5 e a theJ ELL DyeI :^^^ .*-e . A- Southern Branch of the University of California Los Angeles Form L I 2)^55 \\ { This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. OCT 1 8 1924 f^AR 23 Ts m DCT 8 1925 NOV « 5 1925 I HOV 2 B ^ae npcaks to men, Only to inankinil, — art nmy ti'll u truth OliliiiUL-ly, do the tliinc Hhall bn'i'd the thought. Nor wrong the thought, iniBhing the mediate word, 80 write a hcxjk nhall mean beyond the fuctK, Suffice the eye and nave the soul bei-ide." — ROHERT BBOWNINO. BOSTON, U.S.A. GINN & C'O.Ml'ANV, I'l lU-ISIIEHS Cbf StbrncTum |]rf6c o tyi * t ^c '>, Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1898, by CHARITY DYE Til (Ik- Otfiei' of the Liliruriun of Congress, at Washington THIS BOOK IS REVERENTLY DEDICATED TO MY COMRADES IN THE PROFESSION OF TEACHING FN PEE FACE. These pages have grown out of class room experience. They are based upon the assump- tion that fiction not only fills a needed place in the curriculum of the secondary school, but that it furnishes a means for language discipline and the acquisition of knowledge; that it develops the power to appreciate and to express, and gives to the student a fullness of life that cannot be sup- plied in any otlier wa}". It also introduces him to the world of institutions and thus enables him to take part in the affairs of life. That the study of fiction is not beyond the grasp of secondary pupils is proved by the exer- cises given from the papers of the students them- selves. No attemjjt has Ijeen made lierein to distin- guish closely between the short story and tin- novel ; both an* liandlod in a general way. < >iit' iiKM-it claimed for tlie book is its general cliar- vi VliEFAVE. acter. Secondary pupils should view the subject as a whole first. I am indebted to Dr. Oscar L. Triggs, of the Uni- versity of Chicago, for criticism and assistance in proof reading, and to Mrs. Lois G. Hufford, of the Indianapolis High School, for helpful suggestions. Charity Dye. coe'te:n'ts. I. To THE Teacher ...... 1 IL To THE Stidext ...... 15 m. Materials ....... 21 IV. The Setting 20 V. The Plot 28 VI. The Stcdy ok Incident .... ;52 VII. Character Study ...... 42 VIII. Method 48 IX. Plrpose ........ 51 X. Comment ....... 52 XI. Exercises Ilhstratixg the Development ok Power in tuk Sti nv ok Fiction . 55 XII. A Wi)iti> AitoiT Hkai.ism . . .05 XIII. Some Books .Siitaiii.e kor Stidy in Second- AKV S( iiooLS ...... 7;5 Xl\'. .Some Good Uooks and Stories that Every Person Should Know . . .77 X\'. Ukferences upon the Study ok Fiction . 7'.' 1m»i.x ........ 87 THE STOEY-TELLEKS ART. IJJ^J-Q I. TO THE TEACHER. In determining the place and time for the study of fiction in the curriculum of the second- ary school, the place of the story in the whole educational system commands attention ; and what applies to the use of the story throughout applies in a much larger way to the serious study of fiction in the secondaiy school. How can the story be made a more potent factor in education ? How shall it be used ? What shall be the basis for the selection of stories for use? Must utility be always in view? Shall a story never be selected in and for itself independent of a lesson in ethics, geography, history, science, or composition ? Must a read- ing of '' Tom, the Water Baby," be followed by a discourse upon cleanliness, or left to teach its own lesson ? Wlien the aesthetic features of a story bring response from a student and when the content enkindles liis soul, is not the use of 2 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. the story for its own sake justified, even though it illustrate no single point in the curriculum? These are serious questions and ought to be seriously met in the consideration of the story as an educative factor. The nature of the story should determine whether it be used independently or in con- nection with other subjects. While one story must be given by itself as a work of art, another may best be used in correlation with the subject which it illustrates. Story has always formed the borderland to the study of the world of nature and the world of institu- tions. What better introduction to the study of history than story ? It gives the thread of fact in its setting as in life ; it gives it in its atmosphere, in its perspective, in its picturesc^ue- ness. HoAv much more is added to a child's knowledge of the bravery of the Puritan heart if, instead of hearing in plain language that not one went back on the " Mayflower," he is told this in the story form, and is thereby made to enter into the feelings of the lonely Priscilla watching from the shore the receding sail of the " Mayflower " as it goes without her to all that she loves and holds dear. Cooper, Helen Hunt, and Longfellow have made the Indian a reality. The story of Wash- TO THE TEACHER. 3 ingtxjii's trip to Governor Dinwiddie, his winter at Valley Forge, and selections from Lowell's Washington Elm show us the most august figure in American history. The simple story of Lincoln's life, "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and stories from Whittier's war poems fix the meaning of the triumph of freedom. Then for the distinc- tive local features of the various sections : New England can be found for the young in " Stories from Grandfather's Chair" by Hawthorne and in Mary E. Wilkins's stories. Thomas Nelson Page has shown the Old Dominion; Mrs. Mc- Enery Stuart, the lower South ; Bret Harte, the Pacific sloj^e ; Hamlin Garland and Octave Thanet, the central West ; Charles Egbert Craddock, Tennessee ; James Lane Allen, Ken- tucky ; Cable, the Gulf region ; Davis, New York ; and Riley, Indiana. The stories of Horatius at the bridge, Marcus Curtius jumping into tlie gulf of the Forum, Regulus who, after advising the Romans never to make peace witli Carthage, went back to chains and death, Fabricius who c«uld not be frigliteiied by elephants upon one day nor bribed by gold on the next, and Cincinnatus who could leave tlie plow to rule the state and return to the plow, contain the genius of Roman history. 4 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. The stories that cluster around Marathon introduce one to the true spirit of Greek civili- zation ; they show the struggle between the ancient and the modern world. There is the story of the mound over the ninety-two Athe- nians who fell in the battle ; the picture of the power of Asia that had never been conquered ; the culture of Athens ; the terror of the battle itself and of the part taken in it not only by the soldiers of Greece but by the gods and early heroes and strange personages. Browning tells of Echetlos, the wielder of the plowshare, and P]ieidip})ides, the runner who ran all the way to Sparta for aid. The poet Aeschylus fought in this battle. With Aeschylus can come in his tragedies of Prometheus and Agamemnon, which take one into the heart of Grecian mythology. The Oedipus and Antigone of Sophocles now belong in order and it is in place to tell how Sparta redeemed herself at Thermopylae and to make familiar the inscription at the Pass of Thermopylae : Go, tell the Spartans, thou that passest by, That here obedient to their laws we lie. And so from this center of victory the ancient world can be made real through ancient story. Jt is unnecessary to note at length how the T0 THE TEACHER. O Norse mythology contains the seriousness of that nation. The story of Odin's giving liis right eye for wisdom, of Thor's exploits, and of Balder the beautiful enlist the student's admi- ration for a people who could look upon icebergs and form a theology. Nor is there time to praise that admirable book, " Ten Boys on the Road from Long Ago to Now." That alone would interpret the expressions "historic view " and " historic evolution." To come nearer home, in '^The Talisman " and in '• Ivanhoe " one has chivalry made real to him; he sees its spirit and learns its practices. He watches the knights as tliey ride into the lists and engages in their combats. He sees the chivalry of the bold outlaw Robin Hood and also feels the spirit of chivalry as practiced by the heathen Saladin, who far excels the leader of the Chris- tian host, Richard of the Lion Heart, One is moreover taken into the Crusades and touches Palestine here as he touched Persia in connec- tion with Greece. He also sees how the Jews were pei-secuted in Knghuid ; and the sight of King John l)rings up the Magna Charta and the valley of Runnymede. Hero he also sees the conquered Saxoji and the Norman conqueror and learns of the gradual change in siieech that went on after the conquest. <> TIIK UTORY-TELLEli'S ART. Story can do iniu'h toward making plain to the child the use of the earth as his home in the midst of physical forces and life. " Seaside and Wayside " and the various " Nature Read- ers " have shown this. " Seven Little Sisters " is unparalleled as a study of the earth as a home. In Robert Browning's poem " Development " he tells how he was beguiled by degrees into the full-fledged Greek scholar. First he played Troy, then heard the myths told, then he read the translations, then studied the original, and, lastly, he translated Greek literature into English. Having decided ui)on the use of the story, what method of presentation shall be used? The analyzer, on one side, would have it studied ; would have every figure in it walk on four feet ; every motive in it traced out ; every character in it measured by a tape-line ; every description in it located and tested as to its accuracy. ^ The over-sensitive critic in aes- thetics, on the other hand, exclaims in horror: "Art is not capable of analysis ; it is to be felt; it is to teach by unconscious influence. We resent definition, explanation. We wish to be left to our own impressions. The child's imagi- native mind clings to its images and does not TO THE TEACHER. 