Esenwein J Writing The Short Story

a fj

The tlie

Cornell University Library

original of

tliis

book

is in

Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright

restrictions in

the United States on the use of the

text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 9240271 94095

Cornell University Library

PN 3373.E74W9 Writing the short-stpi

3 1924 027 194 095

By the Same Author

HOW TO ATTRACT AND HOLD AN AUDIENCE A POPULAR TREATISE ON THE NATURE, PREPARATION, AND DELIVERY

OF PUBLIC DISCOURSE

TWELVEMO—Price

$1.00

Postpaid— CLOTH

Writing

the

Short-Story

A PRACTICAL HANDBOOK ON THE RISE, STRUCTURE, WRITING, AND SALE OF THE MODERN SHORT-STORY

BY J.

BERG ESENWEIN,

A.M., Lit.D

EDITOR OF LIPPINCOTT'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE, Publishers 31-33-35 West Fifteenth Street, New York City

Copyright, 1908,

By

J.

Berg Esenwein

Copyright, 1909,

By

J.

Berg Esenwein

TO MY WIFE INSPIRER THIS

:

CRITIC

WORK

IS

:

FRIEND

INSCRIBED

TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE xi

FOREWOBD To Teachers

xiii

Historical Introduction I.

1.

2. 3.

4. 5. 6. 7.

8.

THE

i

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

The Story-Teller The Epic The Ancient and Medieval Tale The Sacred Books of the East The Drama The Novel Other Literary Forms The Perfecters of the Short-Story n. ITS PRESENT PLACE

i

2

4 S

6 6 8

8

AND POWER

The Short-Story and the Novel Reasons for Popularity

10

2. 3.

The Influence of

12

1.

11

the Short-Story

PART I.— THE NATURE OF THE SHORT-STORY

—

Chapter I. What is a Short-Storv a Short-Story is Not 1. Not a Condensed Novel 2. Not an Episode 3. Not a Scenario 4. Not a Biography 5. Not a Sketch 6. Not a Tale What a Short-Story is

I.

What

.... ...

II.

i

....

Exercises

Chapter 1.

2.

3.

— Kinds of

II.

Based on Types of Humanity Based on the Moral Nature Based on Occupations

V

17

19

23 24 24 25 26

30 32

Short- Story 35

36 36

CONTENTS

VI

PAGE

Based Based Based Based

4. 5. 6.

7.

on on on on

36 37 37 37 37

Locality

Wonder Social Classes

Emotion

.

in the Story

Exercises

PART

STRUCTURE OF THE SHORTSTORY

II.— THE

Chapter

I.

— Choosing a

Theme

Spontaneous Choice Seeking Out a Theme Themes Barred

1.

2. 3.

42 44 45 49

Exercises

Chapter

3.

Observation Experience Self-Study

4.

Reflection

1.

2.

II.

— Gathering the Materials

-

S-

Reading

6.

Discussion

7.

Taking Notes

.

...

Exercises

Chapter

III.

—

52 54 56

57 58 59 60 61

Fact in Fiction

Types of Fiction

1.

.

64

(a) Realistic (b) Romantic (c) Idealistic 2.

(d) Composite Use of Facts

Exercises

67 70

...

— Plot

I.

II.

What

is

Chapter IV. a Short-Story Plot

Kinds of Plot

71

76

1.

Surprise

2.

4.

Problem Mystery Emotion

gi

5.

Contrast

82

6.

Symbolism

g.

3.

77 7g 7g

CONTENTS

Vll

PAGE

What

III.

Constitutes a Good Plot

Simplicity Plausibihty Originality

1.

2. 3. 4.

Climax

5.

Interest

Exercises

91

Chapter V.

— Plot

Development

Sources of Plot

I.

93

Characters

1.

94 95 97 100

Dramatic Incidents 3. Impressionism Actual Plot Development 2.

II.

84 84 8s 87 8g 89

Exercises

107

Chapter VI.

— How

Stories are Told

2.

Third Person First Person

iii 115

3.

Letter

Form Diary Form Composite Form

120 120

1.

4. 5.

121

Exercises

124

Chaptek VII.— The Opening of the Story I.

The Best Usage 2.

II.

126

Opening with Dialogue Opening without Dialogue

1.

Bad Usage

127 132

146

Exercises

148

Chapter VIII.— The Setting of the Story I.

II.

Setting in General Description to Convey Setting 1. By Suggestion 3.

By Epithet By Hint

4.

Direct

5.

By

2.

6. 7.

8.

Effects

Figures of Speech Points of View Seven Steps in Description .

150 152 154 156 157 157 157 157 158 159

CONTENTS

VUl

PAGE

The Elements

III.

i6o

of Setting

Time

i6i

163

4.

Place Occupations Conditions

5.

TAe Setting Entire

1.

2. 3.

5^68

168 170 172

Exercises

Chapter IX.

— The Body of

the Story

1.

Incident

I74

2.

Emotion (a) Love

181

(b) (c) (d) (e)

Interest

Pathos Mirth

Emotion in the Story Emotion in the Author

Exercises

197

Chapter X.

— The

Body of the Story

— Concluded

Crisis

3. 5-

Suspense Climax

6.

Denouement

4.

199 201 203 205

210 2l6

Conclusion Exercises 7.

Chapter XI. I.

— Characters

and Characterization

The Characters

221

1.

Selecting the Characters

221

2.

Number of

224 226 228 229

3. 4. 5.

Characters

Classes of Characters Relations Author's Attitude

Characterization

11.

Effect to he Attained

230 230

2.

General Methods

231

3.

Specific

Methods

237 241

1.

Exercises

— Dialogue

Chapter XII. 1.

Proportion

2.

Office

3.

Subject Matter

4.

Manner

Exercises

245 247 251 252 261

CONTENTS

IX

— The Title

Chaptes XIII.

PAGE 1.

Functions

2.

Good

3.

Titles to

Titles

.

264 266 270

.

Avoid

Exercises

273

Chapter XIV.

— Style

General View

275 282

Exercises

Chapter XV.

— Some

Special Characteristics of the Short-

Story

Harmony

2.

of Tone Proportion

3.

Simplicity

4.

Compression

1.

284 288 289 291

Exercises

PART

296

III.—

PREPARATION FOR AUTHORSHIP

Chapter 1.

2.

I.

— What

is

Originality

The Test of Originality The Sources of Originality

Exercises

-

Chapter

II.

Chapter 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

III.

"306

— Acquiring a Vocabulary

Study of Short-Story Models The Dictionary Habit Synonyms and Antonyms Conversations on Words Translating Languages Study of Etymology Broad Usage

Chapter IV.

305

— Talent and Training

Views of Eminent Writers

1.

...

300 303

318 318 318 321 322

322 322

— The Study of the Short-Story — A Laboratory Method

Critical Estimates of the Author Studied " The Necklace," by Guy de Maupassant

Exercises

324 326 339

CONTENTS

i:

PART IV.— THE MANUSCRIPT AND ITS

MARKET Chapter 1.

2. 3.

I.

— Writing the

The Management of Notes Revision Preparing the Manuscript

Chapter

II.

3. 4.

Offering the Story by Mail

1.

.

Chapter

III.

Story

p^^^g

344 344 347

.

.

— Selling the Story

The Ordered Manuscript The Literary Agent Calling on the Editor

2.

.

352 353 354 356

.

— Why Stories are

Rejected

—a

Colloquy

PART v.— APPENDICES

— Collections of Short-Stories, Sketches, and Tales 375 Appendix B.— One Hundred Representative Short-Stories 382 Appendix C. — The Plots of Twenty Short-Stories 389 Appendix D. — Digest of Rhetorical Rules Applicable to Short- Story Writing 414 Appendix E. — Abbreviations of Publishers' Addresses 424 Appendix A.

.

.

Appendix F.— Books for a Fiction- Writer's Library Appendix G. Bibliography Genblal Index

—

.

.

.

.

426 427 432

FOREWORD The

short-story,

now

the most popular literary form,

engaging the study of writers unnumbered, and the terest of

an increasing host of readers.

ually crystallizing,

its

significance

is

Its art is

is

in-

grad-

deepening, and edu-

cators everywhere are giving courses for

its

study.

This

volume embodies the practical principles of short-story

American and British magazine editors, and as practised by authors whose products are judged to be of the first order. At the same time, the body of sound scholarship has not been lost sight of in considering the popular and marketable short-story, so structure as recognized by

that the treatise

is

peculiarly adapted to the needs of col-

lege and senior secondary-school classes, as well as suited to inspire

and guide the individual writer, amateur or who wishes to improve his art. Its prepara-

professional,

tion has involved a critical examination of practically

every great short-story

now

available in print,

and many

thousands of manuscripts read in the course of editorial service.

Its conclusions, therefore, are

seasoned with an

intimate knowledge of the short-story at at

its

worst — to-day.

The

invaluable

its

best

— and

assistance

of

brother editors, and especially that rendered by the editorial

staff

of Lippincott's Magazine, xi

is

gratefully ac-

FOREWORD

Xll

knowledged; as

is

also the discriminating criticism of

Professor Albert E. Hancock, of Haverford College,

who

kindly reviewed the proofs.

The Author Philadelphia,

March

21, 1909.

TO TEACHERS This

treatise

is

confidently

commended

you for

to

class-room use because of several important considerations:

inspirational

Its

method and

logical order are

based upon the best pedagogical approach; entire

ground of the subject

it

covers the

fully yet concisely;

it is

the

work, not of a doctrinaire, but of a successful editor

whose scholarship previously commanded attention in the college class-room and whose profession it has been for years to examine, purchase, edit and publish the shortstory, as well as other literary

od

at

forms

;

its

analytical

meth-

once reveals the road by which the author reaches

his conclusions,

student;

its

and leaves a

clear impression

upon the

suggestive questions and exercises following

each chapter, are not confined merely to the text, but will inspire

and

direct the student in original research, as well

as suggest to the teacher other profitable lines along

which such study may be followed, both in and out of its comprehensive table of contents, and

the class-room; analytical

summaries

at the close of each chapter, pre-

sent a clear view of the contents in whole its

and

in part;

appendices and bibliographies are the most complete

and helpful of any similar ones published; tory

Method for

the

its

"Labora-

Study of the Short-Story" xiii

is

TO TEACHERS

XIV original,

and constitutes the foundation for a future vol-

ume expanding

this

ready at work;

its

method, on which the author

is al-

typographical arrangement, para-

graphing, references and indexing, present the whole

manner as to facilitate lesson assignments, recitations and individual research; it actually teaches short-story writing, and not subject and

its

related parts in so clear a

merely facts about the short-story

— there

is

not a the-

ory in the whole volume but has stood the exacting double-test of teaching value

and of the best

editorial

practice.

The

Publishers

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION THE

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

iJriet tales

mere nave Been

since tne

worm

Degan, since inc

was first attempted, since the Cave-men the long evenings around the smoking fire with narratives

art of the story-teller filled

own who ventured abroad

of the mysterious deeds of the strange creatures of their primitive fancy, since the earliest travelers

brought back episodic accounts of one or another of their misadventures, commingled of fact and of fiction. Bkandek Mat-

—

thews, The Short-Story.

It is

easy to understand

why

primitive

men

loved the short-

and why the teller of such stories had a crowd about him in the streets of Bagdad and Damascus and why medieval men and story

;

women

delighted in the uncritical, loosely constructed tales in-

cluded in the Gesta Romanorum. To the earliest men experience preceded reflection, the story of life began to unroll itself before there were any glossaries or commentaries; the things which happened were the only real things; and when the imagination

began to open the windows and look out on the landscape of life, it saw everything from the standpoint of what had already happened. Hamilton W. Mabie, Stories New and Old.

—

XVI

WRITING THE SHORT-STORY HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION T,

THE RISE OF THE SHORT-STORY I.

The

story-writer

is

The Story-Teller the lineal descendant of the story-

was committed to tablet or papyrus, the spinner of yarns was recounting the deeds of gods and heroes, celebrating the glories of ancestors, and inciting warriors to valor. It was the spoken story teller.

Before the

that whiled

away

earliest tale

the tedium of the winter camp,

supportable the heat of the

summer

livened long evenings in the

What manner The

narration?

made

of stories

market-place, and enhomes of prince and peasant. were these first attempts at

childhood of the race

is

precisely pic-

young folk of our and action appealed strongly

tured for us in the tendencies of the times.

men

The

tale of incident

whose lives reflection was not yet a force fanunhampered by the sober limits of fact; wonder-stories wedded the unknown to the known. To our early forebears the world seemed peopled with unto

in

;

tasy could fly

I

THE

2

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

couth forces, mysterious presences, and supernatural beings, all delightfully free

from present-day

limitations.

—

or disEvery natural object, every natiu-al power, hid some god-like personality who might do the most surprising things upon the instant. So, born of this closed

—

condition are most of the Greek,

Roman and

Oriental

myths.

With such materials ready to hand, with such fears, and fancies thronging the mind and coloring life, what imaginative soul could refrain from weaving all this into story? The border-land between the known and the imagined was wide and its confines debatable, and if the protean story-teller had himself traveled, or warred, faiths

— as does the — an added spring from which

or suffered, he found within himself

yam-spinner of to-day

just

to

draw joyous draughts of

invention.

tieth-century narrator might well

Indeed, the twen-

envy his early predeces-

sor the marvel-world in which he lived

and more or modern

consciously gathered his materials; but the find

less

will

compensation in the wider and deeper worlds of

fantasy and of spirit which were closed to the uninstructed eye of the primitive story-teller.

2.

The Epic

Loose and free and of slow growth, the epic poem was for centuries the dominant story-form.

It

took the wealth

of material in which the ancient world abounded and strung the scattered stories upon a strand of personality.

Thus a Ulysses or an

.^Eneas

became the hero ofstales

THE originally told of

down

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

3

many another. From prehistoric times when the printed page spread the tale

to the years

open before every eye, the resident or the traveling story-

was almost the only purveyor of fiction, and he was welcome as is a visitor with recent magazines to a lighthouse on some distant and lonely island." Sometimes the story-teller dealt in prose forms, someteller

" as

times he chanted the sonorous lines of long heroic poems, linking for a succession of days the several parts of his

Often, in later centuries, his story took what

story.

may

form,

continued-ballad

the

call

and,

in

I

feudal

Europe, Trouvere, Troubadour and Jongleur enlivened court and

camp with accounts

of

some

favorite hero's ex-

ploits.

So we epics

many

find

of

^

all

really great stories in the

famous

tongues, as well as in other poetic types,

though in form they are primitive when compared with the developed modern short-story. Not until the spoken story

was

down

set

in writing,^ polished, revised, re-

and printed, did we get the forms to which we are The able accurately to trace our present artistic product. " modern short-story was long a-boming," and its line of

revised,

ancestry

is

ancient and honorable.

1

For a concise

'

The

Papyrus.

oldest

classified list see the

recorded story

is

that

Standard Dictionary. found in The Westcar

THE

4

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

The Ancient and

3.

the

Medieval Tale

"

Professor Baldwin* has pointed out that ancient and anec: the simple

early medieval tales are of three kinds

dote,\the scenario (or condensed plot), and, very rarely,

the

added the dotes,

To

short-story.

real

this

classification

tale that strings together

sometimes lengthening out

from another and there a notable exception, the chief difference one

is

might be

a g^oup of anecTheir indefinitely. length.

With here

tales written previous

to the nineteenth century lack the qualities which, as shall see, constitute the chief merits of the

And

story.

there

is

modem

we

short-

even when they were cast in that mold,

no indication that they were especially admired,

and certainly there waS no attempt at reproducing

their

kind more and more perfectly, as the conscious literary artist

does to-day.

Begiiming with the Egyptian papyrus

from 4000

to 1000 B.

Greek, Oriental, and

500 A. D.,

The same

we

stories,

C, down through

Roman

tales of

ranging

the Hebrew,

from 1000 B. C.

to

observe the same general characteristics.

Dark Ages, between and the dawn of the Renaissance, which gave us all the fantastic legends and devotional tales of what we may call the French; and after is

true of the tales of the

the decline of the classical era

that, the stories of the

em

tale prior to Poe.

Renaissance period, and the mod-

The modem

short-story is allied

3 For a full discussion, with exhaustive lists and some specimens in translation, see Jessup and Canby's The Book of the Short Story. Also the Introduction to The Short-Story^ Mat-

thews. *

American Short

Stories, p. 26.

THE to

all

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

5

of these by ancestry, in that they are preeminently

simple, direct,

As specimens

and generally devised

solely to tell a story.

of pure narration they are often admirable,

but short-stories they are not." 4.

The

The Sacred Books of

the East

short-story of to-day draws rich life-blood also

from the sacred writings of the Orient.

directly

Many

of these narratives have, in varying forms, been current for centuries, their original source remaining

unsuspected.

readers

The

movement, the mystical

rich

beliefs of the East,

these more-or-less -religious tales and invest

charm often

by most

the fascinating

color,

quite the equal of that which

permeate

them with a

we

feel in the

familiar Arabian Nights.

The

Bible contains

some of the purest specimens of

be found anywhere, whether ancient or modern. we examine the dramatic account of " The Prodi-

tales to

When

gal Son,"

that

and the

modern

art

idyllic tale is

of " Ruth,"

we must

confess

powerless to approach their simple

beauty and effectiveness.

Quite apart from the rever-

ence which these and other Biblical narratives inspire

many

in

minds,

it is

a source of constant marvel that such

venerable stories should have contained in large part the forecast of

standards.

what writers are to-day

striving after

as

Undisputed, they take their place at the head

of that small group of stories of

all

languages which,

See chap. i. For a summary of " The Sacred Books of the East " (the Bible excepted) see Summaries of Noted Books, in Charles Dudley Warner's Library of the World's Best Literature. ^

*

THE

6

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

though they are the product of

earlier centuries,

to-day the best examples of their sort. ically

they

antedated the schools to which, by an elastic phrase,

may

Among must not

be said to belong. the honored forebears of the short-story fail

to

name

Primitive men, in live

much

we

also

The Drama

5.

who

They

remain

prophet-

common with

children

and

adults

in their feelings, naturally dramatize

—

— thoughts and emotions. Indeed, the and through thousands act out a — almost as old as the of years — for the drama out

act

their

drama must ever

story,

tale

is

the growth of dramatic art has tremendously contributed to the vividness, the intensity, the compressed power, the

ingenuity of plot, and the emotional appeal of prose tion both long

and

short.

The

stage have neither time nor place for nonessentials

more has the

modem

fic-

printed play and the

short-story; but

ners centuries to find this out; and

it

— no

took yam-spin-

many

still

refuse to

must be left to a later chapter to dwell upon the service which the play and the playwright learn the lesson.

may

It

render to the story-writer. ^,

6.

It is

no more exact

of the short-story than

The Novel

to say that the novel is the father it is

to allege, as did Bret Harte,^

that the .\merican short-story T

Cornhill Magazine, July, 1899.

is

" the

germ of American

THE

come."

literature to

But

much.

RISE OF

To

THE SHORT-STORY assert either

7

to assert too

is

must appear to all that the short-story and the novel meet at more points than any other two forms it

of narration.

Of

course they

owe much

to each other,

but certainly the novel has influenced the short-story

more than the short-story has thus far helped the novel. But the critic a hundred years hence will scarcely so pronounce.

Already the characteristics of the best short-

form are apparent

story

their advantage,

come

not

in current novels

sometimes to their hurt.

— often

to

The two must

too close, however, lest each lose

its

individual

savor.

Not only are the novel and the short-story more nearly alike than any other two fictional forms, but for this very reason the novel has more strongly influenced the modern short-story than has any other literary type, not excepting the drama. While the short-story is essentially by far the older, the novel came to its own long before the short-story was recognized as a distinct species. Irving, Poe and Hawthorne; Maupassant, Gautier and Merimee; Stevenson, Barrie and Kipling; and all that brilliant Continental school that

made luminous

the

lit-

erary history of the nineteenth century, drew inspiration

more — incompar— than they ever did or could have done from

and instruction from ably all

more

earlier novelists,

the writers of tales

who

preceded them.

Upon

the

other hand, most of these and other nineteenth-century writers began the arduous climb of the novel-mountain by first

essaying the scarcely less precipitous ascent of the

short-story foothills.

THE

6

RISE OF

7.

THE SHORT-STORY

Other Literary Forms

Doubtless, in greater or less degree literary

all

of the older

forms have contributed to the short-story; but

doubtless, too, those already adverted to

full-handed than any and

have come more

The common with

the others.

all

example, exhibits few points in

essay, for

the short-

many short-stories (some of Hawthorne's, for and some of Irving's tales) contain much essay material, while now and then an essay is cast in story form. The Spectator essay really embodied, now and again, so much narrative material as to make it a suggestive theme for study to-day. But all in all the kinship

story, yet

instance,

of the essay with the short-story

The peal,

lyric also

and

all

has

made

is

only that of a cousin.'

gift of direct personal ap-

its

poetry has set up standards of lofty thought,

deep feeling and graceful expression. share, has given accuracy of

History, for

background and setting

its

—

and so on to the end of the category.

8.

The Perfecters of

the Short-Story

A fuU study of this topic would involve too much space here,* but

a few words

may

serve to point out the seven-

league strides taken by story-writers during and since the second quarter of the nineteenth centiuy.

— gen-

In 1819 Irving published " Rip van Winkle "

See The Book of the Short Story, Jessup and Canby, p. 17. For fuller discussions see the Introduction to Baldwin's American Short Stories, and to The Book of the Short Story. 8

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

ITS

but not universally, admitted to be a short-story

erally,

rather than a

and

9

In 1835

tale.

in 1842, in

an

article

Poe produced

on Hawthorne's

" Berenice,"

tales.^o

he im-

pliedly claimed for the short-story the right to be re-

garded as a

distinct species.

had been produced

fect short-stories

centuries, Poe's ing,

Though more

or less per-

at intervals for

many

keen criticism incited many to follow Irv-

Hawthorne, and the

critic himself,

thus originating

American short-story. In France, Nodier, M6rimee and Balzac and in a less degree Gautier and Musset were rendering much the same service for the French short-story, though on somewhat different lines. a distinctive type of

—

—

Excepting the highly fantastic stories of E. T. A. Hoff-

man,

in

Germany, the modern short-story developed

later

elsewhere on the continent and in Great Britain than in

France and

in

America, so that the honor of perfecting

must be accorded to America, France named, if we consider the importance of the work produced and the clear workingthe present genre

and Germany

—

in the order

theories evolved.

II.

ITS

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

no apologist. It has won for itself an honorable and honored place among literary forms and, what is more valuable, in the public heart. Evidently it has come to stay, and to stay in a class by itself.

The

I"

short-story needs

Graham's Magazine, May,

184a.

lO

ITS

I.

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

The Short-Story and

the

Novel

Irving said that he found the short-story a more cult

—

form of composition than the novel"

diffi-

though he

never published a real novel.

A

distinguished American critic concludes that "

work of the writer of the (novelists') differs

short-story differs

The

theirs

neither in quality nor in completeness;

only in magnitude.

tive feeling for

it

It involves, if possible, a

firmer grasp of situations, a surer touch, a

It is the

from

dramatic values."

more

sensi-

"

opinion of Professor Brander Matthews that,

"Although as a form of fiction the Short-story is not inferior to the Novel, and although it is not easier, all things considered, yet its brevity makes its composition simpler for the 'prentice hand."" In concluding his admirable brochure, The Short Story, ^* Mr. Henry Seidel Canby says " Except in one instance, which of single incidents or detached

Short Story its

is

is

the vivid expression

movements

in

life,

not to be chosen before the novel

;

the

but in

capacity for perfection of structure, for nice discrim-

and for a satisfying exposition of the power of words, it is much superior to the novel, and can rank only below the poem. But the novel and ination in means, full

the 11

12

Short-^Story are distinct instruments,

differently

Life and Letters, Vol. II, p. 227. Hamilton W. Mabie, in the Introduction to Masterpieces

of Fiction. IS The Philosophy of the Short-Story, 14 V^7^ Cf«(/f«'<>r «M TlMnlieU

p. 51.

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

ITS

designed, for diverse needs.

view

it is

And

II

with such a point of

impossible not to grant to the latter a separate

use and classification."

These opinions are representative, and indicate the powhich the short-story has attained in seventy-

sition to

Indeed,

five years.

up a clearer

critical

it

may

be said that there has grown

conception of the ideal short-story,

and a more general agreement among experts as essential characteristics, than

garding the

ideal novel.

to its

have yet been reached re-

Naturally, attainment in the

form has been correspondingly higher among contemporary writers. short-story

2.

It is

Reasons for Popularity

a different mood, perhaps even a different tem-

perament, that prefers the short-story to the novel. swift

human

former

modem

We

The

appeal and the concise directness of the

it

not only to our energetic and easily jaded

spirit,

but to our keener modern insight as well.

suit

are less willing than formerly to have the obvious

pointed out and the commonplace analyzed, even these

are performed

services

This, of course,

is

the

mood

in

when

a masterly manner.

of the busy reader, and of

the languid or the impatient observer as well.

The novel

only will satisfy the desire for sustained observation.

As touching tiplication of

an

effect.

the popularity of the short-story the mul-

popular magazines

The

increasing

is

demand

at

once a cause and

for short-stories has

encouraged new magazine ventures, resulting

in a

wider

12

ITS

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

market for story-writers, and a decrease in the demand Natm^ally, so

for novels.

much

writing means

much

poor writing; still, the tendency is upward, and magazine editors are becoming more and more critical of the stories offered to them, though it must be admitted that when called upon to choose between popularity and literary quality the present-day editor

is still likely

to choose

Writers of genius in increasing numbers

popularity.

find the rewards of short-story writing attractive, this alone accounts for

When quality advances,

a marked advance in

appreciation broadens.

and

quality.

Further-

more, the growing love for art in all its forms stimulates interest

which

the

in

in the

The same

short-story.

pubUc

artistic

sense

rejoices in the sharp clearness of the

cameo-like story, and the delicate coloring of the fictive miniature, inspires the writer to finer

and author unite to perfect

lic

work

— and so pub-

this fascinating

art

In seeking for the reasons that underlie the remarkable popularity of the short-story

we must

not overlook the

spirit

of play which abounds in a world so devoted to

work

as

its

is

ours.

In the humor

puzzles, its breathless

millions take life

daUy

adventm

The

I

recreation, an

of fantasy that softens the hard

3.

;hort-story, as in

c

its

love appeals,

turn aside to a life

of fact

Influence of the Short-Story

This beneficent mission of

fiction

makes more con-

temptible the pandering vidousness of those writers

who

debase their gifts by presenting distorted views of

life.

PLACE AND POWER

ITS PRESENT

1

placing false values upon the things of experience, and

—

picturing unclean situations

all

for the sake of gain.

However, only a very small percentage of stories presented to magazine editors are of such objectionable

character ; the great majority of fiction-writers are above

The

these sordid temptations. is

for reality

and

truth,

and

writer's

search to-day

as nobly as could any other professional class.

takes is

its

short-stories seriously

Any

a humorist.

he bears

this responsibility

The public

— even when the author

manifest warping of truth

is

re-

sented at once, so that even the farce and the dime

shocker must seem to

The

tell

the

truth.^''

upon the novel has power is even more evinewspaper, which serves up

influence of the short-story

already been touched upon.

dent in the style of the daily fact as fiction

— and,

it is

Its

parlance everything

reporter's

newspaper /follows as

is

a " story,"

closely as possible the

the breezy short-story writer.

our most vivid

fictionists

In the

alleged, fiction as fact.

It

and the

methods of

may be answered

were themselves trained

that

in the

But the fact remains, whatever be cause Even the contemporary essay, the travel sketch, and the hybrid magazine article, have nursed at the short-story bottle, and are sprightly " in precise proportion." Thus the latest literary form to

newspaper

field.

and what

effect.

come

own

to

its

is

contributing generously to our litera-

ture and our life. In the words of Professor Albert E. Hancock, " it now holds chief attention and consumes 15

See chapter on Fact in Fiction.

ITS

14

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

The most

most energy."

polished fictionists engage in

production, the most respected magazines

its

for ers,

in their pages, it is welcomed by a myriad readand vast commercial concerns are interested in its

it

sale.

OUTLINE SUMMARY I.

make room

THE

RISE OF

THE SHORT-STORY

6.

The The The The The The

7.

Other Literary Forms

8.

The Perfecters of

1.

2. 3.

4. 5.

II. ITS 1.

2. 3.

Story-Teller

Epic Ancient and Medieval Tale Sacred Books of the East

Drama Novel the Short-Story

PRESENT PLACE AND POWER

The Short-Story and the Novel Reasons for Popularity The InHuence of the Short-Story

PART

I

THE NATURE OF THE SHORT-STORY

15

Clear cut, with occasional plastic inspirations and moments descriptive genius, Maupassant made himself the

of exquisite

foremost master of the art of short-story writing in a group of writers who seemed to know instinctively the limitations and the resources of a literary form which exacts the nicest perceptions and the surest skill. He almost unerringly selected a single

situation,

suppressed

all

related detail

one or two characters

that

did

not

vitally

contribute to

to

it,

portraiture,

sketched a background with a few telling strokes, knit plot, and denouement strongly together to secure

character, situation,

unity of effect.

— Hamilton

W.

Mabie, The Outlook, April

25,

1908.

In the short-story of the first rank, power, skill, and invention combine to produce, with few materials, an eflfect similar in definiteness and intensity to that which lies within reach of the masters of fiction alone. It deals, as a rule, with an episode rather than a complete movement of experience ; with- a. situation rather than with a series of events; with a single

character rather than with a group; it must be condensed without sacrifice of shading or atmosphere; it must move swiftly to climax, without any appearance of haste; it must omit the great mass of details, and yet leave nothing essential unsaid. It is not a study for a longer tale, nor is it a long story abbreviated it is a work of art which has its own laws, its special qualities, its individual sources of charm; it must stand complete its

;

in itself.

— Hamilton

W. Mabie,

Introduction to Masterpieces of

Fiction.

16

PART

I

THE NATURE OF THE SHORT-STORY

CHAPTER WHAT Now tions.

F.

A SHORT-STORY

IS

a Story is something is a definite thing. reads

it

...

definition

is

and growing and to fence

it

It

incidents is

would carry away a

HoPKiNSON Smith, quoted

'A

more than

It

man who

a

I

in Barrett's

definite impression.

Short Stor^ Writing.

a dangerous thing. a thing

resilient

about, to fix

its

and descrip-

such a reality that

The more vital more difScult by statute. The

the

is,

limitations

formed itself experimentally; it was not inPoe and Hawthorne were heirs of all that had

short-story

vented.

gone before. the short-story

So we may

arrive at an understanding of form rather by observation than by defini-

tion.

Certain things, clearly, the short-story cannot be, and

because these are most often the very things inexperi-

enced writers produce and label as short-stories,

we

shall first inquire,

I.

WHAT A SHORT-STORY

But here a word of

caution.

sort of literary composition 17.

is

IS

NOT

To deny

that a certain

a short-story

is

not to

WHAT

l8

condemn

It

it.

IS

A SHORT-STORY

may be

altogether

Emerson's mountain made

kind.

admirable of

its

a very pretty squirrel

it couldn't crack a nut. It wasn't intended to. an author prefers to write something other than short-stories, let him do so; he may write that one

track, but If

thing better than any other has yet done

it,

but he

must not complain when he fails to sell his product as a short-story. There may be a market for his wares, but

it is

The are

—

not the short-story market.

greatest sources of misapprehension to imagine two

illustrative

cases

on

this score

— the

contents

of a given volume of some famous author's collected writings, and a copy of any popular (inagaziiiew The young student of the short-story takes up either of these miscellanies and finds, let us say, several types of fictitious narrative, all admirable, all artistic, but only one

of which

is

really

plicitly labeled the

dote,

and the

tale

a short-story.

Now, no one

sketch a sketch, the anecdote

a

tale, so

hasf^exan,'

anec-

the uninstructed reader

may

what their authors never designed them to be, and what the editors knew perfectly well that they were not short-stories. Not all blackfteathmistake any or

all

for

—

ered birds are ravens

to find

:

a literary narrativ^ in a

by a famous author, does not imply that it purports to be a short-story. Wilat shall we do, then? Simply press our inquiry as to what a high-class magazine, signed

short-story

is

and what

when we come vidual use.

not, using our own judgment upon the form best for our' indi-

it is

to decide

WHAT I.

A SHORT-STORY

IS

The Short-Story

Not

Is

I9

a Condensed

Novel

Several popular magazines to-day publish complete novelettes monthly, their length,

which

are necessarily limited by the Thirty-five thousand

ted.

from novels only

differ

in

though both theme and method of handling

number of words permit-

words

is

— some

probably a fair av-

some shorter nowadays the full-grown novel runs from eighty to a hundred thousand words. Many are still shorter, whereas only a few reach the old ordinary length of one hundred and fifty thousand words and upward. The day of the two- and three-volume novel

erage for these

little

— while

novels

longer,

happily seems to be past.

—

more it would still be say to within half its present compass a condensed novel and not a long short-story.^ The real But

if

the true novelette were compressed yet

—

difference

(a)

is

The

denied Tales,'"'

ta

in kind,

not in length.

short-story produces a singleness of effect

me

novel.

Poe writes

In

his

essay,

" Hawthorne's

as follows:

1 The matter of nomenclature is always diflScuIt when names have long been loosely used. There is one sort of so-called jwjvel which in character is really only a long short-story. The Port :af). Missing Men, by Meredith Nicholson, and The Filigree Bt^hy Anna Katharine Green, may serve as examples. This s ort jia s' scarcely any of the characteristics of the novel, except compression, and aH^ji^^fofo nature of the short-story scope. It lacks the breadth of the one withboth of plot iM

—

^ attaining^^^e

concentration of the other. The greater are of this type light, ephemeral, episodic, improbable stories, intended to while away four idle hours. Quite the same is true of many novelettes.

out

number of "no^ls" published to-day ^Graham's Magazine, May,

1835.

—

WHAT

20 " As._ ting,

it^lhe_ novel) deprives

it

IS

from

derivable

itself,

A SHORT-STORY cannot

reacL_at- one

be

of course, of the

totality.

Worldly

sit-

immense force

interests intervening

during the pauses of perusal modify, annul or contract, in a greater or less degree, the impressions of the book. in reading would, of itself, be suf-

But simply cessation to

ficient

destroy the true unity.

however, the author of his intention, be

is

what

it

may.

it

perusal the soul of the reader

resulting

A

is

During the hour of at the writer's con-

his

—

from weariness or interruption.

skilful literary artist

has constructed a

wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to

date

tale,'

There are no external or extrinsic influences

trol.

"

In the brief

enabled to carry out the fullness

incidents;

liberate

care,

wrought

out,

but

having

conceived,

tale.

If

accommowith

de-

a certain unique or single effect to be

he then invents such incidents

combines such events as ing this preconceived

may

best aid If

effect.

his

him

ve^

— he

then

in establishinitial

sen-

tence tend not to the out-bringing of this effect, then he

has failed in his very sition^ there

first step.

In the whole compo-

should be no woJ^d written of which the

tendency, direct or indirect, lished design. skill,

a picture

mind

of

As by is at

is

not to the one pre-estab-

such means, with such care and

length painted which leaves in the

him who contemplates

sense of the fullest satisfaction.

it

with a kindred art a

The

idea of the tale

has been presented unblemished, because undisturbed; 3

is

By

"brief tale" Poe doubtless means what in this treatise

called uniformly the short-story.

WHAT and

this is

brevity

is

an end unattainable by the

is

Growing out of is

yet

this further

Undue

novel.*

poem;

to be avoided."

simplicity, for totality

demand upon

from

the short-story

the novel in scope and in

Speaking broadly, the novel

short-story intensive.

special

is expansive, the great novelists sought " the

The

all-embracing view " of

upon a

more

need for

this

(b) It must differ structure.

21

just as exceptionable here as in the

but undue length

of effect,

A SHORT-STORY

IS

life,

the short-story' writer looks

— and often an exaggerated — ^aract

er,

The canvas on which the true novelist paints is broader, accommodating more characters, who stand out upon a larger and more varied background. Thus in the real novel the reader is- enabled "to see life whole," in Matthew Arnold's expressive phrase. Such a broad fictional outlook was Goethe's, rather than Poe's. Not any number of shortincident, or experience.

•

however comprehensive and however

stories,

related, could

by Balzac in

The

compass the universal life-record essayed his

Comedie Humaine.

plot of the novel

and contributory ploits

a

skilfully

single

is

often complicated by episodes

sub-plots,

whereas

the__sh ort-storv ex-

predominating Jncident, to which the

* Certain novels also leave a single compact impression upon the mind. Compare " The Fall of the House of Usher," which leaves a weird impression of a decaying family come to its final with Romola, whose general impression is simply the disaster degeneration of Tito Melema. Both create unified impressions, but the novel also presents a broad cross-section of life. The unity of the one is composed of an infinite and wonderfully organized diversity, while that of the other is simple. The one is a diamond of many facets, the other a pearl.

—

WHAT

22 Other

and

incidents

A SHORT-STORY

IS

— few,

any

if

— must

be

subordinate

directly contributory."

the greater

Finally,

canvas and the more involved

plot of the novel naturally

ment than

is

possible in

mean a more

leisurely

move-

the short-story, though many

sensational novels of the romantic type (not typical nov-

and certainly not models in any sense) crowd incident upon incident with tremendous speed. But usually the els,

realistic novelist takes plenty

acters philosophize

of time to

make

his char-

on questions germane to the

setting,

or to advocate a cause, or to expose a condition. Not so the short-story. Since it must " move swiftly to its climax," all its

mechanism

is

simplified

and

di-

At first this necessity for compression may seem to hamper the writer, but in reality it ofifers greater freedom. Themes too slight for vested of clogging parts.

the sustained spirit of the novel, light bits of fantasy, in-

tense but brief incidents of grist for the short-story mill.

nearly

all

novels,

life,

all

make admirable

Love, which permeates

whether romantic or

realistic, is

a necessary accessory of the short-story.

The

not

details

character and setting, which the novelist paints,

of

life,

in

with minute attention, the short-story writer deline-

ates with a

more

few swift strokes

— which

must be

all

the

deft because they are so few.

Thus, in

its

singleness of effect, in

its

more minute

" In his interesting Philosophy of the Short-Story, p. 16, Prof, " A Short-story deals with a single\, Brander Matthews says :

'

a single event, a_ single emotion, or the series of emotions called forth by a single situation." This is a suggestive but extreme statement. character,

WHAT scope,

and

proves

itself to

in

IS

A SHORT-STORY

jts^sim plicity o f^

23

sf "rtnrp

the short-story

be something quite diiferent from a mere

condensed novel. 2.

We

The Short-Story

have seen that the novels of the eighteenth lacked

the plotted unity of the that they differed

works of the

from the

later century

—

and

in

tale chiefly in length

Excerpt from Rod-

more Random, The Vicar of WakeReld,

the introduction of erick

Not an Episode

Is

episodes.

or

Tom

Jones,

almost any one of the complete episodes with which they

abound, and the extract might be called a short likewise with

many a

tale.

Do

complete episode from some mod-

ern novels and you have the same.

In neither case,

however, would the episode exhibit the

plot, the sense

of coming^io a poiut^^of^nding up, which isjnecessary to the ^short-story.

To make

a

first-class

short-story

The

readev feels the conlonger would clusion and would not turn the page of the magaziHe

be to spoil

it.

While the episode fits which it was parenthetically inserted to illustrate some phase of character or of conduct, the short-story is not meant to dovetail into a novel which is to appear later. to see if there is anything

more.

in with the rest of the novel, into

To

be sure, certain short-stories

—

— notably

detective

are linked in series but in each part nowadays the story comes to a full stop, a satisfying resolution The connection with the other to use a musical figure. stories

;

—

stories of the series is in the detective, perhaps, or in the

lay expert, not in

any

relation of the plots.

3-

The Short-Story

This said

—

Is

Not a

Scenario, or Synopsis

not very diflferent from saying what has been

is

that the short-story is not a condensed novel.

Yet there

is

a distinction which a word

will, suffice to

emphasize.

In plotting out a play or a novel the author

.

Or

a scenario.

a synopsis

may

may make

be made after the work

But such a skeleton would lack red blood as surely as it would be awkward and unhas been completed.

interesting, if not actually repellent.

The

play of char-

pungency of conversation, the photography of Many of the tales of the description, would be absent. Decameron suffer for lack of these qualities. Compresacter, the

sion

is essential,

but

it

will not

do to squeeze a story to

death. 4. It Is

Not a Biography

This would seem to be obvious, yet every editor re-

number of life-stories, complete from no central incident, no unified ef" Johnny Shark " ' is their writing.

ceives a surprising

birth to burial, with fect,

justify

to

such a biography

—

albeit the life of

a diverting

fish.

"

Marse Chan," by Thomas Nelson Page, one of the finest of our modern fictions, is a fictive biography rather than a short-story.

Here

I

must again emphasize the importance of not

concluding that a tale or a

fictive

biography

may

not be

of the highest literary quality, and absorbingly interest8

From The

Strife of the Sea,

by T. Jenkins Hains.

WHAT ing, because

" Will

it

is

A SHORT-STORY

IS

25

not a real short-story.

Stevenson's

Mill " must be generally considered as quite the equal of " Marse Chan," yet it is not purely, or

even as

o'

the

chiefly,

a short-story

— magnificent work of

fiction

it is.

5. It

Is

Not a Mere Sketch

In the Vatican there are notable collections of pencil

drawings by Michelangelo.

Examine them and you

marvel at their delicate strength of beauty will enchant you. General, only general.

will

suggestive

But what is their final effect? tell no story; they leave

They

you -no message; they are incomplete

with,

The

line, their

sketches.

and prophets, wonderful as they are as examples of pose, movement, and foreshortening, figures of sibyls

do not possess a narrative value.

For

that

we must

look

to the

Last Judgment, and the Biblical stories frescoed

by

master in the Sistine Chapel.

this

Again,

when Ruskin

criticised

the

brilliant

color

Turner he refused to consider them as picand though they hang to-day in the basement of

studies of tures,

the National Gallery in

London under the same roof

as the artist's completed masterpieces,

what Ruskin knew them studies of phases

to be

still

they remain

— mere records of

color,

of color-truth, unorganized impres-

sions.

Just so, whatever value word-sketches of character

and atmosphere may possess

— and

many do have an

incomparable value as impressionistic records, as suggestive studies

— they are not

short-stories, for in

them

WHAT

26

IS

A SHORT-STORY

nothing happens; they have neither essential beginning nor necessary ending; the^^eave no single completed .impression

they lack the effect of totality on which

;

Poe so constantly

What more

insisted.

exquisite piece

of descriptive prose narrative does the English language hold than Lafcadio Hearn's " Chita "? And it perfectly

the fictional

illustrates

sketch which

is

not a

short-

story.

6.

The Short-Story Is Not a Tale

Once more the matter of nomenclature raises a difficulty. The ternis " tale " and " short-story " are commonly used interchangeably. Poe so uses them, Mr. Henry James loosely refers to novels as tales, and Professor Brander Matthews now and then indulges a free Indeed,

transfer of the expressions.

it

will not

do

to

be too precise here, for the tale readily drifts over into the short-story, and the latter into the former. ever, for the purposes of a treatise

of

this

scope

it

Howseems

make between these close kindred a diswhich is more than academic, for to deny

necessary to crimination

the distinction entirely

is

not to class the short-story

as a separate literary species.

Something concerning the origin this

A little

— has been said

volume, but tale

is

tale

— particularly as to

its

in the Historical Introduction to

now we need a

definition:

a simple narrative, usually short, having

or no plot, developing no essential change in the

relation of the characters,

and depending for

its interest

WHAT Upon

IS

A SHORT-STORY

incidents rather than

upon

plot

27

and the revelation

of character.

Here

is

an attempt

at a

grouping of

KINDS OF TALE ^ (Classified as to

Purpose

)

fFable Parable

Didactic

Allegory

Moral Sporting

Adventure Entertaining

Strange Experience

Humorous

Myth Legend Anecdote Either Didactic

Travel

or Entertaining

Historical

.True Story

Whether designed entertainment, cast in the

narrative. ^ all

all

to teach a lesson or to

tell

a story for

of the foregoing general themes,

when

form of the tale, will be found to be simple Fundamentally they do not conform to Poe's

This classification must not be understood as implying that short fictions on these general themes are tales and not

short-stories.

WHAT

28

IS

A SHORT-STORY

important law, that the short-story should march in its

all

parts directly and swiftly toward a single impression.

The

tale

tions,

admits of digressions, moral or amusing

and loosely-connected episodes ad

reader feels

it

reflec-

libitum.

to be, not a skilfully organized

The

and com-

pact unity, but a mere incident taken out of a larger experience, if

more of which of

similar kind

might be

related

the narrator would.

Now it must be borne constantly in mind that the magazines to-day are printing many excellent tales, which touch

or three points the peculiar

in one, two,

genre of the short-story, and in proportion as they do this

more

become

fully they

less the tale

short-story, until sometimes the tition "

The

becomes

like

a hair

and more the

"middle wall of par-

— too thin

to split.

which consciously seek the which we now credit to the

best examples of tales

methods and the

effects

Washington Irving. Here and same may be said of Chaucer's poetic Canterbury Tales and the stories of Boccaccio. In his Introduction to the Tales of a Traveler, Irving says: " For my part, I consider a story merely as a frame upon which to stretch my materials. It is the play of thought, and sentiment, and language; the weaving in short-story, are those of

there, too, the

of characters, lightly, yet expressively delineated; the familiar and faithful exhibition of scenes in common life and the half-concealed veyi of humor that is often playthese are among what I aim ing through the whole

—

at,

I

and upon which

think I succeed."

I

felicitate

myself in proportion as

WHAT

IS

A SHORT-STORY

In that exposition of his

Irving erected the

art,

half-way house between the

critical

29 first

and the short-

tale

story.

Mr. Henry Seidel Canby* has thus summed up

this

distinction

" It

might be asserted that what ,is loosely called the

modern Short Story seems by a very

to differ

from the old

tale

adaptation of means to end, which

scientific

end may be called vividness, and by a structure which, in its nice proportions

pression,

is

and

potentiality for adequate ex-

a more excellent instrument than anything

the old tale can

show and by an ;

interest in situation, as

Also through

a rule, rather than in simple incident. source,

the

which

is

usually of a situation

;

an impression or impressions, and the purpose, which is to fitly

convey these impressions as well as to '

Ruth

'

°

will

Purloined Letter

and

'

Markheim,'

of Clergy,'

^*

^°

'

"

'

A

Coward,'

"

or

'

The

Without Benefit

'

for the typical Short Story.

being written,

tale,

as a tale done into Short Story form,

sary to say what characterizes

now

a story.

tell

do very well as an example of the

I

at greater vividness,

all

should suggest that

and

If

it is

neces-

of the shorter stories it is

this attempt is

an attempt

made

largely

through those practices in composition which the endeavor to convey

common 8

fitly

an impression has brought

Introduction to Jessup and CaiAy's

The Book of

Story. 9

10 ^1

into

use."

Maupassant.

Bible.

'^^

Poe. Stevenson.

12 Kipling.

the Short

WHAT

30

II.

Having seen

IS

A SHORT-STORY

WHAT A SHORT-STORY

IS

what respects other narrative forms

in

—

the novel, the episode, the scenario or synopsis, the biog-

raphy, the sketch, and the tale story,

will

it

be a

much

—

differ

from the

short-

briefer task to assemble its posi-

tive qualities.

The

true short-story

is

marked by seven

character-/

istics

2.

A A

3.

Imagination.

1.

Single Predominating Incident. Single Preeminent Character.

4. Plot. 5.

Compression.

6.

Organization.

7.

Unity of Impression.

All of these either have been discussedjn the negative exposition or will be touched it

is

A

upon

laterll

Perhaps, then,

time to attempt a definition:

Short-Story

is

a

brief,

imaginative narrative, un-

folding a single predominating incident and a single chief character,

^* it

are so compressed,

contains a plot, the details of which

and the whole treatment so organized,

as to produce a single impression. J *7' In proportion as the short-story embodies bines

its

seven parts artisticaUy, that

—

is

and comharmo-

to say

WheiTTiwo " chief " characters are chi-e-f-. coordinate, as is rarely the case, the exception will merely sustain this element in the definition. 1*

Note the word

strictly

WHAT

IS

niously and effectively,

A SHORT-STORY

it is

3

Not all great shortThough no unnecessary

great.

stories are great at all points.

point should be included, and no important factor omitted,

qualities

its brilliant

still

Thus

tive parts.

criticism

may

must be

atone for flexible

its

defec-

and unpreju-

Suppose the London publishers had declined

diced.

Dickens's novels because they exhibited grave defects!

Do of

not forget that the whole its

all

secret?

result

sum

must possess a

must be almost a living personality. and lay bare its vital At every stage of our inquiry we must feel own,

spirit all its

And who how

greater than the

is

The completed

parts.

it

will analyze that for us

impossible

it is

to

more than lumber, or

saw up a story and find anything and glue its parts together

to nail

and have aught other than a grinning Crandall clown.

The

story, the

yam,

have a story to

tell

is

the big thing.

the telling of

it

Unless the writer is

foolish contra-

diction.

"

—

But "

short-story

How so

I

is

shall I

many

hear some young writer say not

all this

and

is all that, I

am

—"

if

work with freedom within the bounds

fences

?

the

in despair.

of

"

For reassuring reply look at the painter of pictures. Having passed through the times of thou-shalt-not and thou-shalt, he is all the freer to express his ideals with individuality. The body of rules he has learned is not so much with him consciously while he works, as that it

has formed his standards and cultivated his

to criticise himself.

and,

when

Beyond

that, rules

slavishly adhered, to,

ability

have no value,

produce wooden

re-

WHAT

32

The canons of

suits.

lights,

A SHORT-STORY

IS

literary art are to serve as beaco:

not as destructive

fires.

OUTLINE SUMMARY I.

WHAT A 1.

SHORT-STORY

IS

NOT

a Condensed Novel (a) Singleness of Effect

Not

(6) Differs in Scope and Structure 2.

3. 4. 5. 6.

II.

