a heterogeneous mass of reflections1 good and bad mingled together1 with no system apparent in them except after a painful study which no reader would be at all likely to give to the confused and confusing pages4 ,art is not nature4 ,it is not the reproduction of nature4 ,it is the invention of man to produce at will and to enshrine in permanent form those impressions1 those emotions which come to him in rare and fleeting instants when his own consciousness reaches for a quick moment to the secret of that life which informs nature4 ,remember that the object of writing is not to reproduce the actual2 that it is not even wholly that very different thing1 to produce an impression of the actual2 it is to embody and to make evident the truth which actualities express4 ,whoever takes up his pen to produce literature undertakes to make clearer the relation of man to nature and to life4 ,he sets out to say in all sincerity what some fact of existence means to him4 ,if he is content to be a mere scribe1 simply an artisan of letters1 he may deal with words in a mechanical fashion1 and manufacture composition as one makes a deal table4 ,this is honest work enough1 but it is not the production of literature4 ,it is the work of the hack-writer2 of the reporter of life and not of the interpreter of life4 ,to produce literature there must be an earnest attempt to embody the writer's conception of some phase of existence4 ,there must be that expression of his convictions and character which is what we mean when we use the word style in its higher meaning4 ,it is of style in this sense that ,goethe was thinking1 when he said3-- ,it is not language in itself and independently which is accurate1 vigorous1 lucid1 or graceful1 but the spirit which is embodied in it2 and so it is not in the power of every one to give to his work the good qualities of expression that should belong to it4 ,the question is whether nature has given to the writer intellectual and moral qualities which demand and shape out for themselves such an embodiment as he has given them--intellectual powers of intuition and penetration2 and not less moral power1 that he may be able to resist the evil demons who would hinder him in the unswerving loyalty that he must pay to truth4--,goethe3 ,natur-,aphorismen1 iv4 ,there is no better way of testing what one has written than by comparing it with the work of great writers4 ,see wherein their work excels yours4 ,do not thereupon say to yourself1 8,oh1 of course ,i am not to be expected to do as well as they40 ,say rather3 8,in so far as my work has fallen short of the best that has been done1 it has fallen short of what has been shown to be possible4 ,let me see how far ,i can bring it nearer to the standard40 ,in the second of his 8,discourses on ,art10 ,sir ,joshua ,reynolds says to his students of painting3 ,comparing your own efforts with those of some great master is indeed a severe and mortifying task1 to which none will submit but such as have great views1 with fortitude sufficient to forego the gratifications of present vanity for future honor4 ,when the student has succeeded in some measure to his own satisfaction1 and has felicitated himself on his success1 to go voluntarily to a tribunal where he knows his vanity must be humbled1 and all self-approbation must vanish1 requires not only great resolution but great humility4 ,to him1 however1 who has the ambition to be a real master1 the solid satisfaction which proceeds from a consciousness of his advancement 7of which seeing his own faults is the first step7 will very abundantly compensate for present disappointment4 ,this need not be said differently to apply to the student of literature4 ,there is one thing of which he who desires to write literature may be sure1 and that is that the unpardonable sin in this as in all art is flippancy4 ,flippancy is the prevailing literary vice of the age4 ,the periodicals are perhaps more largely to blame for this than any other single cause1 but newspapers and magazines by no means have the whole responsibility in this matter4 ,the desire for amusement has eaten us up4 ,the overworked and nerve-shaken public desires entertainment which shall make no call on the intellect and as little as possible on the perception4 ,the man who could devise the means of amusing his fellows without their being obliged even to take the trouble to be aware of it would almost be deified by this age4 ,the modern imagination is harder to awaken than the ,sleeping ,beauty4 ,an audience at the theatre to-day cannot be persuaded to do anything for itself4 ,in the days of ,shakespeare a placard on the stage transferred all the beholders into the ,forest of ,arden or to the enchanted isle of ,prospero4 ,to-day it is difficult to induce the spectators to second the most elaborate devices which have been contrived by scene-painter and carpenter to assist their sluggish fancy4 ,there is even a large class apparently so completely atrophied mentally as to be unable to follow a simple plot on the stage4 8,variety shows0 to-day take the place which real plays held once2 short stories with only so much substance as admits of their being beaten up like the white of egg on a custard are languidly read by the million2 and we have even replaced criticism by a sort of shallow flippancy for which no other name seems to me so appropriate as literary skirt-dancing4 ,to be clever in the most superficial sense of that word1 to be vulgarly glib1 to reverence nothing1 and above all to be smart and amusing1 seems to be the sum and substance of the creed of writers who practice this art4 ,they substitute adroitness for depth1 scoffing for sentiment1 and rapidity for brilliancy4 ,their one aim is to entertain the idle mind1 and to win from astonishment the applause which they have not the wit to gain from approbation4 ,the literary gymnastics of writers of these flippant pseudo-criticisms are hardly more intellectual than the supple evolutions of the ballet girl1 and it is to be doubted if the dance is not the more moral and less debasing of the two4 ,this may sound extravagant1 but when the influence upon young readers and young writers is considered it hardly seems possible to state the matter too strongly4 ,it is