7 wish them rendered into prose reality. A child resents your showing that its doll Cinderella is sawdust and muslin." Now, neither extreme seems adequate to the right presentation of litei-ary art. Since great art appeals to the whole ])eing, it is clear that the part of a story that appeals to 'the intellect is capable of analysis, and that in all stories there are parts which may be explained ; it is also clear that what appeals directly to the emotions must be left to the unsounded sea of feeling. It seems safest and most in keeping with the treatment of literature as art to omit the analysis if one cannot decide just what and how much to explain. There are some things that have been settled. One is that it is far better for students to Ixjcome thoroughly acquainted with a few of the l)est stories tlian it is for them to have a super- licial knowledge of a greater number. Another thing is that a sympathetic, intelligent reading of ii story is one of the best ways of interpreting it. To it'iid a story well requires a pleasant voice (if read orally), the power to ajipreciate the point, nuderstand the characters, feel the humor and the pathos, and t'njoy the descrip- tions. A story slionld be well told as well as well rciul. Indeed, it is donbtful wlietliei- one 8 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. really enjoys a story to its full extent until he can tell it. It is a very significant fact that little children love the same story repeated. Familiarity with a few of the best stories being secured, one can begin instruction by incidental comment at first and continue to call attention to what is the most essential that all should know until a critical study is reached. This ought not to be below the high school, where the story can be studied as art in connec- tion with other phases of English. A modern writer says : " There are times in a child's life when it suddenly leaps into larger growth, as the imprisoned bud blooms larger than its promise. . . . Knowledge comes to the child, especially all the subtler knowledge of time, of space, of love, in a vague, indefinite, unconscious way, developing out of the child's organic self as a flower blooms. This knowl- edge comes to definite knowledge for an instant only and then returns to the sub-consciousness, waiting the next day of warm sun, shining water, and smell of spring. Each time it stays longer, till at last the child can contemplate his own thought and finally express it. These times form our real life epochs." ^ ' Hamlin Garland in " Rose of Butcher's Coolly." TO THE TEACHER. 9 Familiarity with all of the best things not only assumes the value of impressions, but gives definiteness to impressions. It provides for comparisons ; it makes associations. Those who know Hawthorne's " Great Stone Face " remember that familiarity with it was what made it the great transforming power in Ernest ; that it was fii-st to him only a face on the moun- tain side ; then as the years passed it suggested to him the benignity that must be in a spirit to express such majestic calm as he saw there ; this benignity and calm through contemplation entered into his life as a motive ; and the result is known, — the poet, the man of insight, came and pronounced the likeness. Familiarity with the poet's thought in the poet's phrase is essential. When the story comes in the form of some of the great heroic ballads the language of poetry is read as a foreign tongue by resolving it into prose. Poetry should be api)reciated through its own language and not through that language made into prose. In the ballad there is a double artistic form, — the story proper and the poet's thought in the poet's phrase. " The true aim of culture," says Mr. Coi-son, " is to induce soul states or condi- tions, soul attitudes. . . . Literary knowledge and liteiiiry culture are two quite distinct things 10 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. — SO distinct that a student may possess a large fund of one and be almost destitute of the other." When Tennyson's " May Queen " or " Enoch Arden " is done over into prose the very things that made Tennyson the master of his time, — his music and his exquisite phrase, — are de- stroyed. That vivid imagery in which " Enoch Arden " abounds and the rhythmic swell to which the spirit keeps time are lost. To advocate the use of stories in and for themselves is to imply that such stories exist. Indeed, one suffers from the poverty of riches ; one does not enjoy what he has. Many are still satisfied with the old and agree with Julian Hawthorne in giving Hans Christian Andersen a high place. Some persons still interpret life by " The Ugly Duckling," '^ The Bottle Neck," "The Five Peas in One Pod," "The Flax," and others of Andersen's stories, which have a subtle, an indefinable charm in them. For pure imagination the "Arabian Nights" are still good, even if they are pronounced inartistic. Dickens's " Child's Dream of a Star," Charles Lamb's " Dream Children," " The Dog of Flanders," Warner's " Hunting of the Deer " are good stories. Poe's "Gold Bug" shows great power of intellect. Hawthorne's stories, TO THE TEACHER. 11 all of them, exercise a weird charm over the reader. Homer makes the rising generation, as he made Hugo, twenty feet taller to read him. Sarah Orne Jewett's '• White Heron " is a sweet story. Curtis's '* Prue and I " is unsurpassed in it« idyllic quality, Kipling's " Brushwood Boy " is an artistic short story. The selection of stories is largely an individual matter. A fond grandmother said the other day that her little granddaughter liked " Barnaby Rudge " better than any other book. It was guessed why, when she told that the child had heard the mother read it to the father. The mother's sympatlietic voice and tlie child's desire to sliare the enjoyment of her elders were in favor of her liking the book. One must discover the best for himself. One can do this by trying stories first upon himself and testing them by his own innate sense of fit- ness. This having been done, he can try them on his pu[)ils. 'Hie l)est story sometimes fails to fit. If this happens to ])e the case, the teacher can tell it as best he can, giving only essentials. Sometimes it is best to lay a story aside till it is called for. Common sense always comes to one's aid. "'• The Place of liie Story in Early Kdiication," by Sarah E. Wiltse, is interesting. She shows 1:2 THE STORY-TELLEli'S ART. how a kindeigartner uses and believes in the power of the story to mohl character. She would not tell a story without in some way connecting it with the deed or tendency she wished to correct. As a companion to this book, Julian Hawthorne in his chapter "Liter- ature for Children " brings up the other side, and expresses himself concerning the moral wrong done to children by Miss Edgeworth's " Frank " and " Parents' Assistant." He feels this especially with regard to himself. He believes that one ought not to talk down to children, for they are most formidable literary critics. Horace E. Scudder has given good advice upon this subject. Mr. Robert Collyer has told of the value of a story chosen in and for itself. He says : " Do you want to know how I manage to talk to you in this simple Saxon? I will tell you. I read Bunyan, Crusoe, and Goldsmith when I was a boy, morning, noon, and night. All the rest was task work. These were my delight, with the stories in the Bible and in Shakespeare, when at last the mighty master came within our doors. ... I took to these as I took to milk, and, without the least idea what I was doing, got the taste for simple words into the very fiber of my nature. ... I could not go ro THE TEACHER. 13 home for Christmas, 1839, and was feeling sad about it all, for I was only a boy ; and, sitting by the fire, an old farmer came in and said : ' I notice thou 'rt fond of reading, so I brought thee summat to read.' It was Irving's ' Sketch Book.' I had never heard of it. I went at it and was as ' them that dream.' No such delight had touched me since the old days of Crusoe. I saw the Hudson and the Catskills, took poor Rip at once into my heart, as everybod}- does, pitied Ichabod while I lauglied at him, thought the old Dutch feast a most admirable thing, and long before I was through all regret at my lost Christmas had gone down the wind, and I had found out there are books and books. That vast hunger never left me. . . . Now, give a boy a piission like this for anything, books or business, painting or farming, mechanism or music, and you give him thereby a lever to lift his world and a patent of nobility if the thing he does is noble." When it is believed that a classic story — cla.ssic in that it conforms to tlic liighcst art standards — lias a place in education in and for itself, whctlier it ilhistrates a particular thing or nothing; when it is Ix-licvi-d that a story answei-s its (Mid if it in some way appeals (o the imagination, develops the aesthetic cniotioiis. 14 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. elevates the nature, kindles the soul, or increases the sympathy, and adds to fullness of life, — when this is believed, the appreciative powei' will be so quickened that the fitting selection will be detected by an almost unconscious process. Coarseness in language or in tone will at once offend. The subtle undertow in a story will be appreciated. There will then be placed before the youth only that which makes for riglit- mindedness, that wliich is wholesome, sweet, that which has the suiisliine in it. The storv as an educative means is life in miniature, and what is litter to sustain life than life itself? Emerson well sets forth the aim in the study of fiction ; it is to give the student the power to read the " poetry of affairs, to fuse the cir- cumstances of to-day; not to use Scott's antique superstitions or Shakespeare's, but to convert those of the nineteenth century and of the existing nations into universal symbols. . . . 