Not Not Not Not Not

WHAT A Seven

an Episode a Scenario a Biography a Mere Sketch a Tale SHORT-STORY

IS

characteristics,

and

definition.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY Should an editor decline to publish a brief story solely be it does not conform to the standards of short-story forr as set forth in such a treatise as this? Give reasons supportini your answer. \^ Do you think that all writers of technically perfect short 2. stories are conscious of their art, or do some intuitively conforr to good usage? Does a knowledge of rules help or hinder an origins 3. genius? Show how. Set down the points of likeness and of difference betwee 4. the short-story and the novel. What is a picaresque novel? An episode? (See diction 5. 1.

cause

ary.) 6.

Is

there any difference in

method between

Tfie Vicar

WHAT 7.

Is Irving's " " Rip

short-story? 8.

ble,

dote. 9.

IS

A SHORT-STORY

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow " Van Winkle " ? Why?

Define the terms

:

33 a tale, or a

(a) didactic, (b) a fable, (c) a para-

an allegory, (e) a myth, (f) a legend, (g) an anec(See dictionary.) Is it always possible to put into words the final impression

(d)

of a short-story?

Illustrate.

Write (a) a brief fairy story, (b) a parable, (c) a fable, (d) an anecdote, (e) a tale in imitation of a myth. 11. Write a tale based upon (a) an adventure, (b) or travel, (c) or a legend, (d) or a psychic experience. Write a sketch showing (a) a phase of character, (b) or 12. a bit of home life, (c) or an emotion. 10.

Note:

Just now, do not bother about the later instructions of volume, but write according to your present standards. All written work should be preserved, so that rewriting and development may be called for in connection with later study. this

CHAPTER

II

KINDS OF SHORT-STORY and exacting as are its requirements, up as many kinds of mirrors as life demands for the reflection of its numberless aspects and experiences. It affords, too, ample opportunity for subtle and penetrating analysis; for close and merciless study of morbid temperaments or vitally sympathetic portraitures of great natures contending with tragic conditions for the segregation of a bit of significant experience and a finished presentation of its aspects and effects; for the detachment of a single figure from the dramatic movement, and a striking sketch of its features and gestures; for the dissection of a motive so searching and skilful

Narrow

the

as are

short-story

its

limits

holds

;

its deepest roots are laid bare; for effectiveness in bringing a series of actions into clear light in a sudden and brief crisis, and telling a complete story by suggestion; for the delicate im-

that

pressionism which by vividness or charm of phrase and diffusion of atmosphere, magically conveys the sense of landscape; for the touch of

humor concentrated on a person or an

and on an exMabie, Stories New and incident,

for the touch of tragedy resting like a finger of fate

perience or a character.

— Hamilton W.

Old. It is as

impossible as

descriptive catalogue of

who

does

it

all

not recognize

scarcely produce

kinds of story

much

to their profit. spirit

to compile a

the kinds of short-story. the

may mate

He

fundamental kinds can

anything worthy of the name.

sides,

upon by the

would be useless

Be-

in unsuspected variety

—

The army-story may be breathed

of sport and yet tickle the reader to

KINDS OF SHORT-STORY tears.

As

35

romance

to general sorts, either realism or

consists with pretty nearly every kind of story; so farce,

comedy, tragedy, melodrama, and the tones that

sound between; while love will consort with almost

known

varieties.

garded as general

Thus

must be

these broad types

all

re-

rather than individual species.

spirits,

The following grouping

may

do

— by no

Itheans exhaustive

—

serve to stimulate the writer to invent fresh com-

binations of motive, scope

and

setting.

I

may

say in

passing that the various kinds in large measure apply to the sketch, the tale,

and the novel quite as

closely as

to the short-story.

A SHORT-STORY CLASSIFICATION

for Children

Children

{ '

for Adults

School College

Youth I.

^

Stories

Adventure

Based on

Start in Life

Types of

Humanity.

Home and Family

Women

{ '

Men

Love Politics

War Adventure

^ Whitcomb, in The Study of a Novel, appendix, differentiates over two hundred "types of prose fiction," without classifying them, however.

36

KINDS OF SHORT-STORY

KINDS OF SHORT-STORY

37

KINDS OF SHORT-STORY

38

4

(a)

Try

to

add several kinds of short-stories to the

classi-

(b) Criticise the classification. Construct at least five combinations from the foregoing 5. list, thus: character-trades-comedy; a children's-adventure-

fication

given in this chapter,

A

fairy story.

Which of 6. Which next?

the five seems most promising in

material?

Draw up a short plan for such a story. From memory what kind of stories does Kipling generally write? W. W. Jacobs? "O. Henry"? Mary Wilkins Freeman ? Henry James ? " Anthony Hope " ? " Mark Twain " ? Name your favorite short-story writer and tell the sort of 9. 7.

—

8.

stories he or she writes. 10.

Why

11.

What

kinds of stories predominate in the magazines now-

Does

this

do you

like that particular sort?

adays ? 12.

why?

seem to you

to be

a bad or a good

sign,

and

PART II THE STRUCTURE OF THE SHORT-STORY

39

In literary as in all other art, structure is all-important, felt, that architectural conception or painfully missed, everywhere of work, which foresees the end in the beginning and never loses sight of it, and in every part is conscious of all the rest, till the last sentence does but, with undiminished vigor, unfold and

—

justify the

first

—a

condition of literary art, which

shall call the necessity of

mind

— Walter

in style.

...

I

Patek.

do not believe in hard and fast rules for the construction Methods of work must vary with individual temperaments. My own way of work naturally seems to me the most logical, but I realize that this is a question which each writer must decide for himself. Personally, I find it necessary to know the general course of a story, and above all to know Aklo Bates. the end before I can begin it. I

of stories.

—

PART

II

THE STRUCTURE OF THE SHORT-STORY

CHAPTER I CHOOSING A THEME First of all (I would say), choose a truly American subject.

my young

friend,

you should

All the critics say that this

is

Americanism is what the age demands and it must be produced even if we have to invent a machine to do it. Do not go abroad for your theme. Do not trifle with the effete European nightingale or ramble among Roman ruins. Take a theme from the great Republic; something that comes close to the business and bosoms of the Democracy; something unconventional and virile. Take, for example, the Clam the native, essential.

;

—

American, free-born, little-neck Clam. We all know it. We all love it. Deal originally and vividly with the Clam. Henry Van Dyke, Some Reflections on the Magazines: a humorous

—

address delivered before the Periodical Publishers' Association of America, Washington, D. C, April 17, 1904,

The

short-story

is

a

vital force in the

but more especially in the

life

modern world,

of the American people.

Multiform and complex as are the

interests of

our land,

form of literature is adequate to their expression and we have only begun the development of its infinite resources. There are no limits to the range of theme suitable to the short-story, except only propriety this

latest ;

41

CHOOSING A THEME

42

and bigness. One might fill volumes in attempting name the unending varieties of life, and their infir which

interplay,

sis

offer inviting subjects

merciless dissection of temperame

of character,

portraiture

brilliant

for the int

Subtle analysis of motive, swift synt

preter's pen.

of types, humorous sketching

march of

crudities, satirical thrusts at foibles, tragic tality, delicate

tracing of fancy, sure unfolding of er

tions, robust depicting of

—

achievement

all

the free

2

unmeasured sweep of a myriad-sided nation dwelli in a young land of swiftly-changing color comes to

American story-artist, clamoring for delineation. Th no lack of fresh themes. But from this embarrassment of riches how does writer select a theme? Doubtless, no two just alii yet all methods of selection may roughly be incluc under either of two. For some writers

is

:

I.

That

The Theme

may

is, it

just "

then this experience

is

waking or

suddenly a cries

Then

there

is

Madame, no

into

sleeping,

Now

your mind."

I

am

i

amount to the

.

be doing anything

alert or apathetic,

wl

before you from nowhere

spirit arises

" Sir,

:

pop

so vivid as to

You may

of a great discovery. nothing,

Born Spontaneously

Is

a Story.

rest until the story is

Write

me

<

up

shaped and spn

upon paper. Naturally, a well-furnished

produce

story-germs in this

mind

is

the most likely

manner, hence

all

the pot

CHOOSING A THEME

about " gathering materials."

in the succeeding chapter It

43

would be an interesting psychological study

to determine just

theme

is

how

to try

far this spontaneous birth of a

the result of suggestion from without, operat-

ing upon the mass of materials already a part of the au-

and emotional equipment.

thor's mental, moral,

At other times to

we may

A

source-spring.

its

versation,

readily trace the inspiration

word dropped

look, a

an incident on the

street, a

in con-

paragraph

in the

newspaper, an apt retort, an emotional mood, a clever

— from any of

sentence in a book points of contact

There

is

may

a thousand and one

the gleam of conviction:

flash

a story in this!

Again, the germ will develop more slowly

more slowly

— and

— much

months, even years, elapse before

the tiny suggestion becomes a full-fledged story-theme,

Wise

ready for elaboration.

that writer

is

who

pa-

hour of full-coming before attempting

tiently awaits the

to write; for with the fresh, inspiring, self-bom theme fully

matured in the mind, and

the heart, half the battle

But inspiration that likened his

is

I

to a

to it

—

in

was

it

want to add

won.

not always on

mind

when he wished it when he longed for

is

—

call.

mule which

stop

Who

habitually ran

and as regularly balked

to run?

So,

if

a story

is

due

on Tuesday after next, and no obliging theme has presented itself, or those which have applied have not been found worthy, then the author has no at the editor's

other recourse than

CHOOSING A THEME

4 2.

The Theme Sought Out

Here invention

is

put to

it

Writers

for originality.

vide acceptance have freely confessed that they

a host of ideas from Iten to Beersheba un

Iriven

me has

Then

yielded up the coveted theme.

ources of material^ are tried in order

even others, in disorder. )le

i

ha'

Still

the

— and

Every

no theme.

sevi

sevent pos!

motive, every impossible emotion, every conceivat

ituation, every inconceivable complication

pronounced "

—

all tried ai

and unprofitable." At k why is the head more inventive when under a h n the open air?) a walk abroad brings the decision

dl

stale,

flat

J

I

focus: the theme is found! " I know one writer," says George

W.

Cable, "

w

:ven for a short story has sat for weeks in feline :ience

and tension

DOwers,

at the

knowing only

ind had to come out."

The

author's brain

which he puts

all

For the delight of [ect,

that the inspiration

was

in the

^

is

quite a magician's top hat,

manner of things only

to take

an audience (not always large or

it o' i

but always worthy of study) a store of altogetl

surprising things, altogether transformed.^ of

j

mouse-hole of his constructi

String" (Maupassant), " The Gk)ld

"

Bug"

The

Pie

(Poe),

"

See the next chapter. ^Afterthoughts of a Story-Teller, North American Revii

^

fanuary, 1894. 3 Naturally, the writer's purpose in telling a story whethei please, instruct, chastise, tickle the public, or just to expr something worthy of expresssion will bear strongly upon

—

—

theme

selection.

See

p. 284.

CHOOSING A THEME

45

Church Mouse" (Mary Wilkins Freeman), and "The Leather Funnel" (Doyle), are not only clever

drawn from master necromancers'

stories titles,

indications of the ideas that

How

stories.

fascinating

it

hats, but, as

may have suggested

would be

if

of

titles

the

each of a dozen

well-loved writers would give us the intimate life-history of his best fiction, from inspiration lisher's

when

down

to pub-

check; yes, and through the years afterward,

its

grip upon .the readers had surely yet impal-

pably drawn them to open up their heart of hearts in confession, in thanks, in protest, in

3.

Since nearly

all

— what notl

Themes Barred

the short-stories that attain to print

are published in newspapers and periodicals,

seem that an author who

is

'

it

would

anxious to see his story in

type should consider the limitations set by the public the real masters of the editor.

—

Yet, on various pleas

authors persist in offering for publication stories on

themes entirely unsuited to publication in any periodical of general circulation.

either

the

Occasionally one

is

accepted,

by mistake or from sheer determination to print

story because

Grundy may view

it

its

is

" good stuff," however Mrs.

subject.

But the doubtful theme

little chance with an editor. Only a general grouping of subjects which are taboo

usually has but

can be attempted here. (a)

Trite

Hackneyed subjects now and so original a manner as to bring the

Themes.

then are treated in

CHOOSING A THEME

46

whole story above the commonplace level, but that is performance too unusual for even a genius to dally wi Editors and public tired long ago of the poor b often.

whose industry

at last

brought him the hand of his

ployer's daughter ; the pale-faced,

ei

sweet-eyed young thii

whose heroism in stamping out a fire enabled her to p mortgage the recovery of the missing will ; t cruel step-mother; answering a prayer which has be

off the

;

overheard; the strange case of mistaken identity; ho

rewarded; a noble revenge; a

esty

and so on to a long-drawn-out end.

influenc

child's

Naturally, nothii

but a fair acquaintance with the short-stories of the h

two decades, together with a nice sense of values, w save the writer from choosing trite subjects. of no printed

list

common

I knc

of hackneyed themes ; the surest teac

wide reading, a friendly and the printed rejection slip. ers are

sense, a

(b) Improper Themes.

know

The buyer of a book

for a certainty whether

it

or his friends, or his book-seller, will rarely so

scribed for

— the

tell

when he buys a magazine. it,

him. If

review(

But

he has

parentage.

titles,

tl

su

he has bought twelve cats in a bag and

has a right to expect that they should prove to be of ilar

m

discusses matters whi

he prefers his children should not read

is

crit

If

the authors' names,

Now

tion of reputation that bars certain it is

t

and the reputation of the mag

zine can guide his selection.

magazines, and

sii

he buys a single copy, nothing but

it

is

this

very qu<

themes from

certa

quite as important for the writer

CHOOSING A THEME

47

recognize these magazine reputations as

it

for the

is

reader.* It is

and

not for

should

story

me

Some

sex.

to decide as to

whether the short-

with the intimate subjects of

deal

self

of the most effective French stories

handle these topics with utmost freedom, and certainly it

requires

in the

some bravery to say certain needful things fiction but by common consent the Ameri-

form of

;

can magazine steers clear of the " taboo," leaving to the novel those themes which divide public judgment.

may

True, a theme of great and serious intimacy treated with frankness

a conventional subject gestiveness.

and yet not give

may

be

offense, while

be handled with nasty sug-

The magazines

that will accept the former

sort are few, but unmistakably high class; those that

is

quite intolerable

:

— unspeakable.

One

thing

to treat a " broad " subject

with

M. Bird

says:

few and

print the latter are

levity.

Speaking to "

Then

classes.

there

this subject.

is

Dr. Frederic

the improper

tale,

which

is

of

two

In one, the author means to be bad, and in most

cases goes about

it

delicately: in the other,

ladies of

the highest character write, from the purest motives, to

expose the

evils of free love,

or

th'e

wickedness of men,

or the dangers to which working girls are exposed, or

some other abuse of sexual attractions or affections. The public, which takes less account of intentions than * See Part IV, chap.

ii.

CHOOSING A THEME

48 of results,

is

common

apt to merge these in one

con-

demnation, confounding the salacious with that which is

"

to be merely monitory."

meant

(c) Polemic

The novel may

Themes.

freely take up

the cudgel in defense of a sect, a party, a cult, or a " crankism," but the short-story writer had better avoid " Genius will triumph over most obstacles,

polemics.

and

art can sugar-coat

an unwelcome

pill

;

but in nineteen

cases out of twenty the story which covers an apology for

one doctrine or an attack upon the other has no more chance (with the periodicals) than offensive personalities."

By

(d) Unfamiliar Themes.

which the author of writers

know

who

not of,

is

fly

this I

mean themes with The number

from familiar subjects to themes

genius fears to tread.

The beginner rushes If

you are

they

in where

really anxious not to

waste your time, don't attempt too much.

Time

spent on

studying your subject will come back with compound terest

when you

actually write.

Cultivate every square inch of

Find your own

it.

It is

that

genuine.

is

all

scenes — —

usually.

supferficial

curiosity

and an

to

about

necessary to be interested in your theme, but

tinguish between

in-

field.

Don't be tempted

try the field next door without first finding out it.

of

not on intimate terms.

legion.

is

were made up

if it

*

dis-

interest

The stay-at-home cannot write battle The recluse cannot depict society-

You may

be

the

exception,

but

the

'^Magazine Fiction, Frederic M. Bird, Lippincotfs, Nov.,

1894.

life

usually.

^Lippincott's, Nov., 1894.

CHOOSING A THEME chances are that you are not.

It is better to

write well

know than badly of what you do not know.

of what you

Some

49

some things you cannot. One of the most damning criti-

things you can imagine,

Don't confuse the two.

cisms of the editorial office

know

is

—"

this

writer doesn't

his field."

OUTLINE SUMMARY Choosing a Theme 1.

2. 3.

The Theme Born Spontaneously The Theme Sought Out Themes Barred (o) Trite

(6) Improper

Polemic Unfamiliar

(c) (rf)

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1. Extemporaneous. Set down as many tliemes as " pop into your mind " in ten minutes. (Naturally, you must not expect

bloom in this way.) and perfect the statement of them in not more than a sentence or two each, preserving them for use in connection with the chapters on plot. Examine the chains of ideas to discover, if possible, what 3. startlingly original ideas to 2.

gave 4.

Select

two of

these

rise to the themes.

Make

a

list

of themes which seem to you to be hack-

neyed. 5.

Have you

6.

Select one hackneyed

seen any of these used lately?

collection. 7.

Is

it

well handled?

Where?

theme from any magazine or story-

CHOOSING A Theme

so 8.

more

If possible,

show how a

fresher treatment

would make

it

readable.

Does the moral impropriety of a theme consist in the 9. theme itself or rather in its handling? Discuss. Make a list of polemic themes which seem to you unsuited 10. to the short-story form. Be prepared to give your reasons in each instance.

CHAPTER

II

GATHERING THE MATERIALS Of an eminent master "

He

in eloquence

and

letters this

is

said

knowledge which was at hand. If books were at his elbow, he read them; if pictures, engravings, gems were within reach, he studied them; if nature was within walking distance, he watched nature; if men were about him, he learned the secrets of their temperaments, tastes, and skills if he were on shipboard, he knew the dialect of the vessel in the briefest possible time; if he traveled by stage, he sat with the driver and learned all about the route, the country, the people, and the art of his companion; if he had a spare hour in a village in which there was a manufactory, he went through it with keen eyes, and learned the mechanical processes used in it." Hamilton W. Mabie, Essays on Books and Culture. habitually fed himself with any kind of

;

The

writer

is first

of

eyes alert to explore mysteries.

No

all

its

a citizen of the world, with

delights, its sorrows,

he turns his gaze inward. If

and

other ever has a yarn to spin.

he studies books.

Lastly,

you must omit one of these three processes,

be the

let

it

last.

Once convinced

that

somewhere

in

you are a theme,

a story, and the spirit of a story-teller, the

would seem ically,

its

Next,

first

to be simply the telling of the story.

yes; practically, no.

To do

so would be to ig-

nore the fact that skilful story-telling SI

step

Log-

is

now

a fine art,

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

52

and badly-told

stories

had better remain untold in,

as

Before giving forth,

they generally remain unprinted.

you must prepare by taking

—

even

if

that preparation

should be quite unconscious.

The general question of the his work must be discussed but

author's preparation for in

succeeding chapters,^

should be said here that a primary requisite for

it

successful authorship

is

the fixed habit of both training

and furnishing the mind for the author's work.

must be looked

things

at with

literary use, so that daily life

an eye to

All

their possible

may become

a daily stor-

ing up of materials, whether with a single story in view or merely to enrich the treasure house against the day

when some chosen theme will call forth its utmost resources. So bear in mind, in all that follows, that your gathering will have either a particular or a general object.

In this process the

first

I.

Get the

They

facts.

will hit

readers harder,

If

and longest step

is

Observation

you can, get them

at first hand.

you harder, and, through you, hit your if

you have gone straight to the original Ruskin took a common rock-crys-

for your knowledge.

and saw hidden within its stolid heart a world of Thoreau sat so still in the shadowy woods that birds and insects came and opened up their secret lives tal

interest.

to his eye. 1

Part

III.

Preyer for three years studied the

life of

GATHERING THE MATERIALS his babe

mind.

'

S3

and so became an authority upon the

Sir

Waher

Denzil's cave, in Rokeby, httle wild flowers

child-

Scott, in preparing to describe

Guy

observed " even the peculiar

and herbs that accidentally grew round When Lockhart laugh-

and on the side of a bold crag."

at this minuteness of study, the Wizard " replied that in nature' herself no two scenes were ex-

ingly

wondered

actly alike,

and that whoever copied

truly

what was

before his eyes, would possess the same variety in his descriptions,

and exhibit apparently an imagination as

boundless as the range of nature in the scenes he re-

whereas

corded;

would soon

— whoever

find his

trusted

own mind

imagination,

to

circumscribed, and con-

few favorite images." ^ Whoever has done literary work," says Arlo Bates,^ " is likely to have discovered how constantly the literary mind must be on the alert. The daughters of the horsetracted to a

"

leech that in the Scriptures are said^ continually to cry '

Give

!

Give

!

'

are less insatiable than

pen of the professional writer. never enough.

must take for that busy

and

He who makes his

the greedy

Like the grave,

it

has

literature a profession

model the barnacle

tireless

is

at high tide.

As

unpleasantness grasps ceaselessly

with finger-like tentacles, so the mind of the writer must be- always reaching out

—

until the

sions,

— grasping,

grasping, grasping

accumulation of ideas, of

with the realization that this

is

becomes a second nature." 2 *

Lockhart's Life of Scott, Vol. IV, Talks on Writing English, p. 147.

p. 20.

facts,

of impres-

literary material,

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

54

And "

Professor

The

spirit

general, outer

what

is

called

Genung has given us

this:

of observation, as applied to the world in

and .

inner, .

.

practically identical

is

with

the scientific spirit in the large

sense, with all the enthusiasm, the sense of values, the

accuracy, the verifying caution, that characterize the

bom

observer."* will find quite as much suggestive human nature as in studying the of creation. With the works of the great

But the story-writer material in observing

lower orders

and stimulate the writer to no further word is needed. Here

analysts to serve as models

emulation,

surely

indeed

field for

is

a

applied psychology, second to none

Myriads of interesting men and women are waiting for some master hand to pluck out the heart other.

Holman Day, Mary Wilkins Freeman, and " O. Henry," have not " used up " all the

of their mystery.

unique characters in America.

may be

It

urged that

all

this elaborate

and minute

observation would serve rather to equip the novelist

than the writer of short-stories.

Not

so.

No

one can

compress into a few bold strokes the essentials of a portrait,

who

has not

nonessentials.

a

work of

first

The work of

all the

literary selection is really

rejection.

2.

"

taken in with precision

Mark Twain

Expcrieuce

deliberately

threw away his [Euro-

pean] street-car ticket fifteen times, and each time was * r/i«

Working Principles of Rhetoric,

p. 397.

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

He made

required to pay his fare.

dent" tells

hundred dollars

five

from the story which he based upon

55

this simple inci-

In Vawder's Understudy, James Knapp Reeve

°

the story of an author

who

entered open-eyed into

a platonic friendship for the purpose of observing re-

The

sults.

Grizel,

results

Tommy

were observable.

Tommy

In

and

makes a numthe laboratory method of gath-

the sentimentalist-author,

ber of startling essays at

ering literary material.

Doubtless

all

these and similar experiences are ex-

Experience

ceptional rather than typical. liberately sought,

and often should

of the authors of

The

Workers,''

may

be de-

be, as in the cases

The

Woman Who

and similar books but for the most part the really valuable experience is that into which our daily walk Toils,''

leads us.

eratesque," s

;

There we *

shall find

an abundance of the "

lit-

without more than an occasional prolonged

The Short-Story,

Albright, p. 15.

Professor Walter Wyckoflf. Marie Van Vorst and Mrs. John Van Vorst. 8 " There should be a word in the language of literary art to express what the word 'picturesque' expresses for the fine arts. Picturesque means fit to be put into a picture; we want a word literatesque, 'fit to be put into a book.' An artist goes through a hundred different country scenes, rich with beauties, charms and merits* but he does not paint any of them. He leaves them alone; he idles on till he finds the hundred-and-first a scene which many observers would not think much of, but which he knows by virtue of his art will look well on canvas, and this Literature he paints and preserves. the painting of words has the same quality, but wants the analogous word. The word ' literatesque ' would mean, if we possessed it, that perfect combination in the subject-matter of literature, which As a painter must not only suits the art of literature. have a hand to execute, but an eye to distinguish as he must go here and there through the real world to catch the picturesque man, the picturesque scene, which is to live on his canvas so " '

—

—

.

.

.

...

—

—

—

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

I

xursion into atmospheres far removed from our own.

Growing out of observation and experience,

as sources

literary materials, is

3.

" Sir Philip Sidney id

write

e

human

If

'

;

'

;

Self-study

had a

saying,

'

Looke

in thy heart

Massillon explained his astute knowledge of

heart by saying, I learned Byron says of John Locke that

it

'

'

by studying my-

all his

knowledge

human understanding was derived from studying own mind. " * One peril lies along this path, however, and to it the med author of Childe Harold fell a victim; its avoidthe

s

'

mark

All that Byron ever was so tinctured with his own personality that the ader must see the author's portrait in his characters. tiey all do and think and say very nearly what Byron ould, under like conditions. Maupassant fell into the me trap, as did Poe and Hawthorne, though in less igree.^" All morbid and self-centered artists are peice is

a

of real greatness.

rote

iliarly liable

to study self so exclusively that self be-

imes their microcosm.

A

certain

amount of

ntric spirit is inevitable, but to dress

this self-

and undress

one's

may be allowed epoch-making geniuses rather than to the rank and

lul

too persistently leads to mania, and

poet must find in that reality, the Uteratesque man, the literasque scene which nature intends for him, and which will live his page." Bagehot, Literary Studies, Vol. II, pp. 341, 343, 345. » From the Author's to Attract and Hold an Audience, (Hinds, Noble & Eldredge, New York.) 55. e

—

" See

p. 248.

How

GATHERING THE MATERIALS file.

Yet what marvellous

thorne,

short-stories

and Maupassant given

morbid

introspection!

Horace put

it,

is

The

57

have Pee,

Haw-

the world by their

to

golden

as

middle-path,

—

if

such

habit than

mor-

better for the average writer

a person there be.

4. Reflection

Here we have a calmer, saner mental bid self-scrutiny.

Reflection

meaning

in a figure.

is

a rich word, which car-

How

placid and clear the mind must be to summon to its magic mirror images of past days and find them projected there in all their pristine color, form and detail. Memory is the soul ries its

This its limbs and members. withdraw oneself from the hurly-burly and

of reflection, just reason ability reflect

to

.

— re-image — gives

us a palpable connection be-

tween the real and the fancied. its

Imagination

calls

up

phantom-world out of the mirror of past experience,

adding to the real the touch of fantasy, and even creating beings and cycles the like of which " never was on

and imagination both need to be nurtured with the food of solitude and humored by oft-practice ; and both repay the time and care be-

sea or land."

Reflection

stowed.

In

Afterthoughts

Cable says

:

"

No

of

a

Story-Teller,'^^

George

W.

author, from whatever heaven, earth,

or hell of actual environment he

may

write, can produce

a living narrative of motives, passions and fates without ''''North

American Review,

158:16.

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

58

having

the most of

first felt

own

in his

inner

life."

— the

sense be vicarious

it

You

and apprehended

see,

" inner

it

all,

experience may in a " may apprehend

life

experiences that the body has never realized.

Reading

5.

" Reading maketh a con; but

be

full

fact

it

of

— other men's A

little.

lated into brain

and

will

dynamic store of

prodigious diet of reading, assimi-

heart, cannot but be of vast? assistance

But to be the

in all future creation.

of those

ideas, or a

Writers do not read too much; they

and fancy.

digest too

man,' said much-quoted Ba-

full

depends upon the reader as to what he

whom you

read

is

slavish imitator

the sign-manual of

inferi-

ority.

Here

is

an enthusiastic word from Professor Phelps,"

supported by a warning from Emerson. " Voltaire used to read Massillon as a stimulus to production.

Bossuet read

read Spenser's

'

Faerie Queene

the use of his pen.

and Euripides. promiscuously. to

composing.

With great

Homer for the same purpose. Gray

The

'

as the preliminary to

favorites of Milton

were Homer

Fenelon resorted to the ancient

classics

Pope read Dryden as his habitual Corneille read Tacitus and Livy. .

aid .

.

variety of tastes, successful authors have gen-

erally

agreed in availing themselves of this natural and,

facile

method of educating

original creation."

'^^Men and BookSj

p. 303.

their

minds to the work

of

a\THERIXG THE MATERIALS

"Books are

59

the best of things, well used; abused,

What

anrang the worst.

is

the right use?

\Miat

is

means go to effect? They are for nothing but to inspire. I had better never see a book than to be warped by its attraction dean out of my own orbit, and made a satellite instead of a system." Emerson here " uses the enthusiast's license to exaggerate, but it is a wholesome hyperbole and will not frighten the cme end which

all

the sensible reader out of a respect for the information

as well as the inspiration to be found in books.^*

same

essay, a

word

:

"

little

One must be an

the proverb says

'

In the

farther on, he adds another pungent

He

that

inventor to read well.

As

would bring home the wealth

of the Indies must carry out the wealth of the Indies.'

There

is

thai creative reading as well as creative writ-

ing."

There remains j^t another potent

field for

the gather-

ing of short-story material:

6. Discussion

Hawthorne's notebooks refer again and again to talks over plots, incidents, and characters, held with literary friends.

Sometimes he

definitely credits certain material

Many a litmany a " Bohemian " garret, could fascinating tales of how stories were bom and brought

to a suggestion received in such discussions. tle restaurant table,

teU

unto strength by a helpful exchange of su^estion and

" The

American Scholar.

"See

Part III, chap.

i.

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

I

As

iticism.

there

is

nothing so blinding to a writer

read his manuscript to adulating friends, so there

to

nothing so illuminating as the good-natured slashes a discerning

critic

ords giveth light.

— the

entrance of such cutting

was Francis Bacon who

It

dis-

ursed upon the educational value of asking questions

om

the

man who knows, and

Li

Hung Chang who

put

e advice into effective use.

But how

we

shall

observation,

preserve for ourselves the results

and experience, and

self-study,

and reading, and discussion?

;ction,

and

re-

The answer

is

o obvious to need elaboration:

7.

Let

be scrap-book, card-index, index-rerum, envel-

it

system, or filing cabinet

)e

on your

precisely,

•

Taking Notes

;

only in some

way

— loosely

cuffs or in elaborate records

—

your own random thoughts and the facts and you get from every source. See what even a newsiper item may mean to you •eserve

eas

A

"

of

t

short-story should have for life,

its

structure a plot, a

an incident such as you would find in a

;wspaper paragraph.

.

.

.

He

brief

[Richard Harding

avis] takes the substance of just such a paragraph, and, ith that for the 5tails,

description

the result." 1°

How

to

nson Smith re,

meat of his story, weaves around it and dialogue, until a complete story

" An Interview with F. HopHerald, quoted in Current Litera-

Write Short Stories. in the Boston.

June, 1896.

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

6l

OUTLINE SUMMARY Gathering the Materials

3.

Observation Experience Self-Study

4.

Reflection

5.

Reading

6.

Discussion

7.

Taking Notes

1.

2.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS AND INDIVIDUAL STUDY.

2.

After one glance out of a window, set down as many differyou remember seeing, going minutely into detail. Take a longer look and correct your paper.

3.

In

1.

ent objects as

differ

what

(a)

respects

in dress,

and minute. Note: Interesting

(b)

—

—

do two any two of your friends manner, (c) disposition? Be precise

tests of the

powers of observation may be

made by asking the pupils to tell the color of a friend's eyes, how many rungs are in the front of his chair, how many steps lead up to the piazza, the kind of numerals on the face of his watch, and the like

—

all without specially looking. Search for evidences of superficial observation in the shortstories of any current magazine. Write out any unusual experiences which seem to you to 5. be " literatesque." 6. Discussion: Should the writer deliberately go out after adventures and experiences, or simply be observant of what he meets in the usual course? Give reasons "pro and con." Write about two hundred words showing how " self-aware7. ness " is a good source of fictional material. 8. Write several paragraphs reporting accurately what you are now thinking. Continuously press in upon yourself the question. What am I now thinking? Do an hour's deliberate reading, following your own 9. choice, and report the result, carefully noting such materials as 4.

GATHERING THE MATERIALS

S

iggest incidents, characters, scenes, sayings,

and

plots, for short-

Do

not seek for quantity, but for quality. 10. General report: What kinds of reading proved most history, essays, poetry, drama>, fiction? imulating 11. Let the instructor assign to the students, individually, e task of suggesting hovir scrap-books, card-indexes, etc., may ories.

—

:

kept. 12.

Gather at least

five

newspaper cuttings which contain raw

aterial for short-stories, pointing

out their particular

qualities.

CHAPTER

III

FACT IN FICTION Prefer an impossibility which seems probable, which seems impossible. Aristotle.

to a probability

—

\

may

be said boldly that fiction is truer than fact. Half the difference of opinion on the whole subject rests upon a mental confusion between two things, fact and truth fact, the mass It

—

of particular and individual dtetails; truth, that is of general and universal import fact, the raw material; truth, the finished article into which it is to be made up, with hundreds of chances

—

of flaws in the working.

— R.

G.

Moulton, Four Years of Novel

Reading.

AH its

fiction is fabricated

from

fact.

Running through

every part are strands of reality without which, as

warp and woof, it would fall apart at the reader's touch. If only some master of fiction would frankly speak out and tell us in what precise proportions fact and figment should be mixed in weaving the short-story. But the wisest author cannot prescribe a fixed formula.

problem that more or telling of

less consciously arises

It is a

with the

every story, and personal observation must

guide the judgment.

Doubtless actual happenings do

occur once in a long time in precisely the order, proportion,

and

ation; but local color,

setting, to

is

make a good

story without alter-

there just enough expressive conversation,

and

incident, to allow the actualities to be

63

FACT IN FICTION

64

photographically reproduced and yet result in a good perhaps never. It is the old short-story? Rarely

—

question of nature and art.

of persons, the other fiction

The one

is

makes a mainstay of judicious

I.

not a respecter

Fact takes things as they come,

is.

selection.

The Stream of Fiction

naturally divides into the branches of realism, roman-

and ideaUsm; but it is both difficult and undedam up all the sociable little water-courses that insinuate their way across Mesopotamia and lightly

ticism,

sirable to

mingle the divided waters.

Romance

tured with realism, which in turn

romanticism,

to

would make both

The

when

gains

tinc-

gives the color of verity

while an entire absence of idealism flat

and tiresome.

may

short-story writer, like the novelist,

in the-

ory adhere to any of these schools, for his temperament

determine his preferences; but in practice

will naturally

the utmost he

may

that

is

safely do

He

his favorite form.

is

to give preeminence

to

appeals to a ready-made audience

naturally intolerant of fads and

frills

for mere

theory's sake. It is quite

apart from the purpose of this treatise

discuss

the claims of the

enough

to

summarize each position

(a) "Realism," 1

several

^

schools

;

it

to

will be

briefly.

says Mr. Howells, "

is

nothing more

studies of Realism see A Study of Prose FicPerry, chap, ix; The Limits of Realism in Fiction, Gosse, in Questions at Issue; Criticism and Fiction,

For adequate

tion, Bliss

Edmund W. D, Howells; Le Roman

Experimental, Emile Zola.

FACT IN FICTION or

less

than the truthful treatment of material."

statement

we

65

is

This

^

inadequate, but add Zola's utterances* and

get a clearer view of the

realist's position.

defines as " the negation of fancy "

Realism " paints

sion of the ideal."

This he

and as " the exclu-

men

as they are

"

and denies that the author should present his own point of view in a story, or even attempt to interpret the words

and actions of his characters, who should be neither championed nor denounced by the author, but judged

by the reader

from what they think, do, say, and " That fiction which lacks romantic at-

solely

evidently are.

mosphere," says Professor Perry,*

realist,

so long as he

transcript of contemporary

(b) Romanticism

cumscribed.

No ma-

or low, or commonplace, or beautiful,

terial is too high,

or dirty, for the

is realistic.

" is

makes a

faithful

life.

as untrammeled as realism

It builds castles in the air

is cir-

of what material

reality.

being well content with only a general seeming of With one of its accepted apostles it says, " Fic-

tion

not nature,

it

will,

is

history;

you

if

true

—

it is

like,

it is

not character,

it is

not imagined

fallacy, poetic fallacy, pathetic fallacy,

a beautiful

lie,

a

lie

that

false to fact, true to faith."

is

at once false

a

lie

and

*

Thus, to gain verisimilitude, romance either lays a 2

Criticism

'

In

and

Fiction, p. 73.

Le Roman Experimental.

*A

Study of Prose Fiction, p. 229. See the chapter on The Romantic Novel, in The Evolution of the Novel, Francis Hovey Stoddard; The Domain of Romance, Maurice Thompson, Forum, 8 328. * The New Watchwords of Fiction, Hall Caine, Contemporary Review, April, 189a ^

:

FACT IN FICTIOK

66

foundation of truth and rears a true-appearing superstructure of

down

more or

less impossible fancies,

or else lays

a fantastic substructure and (in the main) builds

method is illustrated by Eugene Sue. In Poe's criticism of The Mysteries of Paris, he remarks that the incidents which follow upon truthfully thereupon.

This

latter

the premises are perfectly credible, but the premises themselves "are laughably impossible.

has

made

the success of

many a

Yet

this

very device

wonder-story, for in

its

truthful progress the reader forgets the unlikely ground-

work.

Of romance, Evelyn May Albright says,^ " But a commoner interpretation of the term seems to include an element of remoteness of place or time or an element of the ;

abnormal or unusual inexperience, of the frankly impossible; or the element of the supernatural, including

the weird or the uncanny,

and the simple but

intangible

spiritual truths."

The

story that deals with spiritual truths

might more

properly be included under the next category. (c) Idealism.

born of an

is

Idealistic fiction,^ as its

ideal,

ter is conceived

conditions.

which

it

of as living

Now

what,

in

name

seeks to express.

A charac-

and moving under the

implies,

circumstances,

certain

might,

would, could, or should that character be and do and say?

The answer

is

governed not so much by a strictly imexamination of living men and women.

partial (realistic) <

The Short-Story,

p.

i8o.

See The InRuence of Idealism tn Fiction, Ingrad Harting, Humanitarium, Vol. VI. 8

FACT IN FICTION as by the ideals held by the author. as the author thinks

and

is

it

67

Idealism pictures

life

should be in certain circumstances,

in that respect didactic.

(d) Composite Method.

must be emphasized that leisurely and full find any one of these

It

— much more than the short-story — we seldom even in the novel

so

types purely exemplified story,

which Jin

its

lineation

in the short-

best form, embodies something of

From

three elementSr*

and almost never

;

realism

takes

it

of color and character, from romanticism

from

gains the fascinating touch of fantasy,

idealism

how

receives the instructive spiritual conception of tain

it it

cer-

imagined conditions would operate on a character,

how a

or

all

faithful de-

its

character would

mould

his

own

environ-

final

ment.

An

almost perfect realistic short-story

and One," one of

Maxim

typical romantic story is

Who Would Be

King."

is

" Twenty-Six

Gorky's vagabond

Rudyard

A

series."

The Man

Kipling's "

A fine idealistic specimen is " A

Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens, for as the story goes on ideal conditions more and more prevail.

So much for

distinctions,

for a thorough study of

which references have already been given.

now

It

to consider the practical handling of fact in 2-.

is

time

fiction.

The Use of Facts

" This Every editor knows these sentences by heart it occurred exactly as I have written it, a true story :

is

—

»

&

Translated in the volume of the same

Co.,

New

York).

title

(J.

F. Taylor

FACT IN FICTION

58 the

names only are changed

;

" " I can

vouch for the abhappened to

solute exactness of the football incident, it

ny

"

brother ; "

drawn as

I

The elopement scene

is

not at

all

over-

took careful notes at the time a neighbor's

daughter ran

with the hired man."

avi^ay

Thus ambitious realists think that the single quality of Edelity to fact must give any incident a passport to roam But, barring the extreme

in the field of fiction.

it will

realists,

authors and

critics

agree that while the

(fact) killeth, the spirit (truth)

your mind's eye

is

that your story should

fiction

ing as

letter

Unless

The important thing in fiction seem to be true. Of course,

of a gory, gushy, ghoulish sort which is as shockit intends to be, " succeeds " in proportion as it

departs

from

truth,

and glories

obligation to

tell

leave a final impression

—

is

a teaching power.

the essential truth

which

is

But

in its degeneracy.

whether you will or not, your story

Your

alive.

telescopic as well as microscopic your

vision will be distorted. is

maketh

—

that

is,

to

faithful to the realities

immeasurably profound.

If you trifle with you ought to fail in fiction, and probably you will. Even farce must not mislead morally in its efforts to enof life

is

it

tertain.

Let

it

be never so uproariously funny,

still

be-

neath the solemn cassock, or the suit of heroic armor, it must slyly disclose its cap and bells, as if to say, " See,

" Mark Twain " is never so philowhen he is side-splitting. " When anybody's Speaking now of serious fiction work lacks, verisimilitude' when it impresses you as beI

am

only fooling ! "

sophical as

:

—

yond the bounds of

life,

of nature, of possibility, or rea-

FACT IN FICTION sonable probability talent,

we have

think and

and

feel

in real life."

—

little

matters not what the author's

it

use for

and

talk

When

^°

69

it:

imaginary persons must

act as such persons

would

Shakespeare wrote the orations

Antony and Brutus he wrote history. Not that in any words of these orators he would not copied have so them had their words been extant; but in that with consummate understanding he wrote out

of

sense he copied the

;

the spirit of the orators. This it is to " found the story on fact," to " hold the mirror up to nature," to " speak truth as though

it

were

fiction

and

fiction as

though

were truth."

it

—

Figment and fact, then, must become a composite neither of them so prominent as to spoil the story. Only the characteristic, the delineative, the salient in situation, in emotion, in character, in conversation, in

must be selected

in the

most highly

denouement,

selective of all arts

—

the art of the short-story. Finally, the writer of the short-story, in

combining

fact with fiction to produce a convincing semblance of reality,

must

vitalize fact

with emotion and with fantasy.

In the words of Mr. Mabie "

He must

invest his story with an atmosphere

shall enfold his

Poe has done

which

reader and lay a spell on his senses as

in

'

The

Pit

and the Pendulum,' or com-

press the tragedy of a lifetime into a few pages, as

Maupassant does force 1°

in

'

The

Necklace,' or secure

and swiftness of a tumultuous current of

all

De the

narrative,

Fact in Fiction, Frederic M. Bird, Lippincotfs, July,

1895.

FACT IN FICTION

70

Mr. Kipling has done

as

King,' or

stir

in

The Man

'

Who Would

Be

the deepest emotions in a tale of love, as

Without Benefit of Clergy,' which an

he has done in

'

American

of high standing has declared to be the

critic

best short-story in English."

^^

OUTLINE SUMMARY Fact in Fiction ;

The Main Stream af

Fiction

(a) Realism (6) Romanticism (c) Idealism (rf) 2.

Composite Method

The Use of Facts

in Fiction

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY1.

the 2.

Discussion:

Is the practice of

realistic

writing robbing

world of romance? Paper: Has realism added to the interest of

fiction?

Discussion: Is idealism a practical philosophy of life? Discussion, or paper: Ought a short-story writer take 4. iides for or against his characters, or ought he remain neutral? (See Part II, chap, xi.) 3.

5. istic

6.

Describe, in fiction form, the street you live on, with realattention to detail.

Write an absolutely

realistic short-story illustrating

homely

life.

Rewrite 5 and 6 in a romantic spirit. Rewrite them in an idealistic spirit. Make a list of facts which might be used in fiction. 9. Construct an incident from one of these and embellish 10. n romantic form. 7.

8.

1'

Introduction to Masterpieces of Fiction.

it

CHAPTER

IV

PLOT

My

model

is

stories, entitled

of

who

us

down

Euclid, whose justly celebrated book of short The Elements of Geometry, will live when most

are

scribbling

to-day are

his plot, sets instantly to

work

forgotten.

Euclid

lays

at its development, letting

no incident creep in that does not bear relation to the climax, using no unnecessary word, always keeping his one end in view, and the moment he reaches the culmination he stops. Robert Bass, The Bookman, March, 1897.

—

We

need constant reminder that our theme admits of

few positive rules and the short-story

limitations,

though the student of

able to recognize

is

tendencies of the art.

For

this

many

clear general

reason the analyses pre-

sented in the several chapters are not to be regarded as

dogmatic and

final,

comprehensive

but rather as attempts at plain and Necessarily,

exposition.

in

a

subject

whose parts are so intimately related as are those of the short-story, there will be considerable over-lapping of

This

chapters.

is

peculiarly true of the topic

now

to be

discussed.

I.

V

In

its

WHAT

IS

A SHORT-STORY PLOT

simplest, broadest aspect, pl6t

is

the scheme, plan,

argument or action of the story^/ But these are general many varieties of plot as to be more

terms and cover so

7\

PLOT

^2

Professor Bliss Perry says, rather vaguely, that plot is " that which happens to the

than

brief

illuminating.

Some one else has loosely called it life." To hazard an exact definition ^

characters."

applied to

" design

Plot in

:

fiction is the climactic sequence of events in relation to the

More

characters.

—

it is

simply,

the very story

characterization

it is

itself,

the unfolding of the story

divested of

and conversation.

all its description,

Not

that a bare plot

could stand alone as a short-story, but that without plot there could be no short-story in the precise sense in which that term

is

used in

at the basis of the

is

this treatise, for the notion of plot

modern

cept plot in the drama,

The

plot in fiction differs

events in

go

to

life in

make up a

short-story, and,

is itself

if

we

ex-

a recent development.^

from the ordinary

one important respect

:

fictional plot are artificially

as to bring about a particular result.

drift of

the events which

arranged

Thus

so

stories of

the purest realism do not have complicated plots, but the drift of events is

made

(artificially) to follow

course which seems real because ficial

touch

may

it is

natural.

a simple

The

be no more violent than a mere hasten-

ing of natural events, or a re-arrangement of sequence,

arti-

their

the artificiality is there. In this treatise the word " plot " is regarded as having a narrower meaning than that of the word " theme," ^ still

which always stands for the subject-idea of the story, without any elaboration. It is out of the theme that the ^ 2 3

A

Study of Prose Fiction, See p. 28. See Part II, chap. i.

p.

129.

PLOT

73

must grow, so the theme

plot

embryonic, or potential

How

the plot differs in scope and detail from the

theme

stated

really the elemental,

is

plot.

I shall

now

The

illustrate.

mere

theme of "

The

Reformation of Calliope," by " O. Henry," * may be stated as, How the " Terror" Calliope Catesby, came to This

serve as city marshal. the

tells

us

Indeed, at a pinch the

title.

little

title

more than does

might serve as a

compact statement of the theme.

Compare

this

with the

full

statement of the plot

—

which, however, could be outlined in fewer words

—

" Calliope " Catesby

is a Westerner at best a nui" " terror who habitually hangs out sance, at worst a

—

" danger-signals of approaching

the denizens of

different stages of his

and

drink,

low

and these

spirits,"

Quicksand are prompt to observe.

"

The

doldrums " reach their climax

in

in the peculiar yell that has given Calliope his

After shooting up the town, he

nickname.

is

attacked

by the city marshal, Buck Patterson, and a posse.

Cal-

liope takes refuge in the railway station, whither

Bupk

follows

comes

in

and

is

and a

Just

shot. little

now

the

old lady alights.

westbound

She

mother, unexpectedly come to visit him.

is

train

Calliope's

In a flash the

Terror removes Buck's glittering city marshal's badge

and pins

it

on

mother that he

his

own

is city

shirt.

*

then pretends to his

marshal and has shot Buck in the

performance of his duty. trate

He

The mother bathes

the pros-

man's temple, which the shot has merely grazed.

Heart of the West, McClure.

PLOT

74

him to give up his reckWith a glance of understanding at Calliope^ Buck promises. The old lady then leaves the waitingroom to look after her trunk, and Buck, assured of the

As Buck

revives, she pleads with

less habits.

real Terror's willingness to reform, saves Calliope's repu-

mother by allowing him to pose as

tation with his

city

marshal during the week of her visit, and goes out post the " boys " as to this novel state of affairs.

to

W

But now we must look for one essential featur^ofa complication, by which I mean not complex-

true plot ity,

—

but a happening, a

Strictly, narratives with-

crisis.

out crises are without plots, and, as has been said, are tales

rather than short-stories.

In the former, events

take a simple course ; whereas in the latter this course interrupted by a ctomplication.

is

Something happens, and

that happening starts, or sometimes actually constitutes, the plot. The rival interferes with the lover, or the " villain " carries out his

'hidden condition up,

scheme, or an.accident happens, or

disclosed;

whereupon things are

and the reader remains more or

the denouement '

is

— the

less in

untying, as the

suspense

word

a

tied

until

really sig-

nifies.

'"^tfnless

wardly,

something happens, whether outwardly or

we can have no

plot,,

and no

short-storj^

in-

You

might as well speak of the plot of a sermon, because

it

has a well-constructed plan, as to apply the. term to the realistic tales

records of

life

and

sketches-

which are mere photographic

without any complication and without

element of fantasy.

Read the most

subtle of

the

Mr. Henry

PLOT

75

James's analyses, or the most adroit of Mr. Howells's sketches, is

and you may delight

in

them, but that delight

not likely to be due to the existence of a plot.

It

must

be attributed, rather, to your satisfaction in recognizing, characters

the

say,

and

lineated,

in natural channels. terest is of

by,

the

has so skilfully de-

literator

in observing the

movement of

their lives

In the typical story of plot your in-

an entirely different

If

sort.

it is

not aroused

at least greatly increased by, the complication in

it is

the plot, by the crisis in the affairs of the characters,

you eagerly wait for the unfolding. skill in

characterization, in description, in all the literary

devices, is to this

and

All the writer's

used largely

if

not solely to lead up effectively

cHmax, and to handle the denouement with equal

art.

In

his

criticism,

The American Drama, Poe has

pointed out the necessity for compact unity in the true

He

plot.