true that these writers profess1 so far as they profess anything1 allegiance to all the highest virtues1 both moral and intellectual4 ,their books are distinctly amusing--to those whose taste is not offended by the tone of flippancy which pervades them2 and what they write is often eminently clever4 ,their fault is that they do not take life seriously2 that they are as devoid of reverence as a stone is of blood2 that their temper is as fatal to idealism1 to enthusiasm1 to aspiration1 as carbonic acid gas is to animal life4 ,even the cynicism with which they are flavored is as sham as is the tint of a glass ruby4 ,for a young writer to fall under this influence seems to me as great a literary misfortune as it would be a physical calamity for him to become crippled4 ,if one wishes to earn a trumpery wage by writing smartly1 these are his models2 but if he is in love with literature1 he must turn his back4 ,the young writer should strive always to be serious before he is smart1 sincere before he is clever1 and to flee flippancy as he would flee the pestilence that stalketh at noonday4 ,by serious1 ,i do not necessarily mean grave1 and still less do ,i mean solemn4 ,it is as true for the writer of humorous literature that he should take his art seriously as it is for the writer of history or of sermons4 ,no man ever took literature more seriously than ,charles ,lamb1 yet he remains one of the most deliciously humorous writers of all time4 ,he was gay and whimsical and droll1 but he never for a moment failed of a high and noble respect for literature2 he was apparently freakish1 but he did not for a line become flippant4 ,it would have been impossible for him to be vulgar4 ,his taste always prevented his going too far4 ,even in the wildest excesses of humorous literature it is still absolutely needful to preserve a serious attitude toward literature and toward life4 ,it is not that this feeling is to be obtruded4 ,it is not meant that the jest shall be made with the sour visage of a ,puritan4 ,it is that the author himself shall never lose this inner respect and reverence for the dignities of life and for the truth4 ,if these are a part of his character he cannot write otherwise than with them as it were forming a background to his work2 and no literature is of lasting value or even fame which lacks this4 ,one of the most striking examples of what ,i mean is furnished by the poet ,franois ,villon1 thief1 house-breaker1 and scape-gallows4 ,he believed not in man1 woman1 or ,god1 but he did hold to faith in literary art4 ,life as a matter of every-day existence he took flippantly enough1 but literature as an expression of life he still regarded seriously1--and thus it happens that his poems live to-day1 and that they are part of permanent literature4 ,life is after all a serious matter to the lightest human being4 ,however it is embroidered over with joys and jocund devices1 with merriment or frivolity1 every man knows its solemnity4 ,there are for the most careless of men moments in which the real gravity of his situation1 as he stands insecurely for a moment between the cradle and the grave1 forces itself upon him4 ,the only universal human experience is pain4 ,to most men comes hope1 and to most comes love in some degree of intensity4 ,joy1 ambition1 hate1 and jealousy1 are common to perhaps the great majority of mankind1 and the writer who touches strongly and skillfully upon any one of these is sure of appealing to most readers4 ,only he who portrays sorrow and suffering is dealing with an experience so universal that he is sure that no man can fail of some appreciation of the theme4 ,such being the case1 it is only the author who by his fundamental seriousness implies--remotely1 it may be1 but surely--that he has a share in the universal heritage1 who can long or deeply command the attention of mankind4 ,to be flippant is to be inhuman2 and although the world may not analyze this1 it is sure to feel it4 ,style is the unconscious revelation of the writer's attitude toward life1 and if this be not serious all good gifts and graces of technical skill and mental cleverness1 all adroitness of wit and strength of intellectual perception1 even all vividness of imagination1 will fail of making work great and permanently effective4 ,volumes might be written upon style and its relations to authorship1 but in the end it would still be necessary to acknowledge that the finest essence of literature is too subtle to be seized or analyzed4 ,the aim of these talks was to consider the practical side of composition1 and it is therefore aside from the purpose to attempt to discuss further the elusive sthetic quality4 ,individual temperament and individual purpose must in the end determine what shall be the quality and style of all work2 so that the secrets of this branch of literary art cannot be discovered until man is able to trace the nature and the working of those twin halves of the highest human consciousness1 individuality and imagination4 ,,index ,adverb1 flat1 #ej1 #ea4 sthetic sense1 #he-hg4 ,alliteration1 #aab-aad4 ,amateur work1 #ab4 ,antithesis1 #aac-aaf4 ,argument1 #abc-abg1 #aeb-ahj2 rules for1 #agi4 ,aristotle1 quoted1 #bbi4 ,arnold1 ,matthew1 #hh4 ,arts1 fine1 #a1 #ace1 #afj1 #bdj4 ,bacon1 ,francis1 quoted1 #eb4 ,bacon-,shakespeare controversy1 #cjc1 #cjd4 8,barabbas10 #hc4 ,barrie1 ,j4 ,m41 use of dialect1 #bdf1 #bdg4 ,beethoven1 8,ninth ,symphony10 #baj4 ,beginning of story1 #bcb4 ,beginning well1 #gh4 ,bible1 quoted1 #hc4 8,biglow ,papers10 #bdg4 ,blake1 ,william1 quoted1 #caj4 8,bleak ,house10 #bfd4 ,brassey1 ,lady1 8,voyage of the ,sunbeam10 #bab4 ,brown1 ,alice1 #bdd4 ,browning1 ,robert1 obscurity of1 #fc2 quoted1 #ad4 ,browning1 ,mrs4 ,e4 ,b41 quoted1 #bce4 ,bunyan1 8,pilgrim's ,progress10 #fh4 ,burke1 ,edmund1 quoted1 #eb4 ,burroughs1 ,john1 #acj4 ,cable1 ,george1 8,old ,creole ,days10 #bde1 #bdf2 use of dialect1 #bde1 #bdf1 #bdg4 ,canning1 ,george1 quoted1 #bac4 ,carlyle1 ,thomas1 force of1 #ga2 invention of words1 #aag2 ,lowell on1 #ie1 #if2 master of emotional emphasis1 #ada2 obscurity of1 #fa1 #fc1 #gd2 quoted1 #fa1 #cja4 ,carroll1 ,lewis1 8,through a ,looking ,glass10 #bah4 ,cause and effect1 #bca1 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