'Tis easy to repaint the mythology of the Greeks, the feudal castle, the crusade, the martyrdoms of mediaeval Europe ; but to point out where the same creative force is now working in our own houses and public assemblies, to convert the vivid energies acting at this hour, in New York and Chicago and San Francisco, into uni- versal symbols requires a sublime and command- TO THE STUDENT. lo ing thought. . . . The test is to take the passing day with its news, its cares, its fears, and to hold it up to divine reason till it is seen to have a purpose and l)eauty and to be related to the eter- nal order of the world." Certainly not the least among the means employed to reach this noble end is the story-teller's art. II. I'o THE STUDENT. You have come to the .study of fiction, but fiction is not new to you. You have long- known of fairies and felt the charm of that magic phrase '" Once upon a time." You know Moses and David and Joseph in the Bible ; you have joined Hercules in his laboi-s ; have helped Siegfried tight the dragon ; been with Ulysses in his wanderings ; lived on the island with Cru.soe ; stood at the bridge with Horatius and at Thermop3'lae with Leonidas : and have gone t'ortli on cliivahic errands with King Arthur and his knights. Indeed, you have done enough to be leady to leain of the story-teller and to stulayei's are no longei' in the fiont. They are .seeing their art api»lied hy the story- teller. IH THK sroiiV TELLERS ART. The future of the novel no one can tell ; but all may be sure that its expression of life must be adequate to life, or it will, in the nature of things, have to draw a halt. Nature avenges any lopping off of one side of life here as she does elsewhere ; her laws are inexorable. This much seems true at least : Art cannot be sus- tained when it is based upon the assumption that environment, heredity, and habit are all the factors needed in making up the final result ; there is a fourth factor, — spirit, — which cannot be counted out nor counted in, in any definite certainty of measure, but it must be counted in if the story-teller's art is to hold in the future the place it holds to-day as a great shaping factor in the life of our time. Charles Reade says : " I have labored to make my readers realize those appalling facts of the day which most men know but not one in a thousand compre- hends and not one in a hundred thousand real- izes, until fiction — which, whatever you may have been told to the contrary, is the highest, widest, noblest, and greatest of all the arts — comes to his aid, studies, penetrates, digests the hard facts of chronicles and blue books and ' makes the dry bones live." — Critic, November 19, 1896. TO THE STUDENT. 19 The Short Story. — The latest development in the story-teller's art is the artistic short story. It was one of our own countrymen, Edgar Allan Poe, who founded the school of the artistic short story. The French were the first to dis- cover this and to apply Poe's rules as laid down in his essay, " The Philosophy of Composition." Poe advanced the idea of commencing at climax and working forward to heginning, and also that of first studying motives and then con- structing character therefrom. Upon this theory is based the whole " Sherlock Holmes " family of stories, Tlie artistic short story is modeled upon the pattern of the drama and has marked characteristics. Fiction is here seen for the fii-st time as a balanced whole. It is prophesied tliat this form will affect the future novel, both as to structure and length. The art in the pat- tern short story may be realized by comparing the stories of Maupassant with the " Arabian Nights," which live because of their appeal to the imaginatiun and not because of their artis- tic structure. They lack [)ei"spective and tlieir quick .succession of events sliows no proportion. They do not conceal the knowledge and skill which the modern artist conceals in liis work. In the McClure's M) Has the author used history — tra- dition — superstition? In what way ? 0) What tradition used by Hawthorne in "■ Tlie Great Stone Fat-e " ? What liistorical custom used by Scott in "The Lady of llie Lake"? What legend used by Irving in "Sleepy Hollow"? 7) Xote the haniiony between tlie stonu and the progress of tlie story in "David Copperlield." What dues it show ? 26 TIIK STOHY-TKLLER'S ART. IV. THE SETTING. The setting, or the time, place, and surround- ings in Avliieh the scenes of the story are laid, forms an important part of fiction. Unless the characters and events are put in the time and place in which the}^ belong, the story loses force. Many writers so closely identify their characters with their setting that they are called " novelists of the soil." Mary E. Wilkins is a writer of this class. One touches New Eng- land when one comes in contact with her personages. The author may give the setting definitely, as in " Ivanhoe," or he may leave the reader to infer it, as in '•' Sir Launfal," which is not set in England, as many suppose, but in the imagi- nation of the poet. The setting is often told from the life por- trayed, from the scenery, from allusions made l)y tlie author, and from the characters employed. For example, the presence of Richard Coeur de Lion in '^Tlie Talisman" and "Ivanhoe" would alone locate these stories with reference to chiv- alry and the C'rusades. siggestive qlestioxs. 27 Suggestive Questions. 1. What must setting include? Why is it necessary? 2. How is it determined ? 3. Name five stories which you know to have a definite setting. 4. Place in a list stories whose setting could be implied by the story itself. Illustrate. 5. Name a story which is set in chivalrous times ; one which is set in Civil War times ; one that belongs to this time. 6. Name a story whose setting is in the im- agination, or not associated with any special time or place. 7 . Locate in a general way these stories by tlie charactei-s or the suggestions in them : ti) Heroine, a Puritan maiden ; hero, aii old soldier.^" Scenes in colonial times. /') Chief character, a colored man ; main scenes in a cotton field. c) The most prominent iigurc, a cow- boy ; tlie chief interest, gold- digging. '/) ('hief cliaiacters, a maiden and licr lover. 'I'lic story relates the sad experiences of rxile. 28 THE STORY-TKLLKli'S ART. 8, Wliat setting would you give a story of pioneer days in your own state? 9. In what setting would you place a story belonging to England in King Alfred's time? 10. Note the setting in " Silas Marner," in " Hard Times," in '' The Talisman." V. THE PLOT. Essentials to the Mastery of Plot. — The first essential to the mastery of plot is mastery of the story as a whole. The plot is hidden in the story ; we do not find it until we know the story. We are first attracted by character, by incident, by description ; as the story advances all of these things take shape around a central idea. We start at a different point from the author. He started with plot — from within ; we start with incident — from without. It is not till we get to the interior that we can find our way out as he found his way out. All the class should master the story. Let one begin to tell it; another, and yet others, around the class, continue it. Stop short of monotony. Familiarity gives a content for the imagination to work upon. Just as the pres- ence of any work of art influences the spiritual THf: PLOT. 29 nature, so will familiarity with a ma^sterpiece in story-telling enable it to influence the artistic sense. If the mind is stored with subject-mat- ter, the power that would be used up in the acquisition of fact at an intense moment will 1x3 used in the higher emotions of aesthetic enjoyment : vistas will be opened ; ideas formed ; epoclis in life made. What the Plot Is. — The plot of a novel has been variously defined as "design applied to life " ; as the chain of incidents without which the stor}' could not exist; as that group of incidents which clu>ster about the life of the hero and which are absolutely essential to the story. The characteristics of a good plot are that it seems probal)le, has consistency of parts, or agrees with itself ; that it is managed so as to hold the reader's attention throughout, and has provision for relief and climaxes. The plot is not that part of the story which thrusts itself upon tlie reader at first, but, rather, that part whicli is beliind all and whicli api)ears through all, as tlic fdiin of a (iicck statue ajjpears tbroiigli tlie graceful drapery. Unity of Plot. — The plot gets its unity from the hero or heroine. The [jlot interests have to do witli tlic unfolding of the hero's chanic- t»'r. .