"

A

says:

mere succession of

ited, will

incidents, even the

most

spir-

no more constitute a plot than a multiplication

of zeros, even the most infinite, will result in the produc-

This

tion of a unit.

all

will

themselves to think further, to be in favor of

understood,

is

say

is

common

mere complexity; but a

single incident involved,

we

-The

— but

perfect only inasmuch as

ourselves unable to detach

This

admit

from

it

few trouble notion seems

plot,

we

properly

shall find

or disarrange any

without destruction to the mass.,

the point of perfection

— a point never

yet attained, but not on that account unattainable.

Prac-

PLOT

76 tically,

we may

no one of

its

excellence consider a plot as IS of high h

component parts

wh

" bejtusceptible of shall be_5uscei

moval without detriment to the whole.'

II.

Various

critics

have said that

few general

to a

KINDS OF PLOT all

classifications,

those based upon Love, Identity,

in

may

be reduc

Hunger and Death Howe^

be,

it is

certain that the kinds cross each

unending combinations for which writers are

grateful.

—

may

which need not be named here.

to thirteen, this

plots

ranging from four

will

Six kinds

now

— doubtless an

be briefly examined

:

otli

dv

imperfect groupi

Plots based upon S%

Problem; Mystery; Mood or Emotion or Sen ment; Contrast; and Symbolism. Let it be remember

prise;

that these are only general groupings,

and that a

stc

more than one element as well as a one of a thousand minor variations.* The danger is tl is likely

to exhibit

the beginner takes a convenient grouping of this sort

a hard and fast classification.

Nothing could be mc

unwise and nothing, more deadening to invention. ° Credited by Mr. Leslie Quirk, in The Editor, Mar., 1908, Mr. Charles Leonard Moore, in The Dial. * Many stories are thoroughbred mongrels, sired by the she story writer and damned by the critic. But, like the common c they possess most lovable characteristics. A live mongrel is b but there is always the live pri ter than a dead prize-winner winner to serve as the standard for points; and there

—

ribbons at the

Dane.

show

for

every breed, from Terrier to Gr

PLOT

'J'J

The Surprise Plot

I.

Here we have the simplest The pride' of the beginner is

device of plot construction.

produce the unexpected,

to

frequently with a most unnatural result.

danger.

It requires the exercise of

a genuine surprise for the reader and yet

nouement perfectly natural, as

^—

is

A

is

the

to devise

make

the de-

Marjorie Daw,"

^

for

In the following simple surprise plot the old

example. device of

in "

That

sound sense

two men and a woman

— the three-cornered

plot

used:'

young woman

falls in

love with a man, but, being

worldly-minded, she refuses his addresses because of his poverty.

One is

She leaves the country and some years

day, while on a visit to a friend in the

introduced to her old lover.

him

He

irresistibly.

meet frequently.

old lover at

when all,

pass.

land, she

heart goes out to

has grown rich and thereafter they

Tacitly neither refers to the painful

subject of their old accepts him,

Her

new

life.

it

He

proposes at length and she

transpires that her fiance

is

not her

but his twin brother, of whose existence

she did not know.^

The

injured brother appears on the

scene, but she does not hold the love of either. ''Atlantic,

31:407.

in Barrett's Short Story Writing coninteresting examples of the prevalence of the threecornered, or "three-leaved clover," plot. » Mistaken identity is a very old device.

'The chapter on Plot

tains

some

PLOT

78 2.

This

is

a self-explanatory term.

problem

full of

Though not more

The Problem Plot

stories

— some

The magazines are some humorous.

serious,

as popular as surprise stories they offer

a

attractive field for the skilful writer, particularly'

for the psychologist.

Sometimes the writer leaves the reader wondering how met the issue a dangerous device. Not

—

the characters

every one can carry off a situation as Stockton did with "

The Lady or

For months after that ingenious hoax was perpetrated upon the public, smart writers bombarded weary editors with one imitation after another until newspaper notices began to appear, warning young story-tellers that no such plots could be conthe Tiger."

^*

sidered.

Now

and then the author

tackles a

problem which

Then in self-defense he kills a poor way to beg the question.^^

too big for him. characters

The

—

is

off the

three great dangers in choosing problem plots are:

that the

problem may not

interesting;

strike the reader as being vitally

that the solution

is

likely to

be apparent

from the beginning; and that the author's solution may be unsatisfying. Let the tyro read Balzac's " La Grande Breteche " here are both surprise and problem handled

—

by the master.

The problem 10

plot often takes

up a character and

con-

Century, 25 83. In Rupert of Hentzau any other ending than the death of Rudolf would have forced an unpleasant decision upon the

"

:

PLOT centrates a white light

79

upon some

typical life-crisis, with

downward path

a swift suggestion of the upward or the

away from

leading

times the problem decision plot

the crossroads of decision.

made long

in the

after-effects

"

Most

Some-

background, with the

ago, or even just reached.

works out the

of Gideon Snell."

shown

is

— as

in "

stories dealing

Then

the

The Delusion

with the accus-

ing conscience, or with retributive justice, belong to this class.

The Mystery Plot

3.

The

detective story, the ghost story,

mystery story,

all

and the plain

deserve a fuller treatment than can

here be given.

Whether Poe modeled Monsieur Dupin's deductions upon the reasoning of Voltaire's clever Zadig is open to question, but

is

it

certain that present-day writers

acknowledge Poe as their preceptor in the realm of mystery.

They

introduce the detective, amateur or pro-

all

fessional, for the

purpose of unraveling the mystery be-

fore the reader's very eyes

thread until the

ment

is

woven

last.

and yet concealing the key-

Sometimes the web of entangle-

also in full sight

— with

the author's

sleeves rolled up as a guarantee of good faith; and the

closer

a

you watch the

As a character, dummy. That

less

you

see.

the detective cannot be is,

much more than

his individuality cannot be brought

out in a single short-story, except by a few bold strokes

of delineation 1=*

;

hut

when he

figures in a series of stories,

James Raymond Perry, Lippincotfs, June,

1908.

8o

PLOT

as does Sherlock

know him

Holmes, the reader at length come

quite well.

In the detective

plot, the

author seems to match

wits against the detective's, by striving to concoct a

r

tery which presents an apparently impossible situal It

adds to his problem that he must leave the real sight, yet

in full

so disguised that the reader

solve the mystery before

cai

some casual happening, or

ingenuity of the detective, shows

it

to the reader at

Of course, the detective always p winning game against the author, and this pie

proper moment. the

the reader.

murder

to be committed, the victim

must

be permitted to win the reader's sympathy too

fully,

If a

is

the story becomes revolting. erally point to

Then,

too, the clues

an innocent person, who

is

j

so interes

as to cause the reader to fear lest he or she should

i

But you know the conventii enough; to invest the old problems

out to be the criminal. situations well

^

new forms is the province of The ghost-story calls for a shall

".

invention. single

comment, and

be in the words of Mr. Julian Hawthorne:

.

.

a

ghost

story

can

be

brought

into

charmed and charming circle only if we have made our minds to believe in the ghosts; otherwise their troduction would not be a square deal. It would be

fair, in

other words, to propose a conundrum

basis of ostensible materialism, _.-ij

til.

c

and then, when no o

PLOT

me

Tell

8

beforehand that your scenario

worlds, and I have no objection to

my mind

more extensive

to the

is

make

;

to include both I

scope.

simply attune

But

rebel at

I

an unheralded ghostland, and declare that your

tale is

incredible." ^*

As

for the plain mystery story,

tion.

It

enjoys

all

name

its

is its

exposi-

the freedom possible to any short-

story, its only requirements being those of ingenuity, in-

and denouement concealed

terest,

hiding the real intrigue of the

The Plot

4.

Do man

of

until

Mood, Emotion,

may

not forget that plot

the

close

by

plot.^*

or Sentiment

deal with the internal

as really as with the external.

There

an action

is

of the soul more vital and intense than visible action ever could be.

When

the inner finds expression in the

you have a powerful combination. Here is a fine Hawthorne and Poe are the field for delicate treatment. masters in America, as yet unapproached Maupassant outer,

;

has never been equalled of this type ihe plot characters,

—

and

in "

A

ment

House of Usher

like

;

—

The

like fear,

by Guy de Maupassant or a sentithe quest of success, in Hawthorne's " The ^°

1*

1*

by a dominant mood

" or an emotion

" Riddle Stories," Introduction Stories, Appendix A, 8. 1°

In stories

constructed so as to show setting,

incidents, all colored

Coward,"

—

the Frenchi

sense of inevitable downfall in Poe's "

like the

Fall of the

is

among

See p. 206. In The Odd Number, Harper.

;

to

Mystery and Detective

82

PLOT

Great Carbuncle."

All of these great stories, and mc

others by this trinity of fictionists, conform to Poe's

quirement that the author should begin with a

i

cle

idea of the unified impression he desires to leave up

the reader, and then subordinate everything to this px

Naturally, plot and action will have a smai;

pose.

place in the story of

mood

or sentiment than in the

stc

of incident. 5.

is

The Plot of Contrast

a favorite with many able writers because

it

yiel

such excellent opportunities for character drawing. Bret Harte's " The Outcasts of Poker Flat," two

gai

and two dissolute women, having been driven c of Poker Flat, a western mining camp, fall in with unsophisticated young man and the young girl whc biers

he

is

about to marry.

rible blizzard,

They

are

all

snowed

and the story of how

in

by a

t(

their privations

veal their best and their worst qualities, even the last unavailing struggle with death,

is

.

down

a masterpi(

of contrast, and one of the finest of American sho stories.

Contrast of characters

may

serve as foundation

tinctions of extremes, as well as the

c<

and things,

v

trasts noticeable in closely related ideas

be found is

full

of suggestiveness to the writer

open to see them as they really

i

The sharp more delicate

contrasting environment and incident.

are.

whose

d

(

PLOT

The Plot of Symbolism

6.

The

ground taken by Hawthorne

lofty

nowhere more evident than

stories is fictions

83

—

in

is

Yet

purpose in Haw-

this

saved from abstractness by being conveyed

through appropriate physical images bright butterfly in

The

'

.

.

little

hand on the cheek of Aylmer's wife ').

"

'

Such an idea

is

jotted

down

('

The

Birth-

in its inost general

:

To

symbolize moral or spiritual disease by ^isease of

the body; as thus it

the

[as]

.

Artist of the Beautiful,' and the

mark form

symbolic

in his

which he makes things, events, or char-

acters stand for abstract truths.

thorne "

in his short-

might appear

brought

The

out.' "

— when a person committed any some form on the body —

sin,

this to

in

be

i«

plot of

— one

symbolism always

results

in a didactic

which plainly seeks to teach a lesson. To be worth reading it must be very well done indeed. Few writers possess the skill, sincerity and power of Bunyan story

While the public

and Hawthorne. to be

more ready

coated as fiction,

still

commonly supposed when sugar-

most symbolic short-stories are

failures.

Speaking generally,

teach

its

lesson

very

delicately

it is

better to let the story

by inference, unless the symbolism suggested.

safely be taken as a ^*

is

to take its medicines

Kipling's

"

They

"

is

may

model for the symbolic short-story.

American Note Book, 2

:

59,

quoted in

The Short-Story, on " The

Albright, p. 43. See this author's suggestive chapters Motive as the Source of Plot," and " Plot."

PLOT

84

WHAT CONSTITUTES A GOOD PLOT

III.

demands of art, is adequate to the purpose of the author, and satisfactorily impresses the reader. Judged by this standard good plots might seem to be few, but this is not the case. Without doubt most short-stories fail of acceptance because of some defect other than that of an unsatisfactory

By

this I

Usually, plot

plot.

A

mean a

plot that meets the

is

better than

workmanship.

good short-story plot must possess

I.

Simplicity^

Complexity serves well for the novel, but in the story

it

bulks too big for

its

vehicle.

One

short-

hundred

words are enough in which to compact a statement of the plot of almost any first-rate short-story. You cannot atone for the feebleness of situation by multiplying

inci-

Avoid wheels within wheels (sub-plots, they are for they divert from the power of the main situation. But, it is objected, some of the greatest

dent.

called),

artists

sodes.

triumphantly use sub-plots, double-plots, and Granted, but not because they

know no

epi-

better.

Genius gloriously offends, making a virtue out of a weakness.

Only

sometimes

swift

lose.

runners take handicaps

Be

— and

then

sure of your strength before you

adopt a pet weakness.

Remember

that there is more than one meaning to the " simple." In constructing your plot be certain word to follow the right one. " The plot," says Dr. Bird, " may

PLOT be so cleverly handled that

we

85 read with pleasure

— and

then at the end are disgusted with ourselves for being pleased,

and enraged

we thought ful

at the writer for deluding us

;

for

there would be something beneath his grace-

manners and airy

A simple plot is

not a

persiflage, silly plot,

and

there

lo,

not."

is

"

a " blind lane " that gives

promise of leading to a fascinating climax but which only turns the reader back in his tracks, hoaxed,

ashamed

and^ritated.

They are boon com-

Simplicity consorts with unity.

Let unity

panions.

— unity of conception, unity of — wholly possess your

ment, unity of effect

treat-

plot.

2. Plausibility

Arlo Bates has reminded us that a writer of

Glass,

so

many

like the

is

Even

mind

until after dinner,

a useful attainment for the romancer at if

Some

as six impossible things before breakfast.

authors reserve this state of it

fiction

White Queen in Through a Looking who by practice was at length able to believe

must be

all

but

hours.

the author would not take oath that his tale

him as he tells it it must be true. made to talk, as Goldsmith remarked

is

true, still to

If little

fishes are

in

com-

menting on Dr. Johnson's literary methods, they should talk like little fishes,

not like whales.

makes the skilful liar and Under the Merlin-touch of both

Plausibility tionist.

believable,

and the most credulous are

the adept all

silenced,

'^''Magazine Fiction, Lippincotfs, Nov., 1894.

fic-

things are

even

if

86

PLOT

In ancient times tales dealt with the impossible," then they took up possibilities, next they esunconvinced.

sayed improbable situations, later they depicted the prob-

and nowadays Messrs. Howells, James upon limiting our themes to the inevitable.


change from romance to realism

this is

You must

is

matter

your romance, cock one eye toward

plot.

in-

not progress

fabricate with due

No

gard for what seems probable. sible

or

Co.

Whether

It is a tendency to be reckoned

beside the question.

with in story-telling.

is

&

how

re-

impos-

plausibility of

In proportion as your theme leaves romance and

walks toward realism your plot must clasp hands with truth and truth-seeming.

But have a care

at this point.

for plausibility does not story,

lie

The primary

When

but rather in what follows.

asserts that

Mars

is

necessity

in the proftiises of a wonder-

the author

peopled with such beings as H.

Wells has invented, the reader good-naturedly

G.

accepts

So far, all is easy. But now these Marmust behave in such a manner as to justify themThere is no objection to selves and become realities. the premise.

tians

creating a wonder-island, or a

or an invisible hero, but there

human being who

is

can

fly,

objection to constructing

a plot which involves such things without causing events to follow plausibly.

The four-armed giant must

perform

deeds suited to his prowess.

Upon

the other hand,

it

will not

do to introduce

a

A

1' modification of Professor Brander Matthews' statement, that, " Fiction dealt first with the Impossible, then with the Im-

probable, next Inevitable."

with the Probable, and

now

at

last

with

the

PLOT wonder-plot into

an atmosphere which

not suited

is

" impossible "

Once estabhsh any

thereto.

87

and you are free to carry out your plot to

its

condition, logical con-

clusion.

Re-read Julian Hawthorne's words on page 80.

The tion

idea of plot

found

germs

— these

are cherished beliefs

Mere chance can no more

ples.

than

human mind.

Fic-

In nature, cause points to

in nature.

character results in conduct, conduct leads to des-

effect,

tiny

its

inherent in the

is

can ultimately in

it

among

Now

life.

civilized peo-

rule in the serious story

and then

accident,

or what seems such to be, crops up, but the general reader does not want to feel that chance

forgives incongruity, but otherwise he ble progress of incidents.

is

making pup-

In extravaganza he

pets of the characters in the story.

You may

demands a

plausi-

be clever at car-

pentering a plot, but the convincing plot

is

a growth.

Get hold of this truth with both hands.

"~niegreat

literators recognized this necessity for con-

truth-seeming

sistent

in their story-telling

issue,

when they

let fall significant

were really well-concealed forecasts

portents.

words

which, read in the light of the

Such, in real

life,

—

final

or, at least,

were the words of Jesus

which his followers afterwards knew to have had reference to coming events. 3.

" It

sight "

is ^°

Originality'^^

not sight the story-teller needs, but second

Give us something new,

^»

is

the ever-increasing

See chapter on Originality, Part III, chap. i. ^"After-thoughts of a Story-Teller, George W. Cable, North

American Review,

Jan., 1894.

88

pujT

Nor

cry.

is this

impossible, even with the field so well-

tilled as it truly is.

In his essay, The American Drama,

Poe says: " Originality, properly considered, first,

is,

is

threefold.

There

the originality of the general thesis; secondly,

by which the thesis is developed; and, thirdly, that of the manner or tone, by which means alone an old Subject, even when

that of the several incidents or thoughts

developed through hackneyed incidents or thoughts, may

be made to produce a fully original effect all, is

— which,

after

the end truly in view.

" But originality, as

it

is

one of the highest,

one of the rarest of merits.

.

.

.

We

is also

are content

perforce, therefore, as a general thing, with either of the

lower branches of originality mentioned above."

Professor Saintsbury has called our attention to

remarkable basic similarity novels.^^

steadily spirit

among Hall

Yet that entertaining romancer writes increasing

army of

readers.

the

Caine's plots for

He

for a

follows the

of Poe's dictum just quoted.

Fortnightly Review, LVII N. S., p. 187. Also compare the of these three short-stories: (a) "The Cask pf Amontillado," by Poe, in which a revengeful man lures his enemy to some ancient wine vaults and walls him up in a niche alive, (b) "La Grande Breteche," by Balzac, in which a husband learns that an intruder is hiding in a closet and has him walled up alive before his wife's eyes, (c) "The Duchess at Prayer," by Edith' Wharton, in which a cruel and neglectful husband learns that his wife has been intriguing with a cousin in a crypt of the famil; chapef, and entombs the cousin alive by placing a heavy marble statue of his wife over the only entrance to the crynt ''>

f
PLOT

W.

Mr. Leslie

Quirk

cites 'in

89

The Editor some

inter-

from several same newspaper account as material

esting cases of alleged plagiarism arising

authors' using the for stories.^^

4.

There

is

y

Climax

a great divide in every perfect plot.

summit the story must

Toward

and summit the reader lingers in suspense for a longer or shorter moment. From thence the plot swiftly falls away to its its

without episode or

plot

must be

reader in a vital spot. tempest-in-a-teapot that

we

that

call the climax.^*

Interest

5-

The good

On

digression.

This great divide

full close.

Remember

steadily progress, directly

^

interesting,

The remote,

'KiUhJ^tt must touch the

it

out-of-date, feeble,

theme begets a story of

when an

editor takes

like

sort.

up your manuscript

or a reader your printed story, the chances are generally -against

for

— you

must win

interest,

it

and

is

looking for good points in yours

virtues soever

your story may possess,

terest in fiction is

human

play parts in the Active

— with

But be sure of

this

:

it fails if it

not grip and hold the reader's interest,

^^

not waiting

Your story is in competition with Your judge knows a good story when he meets

eye open for defects as well.

22

is

you ready-made.

others. it

you

an

what does

and the big

in-

Even when animals drama they make up in partial interest.

March, igo8, p. 117. For a fuller treatment of Qimax, see Part

II,

chap. x.

PLOT

go

—

like " Br'er Rabbit " and " Br'er Fox." human guise Make up your mind that human interest cannot be

" faked."

Don't try to write about that which does not

your own soul mightily.

lay hold of

pulsating

about you,

life

it,

feel

it,

to the

believe in

it,

do something for it, live it, and as pours through the channels of your own being it will

sympathize with it

know

Get close

qualify

and

you

it,

to picture that life for others interestedly

Take Wilkie

interestingly.

Collins's prescription for

fiction-writing, "

Make 'em laugh make 'em cry make 'em wait." At the same time, "mix your paint with brains." The great life-forces which compel men's interest in real life

and

tion, love,

—

sacrifice,

the rest

all

awake

—

courage, genuineness, devowill grip

your readers with

First transmute life into fiction, then

convincing power. fiction will

;

;

to

life.

OUTLINE SUMMARY I.

II.

WHAT

A SHORT-STORY PLOT

KINDS OF PLOT 1.

Surprise Plot

2.

Problem Plot Mystery Plot Plot of Mood, Emotion, or Sentiment

3.

4. 5. 6.

III.

IS

Plot of Contrast Plot of Symbolism

WHAT

CONSt/tUTES A GOOD PLOT

1.

Simplicity

2.

Plausibility

3.

Originality

4.

Clifnax

5.

Interest

PLOT

91

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY What

1.

plot which

differences is

Do you

2.

and

do you see between a

similarities

a design against a person, and a fiction-plot?

any peculiar

see

fitness

Robert Barr's com-

in

parison of a plot with a theorem, on page 71.

Construct a simple plot from one of these themes; (a) self-reproach of a man who thinks he has committed a crime but at length discovers that appearances deceived him. 3.

The long

(b) How the double meaning of a remark caused a complication in the affairs of a conceited man. (c)

humorous

How

her

neighbor caused such a change in the thought and bearing of a woman that she finally believed she had actually committed the injury. The consequences. Select from the current magazines at least four stories 4. illustrating the different kinds of plot named on page 90. projected

Briefly

injury

to

a

summarize the

plots,

in

manner shown

the

in

Ap-

pendix C.

Which of the six kinds of plot do you find 5. common? How many stories, and what magazines,

the did

most you

examine in coming to a conclusion? 6. Do certain magazines seem to prefer certain kinds of plot? If so, specify; and assign reasons. Name as many minor kinds of plot as you can which 7. might be included under the six general kinds. Point out the main complication (crisis) in each of the 8. first

four plots in

Appendix

Try

C.

to

substitute a

different

complication in each plot.

Do

9.

Try

10.

of

its

you see any weak points in any of these four plots? to find a story that has no complication in the course

events, briefly outlining its plan.

Is

it

a tale, a sketch,

or a short-story? 11.

Would a complication mar or improve

story for 12.

act

the interest of the

you?

Suggest a possible complication and say how on the interest of the plot if you think there

it

would

is

a

—

real

plot. 13.

Criticise

the

plot

of

a

story

selected

from

a

current

PLOT

92 magazine,

with

regard

to

simplicity,

plausibility,

originality,

climax, and interest. Is the plot

14.

pladsible

of

"An

Error of Judgment,"

Construct a simple plot for (a) a recent a novel) whose plot is really an (b) short-story whose plot is 15.

Can you name

16.

p. 214, perfectly

?

A

a short-story of incident. long story (generally called

overgrown short-story

plot?

too big for the short-story

form? 17.

Write out the

Note:

plot of

"The

Necklace,'' Part III, chap.

Most of the written work on Plot should be

for the assignments connected with the next chapter.

iv.

reserved

CHAPTER V PLOT DEVELOPMENT Let him

[the

fiction

choose a motive, whether of

writer]

character or of passion; carefully construct his plot so that every incident is an illustration of the motive, and every property employed shall bear to it a near relation of congruity or contrast; and allow neither himself in the narrative nor any character in to utter one sentence that is not and parcel of the business of the story. And as the root of the whole matter, let him bear in mind that his novel is not a transcript of life, to be judged by its exactitude; but a simplification of some side or point of life, to stand or fall by its significant simplicity. Robert Louis Stevenson, A

the course of the dialogue,

part

.

.

.

—

Humble Remonstrance. s

The foregoing quotation from the great Scottish masmay serve to link the preceding chapter on " Plot

ter

with the present one on " Plot Development."

L

THE SOURCES OF PLOT

The chapters on " Choosing a Theme," " Gathering the Materials," and " Fact in Fiction " have pointed out the general sources of literary material, wrorth while to look plot-sources, as being

somewhat

still

it

seems

closely at three special

fundamental to plot construction. 93

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

94 ^{\

The Characters

I.

Here

to-wbethef-eircum-

arises the old question as

stances govern

men

men

or

''

control circutastances. As " The latter view.

Mr. Howells holds to the

to fiction,

true plot," he says, " comes out of the character

the

is,

man

the things he does result

comes out of character

from the man, and so

plot

plot aforethought does not char-

;

A more moderate view,

acterize."

that

;

does not result from the things he does, but

it

seems to me,

is that

events ordinarily modify characterSj and that in certain

men

instances

stances are too

actually

much

make

events.

When

circum-

for the struggling will, and events

man on to his destiny, we But not all life is tragic. Now and again the hero's hand disposes of affairs and he arises pile up, irresistibly driving

have tragedy.^

victorious.

"

To many men,

doubtless, there

tion in conceiving a

ting to

work

to discover a narrative

— than

the freest action

and the subsequent

is

far

group of characters

plot,

in toiling

more

fascina-

— and then

which

set-

will give them

over the bare

idea,

followed by a series of actors

and actresses who work out the denouement."*

When

Thackeray planned Vanity Fair the characters

gave form to the

What God in "

I

want

plot.

is

to

In writing to his mother he says

make a

the world (only that

set of people living without is

a cant phrase), greedy,

See chap, xi, Characters and Characterisation. study of Professor Moulton's Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist will abundantly repay the student. 5 How to Write Fiction, anon., p. 46. 1

2

A

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

pompous men, and

at ease

To

95

perfectly self-satisfied for the most part,

about their superior virtue."

*

conceive of a character as subject to the limitations

of heredity, or of environment, at once opens up the book

of

life,

What

whose

a field

is

lightest

upon

!

A

^

dissolute but good-natured

into a fortune, but

his entire

weighty with meaning.

is

here disclosed, replete with the most ab-

sorbing problem plots

man comes

word

reformation:

it is

how

born without timidity, at middle obsessing his every thought:

maintain his place

among

to be his contingent

does he act?

A

man

age suddenly finds fear

how would he

his associates

?

attempt to

A light woman

suddenly awakens to the fact that she has forfeited the respect of her

grown daughter: what means

will

she

take to regain it?

The combinations are

endless.

In the great majority of instances the characters in the short-story will disclose themselves

2.

by means of

Dramatic Incidents

Marion Crawford has called the novel a pocket stage.' The same may be said even more truly of the short-story. It is patent to the observer that these two are now influencing each other profoundly. The dramatist and the short-story writer labor with the same materials, under nearly like conditions, and often seek similar effects. Introduction to Vanity Fair, Biographical Edition. See Hawthorne's American Note Books for many germ-plots based upon conceptions of character. *

°

«

The Novel: What

It Is.

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

96

The drama

— so govern the short-story —

exhibits " characters in action "

the short-story; the

drama

same requirements as

^

does

plotted with a view to the

is

brief and

comprehensive introduction of characters and

setting,

rapid rise of the complicating incident to the climax,

period of suspense, denouement, and swift close ; both contrived to produce a preconceived and unified

are

eflfect;

both are compressed, scenic, and usually contain a touch of fantasy.

Thus the points of

likeness

might be

multi-

and expanded.

plied

One word, however, may be of the old dramatic unities

The

offered about the bearing

—

time and

action,

place.'

unity of the short-story upon which Poe insists

none of these; effect,

At

or impression.

member

the

that imity of action,

unity of intrigue,

is

as has already appeared, a unity of

it is,

is essential

same time

it is

which Comeille to

good

plot.

well to

re-

called the It is also

usually desirable to limit the time to a short period,

and the place to one general

locality

— of

which more

later.

From ters

the foregoing

and dramatic

it

will

be plain that the

charac-

incidents, as well as the general sources

noted in previous chapters, must generally be used jointly.

This idea

is

con-

amplified in the following:

" In his recently written preface to the revised Portrait ' I

of a Lady, Mr.

am much

Henry James quotes a remark

of

indebted to Professor Bliss Perry's chapter on

and the Drama," in A Study of Prose Fiction. For a thorough discussion of the dramatic unities see Art and Literature, A. W. von Schlegel, p. 232. matic " Fiction *

Dra-

PLOT DEVELOPMENT Ivan Turgenev

*

In regard to his

own

usual origin of the fictive picture.'

Mr. James reports,

'

97 experience of the It

began for him,

almost always with the vision of

some person or persons, who hovered before him. . He saw them subject to the chances, the com. .

plications of existence,

and saw them

had to find for them the right

vividly, but then

relations,

those that

would most bring them out; to imagine, to invent and select

and piece together the

most useful and

situations

favorable to the sense of the creatures themselves, the

would be most

complications they to feel.' "

3.

One never

tires

produce and

likely to

Impressionism

The

of quoting Stevenson.

following

words from Graham Balfour's Life and Letters of the great romancer admirably point out the three special sources of fictional plots

and impressionism.

— characters, dramatic

Balfour

is

incidents,

speaking

" I

There remember very distinctly his saying to me are, so far as I know, three ways, and three ways only, of writing a story. You may take a plot and fit '

:

characters to incidents

it,

may

take a character and choose

and situations to develop

must bear with (here he

or you

me

made a

while I try to

it,

or lastly

make it

outline

— you may take a certain atmosphere " '

' *"

The Forum, April-June,

A

this clear

gesture with his hand as

trying to shape something and give

brief discussion of "

igo8.

Compare

atmosphere "

is

— you

if

'

he were

and form)

and get action

p. 94.

given in chap.

viii.

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

98

and persons

to express

example — The

and

realize

Merry Men.

feeling of one of those islands

and

land,

on

I'll

it.

There

I

give you an

began with

the

the west coast of Scot-

gradually developed the story to express

I

the sentiment with which the coast affected me.'

Stevenson's experience calls (as

what

is

!Mr.

H.

S.

Canby^'

he himself laments, for want* of a better term)

" impressionism," but in Stevenson's case the impression

gained totality only when the story grew out of his somewhat vagfue " feeling " of atmosphere. He first received

an impression, and then sought to convey that impression by means of the story

Of

—.and he

not the only one the author the

did.^^

course the general impression of atmosphere

medium

may wish

of the short-story.

to

is

convey through

The more

specific feeling

aroused by a picture, an incident, a situation, a problem,

a character

— what

not

— may

this

theme in

his brochure.

" So the nucleus of

'

be just as

The Short Story:

The Luck

of Roaring

have been the glimpse of a lank, rough tiny

baby

in

its

effectively

Mr. Canby thus dwells upon

conveyed to the reader.

Camp may

figfure,

'

with a

arms, and, in spite of the excellent

plot,

a feeling akin to the pleasurable emotion which would follow upon such a scene in real

life

remains longest

'^^ The Short Story, Yale Studies in English, p.- 15. i'The same results may be attained in the sketch,

Kipling^s Indian sketches gether atmospheric. The

amples in point.

—

l.alf

Smith

as witness half anecdotes, altoAdministration papers are expictures,

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

According

with the reader. ism] the process,

if

to this theory [impression-

one should attempt to write a Short

might be something Uke

Story,

99

this:

I

my room

leave

I

and meet a drunken beggar reeling from the

As

gutter.

turn to avoid him, he pulls himself together and quotes

huskily a dozen lines of Virgil with a

and stumbles story, and,

off into the darkness.

be the plot what

bow and a flourish, I make him into a

may, the

it

upon the

effect

reader that I shall strive for will be a vivid impression of incongruity, not far different from that which I

when

the drunkard turned scholar and relapsed.

felt

Not

all

short stories can be analyzed back to their basic ele-

ment as

many

Fear,'

*

Happiness,'

in

some

be built up, but with

Nearly every

a perfect example; his

is

The Coward,' would

'

lead you to

utilized later,

some

which may be found

not,

quantity scattered through Hawthorne's

Note-Books, there

is

American

often enough such an impression

moment

of

its

American Note-Books,

II.

176,

noted at the

titles

In the motifs and suggestions for

suspect as much. stories,

may

easy and obvious.

is

conte of Maupassant '

one

easily as this

the process

Here

inception. is

'

The

in

the

print in blood

of a naked foot to be traced through the streets of a town,'

which seems to inspire

and again, N.B.

I.

13,

*

'

Dr. Grimshaw's Secret,'

In an old house a mysterious

knocking might be heard on the wall, where had formerly been a doorway *

now

bricked up,' which

Peter Goldthwaite's Treasure

'

also,

'

A

is

applied in

stranger, dy-

and after many years two strangers come search of his grave and open it.' In Henry

ing, is buried in

;

;

...

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

lOO James's story,

'

which appeared

Flickerbridge,'

in Scrib-

ner's for February, 1902, the action of the story can only

be explained by the deep impression which the quaint, delightful lady of Flickerbridge

which impression to the reader;

II.

it is

makes upon the

hero,

the intent of the author to convey

and so with many another."

ACTUAL PLOT DEVELOPMENT

Sir Walter Scott once said that in working out a plot he " took the easiest path across country."

Doubtless

this

will account for the

winding way by which the Wizard

sometimes leads us.

But not

all

masters of fiction found

plot development so simple a process as a journey

To some

afield.

has always been the most arduous task of

it

all

the labor of fiction building.

Here

may

my

on "

is

a concrete instance of

bring out a plot-germ

how

easily conversation

Several friends were seated

:

piazza lately while the talk drifted.

There

is

a professor of Psychology at

lege," said one, "

who

col-

has sold his head to a learned

society for $15,000. His head is of unique form and," he chuckled, " the society thinks it may be even more

valuable after his death than "

When

is

the

money

to

it is

now."

be paid ? " queried another

of

the group. "

The professor

—

is

already actually living on the $15,-

000, and " But," interposed a third, " " should be lost at sea ?

what would happen

if

he

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

lOI

" I

wonder if the society has insured his favor ? " pondered the first gentleman.

life in their

No

one of the

And

went

so the conversation

on.

group has yet made a short-story out of the germ, but the query " what would happen ? " holds several ingenious answers awaiting development.

At

just such a stage as this, plot development

be taken up in earnest. follow,

how

we long for some practical demonstration workman sets about his task.

of

the* master

" I have often thought

h6w

to say,

who

could

—

magazine

interesting a

paper might be written by an author is

must

Then, with Poe, whose words

detail, step

by

who would

step, the processes

by which any one of his compositions attained

mate point of completion.

Why

been given to the world, I

am much

— that

its

ulti-

such a paper has never

— but perhaps the authorial vanity has had more do with omission than any one other cause. Most writers — — prefer having understood that they poets compose by a frenzy — an of the pub— and would shudder take a peep behind the the elaborate and of thought — the true purposes only the moment — the innumerable glimpses of idea that arrived not the maturity of view — the fully-matured fancies discarded despair unmanageable — at the cautious and — the painful erasures and interpolations at

a loss to say to

the

in especial

it

species

ecstatic intui-

fine

positively

tion

at letting

scenes, at

lic

vacillating crudities

seized

at

at

at

last

at

as

selections

jections in

full

in

at

at

re-

>

a word, at the wheels and pinions; the tackle for

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

I02

the

scen'e- shifting,

and demon-traps,

the

the red paint and the black patches,

feathers,

cock's

which

step-ladders

in ninety-nine cases out of the

the properties of the literary histrio."

hundred

constitute

^^

Several well-known authors have since done precisely

what Poe here suggests, and

I

can do no better than

two personally conducted

vote the rest of this chapter to tours

in

which successful writers take us into

They are both

work-shops.^* their

words are

The

He "

is

first

full

novelists,

first

conductor

proceeding

The Woman

private

life,

in

is

their

tfue, but

the fecund Wilkie Collins."

is

is

my

to get

White

Woman

in White.

central idea

The

pivot on which the story turns. '

it

of meat for the short-story writer.

showing us how he wrote The

My

de-

—

the

central idea in

the idea of a conspiracy

in

which circumstances are so handled as

to

in

'

is

woman of her identity, by confounding her with another woman sufficiently like her in personal appearrob a

ance to answer the wicked purpose.

The

destruction

of her identity represents a first division of her story; the recovery of her identity

My

central idea next suggests

marks a second division. some of my chief charac-

ters.

"

A

clever devil

must conduct the conspiracy.

devil or female devil?

The

sort of wickedness wanted

seems to be a man's wickedness.

Perhaps a foreign man.

1*

The Philosophy of Composition.

^*

In his Philosophy of Composition how he wrote The Raven.

tially tells ^5 See his

Autobiography.

Male

Poe himself

circumstan-

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

Count Fosco his

shows himself

faintly

IO3

me

to

know

before I

him wait, and begin to think about the They must be both innocent and both interLady Glyde dawns on me as one of the innocent

name.

I let

two women. esting.

what a walk

me

do for

will

new

evening to a

effort^

me — and — and

devote the

Experience

tells

and leave that

it,

come of her own accord. The next morning before I have been awake in my bed for more than ten minutes, my perverse brains set to work without consulting me. Poor Anne Catherick comes into the room, and says, Try me.' " I have now got an idea, and three of my characother

woman

I try

fail.

I

fail.

fail.

no more trouble about

to take

— and

discover the other

I try to

victims.

to

'

ters. is

What

is

My

now?

there to do

up the

to begin building

next proceeding

Here

story.

my

favorite

must be encountered. First effort: To the beginning. Second effort: To keep the

three efforts

begin at

paying the smallest

story always advancing, without

tention to the serial division in parts, or to the

publication

skies in his I

in

volumes.

All this

the end.

is

In doing

details; I

this, the

present themselves in

me

all

effort

my

famous sea-pictures

do not enter into

marks.

Third

done as

—

set

up

As

my

yet

land-

sorts of

new

aspects.

These

nearer and nearer to finding the

The end being decided and look it.

one heat.

situations of the story

right end.

with

at

merely

main

lead

to be satisfied

decide on

father used to paint his

discoveries

to the beginning,

To

:

at-

book

at

it

oh, I

with a

go back again

new

eye,

and

fail

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

I04

" I have yielded to the worst temptation that besets a novelist

— the

temptation to begin with a striking

inci-

dent without counting the cost in the shape of explana-

must and

tions that

These pests of

will follow.

fiction, to

reader and writer alike, can only be eradicated in one

way.

I

have already mentioned the way In the case of

the beginning. I

'

—

to begin at

The Woman

in White,'

get back, as I vainly believe, to the true starting point

am now at liberty to me repeat, no more

of the story.

I

going, having,

let

story in

set the

new

novel

than an outline of

and characters before me, and leaving the details For a week, as

each case to the spur of the moment.

well as I can remember, I

work

for the best part of

every day, but not as happily as usual.

An

unpleasant

wrong worries me.

At

the begin-

sense of something

ning of the second week a disheartening discovery veals itself. '

The

I

Woman

chapters

is

in

Lady Glyde)

;

re-

have not foimd the right beginning of

in

White

'

yet.

Cumberland.

The

scene of

Miss

Fairlie

my

opening

(afterwards

Mr. Fairlie, with his irritable nerves and Miss Halcombe (discovered suddenly,

his art treasures; like

Anne

Catherick), are

all

awaiting the arrival of the

young drawing master, Walter Hartwright. No; this won't do. The person to be first introduced is Anne Catherick. She must already be a familiar figure to the reader when the reader accompanies me to Cumberland. This is what must be done, but I don't see how to do it no new idea comes to me; I and my MS. have quarreled, and don't speak to each other. One evening I happen to read of a lunatic who has escaped from an

PLOT DEVELOPMENT asylum paper.

—a

paragraph of a few

Instantly the idea

lines only in a newscomes to me of Walter Hart-

wright's midnight meeting with

from the asylum.

and nobody

now

I05

'

The

From

Woman

in

that

Catherick escaped

White begins again, '

much

be half as

will ever

as I am.

Anne

moment

I

interested in

have done with

it

my

For the next six months the pen goes on. It is work, hard work but the harder the better, for this excellent reason: the work is its own exceeding great reward. As an example of the gradual manner in which miseries.

;

I

reached the development of character,

for a

moment

afterthought

;

The making

to Fosco.

his canaries

and

his white

may

I

of

him was an

mice were found

next; and, in the most valuable discovery of

miration of Miss Halcombe, took

return

its rise

all,

his ad-

in a conviction

he would not be true to nature unless there was

that

some weak point somewhere in his character."

The second conductor "

Consider

—

say,

then, first of all,

it

shall

be Sir Walter Besant.^'

a diamond robbery. Very well must be a robbery committed under

exceptional and mysterious conditions, otherwise there will

be no interest in

the robbery little

it.

Also, you will perceive that

must be a big and important thing

shop-lifting

business.

— no

Next, the person robbed

must not be a mere diamond merchant, but a person

whose

loss will interest the reader, say,

the robbery

^'On

is

all-important.

She

one to

whom

will be, say, a vulgar

the Writing of Novels, Atlanta, Vol.

I, p.

372.

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

I06

woman

with an overweening pride in her jewels, and

course, without the money to replace them

They must be

lost.

worn

so valuable as to be

only on

extraordinary occasions, and too valuable to be kept

They must be consigned

home.

who

You

has strong-rooms.

now, growing.

How

You

of

they are

if

at

to the care of a jeweler

observe that the story

is

have got the preUminary germ.

can the strong-room be entered and robbed ?

Well,

That expedient will not do. Can the diamonds be taken from the lady while she is wearing them? That would have done in the days of the gallant Claude Duval, but it will not do now. Might the house be it

cannot.

broken into by a burglar on a night when a lady had

worn them and returned?

But she would not

rest with

such a great property in the house unprotected.

They

must be taken back to their guardian the same night. Thus the only vulnerable point in the care of the diamonds seems their carriage to and from their guardian. They must be stolen between the jeweler's and the own-

Then by whom?

house.

er's

how be that

is

plicity

The robbery must

some-

connected with the hero of the love story indispensable; he must be innocent of

in

it

— that

is

all

—

com-

equally indispensable; he must

preserve our respect ; he will have to be somehow a

vic-

how is that to be managed ? " The story is getting on in earnest. The only way or the best way seems, on consideration, to make the lover be the person who is entrusted with the tim

:

—

.

.

.

—

carriage of this precious package of jewels to and from

the owner.'s house.

This, however,

is

not a very

dis-

PLOT DEVELOPMENT tinguished role to play;

it

wants a very

interest us in a jeweler's assistant

give this

IO7

young man an exceptional

position.

circumstances, perhaps, has compelled situation

He

which he holds.

man; he may be a

hand

skilled

to

— We must therefore him

Force of

to accept the

need not again be a shop

confidential employe, holding a posi-

tion of great trust;

and he may be a young man with

ambitions outside the narrow circle of his work.

"The

girl to

whom

he is engaged must be lovable must be of the same station in life that is to say, of the middle class, and

to begin with; she as her lover

—

As

preferably of the professional class. circle, .

And

that

must be

distinctive

so on to the end.

This

to her

home

and interesting." is

enough, however, to

turn the author's, reasoning processes inside out for our

examination.

OUTLINE SUMMARY Plot Development i.

the sources of plot 1.

2. 3.

II.

The Characters Dramatic Incidents Impressionism

ACTUAL PLOT DEVELOPMENT

Methods of Wilkie Collins and Sir Walter Besant.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR -INDIVIDUAL STUDY I.

(a)

Briefly describe

at

least

three

characters

known

to

you, vifhose individualities suggest short-story plot possibilities, (b)

Do

the

same from any one of Dickens'

novels.

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

I08

2. Construct a plot based upon one of the three, in cases a and b (above). Paper: Compare and contrast the dramatic form witli 3. the short-story form. Can you discover any flaws in Sir Walter Besant's reason4. ing, or method, on p. 106. Look over the outlines of chapters shown in the Table 5. of Contents, and make a list of the sources of plot-material. Which of these seem to you to be the most fertile? Why? 6. Build a simple plot from one such source. 7. Does environment limit plot? Give reasons. 8. Outline a plot, original or borrowed, whose incidents 9. could not have happened in any given locality you choose to name. 10. Outline one that could be set anywhere. 11. Rewrite "The Necklace," p. 326, setting the incidents in New York, or some other American city. 12. Construct a short-story plot from a newspaper account, adhering closely to facts. Construct a plot from the same item, giving free play to 13.

the imagination. 14.

the 15.

Select first

half

any plot from Appendix C, and (a) ;

entirely change

(b) the last half.

Construct a plot from a situation presented in a

painting,

or engraving.

Note: Other exercises in plot-development may be by building plots of any or all the kinds grouped in the on " Kinds of Short-Story."

devised

chapter

CHAPTER HOW

VI

STORIES ARE TOLD

The great adversary of Invention

Imitation.

is

— Poe,

The

American Drama.

How ways

ditions

my

shall I tell

— :

you

if

In any one of a dozen is

expressive of two con-

your art and your view-point.

Any Way

is

good

if it is artistic;

but some ways are

That, however,

harder than others. against

story? " if "

The

can.

trying them, provided you

is

no argument

fully

realize

how

you hamper yourself by their adoption, not only as to

Art can and prosaic method and breathe into it the breath of life. But are you an artist ? In making your decision you must be frank with yourself Are you but as to popular approval as well.

difficulty

take a time-worn

:

a past-master of

most

difficult

of

form? all

If not,

tasks

—

safe to attempt the

is it

to handle an old

method with

make it virtually new to work over your you have invested its old style of narration with charm of freshness ? Are you ready to study the work

such

skill

as to

;

story until the

of others

— not

in order to imitate, but to

form your

own judgments as to effects? If so, go ahead. Be individual. Employ any method that you can use with skill, but make certain of your skill before you handicap yourself

by clinging

to

time-worn devices. 109

no

HOW

condition to govern your choice of how

The second to

tell

your story It is

teller.

STORIES ARE TOLD

is

your

your own view-point as the storyand ten chances to one it pos-

story,

sesses you, for the time being.

If

it

doesn't, pigeonhole

assume now that you are full of your story. Look within yourself and see if there is not some form of narration that is within your range until

it

it

does.

But

and peculiarly suited

I

to the story itself.

story to another writer

and he would

Give the same

tell it differently,

but as you visualize the pictures of your yourself

how may you

the prospective reader. self as

fiction, ask

best present these pictures

Do you

an actor in the scenes to be portrayed ?

Are you

actors in your

little

happens to them ? Press

home its

drama, or are you careless of what

^

questions like these until you are aware

denouement.

This once determined, try

quarrel with your hero or

you are willing

a fresh view-point.

fall in

of

its setting, its char-

maintain the same attitude throughout the story.

unless

im-

the intimate friend of the

your precise relation to your story, acters,

1

Are you

one of your characters, or merely an interested but personal on-looker?

to

naturally think of your-

love with the

to begin all over again

to

Don't villain

and assume

Don't indulge your sneaking

prefer-

ence for a minor character at the expense of the heroine,

j

;

you give them both new places in the plot. You tacitly ask your readers to assume your chair as they read, and look at your creations through your spectacles<':1 unless

If 1

you are a Compare

realist,

p. 229.

you may deny

this,

but your very

HOW

STORIES ARE TOLD

III

methods of selection show that you wish the reader to see

your characters as you yourself do.

And in fact

the reader likes to adopt the author's view-point

he resents

when he

it

denied that privilege

is

because of the unfair, unnatural, morbid,

brutal,

silly,

or outlandish attitude taken by the author toward his

A

creations.

short-story

when the author has

never more enjoyed than

is

quite captured the reader

and

their

sympathies harmonize. So, having attained tion in

some

story will determine your

in the art of narra-

skill

one style or more, your

own

manner

attitude

perhaps not on the instant; your decision

tested until

I.

to

your

abilities.

Story-telling in the Third Person

ward with

The author keeps

form of narration.

background, unless,

reader.

be the

the commonest, probably the easiest, and surely

is

the safest in the

may

you have found the one best suited

and to your

This

— though

experiment; with one method after another

result of

story

toward your

of telling it

his

But

own

like

platter to offer a

moral morsel

in the short-story such homilies

sonal expressions are looked

ner had better avoid them.

entirely

Thackeray, he comes for-

upon askance.

To be

sure,

to the

and per-

The

begin-

an author of

strong personality cannot help impressing his point of view, but he does~

it

for the

most part unconsciously, and it, feels it, more

by the same token the reader discerns surely than if

it

were written out

declaratively.

It

needs

HOW

112

STORIES ARE TOLD

no expositor to point out the gentle

spirit of

sympathy

and humor that pervaded the author of " The Joy of Youth" when she wrote her story. It stands out in the first

paragraph and the reader willingly adopts the same

view-point.

Emmeline Ames, going down the village street that winter was conscious of a little uncomfortable lump in her right shoe. She was also conscious of an innocent bravado of shame as the lump worked from the hollow of her instep toward her toes. A soft red, and a delicious, silly smile, overspread her face. The lump was composed of some dried sprigs of the plant called boys'-love, or southernwood. Emafternoon,

meline believed firmly in the superstition concerning

She

it.

was sure that a girl with a sprig of boys'-love in her shoe would marry the first boy whom she met. In summer, when the plant with the

its

long

garden,

had

secretly

she

gray-green

aromatic

wore a some in

often

pressed

sprig

her

leaves in

flourished

her shoe,

own

in

and

particular

she

books,

might be able to try the charm in the wintertime. Emmeline had too much credulity and imagination to be in a perfectly normal state; or, on the contrary, she may have been too normal, with all her human instincts dangerously near the surface, and as prone to injury as her great-grandmother's in order that she

egg-shell china teacups.^

Some

stories are so impersonal that they

may

be

said

no point of view. The author simply tells what they are worth," for mere entertainment, as though someone had told him, or he had seen the hap-

to have

them

" for

penings,

and he impartially unreeled the yarn.

third-person style of narration this sort of story.

The

is

The

peculiarly suitable

story itself

is

everything,

2 The Joy of Youth, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, Dec, 1907.

to

the

Harper's,

HOW author nothing

.

STORIES ARE TOLD

Adve nture,

113

'Spirited action,

and humor

are types well suited to this form of story-telling.

how

See

the author keeps out of sight in "Fleas is. Fleas,"

hy-ElHsTarRer

Butler.'