\ovfls an* cliissitied ujion the impoitance 80 ////•; STOKl'-TELLKR'S ART. tliey place upon plot. (See chapter upon real- ism.) The distinction between plot and story should be kept clearly iii mind. The jolot is the skeleton or framework ; the story the artistic production. How to Find the Plot. — To find the plot, ex- amine the incidents in the story; determine which are absolutely essential to the life of the story and which are used for the development or embellishment of these incidents. Having determined the plot incidents proper, determine which one out of the group forms the turning point or dramatic climax and those leading to and from it. The dramatic climax may be de- termined by its being the place where conse- quence sets in ; the place from which one can look both ways — to beginning and to end. Here one sees the beginning (for want of a better phrase) begin to end, and the end begin to begin. In writing the plot of given stories, only plot incidents proper should receive prominent men- tion. The developing incidents that lead to and from plot incidents proper ought to be mentioned by mere word or suggestion. How to Write the Plot of a Given Story. — Let the hero be the unifying element for the vari- ous incidents. Underplots, or the plot within the plot, as the Cass story in " Silas Marner " THE PLOT. 31 and the Gloster episode in •' King Lear," may receive separate attention. Plot of " Ivakhoe." The following plot of '• Ivanhoe " was written by a pupil in class in eight minutes, without notes. The limit of time for the class was ten minutes. The his- torical setting was given at a previous lesson. "Cedric with Rowena, Ivanhoe's lady love, shelters for the night Prior Aymer, the Templar, his disguised son, and Isaac of York. At the tournament, soon after, the identity of the wounded but meritorious Ivanhoe is discovered, and Richard apjwars as the Black Knight. A plot of De Hracy to win Rowena caused him, with the Tenijtlar and De Boeuf, to capture in the forest and imprison in Torqiiilstone Cedric's company and the Jew's. De Braoy is refused by Rowena. and the Tem- plar by Rebecca. The Black Knight and outlaws storm the castle, which is finally burned. Cedric, Ivanhoe, Rowena, Wamlja, and the Jew are saved. De Bracy is banished, De Boeuf dies, and the Templar escapes witli Reltecca to Temjilestowe, where she is accused of witch- ery and condemned to die, but is saved liy Ivaniioe, who slays the Tt-mplar and who marries Rowena. Richard becomes king and i)ardons his false brother John. Rebecca ami \\\i- .Fiw li-avc Kngland." SuCiOKSTIVK (^)rKSTl()NS. 1 . Dcniie ii plot. 2. What pii'i)aration is ahsolutcly necessary to thr stndy of plot? 32 Tim SrORY-TKLLER'S ART. 3. How does the reader approach the plot? The writer? 4. What are the chaiacteristics of a good plot? 5. Is a complicated plot essential? 6. Name a writer who depends largely upon plot for his interest. 7. What class of fiction depends little upon plot ? Illustrate. 8. Name as many stories as you can that sus- tain the interest independent of plot. 9. What is the dramatic climax or turning point of the story ? How is it determined ? 10. What direction is given about writing a plot? Give the plot of as many short stories as you can. 11. How do you distinguish between plot and story ? VT. THE STUDY OF INCIDENT. The subject of incident is perhaps one of the most important in the study of fiction, since it is the point at which the reader enters the stoiy. To be able to master the various inci- dents in a story is to be able to tj^nslate con- crete or artistic expression into thought. One's aj)preciation increases in proportion to his powei" to go behind incident to thought. Here one TUE STUDY OF INCIDENT. 33 realizes that the story-teller sees fit to show us the inner life of man by letting man act out that inner life, i-ather than by telling us in plain statement. For example, Scott does not tell that James Fitz- James loves animals, but he causes one to hear liim mourn over his gal- lant gray. He does not say that James Fitz- James is bold, but one knows it upon hearing his speech when the Clan-Alpine men rise be- fore him. And so one admires the modesty of Ellen Douglas when she pushes back her boat at the stranger's appearance, the nobility of the outlawed Koderick Dim, and the high spirit of Malcolm Graeme swimmincr the lake — all of these deeds are admired in proportion to one's ability to translate them into tliought. On the other hand, after one lias learned to translate deed into thought, he proceeds from the inward to tlie outward, from tliouglit to deed. When one knows a character to be pos- sessed of certain attributes he can in a measure determine what that character will do iiiidt'r certain (iircuinstances. This justifies the coii- struction of futures for charactei'S, — indeed, it is the very pivot u|)oii which the active part of a story turns; it is this fii(;t that lies at the bottom of plot and tin- \aiious incidents used to develop it into a wmk of art. 34 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. Ill a well-appointed story, not only must everything that happens seem to grow naturally out of the situation, but it must seem to be the only thing that could happen under tlie circum- stances. This gives rise to the classification of incidents, according to their importance, into plot incident proper and developing incident, each having an especial office of its own. The author knows his plot before he writes, but he frequently improvises means for its unfolding as the lines flow from his pen. These means for unfolding are called developing incidents ; they lead to and from the plot incident to which they belong ; they furnish the conditions and the successive steps of development for their plot incident. They furnish the cumu- lative effect necessary for the sul>climax, which a plot incident always forms. They hide the bare plot incidents and give the story grace and finish. A plot incident, with the groujj of developing incident which leads to it as a necessity arising out of certain causes, and from it so as to make results seem as natural as causes, forms an episode. An ei)isode is a miniature story in itself, and, in its turn, acts as a developing incident in the progress of the plot as a whole. For example, the first plot incident proper in the " Lady of the Lake " THE STUDY OF IXCIUKXT. 35 is the meeting between Fitz-James and Ellen. Leading up to this it is necessary to have the chase, necessary for Fitz-James to out-distance his companions, to lose his horse and his way, and to blow his horn. All of these are developing incidents leading up to the plot incident proper, — James's meet- ing with Ellen Douglas. The developing inci- dents leading away from this take Fitz-James to the home of Roderick Dhu, provide him his night's lodging, and send him away next morning. This group of incidents forms an episode of which the climax is the plot incident proper. Incidents may be furllier chissified by their kind into dramatic or conmionplace ; into char- acter incident or into incident purely artistic ; also into incident used for relief, for foreshad- owing, for contrast ; to set forth - custom or supei-stition, and to give any information wliich the autlior wishes to convey. A Dramatic Incident. — A dramatic incident or situation is ])etter known by illustration and comparison than by definition. For example, two lx)ys are walking (piictly to school on a snowy morning. Tliis is a connnonplace inci- dent ; tliere are hiindreds of l)oys walking to school (III this morning. The two l>oys come 36 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. to a slope, when one falls back of the other, raises his arms in the air, and cries to the one who is in front of him, " Now, say your pray- ere ! " He suddenly rushes forward and pushes the front boy into the snowdrift. This is dra- matic. It is a commonplace incident changed to a dramatic incident; it shows more feeling, gives a more vivid i:)icture, is fraught with greater results. It is accompanied by dramatic conversation, though this is not always the case with dramatic situations. One may be stricken with great grief or surprise and present a most dramatic situation without speaking a word. Tableaux are dramatic situations which explain themselves without words. Dramatic situations often represent crises in the course of lives or events. How to Study Incident. — An incident may be studied by determining its kind; if it be dra- matic, by noting whether or not it is accom- panied by dramatic conversation, and by the outcome. If it be a plot incident proper, decide where it belongs with regard to turning point — is it before or after? What is its importance in the outcome? If it be a developing incident, what plot incident does it lead to or away from? If it be a character incident, look behind it into the motive out of which it sprang, and deter- THE STUDY OF INCIDENT. 37 mine how it portrays the character. Does it show character growth in its beginning ? in its advancement? or does it illustrate character full grown ? If an incident be for purely artis- tic purposes, justify its presence in the light of the story of which it is a part. Learn to group into one episode all the developing incidents that lead directly to and from a plot incident ; then it will be easy to trace the development of interest, to appreciate the artistic value of little things, and to realize the inevitableness of the hual outcome. Nothing fixes the study of incident and plot in the mind so well as an attempt to write a plot. The following plot was selected from a lesson assigned two weeks in advance, to be written at home. The directions were : " Bring to class four paragraplis upon an imaijinarif novel of your own writing. Let paragra})h 1 contain the title, author, size, publisher, price. Paragrapli II, the setting, including time, place, and main characters. Paragraph III, the plot. Paragraph IV, comment upon the book after the manner of piess comment. For hints, see the Literary Nkwh, Liti'rary World, Literary Diyest^ The Crifie, The Dial, and other papers of like character. Nothing but the foui- i)aiagraplis need be written. The rest is to be imagined." 38 the story-teller' a art. (Student's Paper.) 1. " Witty Dan:' A book that will create considerable com- ment among readers of juvenile fiction is "Witty Dan," the latest work of Hendricks Nemo. (In one volume, cloth bound, price 78 cts., and pub- lished by the Nihil Publishing Co., Norainloco, Ind.) II. Setting. The scenes of this story are laid at Indian- apolis, and the incidents mentioned in it oc- curred during the administration of Governor Matthews. III. Plot. Dan Trowbridge, through the unjust impris- onment of his father as an embezzler, has to leave school to earn a support for the family, He is serving as elevator boy at the State Capi- tol, when sent in an emergency to the Denison Hotel for a paper. The hotel is on fire, but Dan does his errand through smoke and flame. He picks up a sealed envelope that lies on the floor as he comes out. The governor com- mends him for his bravery, and two months after, through the contents of the envelope that STUDENT'S PAPER. 39 Dan picked up in the burning hotel, his father is pardoned and given a position. Dan is sent to school and the family made happy. IV. Comvient. Mr. Nemo certainly deserves much credit for the skill and talent he displays in the writing of this novel. He succeeds in giving a true and interesting account of life in the metropolis of Indiana. His descriptions of the buildings for which Indianapolis is famous are the clear- est and most accurate ever written. There is also in this story a thrilling account of the row which took place in the State House over the Fee and Salary Bill early in March, 1895, and the author necessarily strips bare and holds up to the reader the corruption of the legislature by which the bill wiis considered. The great Denison House fire of February, 1895, likewise receives a thrilling description, and Mr. Nemo gives to the Indianapolis Fire Departmejit deserved praise. Throughout the story there runs a strain of sparkling wit and liumor. The language, in- deed, is so simple that very young readei-s will have no e clianged into a dramatic incident or situation. Give illustrations from life a.K well lis from books. 42 TllK STORY-TELLER'S ART. 17. Mention some dramatic situations that you have observed in life. What use eouki be made of them? 18. Give directions for studying an incident. 19. Select some incident, construct therefrom a plot, and write four paragraphs as follows : — Par. I. Title, author, publisher, price, size. (The writer may use an assumed name.) Par. II. Setting. Par. III. Plot. Par. IV. Comment, after the manner of press comment. Note. — See foregoing exercise by student for question 19. VII. CHARACTER STUDY. Character study is the life of a novel. Through it one enters into the active arena and becomes acquainted with all that interests humanity. A study of character gives pleasure and leads to insight. Through it the names on the pages of the story become alive to the reader. Character study brings one to a reali- zation of the struggle that may take place in a human soul. This is eminently true in the CHARACTER STCBY. 43 struggle between knighthood and manhood in the breast of Sir Kenneth in the banner scene in '• The TaHsman." It strengthens one's will to see this knight stand before Richard and choose death with honor to escape with dis- grace, although four ways are open to him for escape. The powei"S of sympathy and love are called forth by the feeble-minded weaver of Rave- loe, and the reader better understands Eliot's quotation from Wordsworth on the title-page. How to Study Character. — The characters in a stor}- may be idealized or natural ; they may be consistent or inconsistent with regard to the part they play in the story. A character may be studied : 1 . liy its innate tendencies, or its inner prompt- ings, independent of any external in- fluence. 1^. liy its environment, or surroundings, and the way in whicli it has overcome them or been overcome by them. 3. In the light of heredity, or inherited traits. 4. Hy its manifestations of willing, thinking, feeling. .0. By its achievements, or what it has accom- plished ill tlie light of its effort and opportunity, and l)y tlic ring a character study from life. 3. Name book characters that are marked by their will-power, by a tender conscience ; tliat have powerful intellect. Prove by citing your authority. 4. What charactei"s have you found idealized? What characters realistic? What saints? Sinnei"s? o. Howells speaks of letting conduct do its '' unsermonized oihce." What do you understand by the expression? 6. Is Roderick Dhu idealized? Ellen Doug- las? 7. Tell liow you study a chaiacter from life. 8. Mention a list of book characters that are very real to you. Locate them. 0. What (juality of character indicated by the hoarding of nioncy U>i its own sake? Illustrate, liy the founding of educa- tional institutions? 10. Wlio is your favorite book character? Why? 48 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. 11. Do you prefer that a character should be idealized or portrayed exactly as in real life? Give reasons. 12. Does nobility of character l^elong to any special rank in hfe? Whose books have set forth this question plainly ? 13. How are the characters of Sissy Jupe and Mr. M'Choakumchild each brought out when Sissy is examined upon political economy by Mr. M'Choakumchild? 14. ^Make a list of character incidents in the novel you are studying and trace, in a general way, each incident to the men- tal impulse out of which it sprang. VHI. METHOD. An author's method is his manner of telling his story, and may often be determined by the reader if he put to himself such questions as these : How does this author tell his story ? Is his style pleasing? his narrative straight- forward? Does he proportion his use of de- scription and narration well ? Does he comment upon his characters and tell the reader what to see, or does he speak only through his charac- ters and let the reader see for himself ? Does METHOD. 49 he depict life as it is or as he thinks it ought to be ; i.e., is his story romantic or realistic ? Does he set forth the democratic or the aristocratic phase of life ? That of the saint or the sinner ? Is his canvas large or small ? Compare Tolstoi's '• Peace and War " and Wilkins's *• Pembroke." Is his book pervaded by a literary atmosphere through allusion, and does he take the reader to his study, or is it pervaded by an outdoor atmosphere, taking the reader under the open sky, to the fields and woods, to listen to the lowing of the kine or the song of the brook and the birtls? Whei-ein does the author's strength lie? Is it in handling plot, as shown in Stockton's stories ? Management of detail, as in Wilkins ? Portrayal of character, as in Eliot ? Description of scene and event, as in Hardy? In power of setting forth dramatic situation, as in Scott? Is he picturesque, i.e., does he state facts by situation and scene, by suggestion and impli- cation, or does he use direct statement? Exki:cisp:s. 1. Mention some books in wliirh you once skij)[)ed tlie long descriptions. Look at these books again and see if you can tell why. 50 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. 2. Mention the most straightforward narrative that you know. 3. Mention authors that comment upon the characters. 4. Mention authoi-s that let their characters do all the talking. 5. Mention writers that depict high life. 6. Mention authors that depict lowly life. 7. In what books have you found saints? sinners ? 8. Where have you found allusions that showed the learning of the author and that gave the book a literary atmos- phere ? 9. Wliat books have taken you to outdoor life? 10. Make a list of ten facts that are told by situation, giving : a. Situation, h. Facts, c. From what taken. 11. Make a list of ten suggestions used to convey facts, giving : a. Suggestion, h. Facts, c. Place, 12. Make a list of ten scenes that convey facts, giving : a. Scene, h. Facts conveyed. 13. Give examples of delicate humor in fiction. 14. Give exam})les of pathos in nctiau. PURPOSE. 51 IX. PURPOSE. The purpose of an autlior ma}- be to forward a cause, as in " Uncle Tom's Cabin " ; to set forth a theory, as in " Looking Backward " ; to picture a bygone time, as in " Ivanhoe " ; or it may he to depict life pure and simple, as in '"A Modern Instance"; or simply to entertain. The purpose of the author determines in a degree the classification of his art. If an autlior's purpose be purely artistic, i.e., if he wishes only to portray life faithfully as it is, his work is realistic. If he uses the story to set forth his particular views, his work is pliilosopliic. If liis purpose is to picture some historic per- sonage, event, or time, his work is histoiical. If lie wislies to entertain by setting fortli any theme with extravagant treatment, by cen- tering the interest in the story, and by giving a prominent part to love, his work is romantic. Any two or more of tlicsc classes of (iction may be combined. A work may be i)liil()sophi(- realism, historical-romance, etc. EXEUCISE. Placi; in list^, fus indicated liclow, as many stories as v<>u know tliat will illiisti-atc ihc 52 THE STOKY-TELLEK'S ART. headings. The same story may come under more than one heading. 1. Stories that give a faithful portrayal of life without any particular lesson. (Real- istic.) a. Author. h. Story. c. What life pictured. 2. Stories that set forth some particular view of the author. (Philosophic.) a. Author, b. Story, c. VicAvofwhat? 3. Stories that picture a past time, event, or personage. ( H istorical.) a. Author, h. Story, c. Time, event, or personage. 4. Stories that depend upon plot. (Romantic.) a. Author, h. Story. 5. Stories independent of plot. (Realistic.) a. Author, h. Story. (>. Stories that contain highly dramatic mo- ments. a. Author, h. Story, c. Moments. X. COMMENT. Comment is a very general term; it may give the student's personal impressions con- cerning a work ; it may give any information he wishes to convey about it, or it may be of COMMENT. 53 the nature of criticism commending or noting faults, according to the merits or dements of the book. Sometimes comment includes plot, setting, mention of character, and critical esti- mate upon the liteiury quality of a story. A good comment indicates a high quality of men- tal power on the part of the one who makes it. Examples of comment are found in book notices, briefs of books, and short book reviews in the Literary Neu'S^ the Literary Diyest, The Bookmatu The Lial, the Review of Reviews, The Nation, and the various periodicals. The following is a fair sample : llarradeii, Beatrice. " Ships that Pass in tlie Xight." Authorized Aineiican ed. N. Y., (J. Putnam's Sons, 1694. 