Mike Flannery was the star boarder at Mrs. Muldoon's, and he deserved to be so considered, for he had boarded with Mrs. ^ Muldoon for years, and was the agent of the Interurban Express Company at Woodcote, while Mrs. Muldoon's other boarders were largely transient. " Mike," said Mrs. Muldoon one noon when Mike came for his lunch, " I know th' opinion ye have of Dagos, and niver a-one have I took into me house, and I think the same of thim dirthy things, an' takin' the bread away from th' honest meself and I, would not be thinkin' of takin' American laborin' man is a Frinchone t' board at this day, but would ye tell me this " min a Dago ? Flannery raised his knife and laid down the law with it. " Mrs. Muldoon, mam," he said, " there be two kinds of Frinchmin. There be the respictible Frinchmin, and there be th'^ unrespictible Frinchmin. They both be furriners, but they be classed different. Th' respictible Frinchmin is no worse than th' Dutch, and is classed as Dutch, but th' other kind is Dagos. There is no harm in the Dutch Frinchmin, for thim is such as Napoleon Bonnypart and the like of him, but ye want t' have nawthing t' do with the dago Frinch. They be a

—

—

:

bad

A

—

lot."

more

subtle art

is

required to convey the impression

that the narrator (in the third person)

the enterprise, a witness of the

was a comrade

in

drama, an intimate of the

and yet never explicitly say so, nor even for a moment emerge from the narrator's hazy background. Many of " O. Henry's " most diverting stories suggest characters,

^American Magazine, Dec,

1907.

HOW

114 this

STORIES ARE TOLD

intimacy of experience.

There

is

a fine sense of the

author's close relation to his narrative in H, B. Dean's " Pluck Versus Diplomacy," a delicately sympathetic sketch.*

Some

said St. Margaret's Hospital was the coolest This might be true up in the large, dim wards with windows wide and awnings dropped, but below in the basement dispensary it was hot, sticky, and malodorous. From the ambulance courts six granite steps led down to a door opening on a large, low-ceilinged room, lighted and aired by two small windows. With its hard wooden benches, it was a weary waitingN^lace that hot August day for those who came

people

place in town.

for treatment.

Some few

"~~

talked in low tones to chance acquaintances of the

dispensary, but the majority sat in silence, watching the glass

door which led to an adjoining room. Occasionally this door would be opened by a nurse whose " Next " lessened the waitEarly in the day her voice was as crisp and fresh ers by one. as the blue and white uniform she wore, but with the lengthened shadows in the court voice and gown became limp. The benches were almost empty when a small boy, balandng his thin body on one leg, hopped down the granite steps and sank wearily on the nearest seat. The occupants of the benches gathered around with cries of sympathy. As their voices penetrated to the adjoining room, a white-coated young housesurgeori came out. At his approach the group parted, and the boy, raising his arms as if to a friend, whispered, " Say, doc, will youse give us a lift? My foot it's queered this time for !

keeps."

In creating the illusion of the author's close to his narrative there

sciously

demands

is

relation

a danger: the reader uncon-

that the narrator confine his statements

to such things as could *Lippincott's, Oct., 1907.

have been observed or learned

HOW The

naturally.

ary

II5

universal pass-key to the

denied him

is

STORIES ARE TOLD

— he must use only

human

his

sanctu-

powers of

in-

ference and observation.

When common know ? "

the narrator keeps absolutely out of sight, by

we

consent

from asking

refrain

Every one admits

his right

"

and

how do you his ability to

peep into secret places and report the most private conversations

and

To him

events.

even the meditations of a

maiden are an open page.

So here

a strong motive for the beginner to adopt

is

style of telling a

this

He

story.

need not worry, he

with trying to make his puppets disclose their

thinks,

inmost selves by word and deed, for in a single sentence he

may

them with emotions and sentiments knows that the latter method is the even though immeasurably less artistic. For his furnish

furthermore, he easier,

inability to reveal

incident

story

character and feeling by dialogue and

he consoles himself by remembering that his

must be

short.

Really, just here

is

the difference

between superior and inferior story-telling. 2.

The

First

Person

There are more varieties of the story told

in the first

person than in any other form. First,

there

is

the story told by the principal actor.

In the hands of an expert the most convincing results

(To what

are attained.

reality, to

proach, does Zola attain in " caille"!') °

See

p. 376,

If

it

No.

is 11.

what personal ap-

The Death of

Olivier Be-

told seriously, the greatest care

is

HOW

Il6

STORIES ARE TOLD

needed to steer a middle course between an egotistic exhibition

and an over-modest

erson's

mot

biography

When pect

" I have

:

is

at his

own

an adventurer

and amusedly

One

dullness.

the

feeling

that

Em-

recalls

every man's

expense."

tells

of his

own

exploits

bombast

tolerate the tone of

we

tx-

naturally

adopted by the lovable knave, as in the exploits of the inimitable Gerard."

No

narrator but himself could do

justice to his superb aplomb.

the fun

;

underneath

But the actor

The bragging

may

also be told

favorite device, as in "

less

part of

is

the feeling of heart and valor.

first-person story

— Poe's

This offers

By

is

by a minor

The Gold Bug."

dangers than the method just referred

to.

a modest display of good qualities, and by subordinat-

ing himself to the principal character, the narrator escapes the imputation of egotism, while

allowing himself

still

In his

a considerable place in the action.

Holmes to Dr.

stories

part

Watson, though the physician's chief business

glorify his astute friend.

to

Sherlock

Conan Doyle has assigned such a

more convincing form of

When

is

well handled, no

story-telling can be adopted

—

but don't overlook the qualifying clause.

Another variation tells

is

that in

which a minor character

of the deeds of his enemy,

who

is

nevertheless the

central figure in the story.

Again, the narrator

may

tell

the story as an observer,

with only the slenderest part, or no real participation, in the action.

Such an

attitude is gracefully assumed

8

The Adventures of Brigadier Gerard, A. Conan Doyle.

'

See

p.

376,

No.

11.

HOW by Alphonse Daudet

From

in Letters

Edward

attitude in

ARE TOLD

117

in the

sketches and short-stories

Mill.^

Such

also

Everett Hale's "

is

the author's

The Man Without

"

a Country."

Two

My

-STORIES

may

further varieties of the first-person story

In the one

be noted.

the narrator tells his story directly

addressing him as " you," and even re-

to the reader,

minding him of former experiences together, or of stories told

on previous occasions.

Here

it

would seem

Few

best to avoid extremes of intimacy with the reader.

can carry them off with a natural

some

will attract

air.

readers, but others

Such it

familiarity

will repel.

In

the second sort, the author tells his story either to a lay

some more

figure, or to

A

hackneyed device

active character in the plot. is

to tell the story in the first

person after having introduced the speaker by a second person, who really thus reports the story " as it was

You may

me."

told to

connection

:

be sure of two things in this

a story begun in this style must possess un-

usual merit to offset the triteness of its introduction; and,

is

it

a hard task to convince the reader that you

could not have plunged into the story in the direct,

scene.

rule in art is

upon you can do it exquisitely, go ahead. No so good but that it may well be broken by Kipling occasionally delights to

the face of conventions of form,

* "

we

See See

person

Still, if

a master stroke.

that

first

the opening sentences to set the

relying

are grateful to

p. 376, p.

376,

No. No.

10. 11.

him

and does

it

fly in

so originally

for showing us that there

HOW

Il8

STORIES

ARE TOLD

One wonders, how-

are no really worn-out methods.

what would result if the same degree of ingenuity were trained upon a new device. I give space to the ever,

following lengthy introduction to "

The

Solid Muldoon,"

from Kipling's Soldiers Three, because it so fully displays both the merits and the demerits of the story within a story.

Note the

false starts, the digressive remarks,

the atmosphere, the characterization

— a jumble of good

method and bad. In extenuation, it must be membered that this story is one of a series. literary

re-

This befell in the old days, and, as my friend Private Mulvaney was specially careful to make clear, the Unregenerate. There had been a royal dog-fight in the ravine at the back of the rifle-butts, between Learoyd's Jock and Ortheris's Blue Rot both mongrel Rampur hounds, chiefly ribs and teeth. It lasted for twenty happy, howling minutes, and then Blue Rot collapsed and Ortheris paid Learoyd three rupees, and we were

—

A dog-fight is a most heating entertainment, from the shouting, because Rampurs fight over a couple of acres of ground. Later, when the sound of belt badges clinking against the necks of beer-bottles had died away, conversation drifted from dog to man fights of all kinds. Humans resemble red-deer in some respects. Any talk of fighting seems to wake up a sort of imp in their breasts, and they all

very thirsty.

quite

bell

apart

one to the other, exactly like challenging bucks. This even in men who consider themselves superior

noticeable

is

to

it shows the refining influence of civilization and the march of progress. Tale provoked tale, and each tale more beer. Even dreamy Learoyd's eyes began to brighten, and he unburdened himself of a long history in which a trip to Molham Cove, a girl at Pateley Brigg, a gauger, himself and a pair of clogs were mixed in drawling tangle. "An' so Ah coot's yead oppen from t' chin to t' hair an' he was abed for t' matter o' a month," concluded

privates of the line;

Learoyd, pensively.

HOW

STORIES ARE TOLD

II9

—

—

Mulvaney came out of a

reverie he was lying down and " You're a man, Learoyd," said

flourished his heels in the air. he,

critically,

" but you've

only fought wid men, an' that's an

ivry-day expayrience; but I've stud up to a ghost, an' that was not an ivry-day expayrience." " No ? " said Ortheris, throwing a cork at him. " You git up

—

an' address the 'ouse you an' yer expayriences. Is it a bigger one nor usual?" " 'Twas the livin' trut' " answered Mulvaney, stretching out a huge arm and catching Ortheris by the collar. " Now where are ye, me son? Will ye take the wurrud av the Lorrd out av me mout' another time ? " He shook him to emphasize the !

question. " No, somethin' else, though," said Ortheris,

making a dash at Mulvaney's pipe, capturing it, and holding it at arm's length; " I'll chuck it across the ditch if you don't let me go " " You maraudin' hathen 'Tis the only cutty I iver loved. Handle her tinder or I'll chuck you acrost the nullah. If that poipe was bruk Ah Give her back to me, sorr " Ortheris had passed the treasure to my hand. It was an absolutely perfect clay, as shiny as the black ball at pool. I took it rcT^rently, but I was firm. "Will you tell us about the ghost-fight if I do?" I said. "Is ut the sthory that's troublin' you? Av course I will. I mint to all along. I was only gettin' at ut my own way, as Popp Doggie said whin they found him thrying to ram a cart" ridge down the muzzle. Orth'ris, fall away He released the little Londoner, took back his pipe, filled it, !

!

—

!

!

!

and his eyes twinkled. that I

He

has the most eloquent eyes of anyone

know.

"Did

I iver tell

man?" "You did,"

you," he began, "that I

was wanst the

divil

av a

,

upon us

"Did

made Mulvaney was always impressing

said Learoyd, with a childish gravity that

Ortheris yell with laughter, for

his merits in the old days. I

iver tell you,"

"Mer-ria!

You

Mulvaney continued, calmly, "that

than I am now?" don't mean it?" said Ortheris.

was wanst more av a

divil

I

HOW

I20

STORIES ARE TOLD

—

—

"Whin

but, as I was rejuced aftherwards I was corp'ril whin I was corp'ril, I was a divil of a man.'' He was silent for nearly a minute, while his mind rummaged among old memories and his eyes glowed. He bit upon the pipe stem and charged into his tale. I sayj

The Letter Form^°

3.

This well-worn scheme of the first-person story

is sure

Sometimes the

letters

to be adopted

by the

uninitiated.

are written by but one character and

tell

the whole story

may be given, or a whole round of may contribute the narrative. Try this

again the replies correspondents

you can, and all the credit if you do, but by adopting it you take on a heavy handicap. When Richardson wrote Pamela the

form more

if

you

succeed

will,

if

scheme was new. have rarely advised young writers against the

I

letter-

form but they have quoted such successful books as the Baroness von Hutten's Our Lady of the Beeches and the anonymous The Lady of the Decoration. Of course the argument is unanswerable. Yet ask any experienced manuscript reader

how many

as contrasted with the

form.

However,

few modern successes

your work

if

publisher will print

failures are to be recorded

it,

is

in the letter

good enough, some

and the public

will

buy

in any

it,

form. 4.

A tive 1"

diary

form

is it

The Diary Form

an intimate

letter to one's self.

has been employed with fine

See The Technique of the Novel,

Home,

As

skill;

p. 245.

a

fic-

but the

HOW

STORIES ARE TOLD

same warning holds as

— do

in the case of the epistolary style

do

or

well

it

121

it

not

at

"

all.

Love

Old

in

^^

by H. C. Bunner, is a fair sample of ingenthis line. Notwithstanding its archaic spelling

Clothes," uity in

the effect

A

pleasing.

is

masterpiece

Maupassant's

is

"

The Horla." ^' The genuinely humorous diary, after If the manner of Judge Shute,^^ is still unhackneyed. conversation

is

introduced,

however, the diary that

is

As a

the better.

all

form,

best suited for character study,

and

always dull reading in the short-story when un-

is

enlivened by dialogue.

5.

Many

writers seek novel expression by combining the

For

various forms.

begun in the

first

rator to die, a ble device

story

The Composite Form

instance, the story of adventure

second narrator finishes the story

no matter

by casting

it

masters do use

if

by telegrams

is

first

still

A

person.

—a

Others

it.

in several parts, each told

character speaking in the tirely

is

person and, in order to permit the nar-

the

by a different story told en-

another scheme.

Matthews and H. C. Bunner wrought The Documents in the Case,"

tell

fee-

Brander

a rather ineffective

novelty in "

by two-score exhibits made up of bills,

11

a

pawn

ticket,

See See

p. p.

377, 376,

a story told

telegrams, play-

I-O-U's, legal documents, and the

No. ig. No. 10. 1' The Real Diary of a Real Boy. 1* See p. 377, No. 18. 12

letters,

^*

HOW

122

STORIES ARE TOLD

like.

The magazines

elty

methods a-plenty.

Though merely an

will furnish

examples of other nov-

anecdote, the following incident will

serve to illustrate the fictional possibilities of a telephone

conversation heard at one end of the

reader being permitted to

fill

the imaginative

line,

in the gaps.

the story of a balking mule named " Shoe," driven by an old negro named " Abe," and owned by a

This

is

One day Shoe

wholesale feed house.

balked on Broad

Street and refused absolutely to be driven again.

Abe had

old

After

spent his energies on Shoe for an hour

the vain endeavor to get

him

to start,

store to telephone his employers.

in

he went into a

The following

is

what

a party of gentlemen near the telephone heard:

AS TOLD OVER THE TELEPHONE " Please,

marm, gimme number two hund'ed an' 'leven. Is dat Marse Henry? Yessir, dis is Abe. I dun ring yer Shoe, he dun balk down yer on up, sir, ter tell you about Shoe. Broad Street, sir."

you,

'

'Bout a hour,

sir.'

Yessir, I bus'

him

"I

'

"

.

in

.

de head."

dun wear de whip handle out on him,

Yessir, I kick

Marse Henry,

big toe on

um

" Twis' he

New

.

de

him I

in de belly, 'bout eight times, sir."

would

las'

sir."

time

ha' kick I

um some

mo' but

I

hu't

me

kick um."

tail ? No, sir, not dis nigger. York, he twis' he tail."

A gemman

from

HOW "

No,

sir,

STORIES ARE TOLD

De

think he dead.

I don't

I23

doctor take him 'way in

de amb'lance." Yessir,

'

it

was sure

'Marse Henry, "

De

cart?

done

Dun

harness ?

"De

I

foolish."

Yessir,

set fire

under Shoe.*

bu'n de harness clean off um."

dun bu'n de

cart too,

sir,

'cept

all

one

wheel, sir." " Yessir, I git de feed out fust,

sir.''

" Marse Henry, is you want me to come back to de store and go to work, or mus' I wait fer Shoe to move ? " ^^

new forms

Doubtless well

to seek

them

are

out.

Samuel Johnson remarks ure

is

variety.

:

still

to be devised

Uniformity must

be uniformity of excellence.

when expectation

is

and

it

is

In his Lives of the Poets ^° " The great source of pleas-

We

tire at last,

though

it

love to expect; and,

disappointed or gratified,

we want

be again expecting."

to

But permanent success look for elty,

its

more than

ingenuity.

forms of narration are

by

is

more touch-downs

still

to

must more than nov-

in the short-story field

more than

secret to

variety,

Any

one of the simpler

an uncovered

be won by

field.

tricks.

" L." in Walnuts and Wine, Lippincotfs, Oct., 1906. i»Vol. I, p. 219.

^^

There

straight football than

HOW

24

STORIES ARE TOLD

OUTLINE SUMMARY How Stories are Told 1.

2. 3. 4. 5.

In the Third Person In the First Person Letter

Form

Diary Form Composite Form

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

Write a story of simple

incident, in the third person.

Rewrite it in the first person, assuming the part of the ading character. Rewrite it, assuming the part of one of the minor char3. 2.

.

:ters. 4.

Which form

yielded the most satisfactory results to youi

srsonally ? 5. 6.

Write a story in the form of telegrams. Write one side of a telephone conversation,

telling a simple

ory. 7.

Try

to suggest a fresh

form of

telling a story.

CHAPTER

VII

THE OPENING OF THE STORY Well begun

is

half done.

— Old

Proverb.

The last thing that we find in making a book we must put first. Pascal, Thoughts.

is

to

—

know what

Most people have a very strong impulse

to preface something a paragraph of nothing in particular, bearing to the real matter in hand a relation not more inherently intimate than that of the tuning of violins to a symphony. It is the mechanical misfortune of musicians that they cannot with certainty tune their instruments out of hearing. It is the mechanical luck of the writer that he need not show a Barrett Wendell, bit more of his work than he chooses. English Composition. in particular

by

at least

—

All stories

must have beginnings, but not

nings should be introductions,

mediate concern set in

is

^he

to get a picture quickly

the mind's eye of the reader

reader in a

way

of thinking or a

begin-

all

fiction writer's

—

way

and

im-

clearly

to establish the

of feelingl

How

he shall go about this depends solely upon the nature of the story and the impression he wishes to make.

The

some fundamental facts before he can take in the details of the picture, and that means introducing the story more or less formally. reader

Upon story

may

require the knowledge of

the other

hand

may be such

— the

better hand, as I think

— the

that the reader should be plunged into 12's

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

126

Between these extremes

the action at once.

lie all sorts

and gradations.

I.

For

THE BEST USAGE

this inquiry I

fied the

have examined and broadly

classi-

openings of six hundred short-stories, including

and sketches of the short-story type. The list takes what critics and public regard as the world's greatest

tales

in

The authors

stories.

and

in

selected are nearly all well-known,

most instances famous.

were written within the large majority since 1870. ate,

Practically

the stories

all

last seventy-five years,

American

and a

stories preponder-

with French, British, German, Russian,

Italian, Scan-

dinavian, Polish, Hungarian, Spanish, and minor nationalities

following in about the order named.

tion has been given

Current

due regard as compared with

short-story of the period preceding 1870.

fic-

the

Altogether,

the investigation seems well calculated to give us a fair

view of

how approved

story-tellers begin their narra-

tives.

It

the

must be noted

word

that

many

introductions

—

I

now

whether the author formally introduces the setting plunges directly into the thick of the action

more than one purpose. prominence often

use

as broadly covering the beginning of a story,

to a character

worked

the author

is

in

;

—

For example, in giving initial some details of the setting are

or, in electing to give the setting

likely at the

character of the story.

or

exhibit

same time

to touch

In attempting this

first,

upon some

classification

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

I27

the predominating phase of the introduction has been

taken as determining

Stories That

I.

There

is

its class.

Open With Dialogue

a general impression that a considerable num-

The

ber of short-stories begin in this manner.

proportion last ten

years tends moderately in that direction, particu-

among

larly

actual

surprisingly small, though the usage of the

is

writers

who produce

fiction of the light

and

"clever" kind.

Of less

the six hundred stories examined, only fifty-one

than ten per cent.

versation,

— were found

and these were rarely

—

to begin with con-

stories of great merit.

Observe, however, that conversation occurs very early in a large proportion of the total

number of

stories e^t-

amined.

These fifty-one sions

stories

may be grouped

in five subdivi-

:

(a)

Twenty-six use the opening dialogue

setting.^

to give the In the term " setting " are included the sur-

roundings in which the action begins, the

mood which

dominates the situation, and the conditions under which the story opens.

meets the eye

we

It

when

may

be compared to the scene which

the curtain rises on the stage.

even while the stage

is

being

set,

of the dialogue form. ^

As

see in the following example, the characters appear

See the next chapter ; also chap.

xii.

and

this

on account

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

128

"MANY WATERS "2 "Well?" "True bill; I'm awfully sorry." Thomas Fleming took his cigar out of

his mouth, and contemplated the lighted end. He did not speak. The other man, his lawyer, who had brought him the unwelcome news, began to make the best of it. "Of course, it's an annoyance; but " " Well, yes. It's an annoyance," Fleming said, dryly. Bates chuckled. " It strikes me, Tom, considering the difference between this and the real thing, that 'annoyance' is just

the right

word

to use."

Fleming leaned over and knocked off the ashes into his waste basket. He was silent. " As for Hammond, he won't have a leg to stand on. I don't know what Ellis and Grew meant by letting him take the case before the Grand Jury. He won't have a leg to stand on!" " Give me a light, will you. Bates ? This cigar has gone out again."

—

Note how deftly the setting is conveyed by dialogue a lawyer and his client are seated discussing the latter's indictment for an offense against the law. attitude

and that of the

and the names of

manner.

The

lawyer's

estimate of the

case,

their opponents, are all quickly brought

before the reader. possible.

client, their

The

situation

made

this

handling

Few situations can be opened up in the same You may read through a number of magazines

without finding a single short-story of distinction, as " Many Waters " certainly is, which opens with a conversation.

(b)

Twelve use the opening dialogue

characters.

That

is,

the emphasis

is

to delineate the

placed on the char-

THE OPENING OF THE STORY rather than on the

acters

move

— an

plished

easier

Ah

which they

in

performance always than that accom-

by Mrs. Deland. THiE AFFAIR

"

atmosphere

129

OF THE BROWNS ^

!

" cried Wilberton, sitting up straight in his chair on year-round resort hotel veranda. "Here is where Dull Monotony packs his things and hikes from the seaside." " I should like to know why," commented Mrs. Wilberton skeptically. "I am sure nothing has occurred " Well, something will occur very shortly," her husband assured her. " Why," he exclaimed, " things simply cannot be quiescent with a woman as pretty as that in their midst." , He 'nodded. Mrs. Wilberton, letting her gaze follow the direction of the nod, saw a young woman following the valise-

the

—

encumbered porter toward the hotel entrance. She was a tall young woman, and slender, and her tan traveling gown was unquestionably in the latest style. By the hand she held a very small boy who was having great trouble with a very large straw hat. "

Your

taste in

women

is

constantly changing," Mrs. Wilber-

ton averred in a tone which plainly conveyed her contempt for

Mrs. Wilberton was fat, and she was not " and her eyes were not gray. " Since when " Oh, I always liked them tall and slender " "This one is positively thin!" " And with dark hair and big gray eyes " " One can never be sure about hair."

such inconsistency.

—

tall,

!

!

"

"And

clear, clean

" It

certainly absurd to regard that complexion as real, or

is

complexion, free of drugstore blush

or even artistically done. And anyhow two days in this sun and sea breeze." " "She walks well, a sort of queenly gait pretty,

it

will not last

"Very carefully studied from some second-rate actress, I dare indolent." er say not at all natural, and decidedly " She doesn't seem to be very enthusiastic," agreed Wilberton.

—

— —

^Harrison Clark, Hampton's Broadway, July,

1908.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

130

Nine use

(c)

the opening dialogue

!pirit

of the story.

nake

this clear.

to

suggest the

The two openings which

follow will

A CASE OF IDENTITY * My

"

dear

Sherlock Holmes, as

ielloyr," said

we

sat

of the fire ip his lodgings at Baker Street, " life itranger than anything the mind of man can invent. side

on

either

is infinitely

We

would dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonjlaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand ,n hand, "liover over this gr^at city, gently remove the roofs, md peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange lot

the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful of events, working through generations, and leading to most outre results, it would make all fiction, with its con-

;oincidences, :hain ;he

ventionalities

and

foreseen

conclusions,

most

stale

and un-

)rofitable."

THE BLAST OP THE TRUMPET 5 " lo

"

De

daid," asserted'

Aunt Janty Gibbs

solemnly, " con-ZiM-ually

walk."

Does dey walk

all

tuh

wunst ? " inquired her grandson,

jabriel Gibbs, a youth with an unquenchable thirst for informa-

ion on all subjects. " No, chile," returned his grandmother with a superior

air,

dey walks sometimes in twos an' sometimes in threes, but nos'ly dey walks alone in de night-time." " Dey's a time comin', Aun' Janty, when dey's all gwine tuh valk tuh wunst," remarked Brother Eli Wiggins with con'

riction.

"Whut yo' 'ludin' tuh, Brothah Wiggins, whut yo' 'ludin' uh ? " asked Aunt Janty as she hospitably replenished his ctip, vhile Gabriel improved the opportunity to slip, unnoticed from he room.

*A 6

Conan Doyle.

1711.,

See

Aj;j,11„*«„ T..u„..i.

p. /s77, T.'j.,.;

No.

14.

Ax>.

r

THE OPENING OF THE STOBY

I3I

"Dejf's a time comin'," he replied, pouring the steaming tea into his saucer, " when ole Gabriel am gwine tuh soun' de note

on he hawn good an' loud. Den de graves am gwine tuh bus' open an' de daid come fo'th tuh walk up an' down in de worl', tuh an' fro in hit. Y-a-a-s, Aun' Janty, dat's so." Brother Wiggins paused and looked solemnly at his hostess.

"Aun' Janty," he said, his voice sinking to a sepulchral whisper, " dat time ain' so fuh off ez mos' folks b'lieves." In this latter story, the opening dialogue, while giving us the spirit of the story, both sets the stage and brings

on the characters.

Two

(d)

use the opening dialogue to lead up to the

This form

story proper by fact or explanation. fact a true introduction, yet only

six

two

hundred examined begin with dialogue used for

As

purpose.

ers prefer to

for a reason, the style

is

in

is

stories out of the

antiquated.

this

Writ-

pack preliminary statements into a few

concise sentences rather than burden the dialogue with

explanations which are as unnatural in the mouths of the characters as are similar " information speeches " the lips of actors in "

A

play.

Act

I.

Scene

i

stronger reason for discarding this old form

that the crisp

modern

Two

liantly

it.

use the opening dialogue solely to win at-

This seems

tention.

Besides,

not in the

if

middle, as one magazine editor used to put (e)

is

short-story does not begin in the

but on the very threshold of the plot,

past,

on

" of the ordinary

like a

it is difficult

and yet make

waste of good type and paper.

enough to it

start

a conversation

naturally lead

up

to

bril-

something

else,

without making epigrams solely to gain a reading.

The

brilliant talk

which opens one and another of An-

THE OPENING OF THE STORV

132

thony Hope's Dolly Dialogues but

is

never mere fireworks,

of delicate light and heat.

full

is

Wilhelm Hauff must have been when he essayed to catch the reader by this transparent introduction; yet he had a good story to Think how

fearful of his story

tell.

THE SINGER « " It

a strange occurrence, truly," said Councillor Bolnau to whom he met on Broad Street in B. " You must con-

is

a friend

fess that this is a

queer age

"

You mean the affair in " Have you important news,

we

live in."

the North

?

councillor?

" answered his friend.

Has your

friend, the

foreign minister, told you some important secret of state?" " Oh, don't bother me with politics or state secrets ; let them

go

as

may.

they

I

mean now

the

affair

Mademoiselle

of

Bianetti."

To sum up:

Of

the fifty-one stories that begin with

dialogue, one-half devote the opening conversation to

the setting, one-fourth to characterization, less than one-

giving the

fifth to

spirit

of the story, and one-twenty-fifth

each to introductory facts and to an effort to cajole the reader's attention.

common

so

however,

as

in

is

supposed.

Many

is

not

stories will be found,

which the conversation begins

or third paragraph. difficult

The conversational opening

in the second

The dialogue opening

is

the most

one to do well, and the easiest to do badly. 2.

Stories That

Open Without Dialogue

Five hundred and forty-nine stories of the six hundred which, were classified belong under this grouping. This 8

See

p. 377,

No.

21.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

1 33

shows that expert writers regard the opening

clearly

sentences of a story as of the highest value.

They

real-

ize

that they must compress into a few words the essence

of

all

that the reader ought to

know

in order to take

up the story with intelligent interest. This is the sense which the word " introduction " applies to the short-

in

story of to-day.

The usage

of Irving, Poe,

and Haw-

thorne was generally more leisurely than that of present-

day masters (though they displayed occasional examples of rapid openings), for the short-story has progressed,

some regards, since the days of

in

no respect more than in

its

its

perfecters,

introductions.

and in

Seldoni nowa-

days does one find the long and irrelevant opening sentences

by

which were tolerated a generation ago.

this

some tasy,

It is true,

compression the reader loses some finer touches,

detail,

some

reflective temper,

some

flights of fan-

but for these he goes to the novel, and looks to the

short-story for those illuminating flashes of

word and The

phrase so rarely found in the longer fictional form.

be lengthy, the short-story writer

novelist takes time to

takes time to be brief. to

know my

" Smith," says he, " I

want you

brother Jack," and the introduction

ac-

is

complished, not without thought, not without painstaking, but withal briefly.

Remembering always

that several sorts often overlap,

therefore not analyzing too minutely, I subdivide the five

hundred and forty-nine

stories into seven groups,

ac-

cording to the purposes disclosed by their beginnings. (a) ting,

Two hundred

and seven open by giving the

often including a glimpse of the characters.

set-

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

134

have said that the word " setting " includes the surroundings in which the action begins/ the mood which I

dominates the situation, the Conditions under which the story opens.

with what

's

It is less

concerned with

who

's

who

than

what, and why.

EXTRACT FROM CAPTAIN STORMFIELiyS VISIT TO

HEAVEN 8 TAKEN FROM HIS OWN MS. BY " MARK TWAIN

when

"

had been dead about thirty years, I begun to Mind you, I had been whizzing through space all that time, like a comet. Like a comet! Why, Peters, I laid over the lot of them! Of course there warn't any of them going my way, as a stegdy thing, you know, because they travel in a long circle like the loop of a lasso, whereas I was Well,

get a

little

I

anxious.

pointed as straight as a dart for the Hereafter; but I happened on one every now and then that was going my way for an hour

and then we had a

But it was them the same as if they were standing still. An ordinary comet don't make more than about 200,000 miles a minute. Of course when I came across one of that sort like Encke's and Halley's comets, for instance it warn't anjrthing but just a flash and a vanish, you see. You couldn't rightly call it a race. It was as if the comet was a gravel-train, and I was a telegraph dispatch. But or

so,

bit

of a brush together.

generally pretty one-sided, because I sailed by

—

—

our astronomical system, comet occasionally that was something like. any such comets ours don't begin.

used to flush

after I got outside of

I

a

We

—

haven't got

And then follows the first incident of the story. Of another sort, yet also establishing the setting, these opening lines of Dr. Watson's story. It also includes more. ^Harper's, Dec, 1907.

''

See the next chapter.

are

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

135

A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL" BY " IAN MACLAREN " I

A

General Practitioner

Drumtochty was accustomed

break every law of health, and yet had reduced the psalmist's furthest limit to an average life-rate. Our men made to

except wholesome food and fresh

air,

no difference in their clothes for summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one of the larger farmers condescending to a top-coat on Sabbath as a penalty of their position, and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral, refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased, and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the junction, then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness till each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the suggestion, half-way to Kildrummie, that it had been " a bit scrowie," a " scrowie " being as far short of a " shoor " as a " shoor " fell below " weet."

Here

is

/inother variety of the

THE PHILOSOPHER

IN

same general

sort.

THE APPLE ORCHARD w

BY "ANTHONY HOPE

The sun shone It was a charmingly mild and balmy day. beyond the orchard and the shade was cool inside. A light breeze stirred the boughs of the old apple tree under which

None

the philosopher sat.

of these things did the philosopher

might be when the wind blew about the leaves of the large volume on his knees, and he had to find his place again. Then he would exclaim against the wind, shuffle the leaves till he got the right page, and settle to his reading. The book was a treatise on ontology; it was written by another

notice, unless it

'

10

From Beside See

p. 377,

the

No.

Bonnie Briar Bush,

20.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

136

philosopher, a friend of this philosopher's;

it

bristled with fal-

and this philosopher was discovering them all, and noting them on the fly-leaf at the end. H-e was not going to review the book (as some might have thought from his behaviour), or even to answer it in a work of his own. It was just that 'he found a pleasure in stripping any poor fallacy naked and lacies,

crucifying

it.

Then comes

A

few

outlines

the girl and, with her, the story.

lines suffice for

some writers

to

fill

in the bold

of the setting, the rest comes as the story

goes on.

AT THE NEGATIVE POLEn BY VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN

Thursday being the first of November and All Saints' day. Miss Belden had attended the vesper services at S. Saviour's. On her way home across the Park she encountered Innsley. She stopped and shook hands cordially, for it had been several months since they had met.

^ (b) One hundred thirty-eight open with character delineation, often adding a suggestion of the ifmmgf.

1

Of

these a large

number begin with

the pronoun " He,"

or " She." It

is

not

difficult

to discern

why

so

many

writers

should elect to begin their narratives by painting in the setting,

and why character-drawing should come first Setting and char-

with only a slightly smaller number.

acters are the picturesque elements in fiction, inevitable that the

two

or both standing on

and ^^

level

last in the author's vision.

Harper's, July, 1908.

and

it

is

— one or the other predominating, — should be present a first

It is this

selfsame vision

THE OPENING OF THE STORY must be made

that the reader

clear

and so

direct as the

to see,

137

and what way so

opening words of the story.

In the following introduction (in the whimsical style of Irving, but not up to that standard)

we have

a typical

example of the character opening.

AN INSPIRED LOBBYIST " BY

A

influential

(politeness

forbids

friends

W. DE FOREST

J.

certain fallen angel

me

toward

his

to mention his

numerous and

name

abruptly)

body of Mr. Ananias PuUwool, of Wash-

lately entered into the

ington, D. C.

As the said body was a capacious one, having been greatly enlarged circumferentially since it acquired its full longitude, was accommodation in it for both the soul of PuUwool (it was a very little one) and for his distinguished visitant. Indeed, there was so much room in it that they never crowded each other, and that PuUwool hardly knew, if he so much as mistrusted, that there was a chap in with him. But other people must have been aware of this double tenantry, or at least must have been shrewdly suspicious of it, for it. soon became quite common to hear fellows say, " PuUwool has got

there

himself

the Devil in him.''

Compare the

— — with the freshness of

triteness of the following introduction

always Dr. Doyle's

difficult

spot

Mr. Hewlett's opening paragraph, the next specimen.

THE MYSTERY OF SASASSA VALLEY " BY

Do

I

and that

^"Atlantic,

See

CONAN DOYLE

know why Tom Donahue

Yes, I do;

^3

A.

Dec,

p. 377,

No.

is

1872. 20,

is

more than one

called

"Lucky Tom"?

in ten of those

who

call

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

1-38

him so can say. I have knocked about a deal in my time, and seen some strange sights, but none stranger than the way in which Tom gained that sobriquet, and his fortune with it. For I was with him at the time. Tell it? Oh, certainly; but it is a longish story and a very strange one; so fill up your glass again, and light another cigar while I reel it off. Yes, a very strange one; beats some fairy stories I have heard; but it's true,

word

every

sir,

of

it.

THE JUDGMENT OF BORSO " BY MAUMCE HEWLETT it would be unwise to inquire meek-eyed Girl of Venice, with whom I have some concern. Her mother was La Fragiletta, of the Old Ghetto, and her father may have been of the Council of Ten, or possibly a Doge. No one could deny it, for no one knew his name. It is certain that his daughter was not christened as she was called, equally certain that the nickname fitted Bella roba, a pretty thing, she always had been for her her. mother's many friends; hella roba in truth she looked, as La Fragiletta fastened her dark red dress, stuck a bunch of carnations in the bosom of it, and pulled up the laces around her slim neck, on a certain May morning in or about the year 1469. " The shape you are, child," said that industrious woman, " I can do nothing for you in Venice. It is as timid as a nun's. Ferrara is the place of all the world for you. I look forward to your speedy establishment in a city where a girl may be like a flagstaff and yet not be thought amiss."

It is

happily as unnecessary as

into the ancestry of Bellaroba, a

(c) Sez>enty-six open directly with incident.

No

pre-

liminary intaking of the breath, no pause to tighten the belt, not even a " here we go," but just a swift rush

That

ahead.

usage 1*

is

From

is typical short-story form, toward which markedly tending and in which writers are

Little

Novels of

Italy.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY showing increasing ace, to

It follows the

dictum of Hor-

plunge at once into the action.

What become tion?

skill.

1 39

of both setting and character delinea-

Subtly interwoven as the story moves rapidly on

— portraiture in one sure stroke, background in another, Not

atmosphere in a third. this fashion,

all

stories

but those that are, and told well, lay hold

of the attention with a nervous grip. in

can be told in

making the narrative keep

or no difficulty, there

is

The

the hold.

no phase of the

difficulty lies

But, difficulty story-teller's art

which so richly repays labor as does the rapid introduc-

The beginner

loves his phrases. They grew in But he must learn the drastic art of amputation and learn it by practising on his own stories.

tion.

sweat and pain.

Perhaps the editor does not appreciate author

who

compact,

how

heroic

is

the

carves and slices and pares until only the

firm,

flesh-and-blood

well-typed page, but at

all

story

appears

events he rejoices

on the

when he

meets that kind of manuscript.

DOYLE'S ]5eBUT" BY PORTER EMERSON BROWNE Leading the

girl to a

corner of the crowded

where Doyle seated and motioned with spread palm at little

parlor

a three-legged sofa leaned weakly against the wall,

himself tentatively upon

it

the vacancy beside him. " Si' down, Maggie,'' he invited

and the tall, slender-waisted, high-pompadoured girl before him did so. "Aw, say, Maggie," continued Doyle, as he endeavored, unsuccessfully, to hold her hand beneath a fold of skirt, "why ^'^

Everybody's, Dec, 1907.

;

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

140

don' yuh marry

me and cut out sellin' know what they

fussy dames that don' it

if

can

they did?

on

live

I'm

that.

.

gittin'

d'

o'

wants, an' wouldn' buy

eighteen seventy-five

Wha'

.

.

bunch

stockin's to a

now;

an'

two

yuh wan' tuh be worryin'

yuhself with a job fer?"

Alphonse Daudet

A

tions.

is

a master of

study of Letters

From

all

My

sorts of introduc-

Mill and

Tales will be a profit and a delight.

from the

latter

The

Monday

following

is

volume.

THE

LITTLE- PIES

That morning, which was a Sunday, Sureau, the pastry-cook on Rue Turenne, called his apprentice and said to him: "Here are Monsieur Bonnicar's little pies; go and take them to him and come back at once. It seems that the Versaillais have entered Paris."

The

little

fellow,

who understood

nothing about

politics, put

the smoking hot pies in the dish, the dish in a white napkin, and

balancing the whole upon his cap, started off on a run for He St. Louis, where M. Bonnicar lived.

Then

follows that charming blending of atmosphere

and incident so characteristic of the author.

LITTLE SOLDIER le BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT Every Sunday, as soon as they were at liberty, the two little would set forth. They would turn to the right on leaving the barracks, march rapidly through Courbevoie as if they were out for drill; then, as soon as they had left the houses behind, they would follow at a more quiet pace the bare and dusty high-road that leads to

soldiers

Bezons. ^"

See

p. 376,

No.

10.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY Here we have

I4I

words the first step and the atmosphere.

in sixty-four

incident, the characters,

in the

(d) Fifty-five open with the facts, events, or motives,

which lead up

to the story proper.

These are

fashioned introductions, modified by the spirit

real, old-

short-story

of brevity.

The

how-I-came-to-tell-this-story beginning belongs to

this class

—a

device which rarely interests the reader,

so palpable an attempt to storm his confi-

because

it is

dence.

Yet the masters use

with singular effectiveness. ever,

new

this

One

opening class

now and then

of errors, how-

uniformly avoid: introductions containing

they

many or complex

facts, events, or motives.

Occasionally a popular writer seems to be so sure of his

audience that he ventures upon a start which would

not be tolerated in a beginner's manuscript, unless the latter told his story as skilfully as the

this

labored

commencement of a

Compare good yarn, with

former.

really

Daudet's ingenious use of an old device.

THE FOUR-FIFTEEN EXPRESS " BY AMELIA

B.

EDWARDS

The events which I am about to relate took place between nine and ten years ago. Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring, the peace of Paris had been concluded since March, our commercial relations with the Russian empire were but recently renewed; and I, returning home after my first northward journey since the war, was well pleased with the prospect of spending the 1'

See

p. 377,

No.

20.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

142

month of December under roof of

my

the hospitable

and thoroughly English

excellent friend, Johnathan Jelf, Esq., of Dumbleton

Manor, Clayborough, East Anglia.

With more of

the

same unnecessary

sort.

THE CURE OF CUCUGNAU" BY ALPHONSE DAUDET Provengal poets publish at Every year, at Avignon a merry little book filled to the covers with fine verses and pretty tales. Last year's has just reached me, and I find in it a delicious fabliau, which I am going to try to

Candlemas, the

it a little. Hold out your cream of Provengal flour that

translate for you, shortening

Parisians.

It

is

the very

going to serve you

Here

is

sacks,

I

am

this time.

another from the same fascinating Mill.

THE

POPE'S

MULE

Of all the clever sayings, proverbs, or saws with which our Provence peasants embellish their discourse, I know of none more picturesque or more peculiar than this. Within a radius of fifteen leagues of my mill, when anybody mentions a spiteful, vindictive man, he will say: "Look out for that man! he is

like the

Pope's mule, that keeps her kick for seven years." long time to find out the source of that proverb,

I tried for a

what that Papal mule might be, and that kick kept for seven No one here was able to give me any information on

years.

that subject, not even Francet Mainai, ever, has the

whole legendary

my

histrory of

fife-player,

Provence

who, how-

at his finger-

Francet agrees with me that there is probably some old of Provence behind it; but he has never heard it mentioned except in the proverb. ends.

tradition

1* Froiij

Letters

From My

Mill.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

143

"You won't find that anywhere except in the Grasshoppers' Library," said the old fifer, with a laugh. I

thought the suggestion a good one, and as the 'Grasshoppers' is right at my door, I shut myself up there for a

Library week.

how

Notice

this introduction infallibly hints the

Nervous or

of the story.

placid,

gay or

mood

pathetic, gro-

tesque or gloomy, the genuine beginning will suggest the spirit

(e)

of the narrative.

Thirty-four open with

is illustrated

in the story.

some general

When

the truth

truth which is

well put

no beginning could be more pleasing.

THE GOAT OF MONSIEUR SEGUIN" BY ALPHONSE DAUDET

To M. You

Pierre Gringoire, Lyrical Poet at Paris.

my poor Gringoire! you are offered the place of reporter on a respectable Paris newspaper, and you have the assurance to refuse Why, look at yourself, unhappy youth! Look at that worn-out doublet, those dilapidated breeches, that gaunt face, which cries aloud that it is hungry. And this is where your passion for rhyme has brought you this is the result of your ten years of Aren't you loyal service among the pages of my lord Apollo! will always be the same,

Think of

it!

!

ashamed, finally?

Be a reporter, you idiot; be a reporter! You will earn honest crowns, you will have your special seat at Brebant's, and you will be able to appear every first night with a new feather in your cap.

No?

You

end?

the

goat.

You

will not?

Well!

jiist

will see

You propose

Monsieur Seguin's what one gains by attempting to remaia

free.

^^

Letters

From My

to remain perfectly free to

listen to the story of

Mill.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

144

Lucretia P. Hale begins her fantastic sketch, " The Spider's Eye,"

ing galleries

""

by enlarging upon the fact that whisperThe chief character finds a spot in

exist.

a theatre where

all

sounds,

down

to the slightest whisper,

converge, and the strange things thus overheard make

up the "

narrative.

The Tale

of a Goblin Horse,"

begins with a generalization. chiefly

"

^^

interesting to their owners.

emerge from the enclosure of home teresting to other people.

way

by Charles C.

Horses are

into print, but

acters are

One

Nott,

like babies

—

Occasionally they

and become

life,

in a million

may

in-

find his

most rare are the horses whose cMr-

worthy of record."

Sometimes these observations show a

fine insight into

human

nature: " Boys who are born in a small town are born free and

equal," are the opening words of William Allen White's

"

The King

of Boyville."

(f) Eighteen

'"

open with expressions

chiefly designed

Here are three examples: was his unexGrubbins was Dikkon's dog." ^^

to attract attention.

"

The

distinguishing trait of Grubbins

pectedness.

"

No man

though

will ever

women may

after a dance,

know

when they

the night and comparing

^"Putnam's Magazine, 21 Stories 22 See p. 2S

the exact truth of this story;

sometimes whisper

are putting up their hair for lists

of victims."

July, 1856. p. 377,

of the Army, see

Also see No. 23.

377, No. 27. Dikkon's Dog, by Dorothy Lundt

^* False

Dawn, Rudyard

to one another

it

Kipling,

;

^*

p.

377,

No.

see p. 377, No. 27. the Deodars.

Under

19,

THE OPENING OF THE STORY " This

is

failed said

the history of a Failure it

;

might be an instructive

I45

but the

woman who

put into print

tale to

younger generation. The younger generation does not want instruction. It is perfectly willfor the benefit of the

ing to instruct

if

any one

will listen to

it.

None

the

less,

here begins the story where every right-minded story

should begin, that begin and

is

many come

to say, at Simla, to an evil end."

where

all,

things

''^

(g) Fifteen open with words about the character who afterwards fells the story in the first person. It takes either unusual ability or

an unusual story to carry the

More

weight of so timeworn a device.

" horrible ex-

amples " are herded into this corral than into any other. Kipling does this sort of opening better than his contemporaries,

standing

occasionally even he

In "

ermain

almost alone

comes

Long Odds," one stories,^'^

introduction

is

in

excellence^'

— but

to grief.

of Rider Haggard's Allan Quat-

word One wonders

two-thirds of the seven-hundred

wasted in

ir relevancies.

how even Daudet makes a

success of this old device in

" Master Cornille's Secret,"

an air of truth, to boot.

^'

but he does, and imparts

Would an

editor to-day pass

the following introduction?

"Francet Mamai, an old fifer, who comes sometimes to pass evening with me and drink mulled wine, told me the other evening of a little village drama which my mill witnessed some twenty years ago. The good man's story impressed me, and I propose to try to tell it to you as I heard it. tlie

25 2*

2^ '^^

The Education of Otis Yeere, Kipling. See his Mulvaney stories in Soldiers Three, See p. 377, No. 20. Letters

From

My

Mill.

etc.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

146

" Imagine for a moment, dear readers, that you are seated before a jar of perfumed wine, and that it is an old fifer who is speaking."

Instances of this sort rebuke the futile

type.

to call all things

it is

This introduction

because of

it

to a reason

—

if

is

critic,

bad which conform to a given

good

in spite of its form, not

we must now and

which

is

again have recourse

not altogiether a reason.

There yet remain to be accounted for This one per

six hundred. classified,"

and show how

cent. I

six stories of the

have labeled " un-

because their openings show marks of such

One

varied character.

is

a prologue of unwarranted

Another a preface.^" A third, which shall be nameless, is a hodge-podge of every possible sort, introlength.^*

ducing by name no

paragraph

!

less

than fifteen characters in the

In the fourth, Kipling

a story in the

first

^^

makes a native

person and the reader finds

from the mere manner of the

telling.

The

it

first tell

out

openings of

the last two are quite nondescript.

II.

I shall

BAD"

USAGR

not refer again to the forms which invite

aster, as just noted.

dis-

In opening your story

Don't be pert. Dbn't be lengthy. Don't be general. 2» so

A

Terribly Strange Bed, Wilkie Collins. See p. 377, No. 20. the Man with the Golden Brain, Alphonse Daudet, Letters From M^f Mill.

The Legend of

^^In Black and White.

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

147

Don't be garrulous. Don't be roundabout. Don't describe when you can suggest.

Don't be heavy, pompous, or too serious. Don't

tell

the reader

what he can imagine.

Don't be content with a commonplace opening.

Don't think that sincere simplicity Don't

let

the introduction weight

is

commonplace.

down of overshadow

the story.

Don't strike one note in the introduction and another in the

body of the

story.

Don't touch anything which

is

not a live wire leading,

direct to the real centre of the story.

OUTLINE SUMMARY The Opening i.

of the Story

the best usage (six hundred stories examined). 1. Fifty-one Open With Dialogue (o) Twenty-six Use Dialogue to Give the

Set-

ting (&) (c)

(i) («) 2.

Twelve to Delineate Characters Nine to Suggest the Spirit of the Story

Two to Supply Preliminary Explanations Two to Win the Reader's Attention

Five Hundred Forty-nine Open Without Dialogue (a) Two Hundred seven Open With the Setting (6)

One Hundred

With

Character'

With Incident With Introductory Facts Thirty-four With General Truths

Illustrated

Thirty-eight

Delineation (c) Seventy-six (rf) l_e)

Fifty-five

by the Stories

THE OPENING OF THE STORY

148

(/) Eighteen

With Expressions Designed

to

Win

Attention (g) Fifteen (fe)

II.

With Words About the

Secondary

Narrator Six Miscellaneous

BAD USAGE

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY Note:

Select

any plots you please from Appendix

for the following work.

ments 1.

The

instructor

may

C

as bases

vary these assign-

^

indefinitely.

Write merely the introduction to a

story, beginning with

dialogue to give the setting.

Another, opening with dialogue to delineate a character. Another, using dialogue to lead up to tjie story proper by fact or explanation. Another, beginning without dialogue, giving the setting. 4. Another, introducing a character. 5. Another, opening directly with incident 6. Another, with facts or explanations which leadv up to th« 7. 2.

3.

story proper. 8.

Rewrite one of the dialogue introductions given

in

this

chapter, without the use of introductory dialogue. g.

Rewrite another of the introductions, recasting

it

in dia-

logue form. 10.

Do

the same, with your

own

writings, as assigned above.

CHAPTER

yill

THE SETTING OF THE STORY Marble, paint, and language, the pen, the needle, and the brush, have their grossnesses, their ineflfable impotences, their

all

may

so express myself, of insubordination. It is the a great part of the delight of any artist to contend with these unruly tools, and now by brute energy, now

hours,

if I

work and

it is

by witty expedient, to drive and coax them to effect his Stevenson, A Note on Realism. It

is

the habit of

vision of the acter

itself.

my

will.

imagination to strive after as full a character moves as of the char-

medium in which a The psychological

causes which prompted

me

to

and history as I have given Romoltt] are precisely the same as those which determined

give such details of Florentine life [in

me of

English village life in Silas Marner Dodson " life, out of which were developed the destinies poor Tom and Maggie. George Eliot, quoted in her Life

by

J.

in giving the details of

or the "

—

W.

Cross.

/Setting consists of the circumstances, material and immaterial/ in story,

y Its

(I lack a

these

which the characters are seen

more expressive word)

we must

devices

to

move

in the

elements are time, place, occupations, and

briefly

conditions.

Each of

examine, together with the literary

by which setting

is

established.

a general view.

149*

First,

however,

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

150

I.

SETTING IN GENERAL

no more exists for its own the sake than the setting of a diamond. The story diamond is the chief thing. If the setting, by its or-

The

setting of a short-story

—

—

nate style,

its

beauty,

imperfections,

its

very bulk,

its

should overshadow and obscure the gem,

would be

it

But when story and setting are in each part inof one jewel deed not indistinguishable from the other, but so integrated that the highest enjoyment arises from considering them as a whole. Hold all things in true perspective. worse than

useless.

harmony, the

As

—

effect is as

the setting exists to glorify the short-story, so the

story governs the tone of the setting. ters

Do

the charac-

need contrast to silhouette them boldly, the setting

must be accommodated adaptation

is

required

and a

to this requirement; if

harmony, instead of

like

contrast,

be the tone needed for their effective presentation. In the sketch, setting

and become study

it

may

rise to the

eminent place

practically the story itself; in the character-

sinks to a subdued position.

Certain story-tellers delight to create a setting and

then

let

the characters

fixed environment.

for those

work out their destinies in this is no objection to this method

There

who can employ

case setting and characters

it

successfully, but in either

must be harmonized or

trasted artistically, and, as before, setting

is

of the story.

As

Its influence is

powerful.

for the sake in real

environment strongly influences character, so in

we may

see the

con-

life

fiction

power of surroundings working upon

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

I5I

the emotions, the moods, the actions, even the destinies

of the characters.^ Zola goes so far as to say that the environment " determines and completes the man." ^ Setting

of

is first

We

a preparation.

all

the preceding chapter that

its lines

have seen in

are often laid in the

very opening paragraphs of the story.

But

it

may

also

be progressive, and move, like the shadow of the traveler,

everywhere the characters go, story's close,

it

until at length,

mind

lingers in the

with the

an integral part

as

of the picture.

Setting

sometimes prophetic, forecasting, while

is

assists in creating, the

Upon

mood

the reader, setting lays the impression of reality,

Without

or of unreality, in the picture. torial help the story

would be as bare

drama unassisted by

special

When

the characters

thus an effect. the reader

It

i-s

must see

live, niove,

the story.

was the

as

and have

not seen.

their being

Atmosphere

Through

the action, yes,

all

its

it

does to landscape.

medium

The

hills

fic-

are

and

in sunshine, but the eye

different through

the mediate atmosphere.

same

in cloud

them as

And

so setting and characters, perfectly adjusted,

the reader, that

is

make

to say the beholder, see the story in

the very tones the literary artist desires.

1

is

the details of

sees

"

early

Atmosphere gives value to the tones of

tion as in real life

actually the

felt,

all

its realistic pic-

costume and scenery.

in the setting, the result is atmosphere.

sea has

it

of the story.

an atmosphere of

its

A

story of the

own, but the atmosphere

As in Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Le Roman Experimental. Compare Hbwells, quoted on

p. 94.

does not consist merely of the accurately colored picture

and strand and sailor and ship and sky. The its whole story is informed with the spirit of the sea tang clings to the garments, its winds breathe through every passage, its wonderful lights and glooms tone the of sea

whole

—

Without

story.

bloodless

and

it

the story

would be a poor

Before taking up the elements of to examine the literary

II.

thing,

inert.

setting, it will be well

means by which

it is

effected.

DESCRIPTION AS A DEVICE TO ESTABLISH SETTING

Rhetoricians recognize, and cuss, at least four

ration, Exposition,

This book principles

is

it is

their function to dis-

forms of discourse

:

Description, Nar-

and Argumentation.

not a system of rhetoric

and usages

it

;

^

the rhetorical

takes up are discussed solely with

a view to throwing light upon the structure of the short-

The

story.

fiction-writer has to

do with

all

the forms

of discourse, but especially with narration and description.

The

principles

and methods of narration,

as ap-

plied to the short-story, are distributed throughout this

volume, as

is

evident ; but description, as an element of

setting, requires

a few simple words.

To describe is to picture. In talking of description we naturally speak of portraying, delineating, coloring, 3 For the use of fiction writers, good general treatments of these subjects are to be found in English Composition, Barrett Wendell, and Talks on Writing English, Arlo Bates. An excellent formal treatise is The Working Principles of Rhetoric,

Genung.

THE SETTING OF THE STORY and is

153

To

the devices of the picture painter.

all

we must

to visualize, hence

pictorial process,

describe

look at description as a

whether the writer deals with material,

or with spiritual objects.

you were asked

If

might go about account of detail, ter,

its

gun you

to describe a rapid-fire

two ways give a technical appearance and nature, in whole and in in either of

it

or else describe

dwelling upon

it

:

as a terrible engine of slaugh-

its effects

rather than

upon

its

struc-

is

really

ture.

With

the former kind of description, which

exposition truly is

— the

precise setting forth of

what a thing

— the short-story of to-day has but

little

to do.

The form is too short to admit of the circumstantial exposition which is permitted to the novel, but which was employed in short-stories now and then by Pbe and HawTrue, minute expository description

thorne. sionally

which

lies

fundamental to

and painstaking; but result to

be attained

pression, of the

it

is

all

description

must be

person or thing described.

phrase, need not be dry

and

at all events

story to-day.

others of

it

close

important

an imThese " little

eifect,

Mr. Howells' clever

lifeless,

meaning of things and subdue the

may be abusing the

must be

brief, for the

a vivid picture, an

miracles of observation," to adopt

class.

occa-

is

needed in the short-story, and the observation

but

details.

may

give the

Perhaps

this

distinguished realist's epithet, but

expresses the method of the typical short-

Some

its class,

You must

details

while

make an

object different

other details identify

learn to decide

it

from

with

when and how

its

to use

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

154

the one and reject the other.

whole distinction

ing, or experience, or

you that which

your

is vital in

make

It is difficult to

clear, and, after all,

nothing but

own common

this

train-

sense, can teach

a picture and that which

is

de-

pendent.

Again, this of description

literary, this significant, this selective sort

of two kinds

is

:

which has to do with

that

the persons of the story, and that which deals with im-

personal objects.

Naturally, these two provinces are not

always sharply separated, and here and there may intimately overlap. The chapter on " Character and Characterization " takes

are laid

now to. down for

up the former, while the However, most of the

we

latter

consider.

principles

the one will apply also to the other.

In so brief a literary form as the short-story

I.

It is tails

Description Should be Mainly Suggestive only the trained observer

who

notes

all

the de-

Even familiar landscapes, houses, and leave upon us only general impressions;

of a scene.

rooms, usually

but take away one of the salient features and the scene at it

once strikes

may

lis

as different, yet

require a friend to

tell

but a single feature lacking makes it

is

somehow

us just what all

the same; is

letter to

Gray,

in

West, spoke of minute describing as " an

ill

habit, that will

was

Now

the picturing of the striking characteristics in a

scene which constitutes suggestive description.

a

missing,

the change.

wear

off "

;

and Disraeli said

" always a bore both to the describer

description

and the

de-

THE SETTING OF THE STORY scribee "

;

while Stevenson averred that " no

ing ever spoke of scenery for above time,

human

two minutes

be-

at a

which makes one suspect we hear too much of

in literature." *

To catalogue much

155

it

v

all

the details

is

to

weary the mind.

better to bring out just those points

the reader to supply the rest.

How

which enable

You have

seen those in" genious black-and-white sketches which are " so simple

—

until

strokes

you undertake to do one from life. and the figure is complete. Not an

A

few black

outline,

nor

even actual likeness to the features which are suggested:

Those marks are not

form of

really in the

lips

and eyes

and nose, yet somehow the face stands out complete

memory,

association,

and imagination have

filled in

—

the

details.

Mariner

Coleridge's 'Ancient

sketched suggestion.

full

is

of this strongly

the poet's' method in this mas-

contrasted with expository description,

terpiece, as ell

Of

Low-

says

"

And how picturesque it is in the proper sense of the I know nothing like it. There is not a descrip-

word.

tion in

It is all picture.

it.

Descriptive poets generally

confuse us with multiplicity of detail; their forest for the trees

way.

With

;

and

see

but Coleridge never errs in this

instinctive tact

of association,

we cannot

he touches the right chord

is satisfied,

we

as

also are."

Note these suggestive lines about Avignon, from Dau" Ah the happy days 1 the det's " The Pope's Mule " : !

How

Write a Novel,

*

Quoted

^

Prose works. Vol. VI,

in

to

p. 74.

p. 67.

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

156

happy

city

!

Halberds that did not wound, state prisons

where they put wine to

2.

No

cool.

Brief Description

famine

May Be

;

no wars."

by Epithet

" Ever-mindful," " blue-eyed," " white-armed," " laughter-loving," are

now

conventional compounds, but fresh

enough when Homer turies

first

conjoined them.

The

cen-

have not yet improved upon " Wheels round,

brazen, eight-spoked," or " Shields smooth, beautiful, brazen, well-hammered,"

though they may be thought

^

Observe the effective use of epithet in Will Levington Comfort's " The Fighting Death "

too heroic for ordinary prose.

" That

Come

!

changed the aspect of affairs in quick and business-like utterance. In it there was neither rank nor nerves, which are not needed in the Silang gorges. It pulled a cheer from the waiting van, leeched against the cliff; an instant later a raw, high-pitched yell and a drumming of guns came from the heights. Down the steep bank scrambled the little party, the Cumberer limping in the lead. Glawm's trick to occupy the attention of the rebels was pure logic. The Thirteenth had entered the iriipregnated zone. One was down. " Birdie turned, unfolded his command, lifted the fallen and chucked the body easily up the trail out of range, rejoining his men in a twinkling. The staff muttered acclaim. Down, dovra toward the little ribbon of river that boiled with wasted shots, trotted this plaything of the enemy." '

on, fellows

the minds of several of the

6

'

men — a

Talks on Writing English, Bates, March, 1907.

''Lippincott's,

p.

197.

THE SETTING OF THE STORY Description

3.

May Be

157

by Simple Hint

Lowell notes a happy instance of this sort of picturing

by intimation when he says of Chaucer: " Sometimes he describes amply by the merest hint, as

where the Friar, before setting himself down, drives

away the

We

cat.

know without need

that he has chosen the snuggest corner."

4.

May

Description

of

more words

*

be Direct

This statement is plain enough without exposition. Use your own judgment as to whether, in picturing a given scene you had better proceed from a general view to the details, or first give the details and thus build up the general picture. tion

5.

" it,

In the short-story direct descrip-

should be very brief indeed. Description

When

May

Depict a Thing by Its Effects

the spectator's eye

we form

turns pale, of a horrible

admiration silent

6.

is

dazzled,

the idea of a splendid object;

we form

one

;

from

and he shades

when

his quick

his face

wonder and from his

the idea of great beauty;

awe, of great majesty." Description Often

*

Employs Figures of Speech

(a) Simile: " Harrow-on-the-Hill, with its pointed spire, rises blue in the

distance; *

and distant ridges,

Quoted

in

Talks

'Mozley's Essays.

On

like the receding waves, rise into

Writing English.

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

158

blueness, one after the other, out of the low-lying mist; the last ridge bluely melting into space. In the midst of it all, gleams

Welsh Harp Lake, like a piece of sky that has become unstuck and tumbled into the landscape with its shining side up." m

the

(b) Metaphor: " Before us lies a sea of fern, gone a russet-brown " ^i decay, in which are isles of dark green gorse

from

—

(c) Personification: "

with scarlet and orange and lemondown, and running after each other on the bright grass, under the brisk west wind which makes the willows rustle and turn up the whites of their leaves in pious resignation to the coming change." ^^

and

colored

little

trees

fluttering

leaflets

(d) Hyperbole: " '

Just, so,' said the notary, pulling out his watch,

two inches thick and looked

7.

Description

Any

is

may

which was

Dutch man-of-war."

^^

Strongly Influenced by Point of View

of three methods

view-point

like a

may

be adopted:

The

single

be maintained throughout the description,

would take his stand at the most advantageous point and describe only what could be seen from as though one

that single position.

Or

the view-point

reader

is

may

shift progressively, as

being conducted along a highroad.

''"Peter Ibbetson,

Du

Maurier.

11 Ibid.

^^Ibid. 13

Quoted

in

Genung's Rhetoric, from Balzac.

when

the

THE SETTING OF THE STORY Or ject

the view-point

may remain

159

stationary while the ob-

moves, as when a vessel approaches the beholder.

Oftener than not, description will

make use

of a

num-

ber of the foregoing methods instead of confining itself to

any one type to delineate a given scene.

8.

The Seven Steps

In the chapters on "

Some

''

Gathering the Materials " and

Qualities

Special

in Description

of

Style,"'

consideration

is

OBSERVATION, READING, IMAGINATION, COMPARISON, SELECTION, COORDINATION, and COMPRESSION.

given to each of these seven steps

:

All of these have to do with first collecting

and then

arranging the facts of the proposed setting for use in building is

to

up a

description,

be depicted.

discussion as to

The

however simply the scene

last

decade has intensified the

whether the novelist

shall

devote his

power of faithful delineation to studies in local color, as

Mary Wilkins Freeman, or, like Balzac, choose a uniThis argument does not directly aifect the short-story writer, and may be dismissed with the remark that to what " school " soever an author may inversal scope.

cline

he will find ample use for his ability to grasp the

essentials

of a scene.

more and more the spirit and physical accuracy in the writer's atdescribe setting. This tends toward realism,

Later usage has developed of historical

tempt to

and as

this spirit

grows we may expect to

and imagination increasingly subordinated.

see

romance

Even now

THE SETTING OF THE STORV

l6o

really imaginative fiction is

little

we

see

much

fine

work

being produced ;

instead,

The same

in accurate delineation.

careful study of historical periods, costuming and local

which makes the stage so

color,

pictorial

and the

painter

so faithful in his portrayals, has inspired the writer of

But be on your guard lest you lose the Frank Norris used to call its

short-stories.

of the story in what

spirit

" clothes," and so turn a virtue into a

III.

folly.

THE ELEMENTS OF SETTING

As we now

consider the four elements of setting

Time, Place, Occupations and Conditions

two or more of these

that

called is

background; that

— remember

produce what

is loosely

that part of the setting which

introduced for the purpose of "bringing out"

characters, whether It is this

by means of harmony or of

worked

in

is

so potent to

the

contrast.

background, bold or obscure, clear-cut or

suggested, that is

is,

will

subtly

charm the reader when

with a deft and well-considered touch.

other phase of the story-teller's art

is

No

so alluring and

fascinating as that which causes the characters to play activity, tives,

it

in

or reveal their intricate yet sharply defined mo-

upon the chosen background. Here is the fairest You remember that Flaubert counhis pupil Maupassant to look at an object until he

field for observation.

seled

saw

in

it all

to look until

that every one else saw, and then continue

he saw what no one

else saw.

This

applies

not only to analytical observation but to constructive servation as well.

ob-

THE SETTING OF THE STORY Lessing inquires: of a thing in space

?

"How First

do we obtain a

we

observe

its

l6l clear idea

separate parts,

then the union of these parts, and iinally the whole. senses

Our

perform these various operations with such amaz-

make them seem but

ing rapidity as to

our obtaining an idea of

pidity is absolutely essential to

the whole,

which

is

This ra-

one.

nothing more than the result of the

conception of the parts and of their connection with each other."

"

So we must regard each of these elements part of the greater fact

— the

as only a

entire setting.

Time

I.

Here we have an idea broad and openly influencing every story.

effective, more or less The author may flatly

announce the two elements of time story,

and

its

duration; or he

— the period of

may

his

ignore both; or he

may merely suggest these conditions or he may gradually make both period and duration plain as the story pro;

ceeds.

The general period will be future, present-day, or past. The whole range of history lies before you for choice, and woe to you if you set twentieth-century peo(a)

ple to

performing against a

Roman

background, in Greek

costumes, while speaking in Medieval phrases!

no period that you do not

know or

you do not fear the rejection

slip.

Even a year makes when that year is

a revolutionary difference in setting '*Laocodn,

p. 102.

Choose

cannot master, unless

l62

,THE SETTING OF

THE STORY

1534 in England, i86i in America, or 1870 in France. it is worth while, if your swash-

For another example,

know

bucklers engage in sword-play, to

duellists held poniards in their left

period cloaks.

of gaming

in

Mannerisms of speech, of

— a whole world of

what period

hands, and in what

detail

dress, of sport,

—

rest

upon time

in the setting, for time influences place, occupation, and

conditions.

(b) Season,

must not be

too,

pageantry of color and

its

with

forgotten,

its

peculiar chain of limitations.

Either keep birds and flowers out of your picture or have

them sing and bloom faker " in

Day and

(c)

in season.

Do

not be a "nature

fiction.

night offer pitfalls

unwary.

the

for

Goethe once complained that in describing Ivanhoe's trance into Cedric's great dining hall, Scott

nute in recording

details, for

which could not

shoes,

en-

too mi-

he showed even Ivanhoe's

really be noticed

gloom of that vast apartment.

was

by night

" If Sidney Lanier

in the ^°

had

ever noted carefully the time setting of the climax

in

Silas Marner, he could not have written of

of

sunshine striking through the " little one's head.' "

window and

'

a ray

illuminating

the

What

simplicity

established

hymn, fectly !» ^8

in

and sublimity mingle

by the opening

which

spirit

lines

in the setting

of Tappan's exquisite

and background harmonize so

:

The English Novel, p. 28. The Study of a Novel, Whitcomb,

p. 78.

per-

THE SETTING OF THE STORY 'Tis

midnight and on Olive's brow ;

The

star

dimmed

is

that lately shone

'Tis midnight; in the garden,

The

now,

suffering Saviour prays alone.

(d) Duration of time less

I63

is

not less important, though

prominent, than period.

Many an unwary

author

has slipped on the simple matter of forgetting that

it

and back again; that people normally ^row older with the lapse of years and takes time to travel here, there,

;

must be consistent with the procession of the Even the many-eyed proofreader overlooks

that events

seasons.

some glaring inconsistencies of time duration in In " Ouida's " idyllic pastoral, "

Reine Allix

A Leaf in the

"

in her ninety-third year before her grand-

is

son Bernadou proposes to Margot, and the aged still

stories.

Storm,"

ninety-three after

Bernadou

is

accepted,

is

dame

is

married,

and has become the father of a boy then more than a year old! 2.

Place

Since Julius Caesar has reminded us that certain tribes " differ

among we must

themselves in languages, customs, and

in the setting.

how important a part place plays The author may propose to locate his

story "

in particular "

laws,"

observe

nowhere

his setting will resemble.

Not

— and then

that

is

what

that he need announce the

name of country, section, and town, but he himself must know it, or mentally construct it, and be faithful to its

" See

p. 377,

No,

20.

164

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

local color.

How many

stories

come

to the manuscript-

reader's desk (they seldom reach the editor-in-chief) the settings of

which bring to mind Artemus Ward's naive " I on his panorama

confession as to one of the figures

can conceal

it

from you no

:

longer —

it

is

a horse

!

Their Parisians should be labeled, for their surroundings might equally well be those of Berlin or of Peters-

burg.

A

more than name

to

Paolo Veronese dressed the people

in

cowboy must be such

be convincing.

in

The Marriage was a tour de force, and what did he gain? Local color cannot be dreamed out. If you have not visited and studied the locality of which you write, at least consult a book or a friend, and even then you are liable to go wrong.' No African traveler would ever rechis painting

day.

at Cana, in the clothes of his

It

ognize the background of Johnson's Rasselas.

A meritorious

instance in point

is

found

in the follow-

ing introduction to Harold MacGrath's novelette, The Princess Elopes.

The atmosphere,

toms, the color, are

all

the names, the cus-

German, yet the grand-duchy and

the principality are imaginary.

The

setting conforms

not to unchecked imagination but to the imagined It is

rather difficult in these days for a

— trust

man who

reality.

takes such

a whilom diplomat for that to follow the continual geographical disturbances of European surfaces. Thus, I cannot distinctly recall the exact location of the Grand Duchy of Barscheit, or of the neighboring principality of Doppelkinn. It meets my needs and purposes however, to say that Berlin and Vienna were easily accessible, and that a three hours' journey would bring you under the shadow of the Carpathian Range, where, in my diplomatic days, I used often hunt the "bear that walks like a man." scant interest in foreign aifairs !

—

THE SETTING OF THE STORY Manifestly,

much

is

it

easier to write of a specific

locality

than of a general place

thing.

For example,

now

set

1 65

—

your scene

if

in

there be such a

North America

contract the setting to the United States, to the

East, to Pennsylvania, to eastern Pennsylvania, to the anthracite coal regions, to Pittston, to the foreign quarter

—

and as you narrow down the place your pictures

in-

crease in vividness

and in suggestiveness both to you and

your reader.

to

In passing,

me

let

say that the same idea applies to the

use of specific words for painting in the local color of

Which of these two pictures is the The man was lying on a rock near the large frame house ;" " The gardener sprawled on a granite community.

a

clearer ?

"

boulder a few yards to the left of the rambling, clapboarded house " ? Generality in the former sentence has been individualized in the precise words.

words.

Not

It is not.

latter.

Local color demands

that description

is

a matter of mere

It consists rather of calling things

by their most precise and simple names, and noting their individualities, that they

generally similar objects. ideas with

words exactly

may

be distinguished from

It is

all

not words, primarily, but

fitted to

them, that

make

delin-

eation vivid.

Once or twice is

—

I

have used here an expression which

current among those who speak and write of fiction " local color." What does it connote in the language

of criticism?

Mr. James Lane Allen says:

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

l66

"A

mine

friend of

reading some

—a

thing that

little

asked him.

you don't "

It's

'

'

Tell

me

I

— had

frankly what you like and what

interestingly told, dramatic, polished,

was

his reply,

'

but

why

in the

neglect such an opportunity to drop in at this point,

" It

in having

think of it?'

like.'

that, Allen,'

and

just finished

had succeeded

'What do you

published in the Century. I

painter

and

all

world did you

some

color here,

and there ?

came over me

like that," said the Kentuckian, " snapping his fingers, that words indicating colors can

be manipulated by the writer just as pigments are by the painter. I describe

to put

from

it

my

This

I

never forgot the lesson.

And now when

a landscape, or a house, or a costume,

in

such words that an

words."

artist

I try

can paint the scene

^*

is local color.^'

Local color must be presented pervasively, not chunks.

It

must touch everything

in the story that

naturally be influenced by local conditions

customs, costumes, and

all

the rest, and

it

in

would

— language,

must keep on

coloring them, never for a moment allowing the people to speak out of " character," act out of consistency, or

break away from the requisite environment. In "Ouida's"

"A

Leaf in the Storm," the author

gives the local setting thus progressively.

of the quaint ^' i»

Normandy

village,

The

picture

Berceau de Dieu, grows

Steps in Journalism, Shuman, p. 201. In The Art of Writing Fiction, p. 40, Mr. S. Baring Gould Is quoted as giving similar testimony.

THE SETTING OF THE STORY clearer as the story

when we

moves

see Reine Allix

—

on.

I67

It is nearly half told

"A tall and strong -woman, very withered and very bent and very brown, yet with sweet, dark, flashing eyes that had still light (sic) in them, and a face that was still noble, though nearly a century had bronzed it with its harvest suns and blown wintry winds" [sitting at night by her winand meditating on the wedding of her grandson Bernadou, just accomplished.] " From her lattice in the eaves she saw straight up the village street; saw the dwellings of her lifelong neighbors, the slopes of the rich fields, the gleam of the broad, gray water, the whiteness of the crucifix against the darkened skies."

on

with

it

dow

its

in the roof

The

ability to

reproduce the temper and tone of a wide

has built up a school of present-day writers

locality

whose very names suggest to the magazine reader their chosen sections.

Will N. Harben has spoken for north-

ern Georgia, " Charles Egbert nessee mountains,

farm-country, in

New

Craddock " for the Ten-

Hamlin Garland

for the northwestern

Mary Wilkins Freeman

for

humble

Singmaster for the Pennsylvania Germans, George Cable for Louisiana,

and

life

England, James Lane Allen for Kentucky, Elsie

— not

Thomas Nelson Page

W.

for Virginia,

to extend further a list to which many other names at home and abroad might be added of each of these has whose work rivals the best

excellent

those

—

found in his characteristic local conditions an appealing quality that has enriched the

A

American

short-story.

useful device for helping the author to visualize his

locale is to

prepare a topographical

map

of the entire

physical setting, something after the fashion of the au-

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

l68

The Forest Lovers, and Quincy

thors of Treasure Island,

Adams Sawyer.

Not

writers

all

would wish to

publish

would at least help to keep movements of the characters in the place consistent

the map, but an exact sketch

the

and

realistic.

3.

The

Occupations

setting not only influences the characters in what

Contrariwise, what the

they are, but in what they do.

characters are doing in a story will govern the setting.

The two must be as a writer had

it

A football game

consistent.

" gridiron," with eleven

men on

each team and not

of technical terms must be at the pen's point

cial

occupations

local color.

I

—

life,

nine,

A whole vocabulary

in a recent story.

business, of sport, of social

argues the

— terms

and of endless other

of

spe-

in order to a faithful presentment of

know of no

fault so prevalent,

and

so

hopeless, as the efforts of the tyro to describe occupations with

which he has not made himself

4.

I

have said that

more

this is

No

not a satisfactory word.

By

— moral, mental, — the conditions which

tions cial

Conditions

" environments."

is

familiar.

it

I

mean

all

the condi-

spiritual, emotional, physical, so-

all

are conceived of by the

author as limiting the actors in their working out of story.

but

it

Some have is

called

it

the "

mood

something more than mood.

" of the

And

the

story,

these sur-

rounding, all-pervading, penetrating conditions must

be

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

169

may be able to measure all which work for and against the characters before they start, and while they are doing or becoming. SO sketched in that the reader the handicaps

When

and " conditions " are handled carefully together some fine harmonies and contrasts result. The gloomy setting prepares for the catastrophe, as in Poe's "

The

" place "

Fall of the

the storm

fits

House

in with the

;

of Usher " or the calm after

mood

of self-renunciation after

In The Last Days of Pompeii the eruption of Vesuvius is in harmony with the mood of the

years of struggle.

story, as is the case

Vadis, its

with the burning of

weaker successor.

Rome

in

Quo

See the perfect concord of

mood and setting in this passage from James Lane Allen's The Choir Invisible The next morning the parson, standing a white cold shepherd before his chilly wilderness flock, preached a sermon from the text : " I shall go softly all my years." While the heads of the

rest

were bowed during the

rose and slipped out. veil

last moments of prayer, she " Yes," she said to herself, gathering her

about her face as she alighted at the door of her the withered leaves of November were whirled about her feet, " I shall go softly all my years."

closely

and

house fiercely

But the conditions

mood "

A

of the action.

with the Ouida's

"

Leaf in the Storm "

One evening in when

and golden time the people sat was done, talking from door to door, women knitting or spinning, the younger ones mending

out as usual the old their

may strongly contrast To quote again from "

this gracious

the day

husbands' or brothers' blouses or the little blue shirts of with the dogs on the sward

their infants, the children playing

edged the stones of the street, and above heavens and' the glow of the sun that had set. that

all

the great calm

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

170

Reine AUix, like the others, sat before the door, for once doing nothing, but with folded hands and bended head dreamily taking pleasure in the coolness that had come with evening Suddenly there came along the road between the trees an old man and a mule; it was Mathurin the miller He paused be-

—

—

fore the cottage of Reine

AUix; he was dusty,

travel-stained,

and sad. Margot ceased laughing among her flowers as she saw her old master. None of them knew why, yet the sight of him made the air seem cold and the night seem near. "There is terrible news," he said, drawing a sheet of printed words from his coat-pocket ^"terrible news! We are to go to

—

war." 5.

The Setting Entire

In the ardent effort to secure individual overlook the unity of the whole setting.

do not

effects,

Keep

ever

mind Poe's dictum regarding unity of impression.

in

Let

the setting constitute a complete scene, a unified picture, clean-cut or hazy, as

you

please, but nevertheless as ef-

fectively set forth as are "

good deeds in a naughty harmony or contrast with the Then the characplot, will produce convincing work. their destinies with ters will march toward an air of fitness as admirable as it is rare. The storm breaks when the hero's moral tension is at its height. The grisly night world."

Setting, in proper

prompts the trembling weakling to forswear poses.

The breaking

of the beleaguered soul.

goad Macbeth

his evil pur-

clouds seem to clear up the doubts

steadily

Does not all the environment on to his crime and its doom,

just as her surroundings happily conduct Portia to her

joy?

Hawthorne hedges Donatello about with a

— conditions past and present — which makes inevitable,

and

all his

after life shares' in the

setting

his crime

same

tragic

THE, SETTING OF THE STORY

The

sequence.

hour of

crisis

skilful dramatist

shows the soul

all

music and form and color and

air

and word combine to move the will to that resolve

is

taken,

its

the

man

in his

II.

summary

SETTING IN GENERAL DESCRIPTION AS USED TO ESTABLISH SETTING 1.

2. 3.

4. 5-

6. 7.

8.

III.

is

Should be Mainly Suggestive

May May May May

be by Epithet

be by Simple Hint

be Direct Depict a Thing by Its Effects Often Employs Figures of ^Speech Is Strongly Influenced by Point of View Seven Steps in Description

THE ELEMENTS OF SETTING 1.

Time (a) General Period (6) Season (c)

2.

3.

4. 5.

Day and Night

Duration Place Local Color Occupations Conditions The Setting Entire (rf)

Then,

accom-

new grooves

new mood.

outliiSte I.

resolve.

and the deed

plished, the setting falls quietly into its fit

in its

And

poised ready for either course.

the circumstance of

when once

\J1

to

THE SETTING OF THE STORY

172

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS AND INDIVIDUAL STUDY I.

,

Select

from any sources

established by thet, 2.

(a)

short-stories

direct description,

(b)

whose

settings are

suggestion,

(c)

epi-

(d) hint, (e) figures of speech. Rewrite the opening setting of one of your old stories

from one of these points of view:

(a) a distant point, (b) the centre of the scene, (c) a fixed point while the objects move. Which one of the " seven steps in description " seems to 3.

you to be most important? Which next? In about two hundred words write the opening setting of a 4. story set (a) in any previous century whose history you have recently studied; (b) in the present; (c) in the future.

Describe a night scene (a) at a fire; (b) on the ocean; during a riot; (d) at a college dance; (e) at a secret "spread"; (f) after an athletic victory; (g) in a graveyard; (h) in the desert. Write the opening setting of a local-color story set near 6. your own home. Outline a setting showing an occupation with which you 7. are familiar, as some branch of manufacture, commerce, raining, 5.

(c)

or farming. Outline settings, that will (a) harmonize, (b) 8. with the characters. Construct a plot in which setting influences the 9.

I

contrast,

destinies

of the characters. Select from Hardy's Tess of the D'Urhervilles passages in 10. which nature sympathizes with the action of the story and the

moods of 11.

the characters. Briefly describe, or suggestively present the picture of, (a)

city street-crossing in winter; (b) the entrance to a place of amusement; (c) a police court; (d) a' country fair; (e) a rain-storm in a lonely village. 12. Vary the foregoing by assuming successively (in as manycases as may be assigned) the view-point of a tramp, a cynical old man, a boy, a comical foreigner, an unlucky man, etc. Outline a scene and suggest an incident in surprising con13. a>

trast to the atmosphere. 14;

Suggest an incident in harmony with the same scene.

CHAPTER

IX

THE BODY OF THE STORY

We tion.

.

accomplish less by rule than by observation and imitaTalks to Students on The Art of Study.

— Cramer, .

.

the one rule

is

to be

infinitely

various; to interest,

and yet still to gratify; to be ever changing, as it were, the stitch, and yet still to give the effect of an ingenious neatness. Stevenson, On Some Technical Eleto disappoint, to surprise,

—

ments of Style in Literature.

From

this chapter

heading

let

no one infer that

all,

or

even most, good short-stories exhibit clearly marked di-

and conclusion. Quite on form that all sorts of material

visions of introduction, body,

the contrary, so free is the

may now and then be found

in all sorts of places in the

However, the body, or the story proper,

story.

is

the

natural place to look for the essential elements of the story

— the

really characteristic things

story individual.

story will display the qualities

is

likely to contain

The body of the it

them

story, then, is

all

in

— though

no one

a perfect degree.

what we wait

for,

with

and ends, whether the writer presome explanatory words or whether he plunges

the true plot begins

faces

body of the

which go to make the

short-story a distinct literary species story

which make a

So, too, in general, the

into his

yarn without introduction] 173

-^

THE BODY OF THE STORY

174

Just about every element of prose composition, as ex-

pounded by

may be found

rhetoricians,

in the short-story.

To some

of them I have already referred, especially in the chapters on " Plot," " Introduction," and " Setting," virhile

to others I shall advert in succeeding sections.

There

are,

however, seven points which particularly bear

upon the body of the

much

of the setting:

story, as containing the plot and

Incident, Emotion, Crisis, Sus-

pense, Climax, Denouement, aijd Conclusion.^

I.

It

must be

Incident

reiterated that the short-story differs from

the sketch essentially in that

it

" cannot consist simply

of a fixed picture, a description of a

man

in repose.

It

The must show him- acting and acted jipon. can only move as he is swayed internally by his emotions; and the movement can only be seen externally in .

.

.

man

its eiifect

on

his surroundings, his background."

Not everyone

will

go the

full

^

length with Stevenson

in subordinating characters to incident, but

few

will dis-

1 It will be observed that nowhere in. this treatise have I attempted to name in order all the essential parts of the shortstory. In The Technique of the Novel Dr. Home regards the essentials of that literary form as being: Plot, Motive (purpose) and Verisimilitude, Character-Study, Emotional Excitement, Background, and Style. It has not seemed wise to treat the short-story under so rigid a classification, for the reason that some of the subordinate elements Dialogue, for example may touch all the parts with equal intimacy: while Emotion may show itself in every phase of the story. The truth is, too close an analysis may cause us to lose sight of the delicate blending of the parts of the story. Its characteristics often pervade the whole rather' than stand out as entities. 2 The Technique of the Novel, Home, p. 2^,

—

THE BODY OF THE STORY

175

pute the dictum that in the short-story the interest be-

comes attenuated when

we

are fed upon mere character-

analysis without illustration acters

work out

by incident of how the char-

But Stevenson may

their inner spirit.

speak for himself:

" In character-studies the pleasure

we

watch,

moved fering, selves,

we

approve,

we

we

take

is critical

smile at incongruities,

we

are

to sudden heats of sympathy with courage, suf-

But the characters are

or virtue.

still

them-

they are not us; the more clearly they are de-

picted, the

more widely do they stand away from

us, the

more imperiously do they thrust us back into our place as a spectator.

.

.

.

It is

not character but incident

woos us out of our reserve. Something happens as we desire it to happen to ourselves some situation, that

that

;

we have long

dallied with in fancy,

is

realized in the story

with enticing and appropriate details.

Then we

forget

we push the hero aside; then we the tale in our own person and bathe in fresh and then, and then only, do we say that we

the characters; then

plunge into experience;

have been reading a romance."

^

The extreme realists demand, in the words of Paul Bourget, " mediocrity of heroes, systematic diminution of of dramatic action." * In the following quotation substitute " short-story " for

plot,

and almost

" novel,"

'A

total suppression

and you have the golden middle ground.

Gossip on Romance. *Le Roman Experimental.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

176 "

The

sacrifice of action to

cal evolution in

modern

some extent

the art as an intellectual entertainment,

make

not

that evolution his end,

if

is

novel of mere adventure or mere plot, is

and

The

that

is,

the story in which action

and

spiritual forces in play." ^

However

highest fiction

the balance

and

short-story

incident,

—

sketch

let

is

may

tilt

we The whole of

is

between pure character-

one thing

dynamic.

the

the result of mental

is

sure: in the t)^ical

is

— something

content with mere pictures of

is

make

which embodies both;

that

be repeated

it

but the short-story ings

need not be

their interaction

story.

The

it

that

The

the story.

of a lower order than that in which the evolu-

tion of the characters

interest

in

the writer does

and does not forget

the indispensable thing in a novel

urged,

to psychologi-

may be an advance

fiction

happens. static Hfe,

These dynamic happen-

call incidents.

the story

may

comprise just a

single

main incident may be fed and built up by one or more minor incidents, related vitally to the forward movement of the plot. In " The Reformation of Calliope " ^ the main incident is the mistake of Calliope's mother in thinking that he is city marshal. The conincident, or a

tributory incident

marshal.

The

as marshal.

But not s «

all

is

Calliope's fight with the real city

resulting incident

These ara

is

Calliope's masquerade

all essential

to the plot.

incidents in the average short-story are of

Modern. Fiction, Charles Dudley Warner. See p. 73.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

177

Here are some discriminating

equal value to the plot.

words from Charity Dye on

this

points

" In a well-appointed story, not only

must everything

that

happens seem to grow naturally out of the situa-

tion,

but

must seem

it

to be the only thing that could

happen under the circumstances. classification

rise to the

of incidents, according to their importance,

into plot incident

proper and

having an especial his plot

This gives

developing incidents, each

office of its

The author knows

own.

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

inci-

dents."

But some developing incidents serve rather as

illustra-

tions

than as indispensable elements of the plot.

easy

to

recall

a

simple

example.

" Moonlight " ^ the entire situation

is

In this

It is

Maupassant's :

A

woman-

warned his niece against earthly but coming upon her one moonlight night with

hating abbe has always love;

her lover, he suddenly concludes that " Perhaps

made such

nights, in order to

over the loves of men."

was

this

Now,

throw a to

God has

veil of idealism

show how remarkable

complete reversal of sentiment, the author must

womanhood. " He would shake his cassock when he went out of the door of the convent, and would stride swiftly away as if he first

picture the abbe's bitter scorn of

'

The Story-Teller's Art,

*

See

p. 376,

No.

10.

p. 34.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

178

were flying from some danger."

This

merely a de-

is

Another equally expressive action might have been chosen without in the slightest degree

veloping incident.

affecting the plot.

But when the time comes for

the

author to prepare the reader for the change about to be

wrought

in the austere priest, the ascetic is looking out

into his garden, " profoundly

moved by

the grand yet

tranquil beauty of the pallid night " In his

little

trees, set in

garden, bathed with soft light, his

fruit-

rows, cast the shadow of their slender limbs,

scarce clothed with verdure, on the gravelled paths;

while the giant honey-suckle clinging to the wall of his

house exhaled a fragrant, as

were a sweetened

it

breath,

so that a sort of perfumed soul seemed to hover about

the "

warm,

He

in

clear evening.

began to breathe deep, drinking the

air as drunk-

ards drink their wine and ho walked slowly, enchanted,

wonder-struck, his niece almost forgotten."

This

is

a vital plot incident.

approaching.

Change

changed the entire

this

story.

We

can

materially

feel the crisis

and you have

All that follows

is

built

upon

the one formative incident — the moonlight has wrought magic the Thus, are the developing — contributory — its

in

to

plot;

may

plot-incidents

priest.

essential

incidents

^or

be either essential or nonessential, but must always

be secondary in importance to plot-incidents.

So

all

sorts of

problems arise with the handling

happenings in the story.

The

writer

is

tempted

of

to in-

THE BODY OF THE STORY sert it

179

an incident that peculiarly pleases him, even though

does not contribute to the progress of the plot either

vitally

or by illustration.

though

I

He had

better

cut

it

out,

confess that imperfections of this irrelevant sort

charm some stories possess. The remedy wrould be to build a new story with the attractive though irrelevant incident as a plot-germ.

constitute about all the real

Again, the writer

may

be tempted to elaborate an in-

and allow

teresting developing incident the plot incidents

—a

fatal mistake.

it

to

A

overshadow

word here

is

enough. not profitable to

It is

split hairs as

ing or contributory incidents, the

to whether develop-

when

closely

related to

main happening, are not simply phases of the one

real incident.

Certainly this

great question

is

yet not

how

overburden

it

is

often the case, but the

to keep the plot full of

with incident.

We

have

life

and

all

lost

our breath attempting to follow the lively actions of an indefatigable character of five

who

thousand words to

fit

keeps busy enough in a story out a yarn of sixty thousand,

while perhaps the very next story taken ten thousand

words

happening that should have had few words devoted to

up consumes

in developing a single microscopic

— or none —

its telling.

Naturally,

the nature of the story will control the

amount of incident that of adventurous

action,

may at

be introduced. the

The theme

one extreme, and the

study of character, at the other, are far apart. the latter kind the writer

may

Even

in

elect to reveal character

by conduct, and not chiefly by dialogue and exposition,

THE BODY OF THE STORY

l8o

SO that plenty of incident need not stand for lively action

though usually

To

does.

it

be convincing an incident must have verisimilitude

— a big word with much

in it." To seem true a thing must be of such a sort as would naturally cause the result, or flow as a result from a previous cause.^" Here again I must emphasize the im-

need not be

true, but

it

portance of intelligent observation. a

man

In describing how

got out of a London four-wheeler Mr. Zangwill

did not take into account that there are no handles on

Another writer might have

the insides of the doors.

much more imThe value of observation depends upon

noted this slight point and yet missed a portant matter.

the observer, and not merely upon the length of time a

thing

may be

fixedly at

An owl

observed.

has been

known

an object for a long time without at

proving his owlish mind, and a

man

to stare all

im-

once patiently

ob-

served a great orchestra with the sole result of a wondering admiration for " the coincidence of the fiddlers'

Do

elbows."

better than that,

and make your and yet full

incidents convincingly faithful to reality

of fancy.

A make

word of warning incident

seem

is

real

needed here.

do not make the mistake

You

attempting to be too exact. scientific treatise, * 10

but

fiction,

See chaptei; on Fact in "

much

Our in

art

is

making

In seeking ^^

to

of

are not writing a

and short

fiction at that.

Fiction-.

occupied, and bound to be occupied, not so stories true as in making them typical."—

Stevenson, A Humble Remonstrance. " Referred to in chapter on Fact in Fiction.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

When Darwin wanted

to decide

l8l

which of two plants pro-

duced the more seed he was not certain of his ground

he had counted twenty thousand seeds.

until

ods would

kill all

Better have

writing.

(not

said

archaeology

made

healthy inspiration

too

it

of

Scott,

Such meth-

applied to fiction-

said of you, as

exactly)

that

Frank Norris though his

was about a thousand years " and incidents live.

out," he

had

his characters

2.

Emotion

is

Emotion

a broad word loosely used to embrace

the tones of inner feeling, picted

if

from the

all

palest sentiment de-

by a Jane Austen, to the darkest passion of a In a widely inclusive sense I use the term

Werther. here.

As do kindred

literary forms, the short-story offers

room for the play of every type and degree of emotional excitement, but tion

any attempt at an exhaustive systemiza-

and exposition of these varied forms would be out It will be enough to call attwo general groupings, and then glance at emotions which are oftenest made the themes of

of place in this treatise.^^ tention to

those

short-stories.

An

old grouping of the emotions considers

them as and

those affording pleasure, those of unpleasant effect,

those of neutral character. in Albright's The Principles of Rhetoric fully discusses the rhetorical uses of emotion all standard text-books of psychology discuss the emotions. Gordy's New Psychology I''

There

is

an

elaborate, chapter

Short-Story; Genung's

on emotion

Working

;

is

especially good.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

l82

A

second classification recognizes the emotions as be-

ing benevolent, malevolent, and variable

—

that

is,

benev-

olent, malevolent, or neutral, according to circumstances.

What

known

is

James-Lange theory regards

as the

emotion as a complex of bodily sensations

—

from bodily feelings and appetites. The emotions which commonly dominate, whole

that

is,

arising

and there

as well as play only here

stories,

in fiction of a less

emotional character, are love, anger, jealousy, ambition, revenge, remorse, pathos and mirth.

fear,

will be

It

seen that these are very broadly considered as embracing

Of

their subordinate forms.

course the classification

is

incomplete.

Professor Francis " life

Hovey Stoddard has

A novel is a record of emotion touched with emotion

;

;

said:

the story of a

the story of two

human

human

lives

under stress of emotional arousement; the story of mestic

with emotion pervading

life

it;

do-

the story of a

great historical character in his day of aroused emotional activity; or the story of the romantic adventures

of

some person

whom we

in

are forced by the author

to

So that the novel of personal life is form of the novel, and one may say that

take an interest. really the basal all

"

A

life stirred

novel

emotion," "•'

when each

novels become novels only

some

is

"

by some emotion."

a narrative of

And

The Evolution of

^*Ibid.. o. 26.

still

human

again

:

".

the Novel, p. 9.

life .

is

the story of

Again he

^*

.

under

says

stress of

the novel has

THE BODY OF THE STORY made

its

way

superiorit);.

in a large

measure by an assertion of the

of that which

is

apparently a weaker and

For the novel does

namely, emotion.

lesser part of life,

I83

not stand in literary history as a record of achievement. stands as a record of emotion."

It

Now say,

all this is

very

very

full,

But

very extreme.

^^

might also be spoken of the short-story.

—

at

The big thing

once the basic and the climacteric thing

short-story tained

some will word

explicit, and,

truth nearly every

in

human

is

human

interest,

in the

and there can be no sus-

interest without emotion.

tion is a field for its display,

—

and since

The whole fiction

crea-

assumes

to

be a microcosm, fiction, short and long, must deal intimately with emotion,

from

its

gentler to

its

extreme

manifestations.

Looking again often dominate

at the

whole

group of emotional forces which

short-stories,

we must

singular preponderance of unpleasant lent inner jority,

feehngs.

But

this is

observe the

and even malevo-

not to say that the ma-

or even any large percentage, of short-stories deal

with malevolent and

unpleasant emotions.

affirm quite the contrary.

Indeed,

I

Love, pathos and mirth, are

whose faces are pretty sure to be seen peering forth from one character or another in nearly every story. The malevolent is treated only now and then and

the three

—

printed

when

the editor feels particularly brave to with-

stand the senseless clamor for merely the pleasant in short-story themes. ^'^Ibid., p. 200.

In one of his novels Balzac has

184

THE BODY OF THE STORY

thrown a vivid

light

knows no emotion

on the deadness of that

— even troublous emotion.

ness," he says, " has

no history, and the

which

" Happi-

story-tellers of

lands have understood this so well that the words,

all '

fiction

They were happy,' are the end of every love tale." ^* (a) Love interest is of incalculable value to the short-

story, if

handled with delicacy, naturalness, and

fidelity to

Often through no other

Its scope is life-wide.

truth.

medium than the affections may the nature and development of character be so adequately comprehended. The touch of love moves every other emotion with a force

—

that uplifts or debases.

The hackneyed,

vulgar, prurient

and

bestial treatment

of love and the passions in the short-story cannot be too strongly condemned, particularly ical for

must

home

feel

circulation.

when found

in a period-

Surely the sincere story-writer

a sense of his responsibility and avoid the

sentimentalism which, in spite of

its

che?ip

undeserved popu-

ephemeral as it is inartistic. " All forms of sentimentalism in literature," says Winchester, " result

larity, is as

from the endeavor to excite the emotions of pathos affection without adequate cause.

Emotions thus

the true artist

man

life."

Balzac,

is

easily

own

sake, have

The emotion

excited by

aroused or consciously indulged for their

something hollow about them.

or

grounded upon the deep truths

of hu-

" who was

the

first

master to subject the

pression of emotional excitement to the facts of 1'

Esther Happy,

1^

Principles of Literary Criticism.

p. 70.

exlife,

THE BODY OF THE STORY speaks, in Pere Goriot, of

"the transforming power of " Sometimes the

an overmastering emotion," and adds:

under the stimulus of passion, reaches to

dullest spirit,

such eloquence of thought to breathe in

The

185

a

if

not of tongue that

difference between pure sentiment

sentimentality

must be sensed by the

by the sensitive reader.

seems

it

^*

celestial ether."

and fustian

writer,

as

it

is

one thing for a writer to

It is

understand the psychology of emotion,

it is

quite another

him to possess a rich emotional nature. The latter more than the former will be his safe guide in dealing for

with this subtle element. letters

The

I

wish

I could write this in

a foot high. self-respecting author will

about love, particularly where

it

want

to

the truth

tell

arouses other emotions,

and he will claim the right to deal frankly with facts

and problems, but he

its

will also scorn to poison

great

young

minds with distorted or with inflaming pictures of these great life-forces.

Whatever men may hold as to the must be pure in spirit; and pure

novel, the short-story it

may

O

be,

even when frankest in tone.

Realism, what infamies have been published in thy

name! (b) Pathos, in

its

essence, begins in a feeling of loss, short. It may end anyhuman need and human tenderthat even " The tone of Beauty is

of lack, of sacrifice, of

where. ness.

It is

coming

as wide as

Eoe has

said

Sadness." 1'

Quoted

in

The Technique of

the Novel,

Home,

p. 189.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

l86

" Mrs. Birkin's

Bonnet "

woman who

plain old

^°

is

simply the story of a

keenly wished for a

new

bonnet

wedding of a young friend. After hesitating long she decides to buy a particularly handsome one at for the

a reduced price, but foregoes the joy for the sake of

new

giving a

suit to

attend the wedding. is

rewarded

in this

a lad

who

could not otherwise

She fixes up her old headgear and manner:

As the bride reached Mr. Birkin's pew she stopped, slipped her hand from the bridegroom's arm, and turning flung both her own, bouquet and all, round Mrs. Birkin's neek. She kissed the old woman before the whole church and whispered loudly in her ear I

" Mrs. Birkin, dear, that's the

:

most beautiful bonnet

ever saw."