7 + •_':}.') p. S. cl., .^1. The story takes place at Petershof, a winter resort for coiLsuniptives in the Swiss Mountains. The chief char- acters are Robert Allitsen, a rich younfj En};lislinian, whose days are nuniln'red, and Ik-rnardine Ilolinc, an intellectual young lOnglish girl, who has broken down under a strain of work in teaching, writing, etc. Their story is a simple, everyday one, the novelty being in the telling and in the many shrewd and philosophical re- marks of tlie writer, betraying a deep study of life and human nature. The apt title is taken from Longfrdlow " Ships that p;iss in a night, and speak each other in passing," etc. 64 THE STOliVTEI.LKirs ART. Suggestive Questions. 1. Wliat may be contained in comment? "1. Where can good comment be found ? 3. Note the foregoing example and separate it into the parts of the story as herein studied. 4. Criticise the student's comment found on page 39 of this book. 5. Write a comment upon a story with which you are familiar. 6. Comment upon the characters in the story. 7. Report upon a number of comments exam- ined and find those in which plots are given. 8. Make comment upon the descriptions in a certain book. 9. Comment upon the method and purpose of some particular story. 10. Comment upon the comment you last made after laying it away for a time. FOWKR IX THE STUDY OF FICTION. 55 XL EXERCISES ILLUSTRATING THE DEVELOrMENT OF POWER IN THE STUDY OF FICTION. An intensive study of fiction, as of other forms of literature, leads to a conscious acqui- sition of power ; power used in the same sense as in physics, — the ability to do w'ork in a given time ; power not only to handle a book and tell what is in it, but power to do this promptly, easily, and in a pleasing manner. Power in the study of literature may be in- cluded under tliree heads: the power to ac- quire, the power to interpret, and the power to express. Any one of these may serve to check the others. Interpretation will keep one from l)eing an echo through disproportionate acquisition. Both interpretation and acquisi- tion aid in expression. Power to Acquire. — Power to acquire is the ability to make a thing one's own : il (l('i)ends largely upon memory to (ix in the mind ilio form, the exact words, the aiiaiigciiient of words, and even the punctuation. I( enables one to gather and carry facts. The anthro- pologist says tliat the ear hius almost h)st its place in cdncalion. As min-h niii,'-lit Ih- said 56 THE STORY-TKLLEIVS ART. of the memory. LitelUgent committiiifr to memory is fixing the attention ; it is learning an art product in the terms of art ; it is sub- mitting to tlie creative impulse of the author and thus increasing aesthetic enjoyment. Ex- ercise of the memory is the best preparation for the intensive study of literature. It makes way for the rhythmic swing, beauty of imagery, and the suggested subtleties of thought. The memory keeps on hand data ready for compari- son with new facts. An exercise of memory enables one to classify as one reads or listens, and the best of all its results is in the cumulative effect arising from the thought-habit which it forms. It should be employed in fiction as in other forms of literature. Power to Interpret. — Power to interpret is constantly called into play in the study of fic- tion. Interpretation goes on during acquisition, but it can be the dominant activity. To inter- pret is to resolve language into the thought of which it is a symbol. This is from the point of view of the reader or listener. From the point of view of the writer it is to concrete one's own thought into the proper word sym- bols. The interpreter must see the masterpiece from the interior, from the author's point of view ; he must also see it f iT)m the exterior, POWER IX THE STUDY OF FICTION. 57 the reader's point of view ; then from the two he must resolve it into the elements of his own thought, and send it forth with the stamp of his own pei-sonality upon it. Power to Express. — Power to express is the test of one's ability to assimilate. It is not to reproduce in the original form, but to give forth what has been acquired and interpreted in the living personality of the interpreter. Successful expression has vitality ; it carries the stamp of tlie writer's integrity to his own impressions and his respect for .saying a thing after the manner of his own genius ; it .shows that matter has been mixed with mind. Ex- pression as herein used includes oral and writ^ ten speech. Oral expression is one of the demands of modern education. One must be able to speak as well ;is to write ; one must be able to think and talk ui»(tn one's feet. Under oral expres- sion comes cliuss criticism, to which a separate space will be given. One way of vitalizing expression is to give it variety, — to luive the .same thing looked at and spoken of in iiianifoid ways. 58 tuk stoky-tei.leivs art. Illustration of the Way in which Vari- ety or Expression may re Secured. Variety of Expression. — Note. — The follow- ing paper is taken from a lesson prepared at home. The pupils were asked to select any dramatic moment in " Ivanlioe " and then in the fewest words possible tliey were, first, to give a plain account of the moment selected ; second, they were to write it in })ictorial lan- guage ; and, third, they were to connnent upon the moment. (Student's Paper.) Scene between Isaac of York and De Boeuf. I. In Plain Language. Front de Boeuf entered the dungeon of the Jew, accompanied by the Saracen slaves, and with threats of death by torture induced Isaac to promise a ransom of one thousand pounds of silver. But on learning the fate of his daugh- ter he recalled his promise, and })referred to die rather than ransom himself without her. The Norman lord and his men were preparing to carr}' out tlicir licndisli plan when inter- rupted by tlie l)ugle. (77 words.) POWER IX THE STUDY OF FICTION. 59 TT. I)) Piofnr'ml Lanfjuacje. See tlie Jew abjectly crouching in the corner! Dank odoi-s rise on every side. See the rusty chains upon the floor, tlie em})ty hearth, and windows barred I The door is opened. In comes De Boeuf with his companions. Isaac cowei-s before the Norman lord. What I A thousand pounds I Does he refuse ? Ah, see the glowing grate, the bai-s of iron, the cruel stones ! He can but yield, and does. But what I His daugliter gone? He will not pay. They blow the fire ; they strip him bare ; they seize his aged limbs ! Hut stop ! A bugle blows. Isaac is saved. (90 words.) in. CommeMt. This dramatic interview between De Boeuf and Isjiac impresses upon the reader two points : the fiendisli cruelty of the Norman and the patient affection of tlie Jew. The setting for such an efl'ect is adinirable. The dark dun- geon, the lilack stones, the glowing furnace are almost symbolic of tbi- niind of ilicliaroii. The Jew's ready submission, his agreement to the ran.som, well sets oil' his later resistance and preference of death to his daughter's dislionor. t)U THE STORY-TKLLEIVS ART. The abrupt bugle is a welcome relief from the anticipated death of Isaac and from the high dramatic tension throughout the scene. (98 words.) Note. — Counting words calls the student's attention to the use of every word, and gives the teacher an idea of what limit may be placed upon paragraph lengths. This exercise may be further used to call attention to proportion. It is well to lead a learner to see that he nmst get somewhere. He often starts well, but never reaches any place. Fiction affords further opportunity for variety in expression in studying the discourse forms of soliloquy, monologue, and dialogue, and in changing one form into another. I'he follow- ing soliloquy changed to a monologue will illus- trate the point. Directions. — Copy a soliloquy found in The Talisman." Change it into a monologue. (( (Student's Paper.) Scene. — De Vaux discusses the merits of the Saracen physician (134). I. Soliloquy. (From "The Talisman.") Wherefore, it is in no sense impossible that this El Ilakim, with this his cure, or seeming POWER IX THE STUDY OF FUJTIOX. 61 cure, wrought on the body of the Scottish squire, may mean nothing but a trick, to which he of the Leopard may be accessory, and wherein the Bishop of Tyre, prehite as he is, may have some sliare. II. (^The Solilofpiy changed to a Monoloyue.) Strange, very strange, indeed. From the case of this poor squire it would seem that this infldel leech does possess certain powers. And this El Hakim, a.s he calls liimseif, would try his art upon King Richard? For that purjjose was he sent and by the unbelieving Soldan himself. Richard, indeed, is all anxiety to have him do so. He trusts this Eastern prince as if he were his brother. But this may be a plot, an attemi)t on the life of Richard ; the Eastern conjuroi-s are adepts in the art of poison- ing. The Scot, who recommends liim so, could he be traitor? Would bravery and treason so combine? Yet I liave ever found them fair and false, these Scotchmen. Then the Bishoj) of Tyre — why his advice and willingness ? Why liis pcrturl)ation when I told liim of tlic Scot's return? I'lit In- is a prelate. \\\\i Ricliard is a king. When kings arc lu-ing poisoned docs llit- lank of |irclatc signify im- ("52 TIIK STORY-TFJJ.KIVS ART. peccability? Verily, treason is all about me. I must be on my gruard, indeed. Vocabulary. As language is the medium for literary ex- pression, words are needed both for thought and for the expression of thought. One's vocabulary should increase as his thoughts increase. Aside from devices placed in books for the enlarge- ment of a vocabulary, no author should be intensively studied without giving attention to the words he uses. Is his a fact vocabulary like Defoe's? Is it poetic like Ruskin's? Is it simple Saxon like Bunyan's, or of classic origin like De Quincey's? After comparing the same number of words in the vocabularies of Scott, Ruskin, De Quin- cey, and Defoe, the following conclusions were reached by the pupils : Scott's vocabulaiy is largely a fact vocabulary and employs a large number of action words in its many dramatic situations. Scott's vocabulary has fewer modi- fiers than Ruskin's and more than Defoe's, showing that Scott's style is less ornate than Ruskin's and more embellished than Defoe's. Scott uses many connectives — hence, long, loose, or compound sentences ; Scott inserts POWER ly THE STUDY OF FICTION. 