In another moment she was gone. The last pair of bridesmaids had passed, and after them, visitors and villagers alike thronged into the sunshine. Mrs. Birkin, her bonnet much awry, owing to the heavy bridal bouquet, strayed out with the rest in a sort of solemn rapture. She had been honored above all other women on that great day. " Wot did 'er say to you ? " asked Mrs. Comley, enviously,

when

they got outside.

Mrs. Birkin laughed. " Bless 'er sweet face " she exclaimed triumphantly, " if her didn't go and think 't was a bran' new !

bonnet.

A

I

must

'a'

made un

over-smartish, that I must

!

different type of pathos is that of "

kindled."

^°

On

The Fire ReMemorial Day Adam Roth looked over

the old zouave uniform of his dead brother Dan, and

confessed himself a coward.

He

had seen

his brother volunteer,

imbued with the

spirit

that creates heroes, but he himself had felt the black hand of 19 L. Allen Harker, Century, Aug., 1908. 2" Claire Wallace Flynn, Lippincott's, June,

1907,*

THE BODY OF THE STORY

1 87

and strike at the very roots of his life. use to fight against that name of ' coward In truth, he had not fought; he had let it sweep over him, engulf him, ruin him. fear clutch his heart

What

'

!

Again the rat-a-tat of the drums. The man on the bed lifted Oh, to feel just once Dan's simple love for his flag, the glow of patriotism, the thrill of war that trembled a faint, hallowed echo on this day! To feel, if such were possible, all these things that had been denied him in his youth just to feel them once before he too went to that dim place where the Stars and Stripes and all the other banners of the world are his head.

—

furled in everlasting peace!

Old and

feeble,

he donned his brother's uniform and

marched with the veterans, experiencing ardor and love-of-flag that

all

the thrill and

Dan had known.

He

felt

himself to be a defender of his country's honor.

The ceremonies were drawing to a close. The silent heroes and gray had had their measure of praise meted out to them, when a bugler stepped forward and played the first bar of the " Star Spangled Banner." There was a shout, a sudden concerted movement of the crowd to get a little nearer the in blue

rang out. From his higher place Adam man whom he had been watching push his way to the

bugler, as the long notes

saw the

His face was darker flag. an immeasurable hatred. He sneered as he looked at the Zouaves standing gaunt and rugged about the great monument that had been raised to the memory of their brothers. The people were singing now. The man laughed. Above the voice of palpitating youth and earnest age Adam heard it, and clenched his hand at his side. What did this man mean to do? Such wildness, such enmity, would not go unsatisfied. The man's hand went to his pocket. Adam stood tense, watching his every movement. Again the man looked at the flag the flag that was almost shot away, the flag that perhaps the man argued had been carried aloft on the battle-field at a frightful and needless cost, while a calm government sat back edge of the crowd, directly facing the

than

ever,

—

with

THE BODY OF THE STORY

l88

"Let the slaughter go on." Was that, questioned the man was thinking? Adam took a step nearer the standard-bearer, whose dim eyes were ignorant of danger. Adam seemed to feel in some intuitive way what this pooi, frantic creature below meant to do. But he must not be allowed to do it he must not! Those smoky, stained old shreds of silk must not feel a wound from the hand of a disloyal son. The man's arm shot out. Something gleamed in the sunshine, something sang in the air above the words "in triumph shall wave," and an old Zouave stumbled and fell forward upon the white stones. . The commander of the post stooped over the fallen man and lifted his head. The man was a stranger to him. He looked at a Zouave standing near, silently quesand

said,

Adam, what

—

.

.

tioning him. " He pushed in front of Peterson, fired.

He

sir,

tried to grasp the flag, sir.

just as that Scoimdrel

I guess

he saw what

the

fellow aimed at." Still

the

commander looked

at

the

speaker, the

man who

had marched all the way beside Adam. " Who is he ? " continued the officer. " And what is he doing here? He is not one of my men." The old Zouave took his ragged cap from his head. "He was Dan Roth's brother. We have all heard of him he he was the boy who wouldn't join in '6i. But to-day he The old man knelt down beside Adam. Just below the dim stain on the shoulder of Dan's jacket, the stain which marked that day at Alexandria, there was a new, fresh one. The heart that lay beneath it was at peace.

—

— —

i^

Then there

is

the pathos of cheerful, brow-beaten Bob

Cratchit and his sweet Tiny Tim, in Dickens' " Christmas

Carol."

And

the grief of the English father for the

loss

of his half-breed child in tropic India, in Kipling's " Without Benefit of Clergy." And the despair of the

poor wretch in "

who watches

his

own approaching

The Horla," by Maupassant. And the sorrow of the little prince when he learns

madness,

tragic child-

that royalty

THE BODY OF THE STORY

1

89

cannot keep off Death by posting a guard, in Daudet's " The Death of the Dauphin." And Merimee's " Mateo

who becomes the self-appointed executioner of dishonored son. The field of pathos has no boun-

Falcone," his

daries.

In conclusion, I can do no better than quote Miss Albright "

:

There are many varieties and degrees of pathos.

The emotion aroused, may be so sweetly sad as to be and again, a story of failure,

almost entirely pleasurable

casing pain.

There

a snifHe, and there

There

is

is

;

may

of repression, of denial,

fill

the heart with dull, un-

the pathos which degenerates into

that which lies

is

Scotch humorists) far, falls

And

there

is

Mirth I

is

(as in Steele

use

necessarily accompanies

it

lies

from

it."

near to pathos, as laughter

it as"

it

is

so akin

and cannot

lies close

to

a general term, including wit and hu-

alysts in his celebrated exposition

Sometimes

it

^^

mor and all the range between. The learned Dr. Barrows has distanced

"

and the

that which, pushed too

the poignant, bitter pathos which

be distinguished

tears.

;

and there

over the verge into the domain of the ludicrous.

to tragedy that

(c)

too deep for tears.'

the delicate pathos which wavers tremulously

humor every now and then

into

'

lieth in

all

other an-

of mirth.^^

path allusions to a known story,

or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in 2^ '^

The Short-Story, p. 200. Quoted in E. P. Whipple's Literature and Life,

p. 89.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

IQO

forging an apposite tale; sometimes

it

playeth in words

and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense or the affinity of their sound sometimes it is ;

humorous expression; somelurketh under an odd similitude sometimes it is

wrapped up times

it

in a dress of

;

lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a

shrewd intimation, in cunningly diverting or an objection; sometimes it is couched

cleverly retorting in a bold

scheme of speech,

in

a tart irony, in a

lusty

hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense

;

sometimes

a scenical representation of persons or things, a counterspeech, a mimical look or gesture, passeth for

feit

it;

sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous bluntness, giveth

being; sometimes

it

it

riseth only

from a lucky hitting upon what is strange; sometimes from a crafty wresting (of) obvious matter to the purOften it consisteth in one hardly knows what, pose. and springeth up one can hardly

tell

how, being answer-

and windings

able to the numberless rovings of fancy

of language."

Thus we its

see that the field of mirth

is

In the former

it

record, literature.

every day, of the latter

In

this brilliant

glimpse of the

".

.

.

to

it

is

summary by

infinite variety

life

—

life

and

appeals to us

the preservative element. E. P. Whipple

of

its

we

catch a

play

Mirth belong the exhaustless fancy and

sky-piercing buiifooneries of Aristophanes

;

the matchless

THE BODY OF THE STORY

the stern and terrible satire of Juvenal fun-drunken extravagances of Rabelais; the self-

irony of Lucian the

IQI

,

;

pleased chuckle of Montaigne; the farcical caricature of

Scarron the glowing and sparkling verse of Dryden the ;

;

genial fun of ler;

Addison; the scoffing

subtilties of

But-

the aerial merriment of Sterne; the hard brilliancy

and stinging emphasis of Pope; the patient

Congreve

;

the teasing mockery of Voltaire

;

glitter of

the polished

sharpness of Sheridan; the wise drolleries of Sydney

Smith; the

shy, elusive, ethereal

sly,

the short, sharp, flashing scorn of less

gayety of Beranger

the

;

humor

of

Lamb;

Macaulay; the care-

humorous sadness of Hood

and the comic creations, various almost as

human

nature,

which have peopled the imaginations of Europe with everlasting

forms of the ludicrous, from the time of

Shakespeare and Cervantes to that of Scott and Dick-

To expound and

illustrate

would require a volume.

Let

the phases

all it

of mirth

be enough to contrast

some of the phases of wit and humor.

Wit

deals with externals,

humor

wit consorts with contempt, scorn

seeks out the heart

and hate humor abides ;

with friendship, benevolence and love; wit holds folly

up to darting

ridicule,

humor

looks with gentle sym-

pathy upon weakness even while inciting to laughter ; wit contrasts with

laughable incongruities ing bolt,

humor slyly points out wit strikes down with a wither-

swift surprise, ;

humor nurtures with enfolding sunshine; wit

'^Literature

and

Life, p. 87.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

192

punishes by the whip,

laughing

fillip;

humor humanely rebukes by

a

wit seeks out the joints of the harness,

humor

strikes a lusty blow frankly on the shield; wit momentary, humor is lasting. " Fuller's remark, that a negro is the image of God cut in ebony,' is humorous; Horace Smith's inversion of it, that the task-

is '

master witty."

is

'

the image of the deviL cut in

ivory,'

is

2*

(d) Emotion in the story

is

secured by certain well-

defined literary devices which repay study. vestigation, for example, of

how

dled by expert writers,

how

Make an

in-

death-scenes are han-

how

they connote fear,

all

the var3ang;_sentimeBtS7-fedings7'Sid passions are made

red

to the reader^

Diction

is

_

an index to emotion and, besides convey-

ing the mere ideas for which the words stand, often

But if you would express emoyou must observe how much more emotional are some words than others. When you feel deeply, use a word that is surcharged with all of your own intensity. There is such a word.^'' Seek it out. Discard timeworn adjectives in old relations. Fit new epithets, and suggests a state of mind. tion

specific

in a

ones especially, to your ideas.

memorable passage

in the section this

on

"A

in his

Stevenson

Memories and

College Magazine,"

how

He

very thing painstakingly and with persistence.

his use of the

notebook wrought magic

20

Literature and Life, p. 92. See chapter on Acquiring a Vocabulary.

28

Quoted on

p. 280.

did

And

results.^^

Figures of Speech are peculiarly suitable for 2*

tells

Portraits,

the

THE BOdV Of THE

STOftV

expression of emotional excitement. course the most

common.

matic interrogation, "

Who

Am I my

193

Exclamation

is

of

can forget Cain's dra-

brother's keeper

?

"

Or

Victor Hugo's use of the historical present as he describes the battle of call

husband and

Les Miserablesf

cries out in apostrophe to

" Listen to this

I re-

more

— person."

The

no one

in particu-

exasperation

is

un-

Hyperbole, irony and sarcasm, as well as

mistakable. the

in

The Surprising Husband in injured wife turns aside from speaking to her

which the

lar,

Waterloo

a passage in Marsh's

delicate figures, all

abound

in emotional color-

ing.

Gesture

and Posture, whether described alone or

used in connection with figures of speech, the distraught wife "

may

be made

In the novel just referred

expressive of emotion.

to,

threw out her arms with a gesture

which was expressive of contempt of herself and scorn of him, of

which language could give no

hint."

Study the expressive gestures of orators and actors.

meaning they suggest by the simplest and attitudes often more eloquent than words. Ernest Renan, speaking of the Old Testament ScripSee the world of

gestures

tures,

"

—

has said:

Anger

is

expressed in

Hebrew

in a throng of ways,

each picturesque, and each borrowed from physiological facts.

Now

the metaphor

is

taken from the rapid and

animated breathing which accompanies the passion,

from heat or from boiling, breaking,

now from

now from

shivering.

now

the act of a noisy

Discouragement and

THE BODY OF THE STORY

194

despair are expressed by the melting of the heart, fear

by the loosening of the

Pride

reins.

is

portrayed by the

holding high of the head, with the figure straight and Patience

stiff.

a long breathing, impatience short

is

breathing, desire

is

thirst

or paleness.

Pardon

is

ex-

pressed by a throng of metaphors borrowed from the idea of covering, of hiding, of coating over the fault.

Job God sews up his sins in a sack, seals it

behind him:

.

.

.

stability

The ;

to

that

signify

idea of truth

is

In

then throws

he forgets them.

drawn from

solidity, or

from splendor, that of good from that of evil from swerving or the curved

that of beauty

straightness, line,

all

it,

or from stench.

To

create

is

primitively to mould,

Bone signifies the substance, the essence of a thing, and serves in in each word one Hebrew for our pronoun self. ... to decide is to cut, to think

is

to speak.

.

hears the echo of the primitive sensations which

still

determined the choice of the

first

makers of the

lan-

guage." "

Emotions are the same now as they were thousands of years gone by, and the student of the short-story may

gain

much from an examination

of these primitive but

unsurpassed attempts to translate emotion into language.

Arrangement of Words Study the impression of

is

expressive

of

emotion.

short, nervous sentences as com-

pared with long; the panting effect of the frequent of the dash

;

use

the force of inverted order, and similar rhe-

torical devices. 27

Quoted

in Gardiner's

The Bible as English

Literature,

p. 114.

THE BODY OF THE STORY (e)

Emotion

in the author

is

195

after

all

the source-

spring of emotion in the story and, through reader.

It

mere book," but and then as if

I

am

felt

made when he wrote

to feel

I doubt,

— though neither

angry every time a

character loses his temper.

preparation

some

requires

It

bring about intense

to

now

however,

more deeply than the

the passage

the author nor the reader need feel fictional

in the

glad to be able to shed a tear

follow a pathetic story.

I

the reader can be

author

it,

has come to be out-of-fashion to " cry over a

emotional

stress.

Keep your emotions sane and fresh and genuine and Without emotion the author is as dead as his stories. Study your own heart, but do not neglect to look into other hearts as well. Poe has said that " There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion " ^* an ambiguous sentence that is full of meaning any how you take it. Emotion in the author often leads to the choice of a tender.

—

theme.

Interest in, feeling for, a subject cannot be

ufactured, try as

was breaking Curiosity

ever since.

we

— and

over the writing of The Old

all

the world has been doing so

We yield to sympathy,"

refuse to description."

says Burke, " what

^°

Powerful emotion gives birth to expression. lated of CrcESUs

When ^*

2'

^°

man-

Dickens once wrote that he

will.

his heart

Shop "

you

that his only living son

Cyrus captured Sardis, a

soldier,

was dumb.

not recognizing

The Masque of the Red Death. the Sublime and Beautiful.

On

^"Ancient History, Rollin, Book IV, chap.

It is re-

i.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

196 Croesus,

a blow upon

head.

for his father so

was about to give the king The emotion of fear and love wrought upon the young prince that he of his tongue, and cried out, !

Crcesus

But,

'

tlie

" broke the string

Soldier, spare the life of

'

finally,

the expression of emotional excitement, of

whatever kind and degree, demands a certain

Hawthorne

is

worth

restraint.

If the rein

studying for this trait.

may become bathos, sentiment lapse into sentimentality, tragedy into ranting. Adapt to your art Hamlet's advice to the players: be inadvertently loosed, pathos

" Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced

you mouth had as lief the town

you, trippingly on the tongue: but

many

of our players do, I

spoke

my

lines.

Nor do not saw

your hand, thus ; but use

all

if

the air too

it it,

much

to

as

crier

with

gently ; for in the very tor-

and (as I may say) whirlpool of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that rent, tempest,

may

give

it

smoothness.

O,

it

offends

me

to the soul, to

hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion

very rags, to

tatters, to

lings

'^ ;

but inexplicable

ears of the ground-

split the

who, for the most

part, are capable of nothing

dumb show, and

noise.

I

would have

such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing Termagant; herods Herod. "

Be

Pray you avoid

:

suit the action to the

Auditors on the ground

floor.

out-

let

your discretion

be

word, the word to the

action; with this special observance, that 21

it

it.

not too tame, neither, but

your tutor

to

you

o'erstep

THE bodv of the Story not the modesty of nature

;

197

for anything so overdone

from the purpose of playing, whose end, both and now, was, and

is,

at the

is

first,

to hold, as 'twere, the mirror

up

Nature."*^

to

(The

outline

summary of

this chapter is included in that

of '

on page

the next chapter

215.)

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

much

What

are the respective effects of very

little

and very

incident in a short-story?

2. Select the plot-incidents and the developing-incidents in any two plots in Appendix C. What kinds of short-stories are the least unfavorably af3. fected by the inclusion of unimportant incidents? ,

7.

What kind tends to incident? What kind tends to eliminate incident? From Appendix C select an example of From a current magazine select a story

8.

Discuss the devices by which

4. 5. 6.

the

each kind. full

of incident.

author has

secured

verisimilitude. 9.

10.

Give the dictionary definition of emotion. Make the fullest classification of the emotions that you

can, including all inner feelings. 11.

Select short-stories, or plots, illustrating at least five of

these emotional forms. 12.

What

love-situations are the

most commonplace

in short-

stories ? 13.

Suggest an

unhackneyed manner of treating the same

situations. 14.

15. 16.

How may

an author's emotional nature be deepened? Can a sense of humor be cultivated? As you observe it, do you find the short-story rising or

declining in moral tone? ^^

Hamlet, Act

III,

Scene

2.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

198 17.

What

18.

How

causes contribute to the tendency you observe? do you discriminate between an immoral and a moral short-story? Novel? Are the standards different? Distinguish pathos from bathos. 19. 20. Can the short-story be as emotional as the novel? Why? 21. Give examples from short-stories of how (a) diction, (b) figures of speech, and (c) gesture and posture, are made to

express emotion.

Write original examples of how (a) diction, (b) figures (c) gesture and posture are made to express

22.

of speech, and

emotion.

Make

23.

a

of as

list

many

love-themes as you can, whether

original or borrowed, always stating

was

ill;

rival

;

The

where you got the sugges-

of a father in working while he the ingenuity of a lover in outwitting an unscrupulous

Examples

tion.

:

the love of a

sacrifice

man

for his friend.

Describe a unique proposal scene. OutUne a humorous plot, with a surprise. 25. From an emotional short-story make a list of all the 26. words especially expressive of emotion. Trace the " line of emotion " ( Whitcomb) in an emotional 27. 24.

short-story,

somewhat thus

'*K*a'ww£ Note: Assignments of story-themes for writing will grow out of the emotions discussed in the class-room. The instructor should not forget to call for a rewriting of earlier story attempts, in the light of advancing understanding of technique.

CHAPTER X THE BODY OF THE STORY

(Coficluded)

Keeping the beginning and the end in view, we set out from the and go straight towards the destination; we introduce no event that does not spring from the first cause and right starting-place,

we make each detail a link joined to the one going before and the one coming after. David Peyde. tend to the great effect;

—

I

have said that the body of the story is the story and that therefore everything directly bearing upon

itself,

germane

the short-story is

to the body.

considering this phase of the subject, iterated that I I

am

In

still

further

must be

it

re-

now^ taking up only such elements as

have not treated elsewhere under separate chapter-

The preceding

chapter was devoted to (i) and (2) emotion in the short-story. It remains now to examine (3) crisis, (4) suspense, (5) climax, (6) headings. incident

denouement, and (7) conclusion. 3. Crisis

Some

writers on the short-story have used this t?rm

interchangeably with climax. climax,

up to

which

its

a period tunity,

may

crisis is

not always

be defined as an increase of interest

highest point.

— note

But

Crisis,

however,

the distinction of terms

of decision, of change.

199

is

a point or

— of

The Greek

oppor-

rhetoricians

THE BODY OF THE STORY

200 called

it

the " turn " in the plot.

the watershed of

It is

moment, and every

the story, the crossroadsj the critical

more such crucial some plot-incident.^

true short-story has one or usually closely related to

Now

the climax also

may be

a place of opportunity,

choice, or turning, but usually climax

— of which more

crisis

As

just hintedj crisis

single point, but

situations,

a result of the

is

later.

necessarily confined to a

is riot

may be broken by

periods of suspense,

—

and even by the introduction of developing incidents that is, one incident may furnish the foundation of the crisis

while

crisis

occurring

a rule

upward

others contribute

still

later, usually just

steps, the full

As

before the climax.

not possible for the reader to determine the

it is

crucial value of these

minor

crises until the full story

is

unfolded.

The foundation story.

If

this

of the crisis

certain

is

thing

often laid early in the

had not happened

the

From

that

ending would have been entirely different. first critical

point onward, one minor crisis after another

occurs until the story rises to swiftly falls to ally

its close.

its

devoid of dramatic quality.

trumpet and drum.

highest point and

This preliminary

Even

the hero

It

crisis is gener-

appears without

may

not foresee

the

far-reaching results which flow from his decision, just in

everyday

made

plain.

life,

but sooner or later

The movement

its

potency must be

increases in rapidity, forces

converge, the final crisis develops, the climax all is

1

explained, and the story

See the preceding chapter.

as

is

ended.

is reached,

THE BODY OF THE STORY The

final crisis in the affairs

career of

any subject of

201

of an individual, or in the

fiction

— for

animals, institu-

and various other objects may constitute the central figures of plot need not be sensational to be inter-

tions,

—

esting. will

The

taste of the readers to

A

guide at this point.

moral

whom

crisis

you appeal

holds the atten-

minds when physical danger arouses them But in any case' the crisis must be such as

tion of certain

not at

all.

might confront

ling's

a thing of actual and appreworking out of the plot. Study Kipin " Without Benefit of Clergy," ^ and

live people,

ciable value in the

use of crisis

which Sre^cfuciaTiif iiations un-

see the emotional forces chain,

one after another.

There

is

no tempest-in-a-mill-

pond here, no straining after

effect, no results too big no expectation disproportionate to the out-

for causes,

come, no false appraisement of the factors of the Really, I cannot lay too

much

stress

on

this point

the crisis be sincere, natural, emotional, cisive,

plot

crisis.

let

but

momentous, de-

and you have secured one of the most important

elements for your story.*

4.

The story of

plot

and enchain interest. story,

minor 2

:

See

is

Suspense constructed

For

first

of

all

to excite

this reason, in this type of

a period of suspense generally follows after each crisis

p. 376,

'At

—

if

No.

any there be

—

as well as after the

2.

the close of this chapter are several short-story plots, so annotated as to illustrate how crisis, suspense, climax, denouement, and conclusion are handled by adepts. See also

Appendix C.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

202

main

crisis.

Then

see the characters poised for their

One of

the story.

final destinies in

two, or even more,

courses they must adopt, sHp into, or be thrust upon.

been aroused,

If interest has

pense just before the cUmax. sorbs the reader.

this is the

"

What

period of sus-

will

happen "

ab-

In this period of armistice, of

down, of watchful inaction, he

feels rather

let-

than

sees

the gathering of forces preparatory to the decisive conflict:

he recognizes that soon the climax and the

nouement

Not every

de-

be reached.

will

story

demands or even permits

this period

Stories of slight plot glide smoothly to

of suspense.

their natural issue,

which

is

none the

less interesting be-

cause partly foreseen; but in most instances the reader looks for an anticipatory rest before the resolution of the

The day

chord.

is

hero and heroine threaten to

not yet past

when

call forth tears.

pummel

the troubles of

Readers

still

the author if the suspense

satisfactorily relieved.

Who

does not remember

the

mentally is not

his

own

feverish impatience, his sweet pain of anxiety, to see how

a complicated situation would turn out.

Indeed,

pense furnishes half the pleasure of the plot of

sus-

action,

the problem plot, and certain intense kinds of character plots.

Now

the handling of the suspense element

requirea-

and a nice judgment, but the most skilful literary manipulator cannot successfully work up an artificial susdelicacy

pense without a genuine

outcome.

mentalism here

crisis to excite interest in the

easy to drift upon the shoals of

It is ;

however,

if

senti-

the crisis be a real one, and

THE BODY OF THE STORY

moment

the situation of

up too long.

this

the reader will

genuineness

seriousness,

— these

must mark

important transition-period in the serious story.

Climax

5.

The climax

is

" the apex- of interest and emotion

the point of the story."

is

lives,

goaded on to suspense. But don't keep it That means flagging interest. Simplicity,

not need to be

intensity,

human

to

203

;

it

The term has another mean-

*"

ing —^ that rhetorical ©rder by which a sentence, a paragraph, a whole story,

power to

its

arrangement, and of the plot.

The

is

made

highest point is

full crisis

that

is

is

a process, the other

and the climax may be

— the

final

is

mark

a point. but

identical,

development or of action

— may

one there should be.

to the catastrophe, if

in

turning point of character-

ward

" Ligeia " the full crisis occurs to

and

a problem of

not the same as the'high-water

The one

often the crisis

to rise in interest

— but

send the interest up-

when

In Poe's

the husband begins

watch the face of his dead wife, but the climax

is

when the dead woman's face Ligeia.^ Though in Poe's story the

reserved for the very close

changes to that of climax

is

most

sensational, the element of surprise

no means an essential of a good plot. ginner

is

prone to mar the

straining after

final effect

In

is

by

fact, the be-

of his story by

a striking climax, for he generally sucThe climax must seem

ceeds in being merely absurd. inevitable, * *

though perhaps unexpected.

Short Story Writing, Barrett, See p. 212.

p. 171.

The reader

will

THE BODY OF THE STORY

204

almost surely look back and trace the movement of forces in the story

which lead from the

first

causes up to the

climax, and he demands that the climax be what

name

— a ladder

implies

and unsafe rungs. while one step

by

may

It

slide

and he

;

is

is

important to remember

that

a ladder he must ascend

down

The gradation toward

step.

its

keen to note missing

the climax

it

no

is

small matter.

Often the outcome

of

the

shows how

crisis

the

threatened catastrophe was avoided, or actually came

may

about; just as either death or recovery crisis in

follow the

a disease, and either one prove to be the

real

climax in the history of the patient.

No

pitfall is

more treacherous than

that of the false

climax, which introduces a halting element into the

plot

As you

plot

the body of the story be courageously relentless in

self-

and sends the story limping to criticism.

See to

it

its

close.

that the grand climax does not come

too soon, that the lesser event does not detract from interest of the greater,

leave the reader

still

in suspense

resolve the suspense at

and

intense.

then.

them.

No

and that the

vital

let

it

things,

quiet

you are going

trivialities

and contain no

element

be convincing and satisfy

In the climax

lies

to

brief

and don't overdo

reader that everything possible has been situation.

the

does not

Let your climax be

all.

Your climax may be but

if

time for descriptions or

Deal only with

of surprise,

—

cliiriax

made out

the

of the

the mainspring of

that

totality of

impression for which you have been working,

so do not

let it

get beyond your control.

THE BODY OF THE STORY One

connection

difficulty in this

what Professor Perry

the preparation for the climax.

is

past

climax. that

and the

handhng

that of

is

calls " the tragic

is,

205

The

—

moment " crisis, let

that

us say,

results of choice are to appear in the

Either the reader feels so certain of the climax

he loses

or else the interest has been so

interest,

wrought up that there

is

a tremendous fascination in

watching the progress of a conclusion which gone, as one

would watch the losing

doomed to go over the falls. This to make the action so pulsate with

thus fore-

is

fight of

a swimmer

calls for fine

handling,

reality that the reader

back and watch a character march on to his

.will

sit

fate,

perhaps without even a hope of a reversal at the

end.

Sometimes there

is

a hint of a possible reversal, as

when Macbeth, grasping calls

woman born; ious device

;

would not be

but even that hope

Again, the reversal

may

of plot-stories

is

and ring untrue.

who

is

is

slain

by one of

quickly quenched.

actually come, by

but such an ending

lence to nature,

ditch

at the last slender chance, re-

the prophecy that he

some ingen-

pretty sure to do vio-

Happy

is

that writer

able to save his hero at the last

without wresting the situation from the course of

truthful seeming.

6.

From climax leads

Denouement

the foregoing is

it

will

appear

associated with denouement.

how

intimately

Just as crisis

immediately to climax, so climax tends swiftly

toward the denouement.

As we have

seen, the

word

THE BODY OF THE STORY

must have a care not

structure the literary architect

framework

the

let

207

so spoils the literillusion, and " gives

ary effect, robs the story of

its

away"

attempting to hide.

the secret which he

to

To do

stick out.

is

An

from afar the solution of a mystery, so the issue of a complication must be kept from under inquisitive noses until just the proper moment. When you see a reader who has been absorbed in every acute reader can sniff

word of a narrative suddenly begin to slight whole pages you may know he has scented the outcome. Are there two possible endings to a perfect shortRobert Louis Stevenson argues that a story

story?

will

not allow the fiction-writer to take liberties with the plot,

or the destinies of the characters, as Kipling did in

making two

different endings to The Light That Failed. The denouement of the perfect story is inevitable, and the reader feels its inevitability with perfect approval. "

Make another end to it ? " writes Stevenson to a friend. "Ah, yes, but that's not the way I write; the whole tale is implied; I never use an effect when I can help

it,

that's

that

unless

it

prepares the effects that are to follow

what a story

is

to

make

the beginning

ment of a long story which you

—

it is

To make

consists in.

is

all

nothing,

The denoue-

wrong.

it is

just

may approach and accompany

a coda, not an essential

but the body

another end,

member

and end of a short-story

is

'

a

full close,'

you please the rhythm;

as

in

bone of the bone

and blood of the blood of the beginning."

^

Often climax and denouementj and even conclusion, ^

Vailima Letters, Vol.

I,

p.

147.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

2o8

are identical, as in " the diary of a

is

The Horla,"

man who

by^

Maupassant.*

This

some power

feels that

out-

and controls it, causing him to do things he would not, and of which he may be at the time unconscious. He makes a vigorous strugside himself possesses his soul

gle against this obsession,

At

to fail.

now

last (full crisis)

successfully,

haunting presence in his house and then building, watching

it

now

only

he succeeds in shutting

the

sets fire to the

burn, hoping to consume his perse-

But he suddenly fears that fire can have no such " No effect, and he ends his diary thus no beyond any doubt, beyond any doubt, he is not dead. Then cutor.

— —

:

—

then

—

it

soon be necessary for

will

me

to kill myself

!

(climax, denouement and conclusion identical).

Upon

the other hand,

we have

crisis,

climax, and con-

Marion Crawford's " The though there is no denouement, because

clusion definitely separated in

Upper Berth," the mystery

is

^

When

unexplained.

the narrator

finally

grapples with the unseen thing in the upper berth we

have the

full crisis;

results in his

the climax comes

downward

also; the conclusion

fall

— which

when

the struggle

and that of the sea

that thereafter the stateroom

is

rather

weak

—

captain

explains

was kept locked and that would ever sail again

neither the narrator nor the captain

on

that ship.

But not every denouement That has led some critics to

will contain a disclosure.

assert that denouement

not an essential of the short-story. 8 »

See See

p. 376, p. 377,

No. No.

10. 15.

But we must

is

re-

THE BODY OF THE STORY member critical

course.

209

that the revelation may merely show how the moment is met and perhaps hint at the future From such simple outcomes, which require no

special concealment,

it

seems a far cry to the untying of

the knotted threads of the mystery plot, but both prop-

come under the same head. The more obscure the mystery the greater is the necessity for keeping its outcome hidden until the last erly

moment.

I

know

of no

way

to accomplish this other

than by using the utmost ingenuity you possess. only with the denouement constantly in view that give a plot tion, all

its

" It

we

indispensable air of consequence, or causa-

by making the incidents and especially the tone

points tend to the development of the intention."

The reader feels

With

normally hopeful.

all his

breath-

a certain confidence in the ability of the characters superior to their entanglements, therefore the

to rise

may wish

author

that

is

at

^^

anxiety for the outcome of the story of plot, he

less

Let

is

can

to

make a way out seem

him have a care

no plausible way out

knot must be cut

.Magazine

— much

editors

quite hopeless.

the complication be tied so tight

lest

is

are

" happy ending " fetish.

possible.

Then

the Gordian

to everyone's disgust.

generally

You may

committed to the

be certain of

this.

I

think that they misjudge their readers in this respect, at least if

better

we

sort.

consider the clientele of magazines of the

The average

that a simple .love story

not necessarily involve a

short-story reader

demands

end happily, though that does

wedding but as ;

^'^The Philosophy of Composition, Poe.

for the problem

THE BODY OF THE STORY

2IO

story, the great majority of readers are

more eager

that

their sense of justice should be satisfied than that the chief characters should " live happily ever afterward."

To

be sure, they want justice to be tempered with mercy,

the transgressor has been

if

ter,

but

it is

just so in real

made an

attractive charac-

And

too.

life,

herein no small

much more important that a story should end hopefully than with a smile. Optimism is a pretty good philosophy, in

moral responsibility

rests

upon

the author.^'^

It is

fiction as well as in real life.

The discriminating reader

objects to having the fate

of characters determined unhappily by mere accident,

without a sight of the causes which might reasonably

The element of fate is used in more frequently than in the

bring about such results.

the denouement of the novel short-story,

and so

human and

divine.

themes afford

also

is

Yet

the idea of retribution, both

fate

and

retributive justice as

fine opportunities for the exercise of the

highest powers of the short-story writer.^^ 7.

The modern

Conclusion

tendency, as so admirably illustrated

some of Poe's master

efforts, is to

by-

allow the denouement

to serve as the full close of the short-story.

Still there

are exceptions a-plenty and formal conclusions are

still

written.

Some

writers seem unable to

let

gOj but

go ambling

on

See The Problem of Endings, Mary Tracy Earle, Book Buyer, Aug., 1898. Also William Allen White, in Collier's, Feb. ^^

II,

12

1005.

See Appendix C, No.

18.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

211

manner of Richardson in his Pamela. They on morahzing, trying to taper off smoothly, seeing the newly engaged couple happily married, and other-

after the insist

wise disposing of minor characters.

Others end so ab-

ruptly as to leave their characters in mid-air.

extreme

is

absurd enough.

paragraph, or at most two,

Either

In certain stories a single

may

well be used to bring

No

the narrative to a satisfying close.

one can give

When

Use your own judgment.

helpful counsel here.

you are through, stop; but do your best to conclude with words of distinction.

In Maupassant's " identical

A

Coward

"

^^

the conclusion

with the denouement, which

we

proaching like the crawling of an insidious "

coward "

fears

display

to

reptile.

trepidation

in

We

pistol,

while he speculates on

see

him examining every all his

really brave,

brave, because

—

apfears

detail of the duelling

possible experiences

should he exhibit fear during the contest.

was

The

an

He

proaching duel, more than he fears death. fear.

is

discern ap-

"

And yet he He was

because he wanted to fight!

The thought

that grazed his

mind

was never completed; opening his mouth wide, he suddenly thrust the barrel of the pistol into the very bottom of his throat

"When

and pressed upon the trigger alarmed by the

his valet ran in,

found him on his back, dead. the white

paper on the

table,

(climax). report,

under the four words " 1^

*

This

See

is

my

p. 376,

Will " (denouement and conclusion).

No.

'

10.

he

The blood had spattered and made a great stain

THE BODY OF THE STORY

212

In Poe's " Ligeia," the narrator

first

minutely describes

and

the remarkably perfect physique, mentality

ments of Ligeia,

and

crisis)

She

his wife.

falls

ill

attain-

{foundation of

after a period of suspense dies (end of prelim-

The narrator then

inary crisis).

takes an old abbey in a

remote part of England, and both restores and sumptuously furnishes

being

is still

Rowena

H€

in a weirdly unique style.

it

Lady Rowena Trevanion, though

marries

then

his

whole

absorbed with memories of Ligeia.

Lady

also falls

ill

(foundation of second

crisis).

She

grows better, then worse, and finally takes a glass of wine to revive her. Three red drops of liquid are seen mysteriously to fall into the cup, and presently she dies (second step of final crisis). Three times, as the husband looks upon her dead body, each time" thinking of his dead and still-loved Ligeia, the Lady Rowena revives (full crisis). Twice she sinks back into death, but the last time that she revives the husband realizes that " These are the full, and the black, and the wild-eyes

—

my lost love GEIA" (climax, of

In Ouida's "

A

— of

the

Bernadou.

is

Leaf in the Storm,"

When

to live with

happiness.

against

who

LADY

lives

^*

Reine Allix

See

p. 377,

is

a

with her grandson,

A

terrible

child is born, and

announced (foundation of

is

No. 20

;

all

news of war, France crisis).

Excitement at length yields to a sort of calm, for 1*

LI-

the youth marries Margot, the bride

Reine Allix.

Suddenly the

Prussia,

the

denouement, and conclusion).

venerable French peasant

comes

Lady — of

also pp. 163, 166, 167, 169.

the

THE BODY OF THE STORY hears

village

only

indefinitely

of

213

the

But

struggle.

Reine Allix has forebodings and recalls the days of the

By and by a Prussian spy have passed among them, and the news of

Napoleonic wars (suspense). is

said to

French defeat

is

heard (second stage of

rise

crisis,

Again quiet and suspense. At last, "The Prussians are on us!" rises the cry (full crisis). The patriot Bernadou is almost alone as he urges a detoward climax).

The Prussians

fense.

Bernadou

not resist.

sack the town, but the people do shot for refusing to guide the

is

A

enemy about the countryside. out the

(climax). is

is

The Prussians

alone with her dead,

tage

— and that

consumed "

told

A

guide.

its

dead

she has carried to her cotliving

Two

Burdens,"

^°

Gwinup, woodsman.

and dead occupants,

by Irving Bacheller,

is

Being sent for by Cal-

him

as

Calladay has angered the squatters by driving

off his

newly-bought preserves, on which they and

their ancestors

had hunted and

(foundation of crisis). ing,

whom

with

a millionaire camper, he engages with

laday,

them

Bill

too,

falls

the village but Reine Allix

fire

in the holocaust (conclusion).

Tale of

by

rearing horse stamps

of Bernadou's babe and Margot

life

Calladay

fits

When

fished for generations

starting

on a day's

the guide out with a

himself dresses in old clothes,

and

squatter mistakes Bill for Calladay,

new

fish-

suit,

but

carries the pack.

A

and

fires at

him, nar-

missing his head (full crisis). The squatter "holds up " the supposed millionaire offender and forces rowly

^Century, Aug.,

1908.

THE BODY OF THE STORY

214

him

to sign a release of the squatter's land (period of

suspense).

angered by Calladay's plot to put him

Bill,

in danger, continues to play Calladay's part, forces Calla-

day, by signing Bill's name, to witness the paper, volunteers to give the squatter a thousand dollars, forces the

millionaire to carry the squatter's fifty-pound pack, and

otherwise rubs in his temporary advantage (climax).

When

they get to camp, Calladay takes his medicine by

signing the promised check, swearing to the deed, and

"resigning his job" as make-believe guide (conclusion). In "

An

watchman

Error of Judgment," is

^^

by

Elliott Flower, a

standing before the doorway of a burned

store anxiously waiting to be relieved.

He

by a stranger who observes his discontented ing that the watchman stranger gives

him a

is

accosted

air.

Learn-

hungry and " broke," and offers to take his

is

dollar

the

post

while he goes across the street to eat his breakfast.

While the watchman

gone the stranger enters

is

He

building and investigates.

is

the

an expert insurance

adjuster and soon discovers beneath a counter some

charred rags which had been saturated with coal (foundation for

crisis).

turns, is relieved

comes with

from duty, and the owner of the

his lawyer.

with setting

fire

He

goes out, the watchman

to his

make no insurance

The

own

claim.

oil

re-

store

adjuster charges the owner store

Suit

is

and advises him brought against

to

the

owner for arson (second step of crisis). He finds that he must sue the insurance company for payment, or else tacitly ^^

admit his

guilt.

He

Putnam's Reader, Aug.,

seeks to settle with the com-

1908.

THE BODY OF THE STORY pany,

215

knowing that any payment by them, Kdwever

would be proof that they could not

own

of firing his

pany and

ployees

adjuster.

its

no proof

but have

were

the case

Sud-

declines.

owner shows increased confidence

the

denly

chances (third step of crisis).

to

They show

in

his

This perplexes the com-

feel that the

that he or

owner

to trial (full crisis).

is

guilty

any of his em-

in the store the night of the fire.

comes

him

really suspect

The company

store.

small,

At length

After proving the

The defense admits

facts,

the prosecution rests.

facts,

denies any knowledge of the crime, and calls the

watchman

to the stand.

He

testifies

the

that the insurance

was the only man who entered the building between the times when the firemen left and the police adjuster

came, and relates

how

man, out of the way.

the adjuster got him, the watch-

The

ted

and the

reader

is

full

led to

to his

his:

The

adjuster

is

to refer

employee's " error of judgment " (conclusion).

OUTLINE SUMMARY The Body 2.

acquit-

mildly re-

manager, who agrees never again

(Including Outline of Preceding Chapter)

1.

the ad-

amount of insurance is paid, though the believe that the owner really was guilty

(climax and denouement).

buked by

is made that The owner is

inference

juster himself deposited the rags.

of

the Story

Incident

Emotion (o) Love Interest (6)

Pathos

THE BODY OF THE STORY

2l6 (c) Mirth

(d) Emotion in the Story (e)

Emotion

in the

Author

Crisis

3.

5.

Suspense Climax

6.

Denouement

7.

Conclusion

4.

QUESTIONS AND' EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

Select the

Appendix 2.

main and the minor

crises in plots 6 to 10 in

C.

What

objection

is

there to having

many minor

crises in a

short-story ? 3.

Does suspense necessarily involve the

mystification of the

reader ? 4.

Select the full climax in each of plots 6 to 10 in Appen-

dix C. 5.

Discuss

the

wisdom of making a

plot

climax

seem

inevitable. 6.

Discuss the relation of surprise to climax.

Select five plots in Appendix C in which climax is identical with denouement. 8. Five in which denouement is identical with conclusion. Write your opinions upon the "happy ending." 9. 10. (a) What is true tragedy? (b) Can it consist with the 7.

"happy ending"? 11.

Write a story with but one

crisis,

and a swift climax

thereafter. 12. Write out the climax scene in any one of Appendix C without reading the original stories. Now add the denouement and conclusion 13.

plots ii-iS

in

in

your own

language. 14.

bution, 15.

Outline stories in which (a) accident, (b) fate, (c) retriform either the pivots for the crises, or the denouements. Outline a plot, but write out the conclusion in full.

THE BODY OF THE STORY Read

16.

217

a short-story up to the crisis, then supply a crisis

own devising. Do the same for

of your 17.

(a) climax, (b) denouement, (c) con-

clusion.

Let the instructor assign certain short-stories, or merely somewhat in the manner of the following diagrams. The points of change in*the plots should be clearly indicated on the diagrams by filling in sentences or briefly desig18.

plots,

for plot-analysis

nating the situations

Denouement

Rise of interest First crisis and suspense by statement

(a)

01

problem

Intro-

duction

Period of preparation

(b)

Gradual

fall to

inev-

denouement and close

itable

Action begins

Reader

(c)

in

doubt Sudden

rise to

climax and^

Suspense

close

intensities interest

Action at once rises to crisis

minor

Note: definitely.

Such If

exercises accessible,

may the

be

multiplied

original

examined side by side with the student's

stories effort.

and varied inshould later be

CHAPTER XI CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION Learn to see with other people's people's hearts.

— How

to Write

eyes,

and to

with other

feel

a Novel, Anonymous.

Knowledge of human nature is the gold which is to be worked form of beauty, it is the diamond which is to be cut and polished. Art is that which forms the gold into a thing of use and beauty; it is that which reveals the natural beauty of the diamond to the ordinary observer. A good form, a true art, into a

displays the precious object to the best advantage.

two are the

essential principles of

human

.

marriage there can be no children of the imagination. Cody, The World's Greatest Short Stories.

Read the

titles

of the

first

.

.

Those

progress, without whose

— Sherwin

big batch of short-stories

you come across and see how the spirit of personality pervades them all. Test this matter more thoroughly by going over the one-hundred titles in Appendix B, and you

will find that sixty per cent, refer directly to charac-

ters in the stories, while a considerable proportion of the

remainder suggest human

interest.

Mr. Howells has said that character delineation is at once the largest and best element in the novel; so also is it in the short-story. Length for length, the one gives character-drawing as

much prominence

as the other.

To

be sure, notable exceptions exist in both, but generally is

human

it

intere^ that binds incident into a coherent

218

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

2I9

Certain kinds of short-stories, indeed, can get

mass.

along with a smaller proportion of character delineation

—

than the novel that

is

as witness

many

Kipling stories

— but

true largely because rapid play of incident takes so

vigorous a part in the shorter fictional form, and

we

judge the characters by what they say and do rather than by what In

is

said about them.

The Evolution of the English Novel Professor Stod-

dard has pointed out that, " as in civilization the complete idea of the value of

name,

individual

is

an individual, and even the complete slow in development, so in literary

expression the complete individual uct."

The

^

short-story

is

a very late prod-

recent development of the novel and the

have therefore quite naturally resulted

in a

more highly individualized type of character delineation than appeared in the earlier romances and tales. The very term " characters," now more generally used than

"persons in the story," suggests individuality. As Mr. Mabie has effectively put it, " Formerly good and evil

were indicated by contrasting bands of black and white to-day

they

separate

from or approach one another

through innumerable gradations of gray."

The problem

is

how

said transplant living living his

being

to put live characters

people

interesting

moods and phases,

ography he

though I 1

is

Page

is,

am

—

New

—

I

have not

into the short-story.

enough to

No

live bodily, in all

in the short-story.

In the bi-

once in a century; in the novel. he

may

be,

not sure; but in the short-story he would

46.

^Stories

^

and Old, Introduction.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

220

be too commonplace were he never so individual.

...

fiction

pear natural."

'

" In

a character must be exaggerated to apHe must live, but the course of his Hfe

must be unusual while seeming to be usual. In his essay on The Really Interesting People,* Colonel Higginson

how "

tells

Sir Robert Walpole,

who

lived to be nearly

Lord Tyrawley, Tyrawley and I have been dead for two years, but we don't tell anybody.' " But when a character in fiction is dead he sits up and shouts it out to everybody it is the one thing that cannot be hid. Emotion is the source-spring of character-interest, and emotion a dead character never eighty,

remarked of

his coeval

'

—

feels.

Mr. Henry James has given

how

intimate view of

upon

in his Partial Portraits an

a great Russian

fictionist looked

his character creations.

" Nothing that Turgenieff had to say could be more interesting than his talk about his

of writing.

What

I

own work,

have heardihim

tell

his

manner

of these things

was worthy of the beautiful results he produced; of the deep purpose, pervading them all, to show us life itself. The germ of a story, with him, was never an affair of plot that was the last thing he thought of it was the

—

:

representation of certain persons.

which a dividual,

tale

The

form

in

appeared to him was as the figure of an

in-

whom

he

or a

first

combination of individuals,

wished to see in action, being sure that such people must ^

Short Story Writing, Barrett.

*Book and Heart,

p.

191.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION do something very special and interesting.

him

before

definite, vivid,

and he wished

to

221

They

stood

know, and

to

much as possible of their nature. The first thing make elear to himself what he did not know, to

show, as

was

to

begin with; and to this end, he wrote out a sort of

biography of each of his characters, and everything that they had done

and that had happened

opening of the story.

He

had

them up

to

their

to the

as

dossier,

the

French say, and as the police have that of every con-

With

spicuous criminal.

was able

What

make them do?

shall I

things that

this

material in his hand he

proceed; the story

to

all

He

lay in the question.

always made them do

showed them completely; but, as he said, manner and the reproach that was made want of architecture,' in other words, of

the defect of his

him was his composition.

—

'

The great

thing,

of course,

architecture as well as precious material, as

had them, as Balzac had them."

I.

I.

is

to have

Walter Scott

^

THE CHARACTERS

Selecting the Characters

The sources of character-material seem ridiculously yet few eyes are trained to discern, and fewer

plentiful,

pens to develop them. (a)

The successful writer must study character

as a

preliminary to selecting characters for his stories.

To

advise a

^Partial

young writer

Portraits,

Mr. Howells' position,

to look within his

Henry James. p. 94.

Compare

this

own

being

view with

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

222 is

popular counsel," yet

when he does

look he

is likely

to be confused by the complexities of that inner Self-analysis

comes by practice

train of ideas led

up

motives influenced

my

What Or was the awaken

last

now

What What

thinking?

present thoughts?

Were

important act?

they

considerations really formed the decision?

And

decision an unconscious one?

to find

decision

my

I

Did they involve a conscious strug-

simple or complex?

gle?

to

Ques-

in self-awareness.

What am

tion yourself thus:

life.

it

ready-made ?

How

did

I

did I feel after the

was reached?

Questions such as these will light up the chambers,,-

your inner

yes, the caverns, of

self,

and uncover

springs of feeling and of motive in other lives too.

the

You

must know the workings of your own mind before you can read the characters about you. In practising character-study, persons are worth observing delineating.

Skill

in

remember

who may

reading faces,

from conduct, associating habit with comes with

No

prastice,

that

inferring motive essential character,

and you can practise on

all comers.

one ever wrote good stories whose habit

see people only in the mass.

intimately

what

home

Press

to observe

inner

is

it,

that

that question

What

is

it,

it

was

to

precisely and

makes two people

different?

when next you have a

your fellows, remembering always

man forms

many

not be worth

chance

that the

the outer, and that each must have

its

share of study.

Books, too, will help you. 6

See

p.

s6.

Read

the great character

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION artists

— Dickens, And

Kipling.

Thackeray,

Stevenson,

223

Balzac

and

don't despise a good text-book on psy-

chology/

The

(b)

principles of selection will arise in your

quite naturally as

your

skill in

mind

reading character grows.

Either your incidents will govern your characters, or If the former,

vice versa.

the kind of folk

who

your selection

is

limited to

could and would do the things

you are writing for a particular class of magazines you will find there another guidepost. St. Nicholas and Harper's and Smart Set welcome characrequired.

ters

If

Some

of different sorts.

have

won a

great fiction characters

place in the affections of schoolgirl and

sage alike, but they are as exceptional as

men

of genius

in actual life.

What tion, if

generally,

the world

youth and what

it

is

will

who do

about people places

A hard ques-

characters are worth delineating?

one expects a definitive answer. in

But, speaking

love with the

be and do.

It

future

—

in

wants to read

interesting things in interesting

under interesting conditions

whether for good or

;

who

exhibit strong

whose appearance typifies their natures (with exceptions) who show the characteristics of a class and yet are individual; whose emotions love, hate, revenge, greed, humor, ambition, what not take unexpected though logical individuality,

evil;

;

—

—

courses.

Men ^

ing.

are often interested in fictional characters

Gordy's

New

Psychology

is

whom

a good one for elementary read-

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

224

know

they would not care to

in

exclude a character because he

or a

thief.

Who

was

it

life.

It will

not do to

is a prig, or a glutton;

that called d'Artagnan a lovable

rogue and a pestilent good-fellow?

Let your character

be but interesting, really known to you, and so human that

would

he

your readers

strike

will

back

if

decide as to whether he

Moral teaching

fellow or bad.

you struck him and is

a good

not a cause, but an

is

effect.

The Number and Relation of Characters

2.

Speaking

"After the Battle," Joseph sheler (15)

"The Piece passant

of String,'

(28)., -^

- -^ Bug, "Th fhe Gold

"A Yarn Without Robertson

'

A

Present,

but .not Speaking.

Mentioned, but not Present

Total

Alt

Guy de Mau

Edgar Allen Poe a Moral

'

Morgan

(27)

"The Ambitious Guest." Nathaniel Hawthorne (works)

,

Gavin Birse Put it to Mag Lownie," James M Barrie (28) "Santa Fe Charlie's Kindergarten," Thomas A. Janvier (Santa F^'s

"How

.

—

14

Partner)

"Quite So," Thomas Bailey Aldrich 16

I24).

"The Man Who Would be King," 18

Rudyard Kipling (28) "The Black Pearl," Victorien Sardou (")...

Average.,

(The numbers

4 to

12 to 13

5

in parentheses refer to

Appendix A.)

Following, in part, the method employed by Professor

Selden C. Whitcomb in The Study of a Novel,

I have

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

down a

set

table of those characters actually individual-'

Of

ized in ten representative short-stories.

practice of ten authors could not establish

even but

their practices did not

if

it

225

course, the

a precedent

vary as widely as they do,

be observed that the best writers employ few

will

speaking characters in the short-story, and they rarely equal the

The

number of

relations

silent actors.

which the characters are

ward each other

will

to sustain to-

have a strong bearing upon the

number to be introduced, as the foregoing In defining the short-story

suggest.

I

table will

have limited

the presentation of one preeminent character;

to

the case even where the study

this is

acters

is

is

and

of two char-

each powerfully influencing the other.

ual course

it

The

us-

minor characters as contribu-

to play the

But the author cannot always to win the spot-light on his stage. Sometimes one character will come to the front in spite of plot and plan. The person making the greatest sacrifice may overtop the one possessing the most

tory to the central figure.

choose which character

is

pleasing 'qualities, the foil the leading light.

may

unexpectedly outshine

characters naturally belong in

some

in the middle-distance, others in

dim background.

Therefore respect their native

the foreground, the

Some

qualities

spective.

and

To

treat each

with a painter's regard for per-

color the one too brightly

mar the harmony of the whole as much as

would be

to

to paint the

central character in neutral tint.

Character relation must be decided before approach is

made

to characterization.

Plot and counterplot, hero

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

226

and

villain, light

and

foil, all

need careful adjustment,

depending considerably upon whether the story

is

to be

one of single character, contrasted character, balanced

group character,

character,

realistic character, idealistic

character, romantic character, or

no character-story

at

all,

but a narrative of incident.

3.

Character Classes

Various writers have tried to group the figures of

few elemental

tion in a

fender,

classes.

The Explorer,

fic-

the De-

and the Dweller; the Wanderer, the Hero, and

the Citizen; the Adventurer, the Achiever, the Sufferer,

and the Lover

— these

groupings are

Whether such a

trative.

satisfactorily effected,

classification

we must

sufficiently illus-

can or cannot be

look to great typical

fig-

ures as heading the classes of characters with which the story-writer deals.

The

big

word here is TRAITS that is what we must when we have grouped a special lot flf ;

look for, and traits

The

we have found a

National traits,

traits, sectional traits, class traits, professional

sexual

plicate

traits,

personal traits

—

all

furnish bases

more than this, traits cross and comindefinitely. For example, the soldier possesses

for types.

But,

his class traits, modified

and

basis for (a) typical charades.

student of character will find this a fascinating study.

his personality.

by

And

his nationality, his province,

this is the fiction-writer's great

good fortune, for it offers to his originality the chance of making fresh character combinations every day, either

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

227

according to the law of character harmony, or, what

is

more fascinating, by embodying contradictory traits in the same being. Professor Bliss Perry ^ has said that we commonly use the word " type '" in either of two ways as meaning the ideal, which combines the essential natures of all of a class; or, as meaning a fair example of one class an average specimen. This distinction is valid, and bears still

:

—

upon the fiction-writer's treatment of character.

But delineation of types may be pressed too

Some

hood; not a suffering

too often purely ideal.

is

While

dition,

it

rarely

moves us

may

it

exalt our con-

wonder

at a general con-

deeply, for

mere types lack

ceptions of truth, or excite our

and blood.

flesh

A

far.

woman, but womanman, but suffering. This method

writers picture for us not a

second method, equally one-sided,

is

that of pre-

senting (b) purely personal characters, with no attempt to

No

individual,

his typical traits, is likely to be

worth de-

make them

apart

from

also typical of a class.

lineating in a short-story.

He

is

a mere eccentric, de-

from normal humanity, interesting only

tached

as

a

freak.

(c)

The joint method is by all odds the most satisThe character may be simple, complex, or in-

factory.

consistent,

still, if

a living person

is

constructed out of a

combination of typical and personal figure will

be

more than an American

'4 Study

traits,

emerge from the background. soldier;

of Prose Fiction, chapi v.

a convincing

He

will then

he will be a Vir-

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

228

ginian, a reenlisted sergeant, a native wit rest of his

own

personality

down

— and

to his toes.

all the

Unless per-

sonal traits dominate class traits a character remains a

author's purpose to for the

most

part,

—

as, now and then, it may suit an make him. What the reader wants, is a Representative Man, with due

puppet, an abstraction

emphasis laid on eaclvword.

The nuisance character.

of story-telling

is

the conventional type-

There are other ways of delineating an Eng-

lishman than by forcing him to drop his h's with a

dull

thud, of picturing a Southern gentleman than by interpolating countless " suh's " into his speech, and of draw-

ing a cow-puncher than by putting into his mouth a

Such methods are amateur-

string of lurid cuss- words.

and smack of the 10-20-30-cent

ish

compared Shakespeare's characters

stage.

Goethe has

to watches in crystal

cases, which, while they faithfully point out the hours,

disclose

to

the beholder their inner workings.

writers seem to think that like

all

personal characteristics are

beauty in the old adage, which

lies

but skin-deep.

In choosing your type-individuals do not be a to

Some

fashions in heroes and heroines.

Why

slave

must your

gentleman-adventurer be of the Zenda school, your young

woman commit

her misdemeanors like Nancy, "

logue " like Dolly,

and look deceptively

dia-

serious, like a

Fisher girl? 4.

The Relation of Characters

to

Action and Setting

These three short-story elements are handled

in accord

with the designer's plan, the one or the other predora-

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

may

inating as

No

suit his

purpose and best

Once your purpose

the story.

tell

law of harmony

rule can avail here but the double

and contrast.'

229

settled,

is

you

will

be able to decide which will best bring out your char-

To

acters.

select a

character that

too big for the

is

bury character under action, or to emphasize

setting, to

the setting unduly, are equally fatal faults.

purpose of the short-story

5.

all

chief

to present character as do-

or becoming, in an appropriate environment.

ing, being,

Hold

is

The

in a safe balance.

The Author's Attitude Toward His Characters

Doubtless

many a

writer does not suppose that his

readers are

more or

less

his attitude

toward

Is

fact.

consciously alert to discover

his Active creatures, yet such

is

the

he content with the present social order, or

he a social reformer? or a social malcontent? or a

is

His outlook on

cynical indiff erentist ?

life, it

goes with-

out saying, is likely to transpire in his stories.

same manner acters

it

will

appear whether he views his char-

with a cold indifference, as does Maupassant;

actual contempt, as disclosed in Flaubert like

;

frank worship,

Scott; or a discriminating sympathy, in the

manner

me

that the

of Stevenson.^o last is

Perhaps you

will agree

with

the only warm-hearted, spirit-kindling attitude to

maintain.

was Sidney Lanier who said that the ficDivine power because it is him to look into and mould the inner lives of It

tion-writer partakes of the

given to ^

In the

Fully discussed in the chapter on. Setting.

"Compare

pp.

no

and

175.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

230

Surely, then, he should feel a temperate

his characters.

sympathy for those whose virtues and vices are the creatures of his art.

CHARACTERIZATION

II.

Characterization

the process of setting forth, of

is

depicting, the characters in the story. sort of

description,

It is

a specialized

both internal and external in

its

scope. I.

The

Effect

To Be Attained

result to be sought after

ness which will

make

is

an

effect of life-like-

the characters seem to be living be-

ings in whose affairs the readers have a genuine interest.

And

indeed this end

that the characters 3o

now and then so fully attained become our permanent possession

is

But such sense of

as friends.

actuality can scarcely be

produced upon the reader unless the writer has himself realized his characters. is

reached

when

The height of

same emotions as a given character Then, indeed, there

characters.

De

verisimilitude

the author and the reader experience the excites in his fellow

is vital

delineation.

In

Finibus Thackeray describes himself as writing in the

gray of the evening and picturing a character so

vividly

to himself that at length he looks " rather wistfully up

from the paper with perhaps ever so little fancy that HE COME IN." " I have said that the author's purpose in characteriza-

MAY II

Quoted

in

The Technique

of the Novel,

Home,

p.

185.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION tion is to create a life-like impression.

23

But a word, and

only a word, must be added to particularize this general

The

statement. this

literary ideals of the writer will

purpose into one of the following

pict characters precisely as

five

they are in

mould

forms to de:

life

(realism);

ought to be (idealism); as they might be under

as they

extraordinary conditions (romanticism); as they would be with their natural characteristics exaggerated to dis(caricature)

tortion

;

or,

as they

would appear under

conditions which the writer creates for them (a composite of the other

four methods).

General Methods of Characterization

2.

The short-story writer must get his people before the moment, and in doing so he has choice of three general methods reader at the earliest possible

may much as

(a) Description the story very

be kept in

mind

be applied to the characters in it is

to the setting, but

it

must

that only physical appearance appeals to

some unseen part of inward and expression, so that these two of the

the eye, while character centers in the man.^^ is

often

its

The outward subtlest

will interpret the

methods of characterization are often used conjointly physical

description touches upon,

—

suggests and rein-

forces delineation of character.^'

(i)

The

direct

tempted and often

method of fails.

The

description

short-story

is

often at-

is

too short

^2 The reader will of course bear in mind the distinction between the terms characters and character. 13 See p. 2^^.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

232

admit of

to

its

Of

course, an artist in words

where another would

will succeed

are

large use.

decidedly against

successful

not, but the chances

description of

direct

the characters. (2)

The

indirect

method

either allows one character

to depict another, or develops the delineation gradually

(3)

—a

story proceeds

as the

very good method indeed.

The suggestive method

acteristic

and makes

the reader to

fill

in the details

method requires a good.

upon a

seizes

salient char-

stand for the whole, allowing

it

facile

from imagination.

It lends itself readily to

—

good when humor, satire and

pen and

is

This it is

cari-

cature.

Here

is

a capital example of direct description from

Stevenson's Treasure Island: I

remember him

as

if it

were yesterday,

as

he came plodding

to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind

him

in a hand-

barrow; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulders of his soiled blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails; and the sabre-cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white.

"

The following direct The Tragic Muse." What Biddy

description

is

from Henry

James's

man was

fair and

discerned was that this young

and of the middle stature; he had a round face and a short beard, and on his crown a mere reminiscence of hair, as the fact that he carried his hat in his hand permitted it to be fat

observed.

Compare the older with the more modern method, as shown in these direct delineations. The first is from

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION Irving,

from

the other

"

233

O. Henry," who conveys a

suggestion of inner character by picturing the bodily type.

She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen, plump as a partand melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's

ridge, ripe

peaches.

She was a splendidly feminine girl, as wholesome as a Novemand no more mysterious than a window-pane.

ber pippin,

Dickens's concrete and unified description of Mr. Peckin

sniif,

the

Martin Chuzslewit,

is

a masterpiece.

See

how

man's bodily appearance inevitably reveals his char-

acter

:

His very throat was moral.

You saw a good

deal of

it.

looked over a very low fence of white cravat (whereof no

You man

for he fastened it behind), and there it two jutting heights of collar, serene and whiskerless before you. It seemed to say, on the part of Mr. Pecksniff, "There is no deception, ladies and gentlemen, all is peace, a holy calm pervades me." So did his hair, just grizzled with an iron gray, which was all brushed off his forehead, and stood bolt upright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with his heavy eyelids. So did his person, which was sleek though free from corpulency. So did his manner, which was soft and oily. In a word, even his plain black suit, and state of widower, and dangling double eye-glass, all tended to the same purpose, and cried aloud, "Behold the moral Pecksniff!"

had ever beheld the lay,

tie,

a valley between

Here are three specimens of suggestive physical description,

acter

mingled with suggestive delineation of char-

— taken also from Dickens

In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.i* ^*

Christmas Carol.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

234

Small, shining, neat, methodical, and buxom was Miss Peecher; cherry-cheeked and tuneful of voice. A little pin-cushion, a little housewife, a little book, a little work-box, a little set of tables and weights and measures, and a little woman all in one. She could write a little essay on any subject, exactly a slate long, beginning at the left-hand top of one side and ending at the right-hand bottom of the other, and the essay should be strictly according to rule.i'

Mrs.

Gradgrind,

a

little,

thin,

white,

pink-eyed bundle

shawls, of surpassing feebleness, mental and bodily;

of

who was

effect, and who, whenever she showed a symptom of coming to life, was invariably stunned by some weighty piece of fact tumbling on her.^*

always taking physic without any

This

a more modern specimen of suggestive phys-

is

ical description:

Colonel Marigold was a rosy cherub with a white chinwhisker. carried his sixty years with a slight soldierly limp, and was

He

forever opening his china-blue eyes in mild astonishment.

(b)

Character analysis

is

really a

form of

description

which deals with the unseen, just as description pies itself

more

fully

with the seen, though the

occu-

latter also

often looks beneath the surface.

statements

as,

Naturally, such simple " Silas Hornberger was a hafd-fisted old

sinner," can scarcely be regarded as profoundly analytical,

yet

it

requires a direct kind of analysis to arrive

even the simplest and most obvious character.

at

From

such elementary though effective characterization we ascend to more indirect delineation, such as the ing,

which

is

mingled with dialogue.

The two

graphs are a hundred words apart in the story. ^= ^^

Our Mutual Friend. Hard Times.

follow-

para-

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

235

Angie tipped up the slop-pail. " Yes," she said, without deceit always, by nature of her temperament, spoke her mind quite plainly— "but I'm a-goin' to git all my hard work done up t' onct afore I stop."

— she

Angie colored. The change for her raisins went down sharply on the counter. Her little old chin went up into the air. "Well," she said, tartly, "I guess ye don't need to come if ye don't want to " ^' !

The longer short-stories, like the best of Mr. James's,' room for more profound analysis! though now and then we find an instance of vivisection at once brilliant and condensed.^* Like the compact statement of an inafford

tricate

problem, the crystalline result does not disclose

the difficult processes involved.

^en

as they pass prefer action to analysis, because

seems more real.

What

it

they experience makes a more

immediate appeal to them than what they merely think about; but

when

psychological analysis does lay hold,

fastens its grip firmly, until reflection gradually pro-

it

duces the effect of reali_tjy (c)

speech

The dramatic method ^°

effective

and action —

delineates

at once the

combination of

most

all literary

character

difficult

devices.

by

and most

This

is

the

method of Jesus in the Parables, which never consider the details If,

as Stevenson has said, "

duct," the

"

of personal appearance except symbolically.

drama

is

the poetry of con-

near approach to the dramatic form in dia-

The Tea Party, Muriel Campbell Dyar, Harper's, Jan., 1908. See the opening paragraphs of Maupassant's The Necklace, reproduced in full. Part III, chap. iv. 19 The next chapter entire is given to a discussion of Dialogue. ^*

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

236

logue and action adds

The same

story.

•r^^This, then,

life

as well as beauty to the short-

authority has said:

is

the plastic part of literature: to em-

body character, thought, or emotion

in

some

act or at-

titude that shall be remarkably striking to the mind's

This

eye.

is

and hardest thing

the highest

to do in

words; the thing which; once accomplished, equally lights the schoolboy

and the

right, this quality of epics.

and

dissect,

to give

Hamlet.

The

It is

is

de-

own

one thing to remark

spirit; it is quite another

but the second

likewise art.

fail to

.

.

Ajax is

or

some-

.

have remarked that what an

us of the beauty or the charm of his crea-

tures goes for naught; that

we know

that the heroine cannot open her in a

in its

in the story of

first is literature,

thing besides, for it " Readers cannot tells

and makes,

with the most cutting logic, the complica-

life, and of the human them body and blood

tions of

author

sage,

moment, the

instantly better;

mouth but what,

all

fine phrases of preparation fall from

her like the robes of Cinderella, and she stands before us as a poor, ugly, sickly wench, or perhaps a strapping

market-woman."

To make

^°

characterization, speech,

and action harmonize

so as to preserve the unity of the character

small self,

moment

in fiction.

often disclose too

much

or too

little

—

they will often play us false together in daily '°

A

is

of no

Speech and action, each by

Gossip on a Novel of Dumas'.

as,

it-

truly,

life.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION 3. Specific

To

Means of

enter fully into

artists to delineate

all

237

Characterization

the devices employed by literary

character would consume a volume.

Four, however, require brief mention.

The naming of characters

(a)

portance in the short-story as

is

in

ought not

should be fitting.

Phyllis

nor ought

Tommy

of as great im-

the novel. to

Names

weigh two hun-

commit suicide. Luther must not be a burglar, Maud a washerwoman, nor John spout tepid romance. The wrong surname will handidred,

to

wrong

cap a character as surely as the

Hardscrabble does not

fit

pair of hands.

more

the philanthropist any

than Tinker suggests the polished diplomat, or Darna-

way the clergyman.

And

yet, certain contrasts'

ters are

and

side-lights

on charac-

secured by merely naming them incongruously.

If Phyllis

does weigh two-hundred, and

if

Maud

is

a

it must be for humor's sake, for consome such reason as is given by " Mark

washerwoman, trast,

or for

Twain "

in "

that the

bookkeeper's wife, Electra, and her daughter,

The $30,000 Bequest

Clytemnestra,

furnished

direct

"

when he argues

proof of a strain of

romance in the family by reason of the names they bore.

There are fashions in names as in flounces and pose they but

Mary

must invade will

fiction as

sup-

always symbolize steady purity, Nancy

a coquettish fly-away, Jerry a ter

I

they do drawing-rooms,

worthy

solid-head,

Wal-

impeccable virtue, Miriam high-souled idealism. Mar-

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

238

tha lowly service, and Jasper a prig

—

where there

is

exceptions of real

naming than

life,

subject to the

all

even more mis-

in fiction.

(b) Physiological marks, as hinted in a preceding tion, are of

we

Here

emphatic value in character portrayal.

see physical description serving the ends of charac-

Darnaway,

terization. "

sec-

in Stevenson's

Merry Men, was

a sour, small, bilious man, with a long face and very

The

dark eyes."

limits the mental,

physical everywhere discloses and even

moral and

spiritual.

Darwin has

told

us that quickened emotions often begin to manifest themselves in quick breathing.

We

put the knowledge to use.

Learn to interpret the broad

face, the

know

that,

but forget

to

small mouth, the deepset eyes, the hiked-up

shoulders, the stubby fingers, the high cheek-bones, the bristly hair,

and a hundred other physical marks,

just

you already read the more commonly understood shambling gait, loose jowl, and low forehead. Study,

as

too, the effect of

a combination of physical

learn that one strong point in physiognomy

times quite offset a

number of weak ones

traits,

may

and

some-

— and

con-

trariwise.

(c) Dress

and occupations are

character, though there tion in

is

also

more room

suggestive of their descrip-

foi*

the novel than in the short-story.

learn that Rip

Van

presses us with his easy

he himself

is

ways more than

out at elbows.

while his family

is

When

Winkle's children are ragged

in

we im-

to read that

His devotion to

want confirms the

it

hunting

indictment.

Balzac combines several of the foregoing elements

in

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION this

"

La

239

description of Monsieur Regnault, the notary, in Grande Breteche "

Suddenly I saw a at his

rival,

tall

who

slender man, dressed in black, with his

room like a ram ready to rush disclosing a retreating forehead, a small pointed

hat in his hand,

entered the

and a pale face, not unlike would have said that he was the He wore an old coat, threadbare diamond in his shirt-frill and gold

head,

(d) Personality but of story

is

You

a glass of dirty water.

doorkeeper of some minister. at the seams but he had a ;

rings in his ears.

the last element to be considered,

primary importance,

persons

the

for

often exhibit strong personal

the

of

characteristics

of

mind, morals and heart, in addition to their national, sectional,

or

professional,

nonindividual

other

traits.

There are two main kinds of persons in fiction: those

whose characters do not change, but whose natures are disclosed

by the story

(like

Lady Macbeth)

;

and those

whose characters do undergo a change, whether for better

or for worse (like Tess).

called static characters, ling's

Mulvaney

is

The former

and the

static,

latter,

Stevenson's

are sometimes

dynamic.

Markheim

Kipis

dy-

namic.

Outward action

is

often preceded by struggle of soul,

I

marking character transformation.

Sometimes, as with

The Scarlet Letter, that struggle is more and more effectively Sometimes the battle is with the higher

Hester Prynne in

with the lower nature, striving to rise

above

it.

nature, deterioration of

Romola,

forces, as in

being the

Again the war

result, as in is

Tito Melema,

waged with external how to do justice

Hamlet's, bitter problem of

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

240 in a case

which involved his own mother.

always, character-change must close,

But somehow,

involve, sugges|:, or dis-

a force big enough to account for the result.

It

is

an author to transform a character by sheer hocus-pocus, or suddenly attribute a momentous ridiculous for

deed, good or bad, to a character

whose

qualities

all

point the other way. Critical times in the action fittingly coincide with moral

Remember that some incidents some affect character. Ask these questions Could such a woman, let us say, being altogether such as she is, do such a deed as you propose to make her do? Next, would she do it? Finally, can no more effective thing be devised ? Study " The Outcasts of Poker Flat " and see how character transformacrises in the characters.

reveal character, while :

tion

is

satisfactorily accounted for.

OUTLINE SUMMARY I.

THE CHARACTERS 1.

Selecting the Characters (a) Character Study (6) Principles of Selection

2. 3.

4. 5.

II.

Number and

Relation of Characters Character Classes (o) Typical (6) Personal (c) Composite Relation of Characters to Action and Setting Author's Attitude Toward His Characters

CHARACTERIZATION I.

Effect to be Attained

'

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

24I

General Methods of Characterization (o) Description (1) Direct (2) Indirect (3) Suggestive

(b) Character Analysis (c)

Dramatic Method

Means of Naming of

Specific

(a)

Characterisation

Characters (6) Physiological Marks

(c) Dress

(d) Personality

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY Make a list of characters you have met who are interestenough to be delineated in short-stories. Give a sentence or two to each to set forth their characteristics. 2. Specifically state how you would modify their everyday 1.

ing

purposes of fiction. composite characterization by combining the traits of two or more. Make complete, compressed notes of the life and charac4. teristics of one character in the list (question i), after the mancharacteristics for the

Make

3.

a

ner of Turgenieff.

Follow Turgenieff's method by conceiving a character and around his personality. 6. After you have. decided on a character worth characterizing in a short-story, trace in writing the chain of ideas by which the conception arose and developed in your mind, Select two short-stories in which character-drawing is 7. especially well done, giving reasons for your opinion.. Note: The instructor may wish to include character-novels in 5.

building a plot

this

assignment.

Make a study of several late issues of at least four prominent magazines and say what types of character-stories they 8.

publish.

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

242 9.

In the manner of the schedule on page 224,

list

the actually

individualized characters in four well-known short-stories. 10.

tion

Write a character-story with careful attention to the

rela-

of the characters to the foreground, middle-distance, and

background. 11.

Make

a

list

of such characteristic national (French,

sectional (Northwestern, etc.), class, professional,

embodied in fiction. Write a character-story

and

etc.),

local traits

as could be 12.

in

the

joint

typical-individual

style. 13.

ple,

What do you

understand by a character that

is

(a) sim-

(b) complex, (c) inconsistent?

Make a list of worn-out, conventional characters often 14. seen in fiction. Outline a character and a setting (a) in harmony, (b) 15. in contrast, with each other. 16. Delineate a character by direct description, without the use of dialogue. Delineate the same character by suggestion. 17. 18. Present pictures of the following moods

:

struggling to retain faith in her college

from 19.

commit

his first crime; a " life-long " position.

ciding to

Invent at least

five

^

(a)

a

girl

chum; (b) a youth

(c) an old

man

de-

just dismissed

other such situations involving

char-

acter changes. 20.

(a)

Criticise the

names

in

any short-story you

please;

(b) select a short-story in which the characters are well^amed,

and show why. 21.

Take the

some person unknown to you from the face, bearing, and dress.

portrait of

try to read the character

and

22. Make a list of prominent physical traits (a squint for one), saying what they mean to you. For example, begin with faces which suggest animals, without necessarily reveahng anything bestial.

Suggestively describe the dress of ten different characters, them according to occupations, nationality, class, morals, etc. 23.

differentiating

24.

Describe in your favorite way, but as compactly as following characters: (a) a romantic blunderer;

sible, the

pos(b)

^

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATION

243

two characters in marked contrast; (c) a lover of music who but can't; (d) a serious man who fondly believes he can sing (e) a woman who loves to is always mistaken for a jester;

—

settle difficulties

but

who

succeeds only in making things worse.

In her elementary but suggestive

Note:

may be

little

Dye

Story-Teller's Art, p. 43, Miss Charity

volume, The

says that character

studied: "

I.

"2.

"3. "4. " S.

By

innate tendencies, or its inner promptings, independent of any external influence. By its environment, or surroundings, and the way in which it has overcome them or been overcome by them. In the light of heredity, or inherited traits. By its manifestations of willing, thinking, feeling. By its achievements, or what it has accomplished its

in the light of

"6.

By

noting that

is

all

and opportunity,

effort

its

by the development

-

it

arid

makes.

that a character says and does, and done to him, and all that

said

all is

said about him. " 7.

By

"8.

A

noting the dominant motive of his life, whether revenge, a sense of duty, it be love, hate, selfishness, or forgiveness. character may be studied by putting one's self in another's place; by being the apple-woman, the

newsboy, the bootblack for a time, and looking at life through their eyes. Be a beggar, a millionaire, a master, or a slave, and imagine

what you would do

From among these methods the will make satisfactory assignments character delineation.

in

each situation."

instructor for (a)

may

select such as

character study, (b)

CHAPTER

XII

DIALOGUE The use dialogue. It is

person.

marks does not convert a passage Talks on Writing English.

of quotation

— Arlo Bates,

into

not necessary to say that a woman is a snarling, grumpy Bring in the old lady and let her snarl. Anonymous.

—

If in the characters

is

involved the profounder fibre of

.the

from the management of the dialogue comes largely its whose more buoyant and popular effect. Uncritical readers story,

preferences, in fact, ought to be consulted lots of conversation in it."

The dialogue

—

—

like

a story "with

serves, as

it

were, to

movement, which else might grow ponderous and slow. In the give and take of conversation, too, character itself appears, to speak for itself; and many accessory and descriptive elements slip in lightly and unobtrusively in the words that are And through it all is traceable the forward movement and said. the approaching end or crisis. J. F. Genung, The Working aerate

the

—

Principles of Rhetoric.

Convefsation belongs to the short-story because longs to

life.

There have been good

who

of speech, but happily both are exceptions.

mind

loves speech,

and

are deprived

The

lighter

moods

normal,

since the short-story

sought after mainly for diversion, the reader in his

be-

short-stories with-

out dialogue, as there are brilliant folk

cheerful

it

is

will turn

to the conversational short-story,

just as for sheer recreation he will prefer the rapid-fire.

244

DIALOGUE dialogue of the elder

Dumas ^

24s

to the heavier descriptive

passages of Scott.

The beginner does not

much

usually put

tion into his fiction, for conversation is

He

reasons that

logue

;

and so

write at

little

Good

all ?

story-teller's art,

dialogue

Only, when

it is.

and

conversation its

better than poor dia-

is it

conversa-

hard to write.

comes is

a

to that pass,

vital

mastery often

why

element in the

spells success.

The

Fifteenth Idyll of Theocritus depicts the " smart " life of Alexandria in the third century B. C. with such sure

and swift conversational strokes that

Nowadays

classic.

it

is

difificult

it

still

lives as

to sell a story

a

whose

long paragraphs of unbroken description and explana-

would, the editor

tion

buyer.

A page of

the author a

feels,

surely

repel

the

casual

dialogue attracts the eye, and so gives

chance to please the mind.

I.

The Proportion of Dialogue

be interesting to examine the following table more or less famous short-stories, selected quite random from American, British and French authors,

It will

of ten at

covering a period of about seventy-five years.

Some one

might profitably compute the proportion of conversation in, say,

five

hundred representative

short-stories, classi-

them as to type, and then give us the figures. While no writer would recognize any such result as confying

^ " It

[Dumas' Dialogue] can unfold action, character, emoand stage directions, and it can make all these seem natural even when they are most extravagant, convincing when they are most false." Horne, The Technique of the Novel, tion,

description,

—

V- 257.

DIALOGUE

246

stituting a standard for him,

something

definite as to

STORY

it

would

at least tell us

good usage. AND AUTHOR. CONVERSATION

"The Outcasts of Poker Flat," Bret Harte "The Diamond Lens," Fitz- James O'Brien " The Ambitious Guest," Nathaniel Hawthorne " Mrs. Protheroe," Booth Tarkington " Lodging for the Night," Robert Louis Stevenson

A

"Many

Waters," Margaret Deland

" A Venus of the Fields," " Georg Schock " "Without Benefit of Clergy," Rudyard Kipling " La Grande Breteche," Honore de Balzac " The Gold Bug," Edgar Allan Poe Average proportion of conversation

It

" "

30 38

"

39 43

"

"

"

45 "

54 "

55

64

"

"

39

has been asserted" that present-day usage tends

the dialogue form

Hawthorne.

I

living

more than

if

The

story-writers.

may be

lighter the

story the

fifty

the

true of stories of this type; but the

short-story of depth, yesterday, to-day,

not average

the

masters be compared with those of our

stronger the swing toward the dialogic method, so

statement

to

did the practice of Poe and

doubt this conclusion, especially

fictions of these

best

11 per cent

13

per cent, conversation.

and always, will As an English

Mr. Frederic Wedmore, has pointed out,^ the writer is unwise to deny himself the freedom of the pure dramatic form when he chooses to tell a story wholly in dialogue. He simply makes his work more difficult and, at the same time, less eflfective. Though the drama expert,

=>

Barrett, Short Story Writing, p. 107; Albright,

Story, 2

p.

146.

North American Review, 43

:

410.

The

Short-

DIALOGUE

247

may be studied with much profit by the writer of stories, the two types are likely to remain distinct. The OfUce of Dialogue

2.

There

short-

no narrative

effect which speech cannot commust never be introduced for its own sake. Its office is to tell the story, and this it does by several means, one of the chief of which is (a) The revelation of human character. Just as human interest is the heart of narrative, so human speech pass,

is

its

not

is

but

it

most vivid expression.

know a man

our

until

life

we do

speak.

Then

In everyday

we have heard him

impressions are either confirmed, modified, or

first

totally upset.

To

adapt Dr. Talmage's pun,

in life as in fiction,

puts his foot in

it

many

a man,

as soon as he opens

The worth of many another is perceived when he speaks. The more prominent the character in the story, the more significant must be his every word. Figures in the middle-distance and the background may talk more or less alike, but the leading persons must utter every word " in character." They must be so individual that his

mouth.

only

words they could speak are just the ones they

the only

do speak. sistently

And

— so

they must preserve this personality con-

consistently that

throughout the whole

narrative the reader will recognize their language, feelings,

thoughts, likes and dislikes, in fact their entire in-

dividuality, ters.

Many

as being distinct

from

their fellow charac-

a story puts the words of

men

into the

DIALOGUE

248

mouths of babes,

labels

women

makes them

as wise yet

spout twaddle, and so hopelessly confuses the reader

who

that he could not, if he cared to try, discover

No

speaking.

Gamp

Mrs.

with those of any other participant

dialogue, nor imputed the sentiments of

some one

is

one ever thus confused the words of

They are always

else.

Sam

in the

Weller

delightfully

to

them-

selves.

The

trouble just here

own

their

is

that too

many

writers thrust

Their char-

personalities into their stories.

made-up actors, Their whole business in

acters are simply lay figures, or at best,

masquerading as the story

could be

real persons.

to declaim their author's views.

is

more

egregious.

should be enlightened;

may

help to puncture

If

its

if it is it.

To

source

No

error

ignorance,

is

it

vanity, the rejection-slip

be convincing, a

fictional

character must be somebody, not anybody.

His personmust be of one piece, and his talk cut from the same cloth. But you must know your cloth, its size and its texture. So long as writers persist in choosing their characters from walks of life of which ality

and

they

know

his actions

little

or nothing, so long will their dialogue

lack individuality.

The moderns have taken big strides ahead in this reEven Poe put uniformly stilted speech into the mouths of his characters, while Hawthorne offended similarly. Dickens was the great modem innovator here, spect.

Kipling being the present-day master.

"

Winkie " thinks as a child, and his speech with his baby thought.

Wee is

Willie

of a kind

Mulvaney, Ortheris and

Lea-

DIALOGUE

249

royd never look at things ffom quite the same view-point, and so we seldom need a " said Mulvaney " to tell us

who says what. Now, this matter

is

worth study.

The average ama-

teur does not individualize the speech of his characters,

and the best story-writers always do.

And

there you

have a tremendous difference. It is

worth while inquiring what things in actual life man's manner of speech I mean, influ-

—

vividly color a

ence his choice

and arrangement of words and

ner of utterance.

They

his

man-

are five: his antecedents (includ-

ing habits of speech acquired in childhood), his character (subtly influencing all

he says and does), his motives

(both general and particular), his present emotion, and his

environment (including the influence of the person-

alities

about him).

Each of these

forces

must be

weighed by the author when he writes dialogue, as judicially

as the judge weighs the conditioning antecedents,

character, motives,

moods and circumstances of a de-

fendant.

See

how

utterly Pecksniffian are all the

arch bluffer,

Mr. Pecksniff.*

words of that

His words and

his char-

acter coincide. the truth is, my dear," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling upon assembled kindred, "that I am at a loss for a word. The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to say) who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me." Mr. George Chuzzlewit suggested " Swans." "

Why,

his

"No," said Mr. Pecksniff. too. *

"Not

swans.

Thank you." Martin Chuzzlewit. Charles Dickens.

Very

like

swans,

DIALOGUE

250 The nephew with

the outline of a countenance, speaking for time on that occasion, propounded " Oysters." " No," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his own peculiar urbanity, "nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters; a very excellent

the

and

first

last

my

idea; thank you,

me!

dear

very much.

sir,

Wait!

Sirens.

Dear

Sirens, of course."

Dickens has given us another interesting humbug, Mr.

Wegg, whose

speech could no more be mistaken for that

whom

of dear old Mr. Boffin, to

aloud of evenings, than

it

he was engaged to read

could be confused with the

words of the historian he read.

Wegg

at length arrives at " Boffin's

introduced to Mrs. Boffin.

umes

a table

Bower," and

is

the eight volof Gibbon in red and gold bindings, with a " purlie

ribbon in each volume to keep the place where

ple

leave

Mr. "

On

After indulging in a meat-pie and a swig,

off.".

Wegg

Hem

settles

down

to his task.

" began Wegg. " This, Mr. BoflSn and Lady, is chapter of the first woUume of the Decline and Fall Off here he looked hard at the book and stopped. !

first

the

—

"What's the matter, Wegg?" "Why it comes to my mind, do you know,

sir," said Wegg, with an air of insinuating frankness (having first again looked hard at the book), "that you made a little mistake this morning, which I had meant to set you right in, only something put it out of my head. I think you said Rooshan Empire, sir?" "It is Rooshan; ain't it, Wegg?" " No, sir. Roman. Roman."

"What's the "

The

difference,

difference, sir

of breaking down,

"The

difference,

Boffin.

Suffice

it

"

when

sir? to

?

Wegg?" Wegg was

Mr.

faltering

a bright thought

There you place

me

and

flashed

in danger

upon

him.

in a difficulty, Mr.

observe that the difference

is

best postponed

DIALOGUE

251

some other occasion when Mrs. Boffin does not honor us with her company. In Mrs. Boffin's presence, sir, we had better drop it."

to

appears, then, that the sense of reality in dialogue

It

be produced

will

if

the characters possess individuality

and speak out their true

A second consideration is

selves.

scarcely less important '

(b) Dialogue

must bring out

the incidents,

must do by harmonizing with them. long speeches in a crisis ?

admit of

much

dialogue

speech at

is

natural

all ?

will

and

this

it

man make

Will a time of hurried action If the

would not have time

windy words, neither

what

Will a

one character

in the

to listen to the other's

your readers.

— though not what

is

Ask

yourself

commonplace

—

in

the circumstances, for circumstances alter speeches. I

may merely

touch upon two other functions of con-

versation in fiction, both deserving of fuller treatment. (c)

Dialogue

is

used

to

convey the setting.

See

how

on pp. 128-9 this effect is secured and the same device is often used not only in the introduction but throughout the story. in the extracts cited

(d) The entire action, the incidents, the story itself, may be told quite as effectively by dialogue as by description, and usually with much more life and interesting effect.

3.

The strictly

The Subject-matter of Dialogue

limits of dialogic subject-matter are, all that is

contributory to the story.

No

retailing of curious

DIALOGUE

252

information, no witty but irrelevant epigrams, no ar-

gumentation for

own

no pretty talk that leads nowhither, no moral preachment, no impassioned invecnot one word, tive, no excursions into inviting by-paths its

sake,

—

in short, that does not

we

All these liberties

may

cause the story

urge on the action to allow to genius at

be so fascinating that

comment and Kipling's Mulvaney

its

it

can carry

a load of extraneous

still

well-told

stories; or

—

like

climax.

its best, be-

be counted it

as

may

be so nearly a sketch that the tone really demands a discursive style like Hearn's " Chita " and Stevenson's

—

" Will O' the Mill."

are not

On

won by

Such

literary privileges, however,

beginners.

this subject there are

some sound words

in

An-

is

both

thony Trollope's Autobiography: "

just

The unconscious and

severe.

critical

When

acumen of a reader

a long dialogue on extraneous

matter reaches his mind, he at once feels that he

is

being

cheated into taking something that he did not bargain

— he does not

accept

at that

moment

philosophy, but he wants a story.

be able to say in so

many words

He

he will

feel it."

4.

'

will not, perhaps,

that at

dialogue has deviated from the story

to

require politics or

;

some

point the

but when

it does,

=

The Manner of Dialogue

Short-story dialogue must be suggestive, not exhaus-

tive.

The dialogue

oVol.

II,

p.

58.

of the short-story

is

not that of

the

DIALOGUE

253

The former can no more

novel.

take time fully to re-

produce the small talk of a ball-room or of a salon than it

a

gown.

No, compression, always compression, and high degree of selection, are what the yarn-spinner

must is

my

can afford space for the minute description of

lady's

set ever before his

tory

must be hinted

in

mind's eye.

what

quite as important as

What

is

omitted

A whole

reported.

is

his-

a sentence, processes of arriving at

conclusions struck off in an epigram, the heart of a sen-

timent packed into a phrase. idealized

more will

— the

mood

lofty

True, speech will often be

be symbolized by words

will

lofty than those of real life; the passionate

demand an

rarely

heard

intensity

among

hour

and compactness of language

But be careful not to

real folk.

overdo this permissible exaggeration.

Conversation there

it

is

trouble is that, in

come

stilted

comes

a lost art

is

usually

the

more

book and

moment

Birch, of

whom Samuel

a bee in conversation in his

numbs

hand than all

it

;

idly shifting

fiction,

brilliant.

likely to be-

is

a

writer said, "

suggests

He

is

Tom

as brisk as

but no sooner does he take a pen

becomes a torpedo to him, and be-

—

Colloquial speech

is

precisely

the short, free, unconscious, rap-

speech of everyday

life

;

everyday, that

manner, but .selected and exceptional in matter. well for the literary

and

The

the writer or the talker be-

Johnson

his faculties."

what dialogue needs

in

than

in life, talk

Many

self-conscious.

— except

flippant

is,

in

It

is

person to deplore the admitted de-

cadence in the tone and quality of our social converse, for it

is

painfully evident to the observing, but the short-

DIALOGUE

254

into a text-book for use in the

must not be turned

story

university coftversation course, once proposed half laugh-

The meaty

ingly by Professor A. S. Hill.

North and His

by The Dolly Dialogues'' and Let

"The

First Hurdle.'"

be repeated: dialogue reports characters in

it

perfectly

representative,

characteristic

typical,

say, as

ism,

what they

said about

I

need not again discuss.

its

limitations in general

ticularly to the speaking character.

'

would

His words must

To

brilliant conversation just as

The

result in disappointment.

real-

Much that has been may be applied par-

truer to ideal truth than to actual talk.

even the most

they

are.

course this brings up the whole question of

which

their

moods.

much what

Therefore their speech must show not so

Of

talk of Dr.

Friends^ needs the desiccation provided

be

reproduce

we

have

it

pivotal and sug-

what you must word may add some significance

gestive speeches of your characters are set

down

so that every

How

to the portrayal. dividuality

?

else

Suppose that

should character exhibit

all

to utter such equally brilliant to

draw

in-

the people in a story were

epigrams as

(it is safer

from novels) they do in parts Fowler's Concerning Isabel Car-

these illustrations

of Ellen Thorn ey croft

naby, and in Bulwer's Parisians; the effect would be

unconvincing as any other But, really, there

is little

lot

of unvaried

danger here.

There

as

fireworks. is greater

fear of perpetrating the unrelieved dulness of absolute

Weir Mitchell. Anthony Hope.

« S. '

*A ^

short-story by John

See

p.

64.

Reed

Scott.

,

DIALOGUE

Conversation must be

conversational reality.

fidelity to

255

neither too subtle nor too gross, too learned nor too

siiiy,

must

idealize the actual

in so far as to discard

both the prosings

and the blatancies of while typifying both most deftly. The moulds in which conversation is

flippant vulgarity

too involved nor too simple.

men

speech of

It

of heavy virtue

as various as those of

reporting

Do not

them requires some think

it

cast are of

forms

everyday speech, but the manner of art.

necessary to put " he saids " after every

remark made by a character. the

So long as without them reader understands clearly and easily just who is

speaking, such additions hinder rather than help dia-

But when you do add the explanatory

logue.

verbs, use

some ingenuity in getting away from the conventional

Do

forms. sions

not discriminate against such good expres" he

as

acquiesced,"

"assented,"

"asked,"

" admitted,"

"boasted,"

" argued,"

"cau-

"called,"

tioned," "chuckled," "corrected," "cried,"

"croaked,"

"crowed," "declared," "drawled," "droned," "ejaculated,"

" emended,"

" enjoined,"

" enumerated,"

" ex-

claimed," " exploded," " flashed," " frowned," " gasped,"

"growled,"

"grumbled,"

"grunted,"

".hinted,"

"in-

quired," " insinuated," " intimated," " jeered," " jested,"

laughed," " leered," " maundered," " mumbled," " nodded," " opined," " pronounced," " puffed," " questioned," "

"returned," "simpered," "retorted," " sneered," " snickered," " stammered," " stip-

"rejoined," " snarled,"

ulated,"

"stormed,"

"suggested,"

teered," " wondered," " yelled,"

"urged,"

"volun-

— and a whole dictionary-

DIALOGUE

2S6

ful besides,^" each precisely suited to the shade of

mood

to be depicted.

Perhaps

it

should go without saying that the speeches

dialogue should be brief

in

pay

— yet

remember that the old and jawed " took

to

" ca'mly drinked

a practice

word

A

between remarks.

sips

tell

of warning.

useful conversational device

to

is

make comment

both before and at the end of the speech. is

Either alone

more common form.

the

"Ye bought me Oh, Misther Dale, it isn't

Nora rose, trembling like a leaf Mike's vote, ye say? Ye bought it? thrue,

to

some necessary bit of information,! too amateurish to need more than this sin-

help a character to

gle

It will

the boy who

baldly " leading question," introduced palpably

The is

doesn't.

it

man and

is

it ?

Say

it

Oh, say

isn't.

(trite).

it

isn't

!

"

The

rising wail

of a breaking heart spoke in her cry.

Sometimes the author

will interrupt the speech of a

character to interject an explanation vice

if

the interruption

example the method John- Gearing girl,"

was

he murmured,

is

is

In

dethis

well handled:

at her side in lifting

— a dangerous

either long or abrupt.

her with

an all

instant.

"

My

poor

little

possible gentleness, "are

you much hurt ? "

The "At

unfinished sentence all

often used with good

events I have not sprained

with a faint laugh. 10

is

"But

I slipped

my

effect:

ankle," said the

girl

once before to-day, and—"

See exercises at the close of this chapter,

;

DIALOGUE

The

'

is

257

effect of hesitating speech

produced by the dash another emotional device in dialogue:

still

"They

will search for us

— that took the spool to — to " know

" If they

— certainly, and you — — must I

if

find you, I could

not bear

it

us?" them that I them ^- 1 could

find

if

is,

not face

tell

!

I

The

" expressive pause " in dialogue

is

indicated either

explicitly, as:

" I really

Or by

Then, after a pause, "

wonder," murmured Betty.

suppose you are right, after

the use of the dash

"I. see no other alternative," admitted Buxton. meet the, note on Monday or The Tombs."

—

The choice of sentence-forms

The

ent in dialogue.

with a

in

the

mood

long

an important expedi-

is

short, sharp, rapid sentence

power by suspending

No more would

the

The

sentence.

its full

— the balanced

suggest the judicial mind.

flippant

youth

versation even the

"For

until its close.^^

habitually

form would more

.

Remember

most cultivated

Suiting the sound to the sense tional expedient.

judge

rises

use

clearly

Yet no one would use one

form to the exclusion of others.

L

meaning

dignified

loose sentences

fits

from that suggested by

quite different

easy-flowing

"Either you

would hardly speak in the periodic sentence, which in

I

all."

is

talk colloquially.

a capital conversa-

Note these examples:

sentence-forms see Appendix G.

that in con-

DIALOGUE

258 The

"Janet!" " \Jva

"

!

shall see,

loud, jarring voice, etc.

he purred, softly stroking the hat in his hand, " we

we

!

shall see

The use of dialect in dialogue has aroused a furor of Some editors hold the dialect story as ta-

discussion.

boo, others allow a

discriminate against ever,

for

upon one point:

own

its

As

few it

dialect passages, while a few

not at

all.

dialect

must never be used

All are agreed, howsolely

sake.

New

England

Maine woodsman, the Southern "

cracker,"

local color, the vernacular of the

villager, the

the negro, the habitant, the cow-puncher, the Creole, and all

the rich and varied types of American

the use of dialect in moderation. is

life,

require

But when the

spelling

no purpose by such nonsensical

altered to

perversions

as " iz," " sur," " sez," " bizness," " peeple," the alleged dialect

The

becomes a nuisance.

a glossary will go

Another teristics

down

short-story that needs

to posterity in manuscript form.

abtise of dialect is to over-emphasize charac-

of speech

— such as a college man's slang — so as produce an

broker's technical talk

or a

uninten-

to

tional caricature.

The language of child-life offers peculiar pitfalls for the fictionist. As an experiment, see in how many different ways you can spell a child's pronunciation of " just the same."

In

fact,

all

ful to

them

all in

speech

is full of

would not do to be faithreporting conversation. Each calling,

each stratum of society, has detriment, or

common

our

softenings and elisions, but

much

it

its

vernacular,

to the enrichment, of

much

to the

our English —

DIALOGUE according to

how you

look at

259 Just

it.

how much

of

tjiis

and " patter " speech you will your writing must depend upon your good sense.

colloquial, sporting, slang,

use in

Four things, however, you

will

want

to avoid

:

obscurity

of meaning, inconsistency of spelling, niaking the dialect

hard to read, and the use of too

much

dialect.

In writing stories foreign in setting, or in depicting

when

the speech of foreigners

own language

their

in

to introducing foreign

member

they would naturally use

whole or in

part,

and

sirable,

re-

awkward The use of Mon-

Madame and

Mademoiselle

is

of course de-

and perhaps the occasional use of

and the

pas,

But

also that certain idioms are especially

and strained when done into English. sieur

have a care as

words and expressions.

to salt the

lation of

like; but,

on the whole,

it is

voila, n'est ce

more

speech with a foreign savor by the

effective

literal trans-

such quaint idioms as are at once characteristic

and pleasing, in the manner of the following extract

^^ :

Three nights later Gilbert Hannaway sat at dinner in one of he had most famous restaurants of Paris. His companion touched him on the many friends on that side of the channel '

the

—

—

arm.

dear Gilbert," she said, "you ask me to point out to you should recognize as the real Parisian type, the absolutely The girl in smart woman. Look I show her to you. There Believe me, the black dress, and the hat with white feathers. Her shoes, that is the last thing which Paris can show you.

"My

what

I

!