63 Latin phrases. The hiuguage of the essayist De Quincey differs from that of the roman- ticist Scott, thus showing that the form of discourse determines, in a measure, the vo- cabulary of a writer. Scott's sentences are longer than Emei"son's, and the suggestiveness of Scott's expression is found in the use of epithet. Criticism. Self Criticism. — A great help to expression is the ];)0wer to criticise one's own work. Es- pecially is this true in the papers prepared in the study of fiction. This is helpful in the writing of plot, dramatic situation, and charac- ter study. One can ask one's self with profit : Is my exercise grammatically correct in word forms and agreement? in sentence structure and sentence connection ? Is it rhetorically correct in diction ? in clearness ? in paragraph structure and paragraph transition ? Is it true on tlie fact side ? Have I proportioned my exercise riglit as to parts? as to empliasis of points? IIav(; I gotten somewhere or lost myself in detail? Is my exerci.se up to tlic level of th(! piece I am treating? Have I brought out any of tlic subtleties of mean- ing? 64 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. Class Criticism. — As has been said, class or oral criticism deserves a special place. Class criticism cultivates the power to listen, the power to think while listening, also the power to judge and discriminate. It creates standards of literary expression, leads to appreciation of the good and the beautiful and the true in letters. It carries home truths that would be felt in no other way. Every one who offers a criticism must give it in a kind manner. No indefinite criticisms are to be permitted in class. The one criticised learns to side with his critic, and thus all are helped. The points to listen for are correctness of expression, of facts, the bringing out of new facts, and the interpretation of the subject-matter. Cultivation of the Imagination. — The- culti- vation of the imagination may be also helped by selecting passages conveying the most vivid impressions and then noting how the impression is conveyed. Is it by suggestion or inference, independent of epithet or figure ? Is it by figure? Is it by epithet? Give examples of all these ways ; e.g.^ " A tear stood in the eye of the Saxon," " The rose of Palestine," "The scraggly oak." Words are hereby vitalized and used in their literary sense. It is well to see that words have an A WORD ABOUT REALISM. 65 etymological meaning, a dictionary meaning, and an associated meaning. The imagination can be kept active by the subject-matter of fiction in this way. XII. A WORD ABOUT REALISM. Perhaps no word troubles the student of fiction at the present day more than the word " realism." The following pages attempt to give only a few of the distinctive features of realistic fiction written in the English language. Realism is known by its portrayal of life as it is, a.s opposed to life as it ought to be. Real- ism gives us individuals rather than types ; it portrays life in parts or instances rather than in wholes. In realism the reader always feels tliat the writer has his eyes upon the object which he descril>es. Realism is unlike romanticism in tliat it depends less upon plot and dramatic situa- tions, and follows, rathei-, the natural course of life and events. 'I'he interest in realism centei-s upon the play of character, while the interest in i-on)anticism centers upon the de- velopment of story. The success of realism depends hugely upon the significance of tiie details selected. Professor Rahiigh says of 66 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. realism that '^ it is the microscope laying bare the details of daily life, and superseding the telescope that brought the heavens nearer to the earth," Kealism in relation to knowledge is the out- growth of the spirit of scientific investigation ; in relation to literature it is the outgrowth of the spirit of criticism ; in its relation to life and art it is the outgrowth of the spirit of democracy. Realism is as old as fiction. Literature showed a marked tendency to realism in the Passion, Miracle, Saint, and Morality plays of the church from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries. These plays left the church altars for the open fields; the parts in them were played by special actors instead of by the clergy who had before played them. The creation of Adam often took place on the stage. Models were taken from real life, and while these plays were yet performed in the church, realistic details represented by the live child, the actual manger, and the lighted candle were used. In 1362 William Langland wrote his " Piers, the Plowman." He drew his materials from life. He might have been swayed by literary tliemes, for lie lived in the time of Chaucer, A WORD ABOUT REALISM. 67 and Wiekliffe was his friend. Froissart was at the time clironicUng the coui't life of France ; the Meistereingei-s had established their guilds in Germany, and in Italy Boccaccio had given the Decameron and Petrarch the Sonnet form to the literary world. These facts enhance the value of the realistic tendency found in Lanfjland. He takes his reader from the courts to the Malvern Hills, to see in a vision a '* fair field full of folk." Langland himself is the plowman in the vision. Sowing and reaping, tilling the soil and liusbandry assume dignity ; tliere is confidence in the ongoing processes of nature. Along with knight and pai-son we liear the cook crying out, " Hote pyes, hote." Langland is also realistic in his independence of plot ; to change his scene he invents no situations, hut simply says : " and the scene shifts." Along with Langland, lealism is also found in Chaucer's '' Canterbury Tales." It was a mixed com])any that started out from the Tal)ai(l I mi with the great humorist story- teHer. One laughs and feels with them all, and, whether Chaucer means to hold his ihai- actei"s up for ridicule or cadmiration, they are none the less interesting and none the less real. There is a space of more than two hundred years fi-om T'liaiu-ci' to Thomas Xash. the lirst 68 THE STORY-TELLER'S ART. true realist in Englisli prose fiction. Nash was an original writer and believed that every man should express himself in his own vein. He led the picaresque school in England. This school was founded in Spain about 1553. Translations found their way into the neigh- boiing countries, and their appearance in Eng- land marked an epoch in English fiction. The picaresque school is named from the picaro, — the rogue, — who seemed always to be the leading character in this style of story. The picaro is set forth as a creature of caprice and fate, and the part assigned him calls for little conscience and less heart. The scenes are all vivid and awaken the interest of the reader in spite of himself. Nash's " Jack Wilton " is a true picaresque tale, and is the ancestor of many novels which lack the ancestral vigor. The printing press had been used nearly one hundred years when " Jack Wilton " was written, and during this time the existing English novels and the translations into Eng- lish from P'rench, Spanish, and German writers were multiplied. From Thomas Nash's " Jack Wilton," in 1594, to Richardson's "Pamela,"' in 1740, there is another space — nearly one hundred and fifty years this time. One stops with Richardson A WORD ABOUT REALISM. 69 more because he is called the " father of tlie Knglish novel "' than because of his contribu- tion to realism. He belongs to the school in fiction which Sidne}* represents in poetr}^ — that of sentiment ; but he contributed to prose fiction the naturalness peculiar to the letter form, and gave a microscopic analysis of sentiment and a minute portrayal of womanly character. The novel is now well born, and Bun3'an, Defoe, and Fielding come near together, each making his especial contribution. Bunyan gave lessons in the handlingr of character. It is said that he gave to the England of the seventeenth century its one true picture of human life and victory. Defoe was the follower of Nash in the picaresque style. A taste for fact rather than fancy had set in. The positive temper liad sprung up. Defoe's language was fact language ; he made no attempt at embellish- ment, and he excelled in the realistic treat- ment of Ills llieme. As Richardson taught heart analysis, Bunyan taught character por- trayal, and Defoe tlie handling of realistic detail, so Fielding tauglit the value of dra- matic situation and complicated plot. His "Tom .ff)nes" is not called a book, l)ut a man. (iiderneath all its (joarseness i\\v\v. is ill '• Tuiii .Joiii's " a licaltliy I'ctiii'ii t<» ii;ituic. 70 THE STOliY-TKLI.KlVS ART. Fielding hated shams and liyi>ocrites and phxeed much reliance u})on the hottom facts ill human nature. He began in satire and ended in reform. In passing from Fielding's '■'- Tom Jones," 1749, to Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice," in 1812, fiction has come into the modern world, — our own world. The revival of learn- ing which marked the Elizabethan age, with its long line of immortals, led by Shakespeare, Bacon, Spenser, Sidney, and Marlowe, has been passed. The novelists herein previously men- tioned have played their part. The first draft of Waverley has for some time been lying in Sir Walter's chest, and the " Lady of the Lake " is about to appear. The Reformation has been voiced in the writings of Milton and Bunyan and the age of the Restoration has followed. John Dryden, Sir Isaac Newton, and Sir Christopher Wren have advanced criti- cism, philosophy, and architecture ; a return to classic style has been made by Pope, Addison, and Steele, and these in their turn have been followed by Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Words- worth, setting forth tlie spirit of the Revolu- tion. So one is justified in saying that Jane Austen is a modern ; she looked out upon the modern world and came under the same influ- A WORD ABOUT REALISM. 71 ences that sway the people now living. "Pride and Prejudice " is realistic in its narrowness of scope, in its lack of complicated plot, and in that it sets forth clearly and fully a limited section of life. It attempts to hold up no ideals ; it deals for the most part with middle- class people ; it has in it no literary atmosphere suggested either by the characters or by the author's allusions. And yet one forgets that he is reading a book ; he feels as if he were making a visit among people in whom he had a human interest. He finds himself scheming with the fond mother in her matchmaking interests for her daughters live, llowells calls Jane Austen the " divine Jane," and wonders " how people who had once known her simple veracity and refined perfection could enjoy any- thing less perfect." He says: "She was the first and the last of English novelists to handle material with entire truthfulness, and because she did this she is wortliy to be matched with the great Scandinavian and Slavic and Latin artists." After Jane Austen, ("liarles Dickens and George ICliot open the gates of common lii'c. Dt-mocracy has a new meaning, or its meaning has penetrated fiction. The piiest in lln' tower askiuir, "Where ai't tlum, LoiN, D. — British Novelists and their Styles. 1849. Ralp;igh, W. a.— English Novel: its History to the Appearance of Waverley. 1894. Richardson, C. F. — American Poetry and Fiction. (Ill liis American Literature.) 1889. Scott, Sir W. — Lives of Eininent Novelists and Dramatists. Tlckku.ma.n, B. — History of English Prose Fiction. Art of Fktion. How to Write Fiction. Anon. Bellair & Co., London. 1895. Practical. Bk.sant, W. — Art of Fiction. 1884. IJri.wKK-Lviio.v, E. (i. v.. L. — Art in Fiction. (In liis iiami>liletH and sketches.) 1875. CKAWKoiti). V. M. — The Novel: Wliat It Is. FuKVi A\. \\ 84 '/'///'; STORY-TKLLKR'S ART. Cable, (J. W. — After-thoughts of a Story-teller. Nor. .Iw., Vol. CLVIII. Ford, P. L. — The American Historical Novel. Atlantic, Dec. 18!) 7, p. 721. I low to Write Short Stories. Writer, 2: 247. How not to Write Fiction. Lippiiicotl's, 40. How to Write a Story. Writer, 2: 239. Lang, A. — The Art of Fiction. Critic, 4: 249. Matthews, B. — The Philosophy of the Short Story. LippincotVs, October, 1885. .SV(/. Rev., Vol. LVHI, p. 32, July, 1884. Paget, V. (Vernon Lee). — On Literary Construction. Bookman, N. Y., Vol. IT, Nos. 1 and 2. Perry, B. — The Study of Fiction in College. Mod. Lang. Assoc, Transactions XT. I. Stevenson, R. L. — The Art of Fiction. Critic, 5 : 264. Short Stories and their Writing. Writer, 5: 211. Trail. — Romanticism Realisticised. Contemp., 59. The Deceitful Sliort Story. Writer, 2: 287. The Study of Fiction. Moulton, K. G. (ed.). — Four Years of Novel Reading. The work of a club in a mining village in p]ngland. SiMONDS, W. E. — Introduction to the Study of English Fiction. Dictionaries for Reference. Century Dictionary of names. Brewer, E. C — Reader's Handbook of Allusions, References, Plots, and Stories. 1888. Wheeler, W. A. Explanatory and Pronouncing Dic- tionary of the Noted Names of Fiction. 188t». REFERENCES UPON FICTION. 85 Best Novels. Jones, J. L. (ed.). — Ten Great Novels. (In Uniti/ Club Leajiets, 1891, p. 23.) These novels were chosen by the votes of seventy literary persons. The titles are: Scarlet Letter, Les Miserables, Roiiiola, Adam Bede, Tvanhoe, Henry Esmond, Willielm ]\Ieister, Uncle Tom's Cabin, On the Heights, David Copperfield. Perkins, F. B. — Best Hundred Novels. (^Library Jour- nal, 1876, Voh VI, pp. IGO, 107.) INDEX Acquisition, oG. Aeschylus, 4. Aesthetic enjoyment, oC Agaiueinin»ii, 4. Allen, J. L., 0. Antigone, 4. "Arabian Nights," I'J. Aristocratic, 40. Art, 10, 18. Artistic short story, 19. Artistic realism, 73. Asia, 4. As-similate, •">, 7. Athens, 4. Athenians, 4. Attention, 1. Austen, Jane, 70, 71, 7.5. Author's approach to story, 28. Bacon, 70. Balancf, 17. Boccaccio, (!7. Books suitable for second- ary schools, 73-70. Browning, 4, 0. Bnnyiii'i "0. Cable, G. W., .3. " Canterbury Tales," 67. Character, 28, 33, 43, 44, 53; gi-owth of, 37; study of, 42, 44; portrayal of, 49. Chivalry, 20. Cliivalric England, 5. Christian, 46. Cuicinnatus, 3. Climax, 17, 29, 3(). Cooper, 2. Collyer, 12. Comment, 52; examples of, 53. Corson, 9. Craddock (Murfrees), 3. Criticism, 53, 57, 00. Crusades, 26. Cumulative effect, 34. David, 15. Davis, 3. Decameron, 07. Defoe, 09. Dramatic situation, 36; con- versation, 3(!; climax, 30; incidi-nl, M. 88 INDEX. Democracy, 6G. Democratic, 40. Description, 28, 48, 49. Detail, 49. Dickens, C, 71, 73. "Does a Man Need Much Laud?" 20. Douglas, 33, 35. Kchetlos, 4. Educational system, 1. Eliot, G. (Evans), 21, 43, 71, 72, 74. Elizabethan Dramas, 10 ; age, 70. Emerson, 14. Environment, 18. Episode, 31, 34, 37. Ethics, 1. Exercises upon Method, 49, 50; upon Purpose, 51, 52. Expression, oral, 57. Fabricius, 3. Familiarity, 7, 9, 28, 29. Fiction as art, 10, 17. Fielding, 70. Forum, 3. Froissart, 67. Garland, 3. Grecian history, 4. Harte, B., 3. Hawthorne, 3. Helen Hunt (Jackson), 2. Hercules, 15. Historical, 52. Hardy, T., 72, 74. Iloratius, 3. How to Study Incident, 36, 37; to Study Character, 42-44; Plot, 33, 34. Howells, W. D., 71, 72, 73. Imagery, 56. Incident, 28, 32, 33, 39; kinds of, 34, 35, 36; plot, 34 ; developing, 34-36 ; commonplace, 35, 36. Indian, 3. Intensive study of fiction, 45. Interpretation, 56. "Ivanhoe," 26, 45, 51, 58. "Jack Wilton," 68. James, H., 73. James Fitz-James, 33, 36. Jews, 5, 31. Joseph, 15. Kenneth, 43. Knighthood, 43. Kipling, 20. Leonidas, 15. Lincoln, 3. List of stories, 10, 11; of books for secondary schools, 74-76; of books that every person should know, 77; books of un- usual interest, 77, 78; of IXDEX. 89 short stories, 78; books upon fiction, 7!»-Ho; maga- zine articles upon fiction, 83, 84; best novels, 85. Magna C'liarta, o. Malcolm Graeme, :>]. Malvern Hills, 67. Marcus Curtius. :]. Marlowe, 7<». Marathon, 4. "Master and .Man," 20. Maupassant, V.K Memory, 5(). .Milton. 70. Miracle Play, 66. Moses, 15. Motive, 17. Narration, 48. Xash, 67, 68. Nature's Laws, 18. Norse mythohjgy, 5. Octave Thanet, 3. Oedipus, 4. Passion I'lay, 66. Pamela, 68. perspective, 17, l'.». Petrarch, 67. Pheitlipi)ides, 4. PhiloHopliic, 51, 52. Physies, 55. I'icaresque, 68. Picaro, <>8. "Piers, the pjr.wman." 66. Plot, 28-40, 53; definition of, 20; essentials of, 20; of •' Ivanhoe," 31; origi- nal, 38 ; underplot, 30 ; imity of plot, 29. Poe, 19; his rules, 19. Poets' thoughts in poets' phrase, 9. Power, 55; to interpret, 56, 57; to acquire, 55; to ex- press, 57. "Pride and Prejudice," 70. Presentation of story, ana- lytic, 6, 7; aesthetic, 6, 7. Prometheus, 4. Proportion, 17, 48. Purpose, 51; artistic, philo- .sophic, hi.storical, 51, 52. Questions upon material, 24, 25; upon setting, 27, 28; plot, 31, 32; incident, 40- 42; comment, 54; puiTiose, 52. Read.-. C, 18. Reader's approach to story, 28. Realism, 65-73. Realistic, 49, 51. Rebecca, 45. Reformalimi. 70. Rcirulus. 3. Re.sponse, 23. Restoration, 70. Rhythm. 17. Rifiiard 1.. 4:;. 00 INIiEX. Richardson, 69. Riley, 3. Kodi'riok Dhu, oo, ;35. " Komola," 72. Koman History, 3. Homantio, 40, 51. KomanticiMu, 74. Roweiia, 45. Saints' Play, 66. Saladin, 46. Scope of novel, 17. Scott, Sir W. 74. Secondary school, 1, 73. Shakespeare, 21, 23, 70. "Sherlock Hohiios," lil. Setting, 26; questions upon, 27, 28. Sidney, 60, 70. Siegfried, 15. " Silas Marnor," 30, 72. Sir Launfal, 26. Soliloquy, 60. Sonnet form, 67. Sophocles, 4. Sparta, 4. Spirit, 18. Spenser, 70. Story, aesthetic features of, 1; basis for selecting, 1, 2; artistic value, 3; well- appointed story, 34; cla.ssic .stoiy, 13; relation to his- tory, 2, 4; office of, 15; short, 10; relation to dra- ma, 19. Story-teller, 20; province of, 16; relation to dramatist, 16. Stnarl, 3. Students' paper, 15, 31, 38- 40, 45, 46, 58-61. Suggestive questions, 47. 54. Symbol, 66. Tennyson's "May Queen," 10. "The Long Exilr," 20. "The Talisman," 74. Thermopylae, 4, 15. "Tess," 72. Tolstoi, 20, 40. "Tom Jones," 60, 70. To the Student, 15. Ulysses, 15. "Uncle Tom's Cabin," 51. Underplots, 30. Unity of plot, 29. Utility, 1. Valley Forge, 3. Variety of expression, 58- 62. Wagner, 21. Ward, Mrs., 72. Washington, 3. Washington Elm, 3. Wickliffc, 67. Wilkins, 20, 26, 49, 72, 73. Wordsworth, 43, 74. Writers of Short Stories, 20. AD\^ERTISEi\IKNTS English Composition and Rhetoric Text-books and works of reference for hlgb schools, academies, and colleg:es. Lessons in English. Adapted to the study of American Classics. A text-book for high schools and academies. By S.A.RA E. H. Luck- wood, formerly Teacher of English in the High School, New Haven Conn. Cloth. 403 pages. For introduction, $1.12. A Practical Course in English Composition. By Alphunso G. 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