!

her jewels, her furs, the cut of that long jacket, the little dog they are all of she has" under her arm, with the gold collar

—

the ^'^

moment, the

latest thing.

There

is

your type for you."

Passfrs-By, Anthony Partridge, Cosmopolitan, Oct., igo8. in contrast is Thackeray's method in The Ballad of

Somewhat

Bouillabaisse.

26o

DIALOGUE

A

somewhat

trated

Seat," Elsie

A

little

similar use of idiom as dialect

is

illus-

"

The County Singmaster's Pennsylvania German story following passage from

by the

:

farther

on he stopped

at

the opening of a narrow

street.

" It is here

where we shall live." screamed little Ollie. Their goods were being unloaded, before the door of a frame house. " I see where,"

" I too,"

echoed Louisa.

Oliver unlocked the door and let them " It is not a nice house," said Louisa. " It is a nice house," reproved her it is

tiny

not yet fixed up that

it

in.

mother sharply.

don't look so fine."

" It

is

while

Then she waved

who came into the room with a roll of carpet "Don't bring it in yet. Did you think I should

back her husband, in his arms.

put

down

carpet

when

the house

is

not yet cleaned?"

"

But I must go Mondays to work, and Sundays it is no working, and I can only help to-day and to-morrow." Susannah looked at him. " Do you mean I should put down the carpets before it is everything washed up ? " she asked. " No," he answered, meekly. " But you shall wash this room first, and then I can move the things right aways in." "Begin at the bottom to wash the house!" gasped Susannah. " And go up I guess not. I begin at the top, like always." She went upstairs and looked about her. She could not suppress an exclamation of horror. Then she went to the head of !

the stairway.

"You

shall just

come up once and

see

how

dirty

it is here,"

she called. " It will be dinner till I make the garret done." "But the things? Shall they stand all the time out?"" " You can watch them so it don't anybody carry anything " I off," she replied. " The rest of her sentence was lost in

—

the

sound of a

stiff

scrubbing-brush, pushed swiftly across rough

boards. ^^ Atlantic,

May,

1908.

DIALOGUE

261

OUTLINE SUMMARY Dialogue 1.

2.

' Proportion of Dialogue Its OfUce (a) Revelation of Character (6) To Bring Out the Incidents

(c)

To Convey

'

Setting

3.

(i) To Develop the Ejitire Action Subject Matter

4.

Manner Suggestive Characteristic

Diction

Sentence Forms Dialect

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY from some magazine a short-story containing little and rewrite it, substituting dialogue wherever possible. 2. Examine the short-stories in a magazine of high quality and make a list of the excellencies and the faults you may dis1.

Select

dialogue

cover in the conversations. 3.

Take one scene of a play and rewrite

it

in short-story

form.

Rewrite in dramatic form one of your previous shortconveying all the facts by dialogue, excepting only stagedirections and outlines of scenes. Write a brief character sketch, or short-story, relying 5. mainly upon conversation to display character. 6. Write a minute report of the most interesting actual conversation you can recall having heard, leaving wide space 4.

stories,

,

between the

lines.

Without rewriting, edit the conversation in the foregoing so that it might be included in a short-story. 8. Criticise the dialect in any available short-story, 7.

d

DIALOGUE

262

Write a story told largely by dialogue. After the first 9. few paragraphs, do not say who the speakers are, as " said Tom," etc.

Write the opening of a 'short-story, conveying the by dialogue.

10.

solely

Enlarge as much as possible the

11.

page

list

setting

of past participles on

255.

12. Take about fifty lines of dialogue from any short-story and reconstruct the dialogue by using new explanatory verbs, and by breaking up the dialogue, introducing brief comments at

various points in the speeches of the characters. Write a short, exciting dialogue, using crisp, short sen13. tences.

Follow this by toning down the same dialogue, forming 14. your sentences in harmony with the changed mood.

CHAPTER

XIII

THE TITLE Because of the difference in people's

why

say just

a

title

tastes,

it

why

it

pleases or displeases,

hard to

is

interests or

probably because of what it does or does of its associations. Some titles are failures in themselves, either in conception or in form; but most poor titles are so because of a deficiency or a falseness of suggestion. Evelyn May Albright, The Short-Story. fails

to interest.

not suggest

It is

— because

—

•1

The

title

of a short-story

teresting personality

comparison, a good Short-story times els,

;

name, and

is its

name

with persons, a unique

stories as

titles

may

deal

is its

seem

more

ments of the day, but note variations in style

to

reflect is

the spirit of the the case with nov-

intimately with the big

still

from year

Now

move-

appreciably enough for us to

to year.

Some of these changes woman's

the fad runs to a fixed order of words.

Once nothing but the name of a character would the extremist.

with

possessor's only merit.

are as whimsical as the mutations in

headgear.

is-

though sometimes; to carry on the

;

name

not so markedly, however, as

which

it

suggests an in-

A

little

overwhelmed with

suit

while ago novels and stories were

titles

of color

— the

red

tl|is

was

succeeded by the yellow that, until, with violet t'other the deluge at length subsided.

But

all

the while a rising appreciation of the value of

263

THE TITLE

264

effective titles has led authors

them more

attention.

magazine.

We now

The

and editors

result is

alike to give

apparent in every

see that there are as

many

points of

and that of a shortstory as exist between these two literary forms themselves. What depth of treatment could you expect in a short-story entitled The Testing of Diana MalloryfWhile the broader work would probe character to the difference between the title of a novel

heart, the briefer fiction could deal with only one phase

of

life;

and so the

significance of such a title

would

be

weakened.

The selection of a title comes about in much the same manner as, the choosing of a theme." Indeed, the title may be the first to arise in the mind and from it the whole story develop. I.

The Functions

Miss Albright has well said

of a Title

:

"

The

title

has for

main function the advertising of the story to the Like other advertisements,

public.

it

announce the genuine essence of the business ise

is

of an interesting story." title

must: (a) appeal

Therp title.

I

is

may Its

not first

by the prom-

^

can advertise

its

wares to the

public,

to the editor.

something positively hypnotic

have seen an

2

Mrs. Humphry Ward. See Part II, chap. i.

8

The Short-Story,

^

or

article.

to attract the reader's attention

But before a it

may

its

reading

editor,

p. 91.

in a fetching

jaded by the reading

of

THE TITLE many manuscripts, freshen sight of water,

First of

title.

like

a spent hound at the

merely by coming across a promising

may

all it

touch his personal interest, but

end he considers that

in the

265

accepted fiction,

to

his

title

in relation to other

annual subscribers, to news-

stand sales, to the standing and traditions of his zine, as well, as

with regard to

knows that the

title

its

He

abstract merits.

of a single story

may

So true

thousands of readers, pro or con. I

maga-

influence

is this

that

have known several editorial counsels and considera-

ble correspondence, to

the

be devoted solely to discussing

wisdom of changing the

thors should give

editors

title

of one story.

Au-

the freest possible rein

— provided,

the matter

of such changes

violence be

done to appropriateness.

in

of course, no

Most magazines

—

and throughout this work I include the pictorial weeklies in the

same category

than accept (b)

title

emotion

reject a

good story title.

to the public is quite different.

Here

the primary, almost the sole, consideration.

that piques curiosity or suggests excitement or .

.

itself

has

.

over a plain one;

prove

— would rather

weighted down with a really bad

The appeal

interest is

"A

it

it is

all

the advantage of a pretty girl

given an instantaneous chance to

worth while."

*

Stand some day at a great

railway magazine booth and watch the people as they fin-

ger the periodicals.

They vary

leaps out

greatly.

One knows what

and turn

until some title from the page and suggests a story of the kind

he wants, but another will leaf

* Quoted in Barrett's Short Story May, i8c^.

Writing from Munsey's,

THE TITLE

266 he

If the

likes.

as the

title,

opening sentences are as attractive bait

the fish

" I'd like to read

hooked.

is

and, " That looks good," have sold

that,''

many a magazine,

be-

cause the same influence had been previously at work

upon the manuscript reader. 2.

A

good

title

Good

Titles

should, be attractive, short, fitting, spe-

and suggestive.

fresh, sonorous, literary,

cific,

No

further

word

is

needed here as to

attractiveness,

but young writers do not sufficiently regard brevity.

average length of the

titles

tive short-stories, specially

of

two hundred

examined,

a

is

representa-

little less

four words; divided as follows: eight-word seven,

i

;

six, 12; five,

and one,

13.

Of

an important part

than i;

titles,

30; four, 27; three, 27; two, 39;

course, the initial " in

The

any such count.

ber of syllables in each word

is

The

" will play

Again, the num-

to be considered, as two

long words like " Quarantine Island," by Besant, form really as long a title as " Ouida's " " Leaf in the

—

Storm "

A

five syllables in each.

But be ruled by no

arbitrary fetish as a passion to have just so

and

syllables in a

title.

Let your

title

many

such

words

be brief, but

let

it

also be fitting.

The in his

story itself will govern this point. "

Short Story Writing,

—

Says

you have for your story, if

Barrett, difficulty

an appropriate title first amine your plot, and make sure that the cause does lie there . you may find that your plot lacks . in finding

.

exnot the

THE TITLE

267

by the short story."

definiteness of impression required

Often the

fitting character of the title will

appear only

as the story progresses, as in "

The Window That MonForgot," Mary Imlay Taylor " The Liar," Henry

sieur

;

James and "

Many

;

upon

not rely

Waters," Margaret Deland.

But do

this quality so utterly as to ignore the

present interest of the

lamy's " Lost "

—a

title,

vague

as

title

was done in Edward Belindeed and unattractive?-

Remember that titles are intended primarily for those who have not read the story. Most young writers make the mistake of selecting general, instead of specific titles. Narrow down the title merely general idea no

That a yet every

as "

A

hold.

should be fresh goes almost without saying,

magazine

is

flooded with stories baptized with

A

When

.

title

mind can

unconsciously purloined, and such worn-out titles Strange Experience," " My Unusual Dream," and

titles

"

A

something individual enough to grip the attention.

to

We

Were Young."

sonorous

sive in

sound

title is

"

;

one that sounds well

whose words and

—

is

" impres-

syllables succeed

each

as well as smoothly and pleasantly. Note the euphonious quality of Foe's " Ligeia," as con-

other effectively,

trasted

with "

The Glenmutchkin Railway," by Aytoun.

Remember, however, that a to

title

may

be so smooth as

be incapable of gripping the attention.

By

a literary

title I

mean one whose words have been

chosen with due regard for their shades and beauty of

meaning,

and arranged

Comoare the aualitv of "

rhetorical

order.

in

effective

A

Purple Rhododendron," by

THE TITLE

268

John Fox,

Jr.,^

with "

A

Ride with a

Mad Horse

in a

W. H. H. Murray. most important that a title should be suggestive. " The Courting of Dinah Shadd," by Kipling, suggests a story of love, humor and unique character, and the

Freight Car," by It is

reader is

is

A suggestion of love-interest

not disappointed.

of no small value.

One osity

province of suggestion is to pique yet baffle curiby leading the imagination up to only a certain

point, as in the following:

" " "

The Wedding Knell," Hawthorne. The Mummy's Foot," Gautier. The Severed Hand," Hauff.

"The

Black Poodle," Anstey.

"

The Hired Baby," Corelli. " The Man Who Would Be King," "The Diamond Lens," O'Brien. " The Upper Berth," Crawford. Other suggestive

titles

more or

'

Kipling.

less fully indicate the^

theme, as "

The

"

How Don

"

Rosemary for Remembrance," " Harland."

"

The Night Run

"

A

"

The Home-Coming

Fall of the

House of Usher," Poe.

Q. Dealt With a Thief," Prichard. of the

'

Overland,' " Peake.

Ten^perance Campaign," Turner. of Colonel Hucks," William Al-

len White. "

The

Trial

For Murder," Dickens.

THE TITLE

By naming

269

or describing a character the

title

may-

suggest a character study: "

Marse Chan," Page.

"

Thrawn

Janet," Stevenson.

"Gallegher," Davis. " Marjorie

Daw,"

Aldrich.

"Bimi," Kipling. "

A New

England Nun," Mary Wilkins. Freeman. Hawthorne.

" Rappaccini's Daughter,"

"

The

Or " " "

Girl at Duke's," Linn.

the

title

may

suggest a setting

The Deserted House," Hoffman. the Attack on the Mill," Zola.

Up

the Coulee," Garland.

"

Young Strong of The Clarion,' " Shinn. " The Luck of Roaring Camp," Harte. " The Philosopher in the Apple Orchard," " Hope." '

Again, the humorous note "

may

be struck:

The Transferred Ghost," Stockton.

"Colonel Starbottle For the Plaintiff," Harte. "

"

The Jumping Frog," " Twain." The Cannibals and Mr. Buffum," Loomis.

Again, the story:

title

may

disclose the idea of contrast- in the

THE TITLE

270

" Two Men and a Woman," Deledda. " Railroad and Churchyard," Bjornson.

"

The Doctor, His Wife, and

the Clock,"

Anna

Kath-

arine Green.

"

A

Pompadour Angel," Moss. " Pigs is Pigs," Butler. " The Joneses' Telephone," Frechette. "

The Encyclopeedy," Field. " The Incarnation of Krishna Mulvaney," Kipling.

Or

the

title

may

suggest the basic idea by naming the

central object "

"

The The The The

"

My Terminal

"

A Piece of

String," Maupassant.

"

The Venus

of Hie," Merimee.

" "

Great Carbuncle," Hawthorne.

Gold Bug," Poe. Pope's Mule," Daudet.

Damned

Thing," Bierce.

Moraine," Stockton.

3.

Titles to

Avoid

Don't choose a commonplace name for a would elect to read about " William Lee might know " Pap Overholt "? ^ Don't choose such general

titles as,

"

The Organist," Becquer.

"

Two

>

Alice

Friends," Kipling.

MacGowan.

title.

"

Who

when

he

THE

TITLE

27

"Uncle and Nephew," About.

"The "

Father," Bjornson.

A Love

Story," Webster.

"College Friends," Amicis. Don't handicap your story with such uninteresting titles

"

as

The Sempstress' Story," Droz. and Son," Rod. The Shot," Poushkin. Poor Ogla Moga," Lloyd.

" Father " "

" Kittie's Sister Josephine," Elizabeth Jordan.

"

A

"

The Village Convict,"

Faithful Retainer," Payn.

Many titles

C.

in the foregoing lists are

good

stories,

but their

are not encouraging.

Good magazines generally tles

H. White.

reject such sensational

as:

" In

Love With the Czarina," Jokai. Moon," F. W. Robinson. " The Brigand's Bride," Laurence Oliphant. " A Perilous Amour," Weyman. ""The Revenge of Her Race," Beaumont. " Minions of the

" "

A Terribly My Wife's

Strange Bed," Wilkie Collins.

Tempter," O'Brien.

Avoid the use of hackneyed, words

in

your

titles,

as:

ti-

THE TITLE

272 "

A

"

The Story

Daring Fiction," Boyesen. of

Two

Lives," Schayer.

"

Mr. Bixby's Christmas Visitor," Gage. "The Extraordinary Adventure" of a Chief Mate," Clark Russell. Titles beginning with " trite

How "

or "

Why "

are usually

and clumsy.

you use a quotation or a motto for a title, be sure Two good ones are, " Thou Art the Man," by Poe, and " Such as Walk in Darkness," by Samuel Hopkins Adams. George Ade cleverly modified a quotation in his " To Make a Hoosier Holiday." If is

it

not overworked.

Shun

titles

away " your

that " give

there are instances in Which the ers the

whole plan of the

ture Burial."

title

plot.

Of

course,

intentionally discov-

story, as in Poe's "

The Prema-

In such cases the author either plans no

surprise or depends for interest

upon a unique handling

of a situation, the essentials of which the reader may

surmise from the

title.

In either case

it is

a bold

plan.

Even Pbe did not carry it off with distinguished sucThe saving device was in his beginning the story cess. as

—

article

—

were a human interest paper a and ending by telling the story proper.

though

it

Don't indulgfi freely in

Avoid the or and and Don't affect baldly

sub-titles.

style of double

alliterative titles.

"The word "adventure" has been titles

feature

title.

Poe's "

The

Pit

properly used of late in of short-stories published in series, such as the Sherloclj

Holmes

stories.

THE TITLE and the Pendulum " ions differ

Eschew

on

is

273

close to the edge,

though opin-

this point.

titles

that are gloomy, "

Old Convict," Loti or old ;

style,

The Sorrow of an " Christian Gellert's Last

or trite, " The Convict's Return," or newspapery, " Rescued by a Child " ; or highly fantastic, " The Egyptian Fire Eater," ^ Baumbach ; or anecdotal, " Fishing Trip " ; or sentimental,

Christmas," Auerbach

Harben

;

;

A

" Hope,"

Bremer or ;

repellent, "

A Memorable

Murder,"

Thaxter., •

must be reiterated that almost

It

whose

titles

all

of the short-stories

are here criticised are themselves passable,

and a majority of them good, but there can be no doubt

would have been multiplied had their endowed them with attractive, short, fitting, spefresh, sonorous, literary, and suggestive titles.

that their success

authors cific,

OUTLINE SUMMARY 1.

Functions of the Title (a) Appeal to the Editor (&) Appeal to the Public

2.

Good

3.

Titles to

Titles

Avoid

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY I.

Which

title

do you prefer

in each of the following groups,

and why?

''Changed by Freund Lipp.

translator,

from

Baumbach's

original

title,

THE TITLE

274

"The Light-House Keeper

^ " The Juggler of "

A

of Aspinwall," Sienkiewicz.

Notre Dame," France.

Ghetto Violet," Kompert.

- " A Rose of the Ghetto," Zangwill. - "A Monk of the Ghetto," Wolfenstein. "The Denver Express," Hayes. "The Four-Fifteen Express," Edwards.

"The "The

Courting of Dinah Shadd," Kipling. Courting of T'Nowhead's Bell," Barrie.

Set down, in a sentence or two devoted to each, the immade upon you by five titles from the current magazines, as to what kind of stories they represent 2.

pressions

What

3.

titles

in

Appendix B

you as uninteresting?

strike

Why? 4.

Criticise

fully

at least three

gesting improvements of your

own

titles

in

Appendix

C, sug-

devising.

(a) Count how many titles in Appendix B 5. "The"; (b) how many with "A"; (c) how many word "of"?

begin with contain the

Construct two titles of each of the following kinds: (a) 6. sonorous, (b) suggestive, (c) hinting the theme, (d) naming the chief character, (e) suggesting a setting, (f) humorous. 7.

Suggest improvements on at least

five titles

on page

271.

CHAPTER XIV STYLE seem so deep as

Clear writers, like clear fountains, do not ^they are. If

I

— Walter

am

am

—

man

If a

my

ever obscure in

therefore I

understand.

Savage Landor. expression,

were really deep, Charles Kingsley. deep.

If I

do not fancy that the world would

all

has anything to say he will manage to say it; if he is no reason why he should

has nothing to communicate, there

have a good style, any more than why he should have a good purse without any money, or a good scabbard without any sword.

— George

a personally characteristic manner of expres-

Style is sion.

When

himself,"

Macdonald.

Buffon declared that

he as

much

dividuality of style in

A

thought.

style

way

" the

man

as said that a writer without in-

had not yet attained

to individuality

distinctive Kiplingism is his personal

of saying a thing, just as a British or a a national

is

of saying a thing

way

French idiom

— individuality

in

is

both

cases.

Style argues consistently

parted from) less ality

two things :

First a personal view-point

maintained (or at l^ast never ;

second, habit

conscious practice.

flightily

de-

— and that means more or

By and by

the writer of person-

betrays his fondness for certain words, sentence-

forms, sentence-groups, themes, view-points, beliefs

275

and

STYLE

276 the whole thing.

His views of

infuse themselves

life

Now, when

through his expressions.

all

ences, these tendencies, become a habit

a narrow, slavish,

do not say

I

one-eyed habit — the habit

markedly personal as

as

these prefer-

—

his

bow

legs,

is

his style,

and sometimes

just

as unlovely.

Here are four paragraphs from as many well-known Are they in any respects alike ? Does not each

authors.

bear the clear impress of a distinct personality? cisely

how

they do differ every one would declare. all

Pre-

they differ not every one could say, but that

Each

possesses

of the essential, and some of the special properties of

style, as rhetoricians classify

them, yet somehow they are

as unlike as four descriptions well likeness proceeds

from the

might

individualities

be.

This un-

back of the

de-

scriptions.^

We

know not compatible terms,

how the

to

characterize,

Rome

that

lies

in

any accordant and

before

us

;

its

sunless

and streets of palaces; its churches, lined with the gorgeous marbles that were originally polished for the adornment of pagan temples; its thousands of evil smells, mixed up with fragrance of rich incense diffused from as many censers; its little life, deriving feeble nutriment from what has long been dead. Everywhere, some fragment of ruin suggesting the magnificence of a former epoch; everywhere, moreover, a Cross and nastiness at the foot of it. As the sum of all, there are recollections that kindle the soul, and a gloom and languor that depress it beyond any depth of melancholic sentiment that can be elsewhere known.^ alleys,

—

^ It is the function of this treatise not to analyze such differences, but to point them out. " Hawthorne, Marble Faun, I, chap. xii. Observe the general concepts set forth in a contemplative mood.

STYLE At

last

I

277

came within

sight of the Pope's City [Avignon]. a beautiful town it was! Going right up two hundred feet above the bank of the river was a bare

Saints in heaven!

What

and straight as though cut with a stonemason's on the very top of which was perched a castle with towers so big and high twenty, thirty, forty times higher than the towers of our church that they seemed to go right up out of sight into the clouds! It was the Palace built by the Popes; and around and below it was a piling up of houses big, little, long, wide, of every size and shape, and all of cut stone covering a space as big, I might say, as half way from here to Carpentras. When I saw all this I was thunderstruck. And though I still was far away from the city a strange buzzing came from it and sounded in my ears but whether it were shouts or songs or the roll of drums or the crash of falling houses or the firing of cannon, I could not tell. Then the words of the lame old man with the hoe came back to me, and all of a sudden I felt a heavy weight on my heart. What was I going to see, what was going to happen to me in the midst of those revolutionary city folks ? What could I do among them steep

rock,

chisel,

—

—

—

—

—

—

I,

so utterly, utterly alone ? *

mohwa

Baloo was so fond of, never waxy blossoms were heatkilled before they were born, and only a few bad-smelling petals came down when he stood on his hind legs and shook the tree. Then, inch by inch, the untempered heat crept into the heart The of the Jungle, turning it yellow, brown, and at last black. green growths in the sides of the ravines burned up to broken wires and curled films of dead stuff; the hidden pools sank down and caked over, keeping the least footmark on their edges as if it had been cast in iron; the juicy-stemmed creepers fell away from the trees they clung to and died at their feet; the bamboos withered, clanking when the hot winds blew, and the moss peeled off the rocks deep in the Jungle, till they were as bare and as hot as the quivering blue boulders in the bed of That spring the

flowered.

The

tree, that

greeny, cream-colored,

the stream.*

'Felix Grass, The Reds of the Midi, p. 69. Specific scene pictured from the speaking character's personal view-point. * Kipling, The Second Jungle-Book. Note the many epithets,

STYLE

278

Mansion! There stoodest thou, in deep Mountain on umbrageous lawns, in thy serene solitude;

Noble

Amphitheatre,

massive, all of granite; glittering in the western sunbeams, like a palace of El Dorado, overlaid with precious metal. Beautiful rose up, in wavy curvature, the slope of thy guardian Hills of the greenest was their sward, embossed with its darkstately,

:

brown and

by some spreading

frets of crag, or spotted

solitary Tree

shadow."

its

Style, then, runs all the

gamut of

individuality, hav-

may have

ing graces or crudities as the possessor

vated or neglected himself and his powers

A

pression.

culti-

of self-ex-

writer's personality will so temper his use

of the general qualities of style, will dictate their use

such combinations, as to produce his

markedly personal development

sure,

only in exceptional authors, yet

how

it is

own

A

man

interesting to note itself in

a young

of petulant nature will naturally adopt

a short and crisp manner of expression

going and mild

will reflect this

temper

;

he

who

is easy-

in his utterances;

while the flustry, blustry fellow will lean to a style

and wordy. ical

It is precisely

training appears, in that

it

gives the writer

may

command

accomplish

his

end without either burying his personality or

ing

it

thrust-

into every one's face.

Now, by all tion may make

this I

do not mean that the writer of

his characters speak

and

think,

act

from

fic-

his per-

That were absurd. Each character and speak, and act, consistently with his or

sonal view-point.

^

florid

here that the value of rhetor-

of such variety of expression that he

must

in

be

to be looked for

is

such individuality begins to show

writer.

To

style.

Carlyle, Sartor Resartus.

Apostrophe.

,

STYLE

279

own personality. Still, all the issue of a single mintage may bear a subtle unity of impress, even when the her

uttered

coins

vary

from copper

gold.

to

When

the

author speaks as the author (Hawthorne, in the preced-

makes no attempt

ing examples), he

when

dividuality; but

to conceal his in-

the writer puts words into the

mouth of a character (Gras, also quoted specimens),

who

in the preceding

speaks.

Underneath

the author's personal style will constantly appear

all,

it

the character

it is

the trained eye.'

-to

It

ought now to be plain

why

it is

so futile to study

merely with a view to imitation.

the great stylists

The

ass in the lion's skin will eventually bray.

What, then!

Shall

master story-writers?

we not study the Has imitation no

velopment of an individual style? and particularly study

;

but note

tate their

if :

literary arts of

place in the de-

Yes, to both queries;

imitation be practised consciously as a

study the styles of

all

masters and imi-

sentence forms only so far as to learn

(if possi-

by which they secured results, to observe which they fell, and to master the various

ble) the devices

the errors into

You must use same tools as they, but the uncut stone before you and you need not slavishly follow another's

forms in which they cast their thought. substantially the is

work

if

there

is

an original idea in your brain.

Style

amount of distinction, and mere imitation is not the mother of invention. In his essay on " A College Magazine," included in implies a certain

*

Compare

p.

193.

28o

STYLE

.

Memories and how he rose from imitation the volume,

"

Whenever

larly pleased

I

Portraits, Stevenson shows

to originality of style.

read a book or a passage that particu-

me, in which a thing was said or an

effect

rendered with propriety, in which there was either some

conspicuous force or some happy distinction in the I

must

quality.

sit

I

style

down at once and set myself to ape that was unsuccessful, and I knew it; and tried

and was again unsuccessful, and always unsuccessful but at least in these vain bouts I got some practice in rhythm, in harmony, in construction and coagain,

;

ordination of parts. " I have thus played the sedulous ape to Hazlitt, to

Lamb, to Wordsworth, to Sir Thomas Browne, to Hawthorne, to Montaigne. " That, like

whether

it

way Keats

the

temperament for " It

is

not, is the

model. ;

and

way

to learn to write

the way.

is

was finer

literature than Keats'.

the great point of these imitations that there student's reach, his inimitable

Let him try as he please, he it is

is still

sure of

an old and very true saying that

the only highroad to success. disposition to learn

;

own performances.

for I

I

I liked

I

is

must have had some clear-sightedly condemned my I

doing them indeed but when ;

very rarely showed them even to

and such friends as

fail-

failure

they were done, I could see they were rubbish.

sequence

It

and there never was a

learned,

shines beyond the

still

,ure

or

have profited or not, that

I

to Defoe,

chose to be

my

my

In confriends;^

ccmfidants I must

STYLE

281

have chosen well, for they had the friendliness to be

with me. Thrice I put myself in the way of a more authoritative rebuff, by sending a paper to a magaquite plain

These were returned, and I was not surprised or If they had not been looked at, as (like

zine.

even pained.

amateurs) I suspected was the case, there was no

all

good in repeating the experiment;

I

they had been

if

had not yet learned must keep on learning and living."

looked

well then, I

at,

Style

characteristic expression, but impression pre-

is

cedes expression.

First be, then speak.

not a cistern

a fountain, and

the stream

;

it is

be big and impulsive

new channels for

itself,

it

The

full life is

must overflow.

it

but somehow

it

than rivers

The is

to

will

gush

forth.

more made by the tricks of are created by watering pots.

your

life.

consistently.

self

rhet-

step toward attaining to an individual style

first

put good things,

things, into

The

vital,

picturesque,

The second third step

step is

is

significant

to be

your best

so to master the

means of expression that the rules of structure are sight

step is to

express your

sincerely.

— a literary as

lost

of and are become a sensitive literary conscience

prompt to warn of error and suggest the good.

life

If

even wash out

will

Great stylists are no oric

and

to write,

your

own

You

own

will then

self fearlessly

The

final

and interpret

have established your

style

habit precisely as worthy and as individual self.

What you

personality plus attainment.

write will be

marked by

'

STYLE

282

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

three great story writers passages which quite characteristic of their style. Comment on each, noting points of similarity and differSelect

from

you think are 2.

ence.

Macaulay observes that Samuel Johnson was not always 3. pompous. In a personal letter Johnson says, "A dirty fellow bounded out of the bed on which one of us was to lie " but in " Out of one of a book he describes the same incident thus the beds on which we were to repose, started up, at our entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from the forge." Discuss this ;

:

difference fully.

Note:

may think it wise to assign brief exersuch as writing an incident in several differfollowing closely the methods of Kipling, James, "0.

The

instructor

cises in imitation,

ent styles,

Henry," and others.

CHAPTER XV SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SHORT-STORY In fiction you

must walk by

sight

and not by

faith.

— Anony-

mous.

The smaller your object of artistry, the nicer should be your more careful your attention to minutiae. That, surely, would seem an axiom. You don't paint a miniature in the broad strokes that answer for a drop-curtain, nor does the weaver

touch, the

of a pocket-handkerchief give to carpet.

But the usual writer of

that fabric the texture of a fiction,

when

it

occurs to him

one of his second best ideas in the manufacture of a short-story, will commonly bring to his undertaking exactly the same slap-dash methods which he has found to serve in the construction of his novels. Where he should have where he brought a finer method, he has brought a coarser should have worked goldsmithwise, with tiny chisel, finishing exquisitely, he has .wcirked blacksmithwise, with sledge-hammer to utilize

.

.

.

;

and anvil; where, because the thing is little, every detail counts, he has been slovenly in detail. Anonymous, Quoted in How

—

to

Write a Novel.

In the chapter immediately preceding this, style in general

and some of

tice..

A

fuller

its

rhetorical qualities receive brief no-

examination of the general and special

properties of style

may

profitably be

you

the help

thorough text-book on knowledge of these formal principles important,

of a a

made with

rhetoric, for

essential.

force, ease,

How

to

and how

attain

clearness,

unity,

will find if

not

coherence,

to master the problems of selection

283

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

284

,

and arrangement, may best be studied systematically! The same is true of the choice of words, and the laws of description, exposition and narration. But for those

who

lack either the opportunity or the inclination for

such orderly study, one thing at least

is

indispensable

—

a careful examination of a few short-story masterpieces.

— Sir Joshua Reynolds observes — to compare "your with those of some

True on art

in his lectures

as

efforts

great master

which none

is

indeed a severe and mortifying

task, to

submit but such as have great views,

will

with fortitude sufficient to forego the gratification of

pres-

ent vanity for future honor."

When you

have summoned the resolution and the

hu-

mility to lay your case before so august a tribunal, look

for four things in the work of the master, and mould your own work accordingly

I.

The tone or

spirit.

lofty or

Harmony

of

Tone

of a literary composition It is

low

—

gay or grave,

all

sedulously

is its

satirical

temper, mood,

or sympathetic,,

dependent directly upon the theme and

upon the motive, or

purpose,'^ of the writer, whether he

himself has or has not fully recognized that purpose. ^ I prefer the term purpose because there seems to be some confusion of the terms motive as applied (a) to the germ idea in the literary material which gives rise to the story (treated as a chapter in Albright's The Short-Story) ; (b) motive as the conception in the story-teller's mind of an effect he wishes to produce; (c) motive as the actual theme or subject of the story; and, finally (d) the motive of the author as applied to his purpose in creating the fiction; whether, for instance, to instruct or amuse (treated very fully in Home's The Technique of the Novel).

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

the purpose, or motive, of

It is futile to try to limit

Any

the story-writer. in fiction.

The

purpose

short-story

fitting in life is

may

by

when

purpose

its

is

proper

be the theatre, the ros-

trum, the school-desk, or the pulpit best

285

— doing

unconfessed,

its

its

work

art concealed

art.

Since theme and purpose establish the tone, the tone

However,

must consistently pervade the whole story. that statement

To tions,

insist

needs a word of explanation.

upon congruity of tone

even extreme variations, of

through

it all

setting,

and

must breathe a plot,

may

is

not to forbid varia-

mood

in the story

single spirit.

story.''

The

from

but

furnish that delightful variety

which adds the piquancy of expected surprise. unity that arises

;

Characters,

this diversity

s'ets

may

story of tragedy

And

the

the tone of the

contain

humor

(if

you are not a classical purist), but the fun must not rival

the

the tragedy

laughter

;

pathos

may mingle

must tremble

close to tears.

demands good sense and pure

Congruity

taste.

The purpose of the short-story

know by his own

with laughter, but

how

writer, as determining

tone, is colored, I

not

as well as

individuality.

frequently than the short-story

fully,

by national

spirit

The

more

novel

shows the influences of

cosmopolitan thought, because the story of pure local color is

more

likely to

be short than to run to novel-

*In his Philosophy of Composition Poe sometimes applies the term tone to an effect within the story, as contributing to the " Having totality of impression for which he was working. chdsen a novel first, and secondly, a vivid effect, I consider whether it can be best wrought by incident or tone."

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

286 length.

locks

him

Mr. Bret Harte, an American Samson whose in London, nevertheless carried with native literary gods. In his article-on The Rise

were shorn

his

of the Short Story

^

he says

"

The secret of the American short story is the treatment of characteristic American life, with absolute knowledge of its peculiarities and sympathy with its methods

;

with no fastidious ignoring of

pression, or the inchoate poetry that

hidden in

its

its

may

habitual ex-

be found even

slang; with no moral determination except

which may be the legitimate outcome of the story with no more elimination than may be necessary for the artistic conception, and never from the fear of that

itself;

the fetich of conventionalism.

short story of to-day

Of

such

is

the American

— the germ of American

literature

to come." Is there, then,

an American

spirit

whose tone marks

the tone of the American short-story?

In The Study of the Novel,*' Professor Whitcomb has compiled a " comparison of critical estimates of national character " as furnishing " a natural basis for the study of national influence upon fiction.

These he

finds to be

:

English: " Energy with honesty (Matthew Arnold); " void of the sentiment of the beautiful more apt for

—

the sentiment of the true " (Taine).

^The Cornhill Magazine, July, 1899. A monument of labor and compressed

*

scholarship, invaluable,;^ to all students of fiction for suggestion and reference, but totfl condensed and analytical to admit of easy reading. f; ° Condensed from the orieinal text. :

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

287

" Lucidity and strong social sense " (Brune-

French: tiere)

German:

"Steadiness

governing

science

with

honesty

— the

idea

human

departments of

all

(Matthew Arnold). "

Italian:

What "

and

its

—

the

beliefs into

"

Spanish:

not

form and

love of perfect

Russian:

is

On

refined

is

artistic finish"

to

inability

not

of

activity

Italian

—

(Garnett).

bring

its

feelings

harmony" (Waliszewski). the one

hand empty honor,

careless

cruelty, besotted superstition, administrative conception,

and on the other sobriety, uncomplaining industry and cheerful

courage" (Matthews).

Essentially the

same

astute of the critics

essay

ideas are expressed by the

quoted — Matthew Arnold.

on Equality,^ he judges the Hebrew people

most

In his to

have

been preeminent in the righteousness of its laws. The Hellenic race stood for " The power of intellect and

power of beauty, the power of social life and manners." Four modern nations, he declares, proxscience, the

imately represent these several phases of perfect civilization:

the

British,

French, manners of

knowing a thing But to

me

it

conduct; the

and

social life

;

Italians,

beauty;

the Germans, the

the

power

scientifically.

seems that in America a

fifth spirit is pre-

eminent, modifying each of the other four as each in

measure enters into our national character: it is the spirit of practicality, the economic fitting of means to ends, together with a tremendous admiration larger or smaller

*

Mixed Essays.

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

288

for things American.

This

spirit

open-mindedness, to find out what

attempts, with rare it

wants, and then,

with characteristic adaptability, goes straight for

it

—

often too directly to consider the just claims of conduct, beauty, manners, and exact science, but

still

with an

in-

creasing understanding of these important elements of

and hence with a growing recognition

civilization,

their place

We

of

and value.

shall

find the foregoing national characteristics

tonally present in the fiction of the respective European nations, bell-like

and

distinct, at times,

overtone of suggestion.

faint

But

in

or again just a the

American,;

short-story the dual national notes are quite clearly heard.

The

our short-stories shows that two kinds are co-eminent the story of local color, growbriefest examination of :

ing out of our frankly naive, youthful wonder at 08|,i own infinite variety; and the story of achievement in business, politics, love

and war.

Other tones there

are,

of beauty and idealism, but these are present with, rather

than dominating the tones of practicality and local It will let

pride.

be most interesting to watch this youthful

us be glad to say

it,

fect its conceptions side

2.

and,

healthful spirit mature and per-

by

side with

its

expression.

j

Proportion

The perfect short-story has balance, proportion. What elaboration could make this more clear? The conscious artist

plans the order of events, giving to each

enough

stress to leacf up to

an

effective climax.

just

He care-

i

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS fully relates

description to narration.

proportioned to characterization ordinates

all

Conversation

effect.

7

Simplicity

The man who puts on so plainly the

is

a word, he co-

in

the parts so as to produce a unified

3.

is

—

289

airs

— has

" Fine writing "

to.

stamp of feebleness that no one but the

writer himself takes

it

So perhaps there

seriously.

is lit-

use in attempting to utter a warning against the habit

tle

but at

any rate

listen to these

words from Dr. Bird, an

editor of experience:

"

When

a tale begins,

slowly sinking

among

'

the

The golden orb of day was shedding an effulgent

hills,

glory over the distant landscape,' the discerning reader,

whether

official

He knows finds fine

it

or volunteer,

is

apt to pause right there.

exactly what happens

when

the orb of day

time to disappear, and he does not care for your

language unless

it

conveys a fact or an idea worth

noting."

And even

better is^his illustration

from the pen of

Frank Norris " Suppose, for instance, the

unwritten and one of us were

world that Christ ^

was born,

to

New

Testament •yas

called tell

of

upon

all

to tell the

how we had

seen

Those who do not wish to make ^fuH study of Esthetics find a satisfactory digest in WhiTcomb's The Study of a

will

Novel.

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

290

Him, that this was the Messiah. How the adjectives would marshal upon the page, how the exclamatory phrases would cry out, how we would elaborate and elaborate, and how our rhetoric would flare and blazen till the ear would ring and the so we should imagine very eye would be dazzled and even then we would beIt is lieve that our words were all so few and feeble. beyond words, we should vociferate. So it would be. words of ours. Can you not see That is very true how we should dramatize it? We would make a point

—

— ;

—

of the transcendent

stillness of the

hour, of the deep blue

of the Judean midnight, of the liplapping of Galilee, the

murmur of Jordan, the peacefulness of sleeping Jerusalem. Then the stars, the descent of the angel, the shepAnd our narrative would be herds all the accessories.

—

as

commensurate with the subject as the

ness of a

'

bright

would be striving

flippant smart-

reporter in the Sistine chapel.

'

We

up our innate incompetence,

to cover

our impotence to do justice to the mighty theme by elaborateness of design and arabesque intricacy of rhetoric.

" But on the other hand "

'

—

listen

The days were accomplished

that she should be de-

and she brought forth her first born son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a livered,

manger, because there was no room for them in the " Simplicity could

go no further."

'Simplicity in Art, from

The

inn.'

*

Responsibilities of the Novelist.

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS Compression

4.

The

29I

best phrasing of compression as a literary art

is

to

be found in Professor Matthews' encomium of Maupassant's " extraordinary gifts and his marvelous crafts-

His Short-stories are masterpieces of the art of story-telling, because he had a Greek sense of form, a Latin power of construction, and a French felicity of

manship.

style.

They

evitable,

ment. there

are simple, most of them; direct, swift, in-

and inexorable

in their straightforward

If art consists in the suppression of nonessentials,

have been few greater

passant.

artists in fiction

In his Short-stories there

wasted, and there

is

is

What

than

Mau-

never a word

Nor

never an excursus.

any feebleness or fumbling. did,

move-

is

there

he wanted to do he

with the unerring certainty of Leatherstocking,

ting the bull's-eye again

(a)

and again."

Compression must apply

hit-

^

to single sentences.

Arlo

Bates gives us this illustration in his admirable Talks on

Writing English.

"Water having been brought, Miss Corelli,^" thus proceded:

—

according to

Pilate,

"'Slowly lowering his hands, he dipped them in the shining them over and over again in the clear, cold element, which sparkled in its polished receptacle like an opal

bowl, rinsing

against the fire.'"

"

The Bible

necessary in " '

finds

it

possible to say

the words: —

Pilate took water,

and washed

'Philosophy of the Short-Story, In Barabbas.

1°

all

his hands.' p. 67.

of this that

"

is

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

29a

(b) Compression must extend to groups of sentences.

Here

is

a capital example from

Thomas Hardy

The bedroom which she shared with some of the children formed her retreat more continually than ever. Here, undfcr her few yards of thatch, she watched winds, and snows, and rains, gorgeous sunsets, and successive moons at their full. So close kept she that at length almost everybody thought she had gone." In William Allen White's "

Colonel Hucks," there take

is

The Home-Coming

a passage so compact that "

away a sentence would be

of to

to amputate a limb."

It was thus that young Colonel William Hucks brought his wife to Kansas. They were young, strong, hearty people, and they conquered the wilderness. home sprang up in the elbow of the stream.

A

long rows of corn-shucks trailed what had been the meadow. In the summer the field stood horse-high with corn. From the bluff, as the years flew by, the spectator might see the checker-board of the farm, clean cut, well kept, smiling in the sun. Little children frolicked in the king row, and hurried to school down the green lines of the lanes where the hedges grow. Once a slow procession, headed by a spring wagon with a little black box on it, might have been seen filing between the rows of the half-grown poplar trees, and out across the brown stubble-covered prairie, to the desolate hill and the graveyard. Now neighbors from miles around may be heard In the

fall

coming

in the rattling

tin

presents

lights,

;

after

wagons across vale and

which the

little

home

is

plain, laden with

seen ablaze with

while the fiddle vies with the mirth of the frolicking

party, dancing with the

wanton echoes on the

bluff across the

stream.

There were years when the light in the kitchen burned far when two heads bent over the table, figuring to

into the night, 11

Tess of the D'Urbervilles,

p. 93.

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

293

make ends meet.

In these years the girlish figure became bent and the light faded in the woman's eyes, while the lithe figure of the man was gnarled by the rigors of the struggle. There were days not years, thank God when lips forgot their tenderness; and as fate tugged fiercely at the barbed bit, there were times when souls rebelled and cried out in bitterness and despair at the roughness of the path. In this wise went Colonel Hucks and his wife through youth into maturity, and in this wise they faced toward the sunset.

—

—

Compression must pervade the whole plot; you

(c)

must draw "everything down to a point."

Simplicity,

and incidents withwhich the story would be other than it is, and an

the selection of those salient tones

out

eye for the striking in tials

of your art

word and deed

— and

your thought

As they

is

How

stuff.

is

if

your

sprawly

for (d) the length of short-stories, styles

do with coats

and again shorter.

— sometimes

The average

Build

can you write

hazy, vigorously

your mental habit

flabby, concisely if

man.

art expresses the

your inner self of compact clearly if

— these are essen-

they are

will is

1

change as

worn

longer,

length in the time of

Hawthorne and Poe was little short of ten thousand words. Nowadays, editors would think Poe's limit too long when he declared that, " If any literary work is too long to be read at one sitting, we must be content Irving,

to dispense ble

with the immensely important effect deriva-

quired, the affairs like totality is

at

—

two sittings be reof the world interfere, and everything

from unity of impression

for, if

once destroyed."

^^

The French masterpieces average about 5,000 words, ^^

Philosophy of Composition.

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

294

The

with some of the choicest reaching barely 3,000. British writers affect a limit of 6,000,

German and Rus-

American writers usually keep within 5,000, with the average reaching no more than 3,500. All in all, from 2,000 to 10,000 words is a fair statement of length, with some few even shorter sian stories run to 8,000, while

or longer.

Each magazine has its own length-limits, which you would do well to ascertain. Few periodicals accept shortstories of more than 5,000 words. The average short-story masterpiece, if we exclude those of Maupassant and Daudet, is longer than the average short-story. The expert often dares a broader canvas, and works in his detail more interestingly, than does the beginner. Even his name seems to warrant a somewhat longer story just as we listen rapt for an hour to a famous lecturer, and yawn over unadvertised eloquence that flows for more than thirty minutes at a

—

stretch.

"

Insurgent," by Halevy, has 2,000 words ; " The Siege of Berlin," Daudet, 2,750 words " Passion in " Tennessee's Partner," the Desert," Balzac, 3,000

The

A

;

;

Harte, 4,000; " Valia," Andreiev, 5,000; " Next to Reading Matter," " O. Henry," 6,000; " The Wind in the Rose Bush," Mary Wilkins Freeman, 6,750 ; " Scandal in

A

Bohemia," Doyle, 7,750; Taylor, 8,000 8,000;

"Will

;

"

The

"The Corpus

"Who Was

Fall of the

She?" Bayard

House of Usher,"

Delicti," Melville

D. Post,

Poe,

10,750;

"The

Gentle

Boy," Hawthorne, 12,000;" The Gold Bug," Poe,

i3,ocx);

o'

the Mill,"

Stevenson,

11,500;

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

"The Man Who Would Be King," " The Liar," Henry James, 20,000." These figures have

down

13,750;

value save to urge the begin-

little

ner to weigh his words.

Kipling,

295

The

story

must not be pared

to the skeleton proportions of

The Telegrapher's

Biography

Monday

Hired.

Tuesday

Wired.

Wednesday

Tired.

Thursday

Fired.

OUTLINE SUMMARY Special Characteristics of 1.

Harmony

2.

Proportion

3.

Simplicity

4.

Compression

the Short-story

of Tone National Spirit

(o) In Single Sentences (fc)

In Sentence Groups

(c) In the Plot

(d) Length of Short-stories

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

Revise one of your earlier stories with a view to congruity

of tone.

Find a short-story that exhibits the American spirit. From a popular magazine select several sentences which you can compress into clauses; then reduce the clauses into phrases, and, if possible, the phrases into words. 2.

3.

" See

also the twenty stories synoptised in

Appendix C.

296

SOME SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS

Try the effect of still further condensing Maupassant's The 4. Necklace, on page 326. (a) Compress the story of a college year into a paragraph, 5. (b) Compress the paragraph into a sentence.

The instructor may make other similar assignments. Discuss the effect of over-compression, upon the reader. Take up all your previous short-story attempts and review 7. their defects and merits in the light of what you have learned. 8. Write a final short-story, suiting your own tastes and striving to express your own conception of a good short-story. Note:

6.

PART III PREPARATION FOR AUTHORSHIP

297

The

is composed of numerous groups crying out Conamuse me, sadden me, touch me, make me dream, laugh, shudder, weep, think. But the fine spirit says to the artist: Make something beautiful in the form that suits you, according to your personal temperament. Guy de Maupassant, Pierre et

public

:

sole me,

—

Jean, Preface.

That story is good which is shot through with the author's which gives us most fully and entirely his perception and emotion and his personal vision of the world. He may personality,

perceive a multitude of things, but until he translates the ceptions into himself, impregnates significance,

Editorial,

his

May

story

amounts

to

23, 1908.

298

them with

— Harper's

little.

per-

individuality and

Weekly,

PART

III

PREPARATION FOR AUTHORSHIP

CHAPTER WHAT i

I

ORIGINALITY^

IS

There are two kinds of artists in this world: those that work is in them, and they cannot be silent if they would, and those that speak from a conscientious desire to make apparent to others the beauty that has awakened their own admiration. Anna Katherine Green, The Sword of Damocles.

because the spirit

—

Chaucer seems to original of poets.

.

me .

to .

have been one of the most purely

He

original not in the sense that

is

and says what nobody ever thought or said before, and what nobody can ever think and say again, but because he is always natural because if not absolutely new, he is always delightfully fresh; because he sets before us the world as it honestly appeared to Geoffrey Chaucer, and not a world as it seemed proper to certain people that it ought to appear. ^James Russell Lowell. he thinks

;

Samuel Johnson once said of Gray, the author of the Elegy, "

He was

people think

dull in a

him

great."

new way, and ^

that

made many

This savage criticism time

has disallowed, but the critic has at least

thrown a

^ Adapted from the author's How to Attract and Audience (Hinds, Noble & Eldredge, New York). ^Life of Johnson, Boswell, p. 241.

299

side-

Hold an

WHAT

300 light

Upon

originality.

nal matter

is

Originality

is

mind Here

ORIGINALITY

The great mass

new

merely old thought reset in

The Test of

form.

more important

to

Originality

know whether or

not your own

creative than to determine that fact as to others.

is is,

a sure test:

How

does

Does

it

my mind

act

when

it

receives

new

take in a thought and then give

in exactly or substantially the is

of alleged origi-

a relative term.

I.

It is

IS

given to the author, that

is

it

thought?

out again

same words?

If credit

quotation; otherwise

it is

literary theft.

my mind feel stimuand yet utter the received thought without change? That is expansion. Does my mind not only receive a stimulus from a new Upon

receiving a thought, does

lated to produce other thoughts,

thought but also assimilate

it,

clarify, transform,

and am-

so that in uttering that thought I utter it stamped with my own " image and superscription " ? That is

plify

it,

originality.

Such

is

the

nal thought

is

test.

a

new

It is as

birth

high as

— the

it is final.

fruit of a

An

union of

origi-

truth

from without and of thought from within. A fertile intellect, open to new ideas, sensitive to take them in, and ready both to act upon them and to be acted upon by them,

mind.

is that-

rarest of all intellectual beings, an original

^yHAT

IS

ORIGINALITY

301

Knapp Reeve makes

In Vawder's Understudy James

one of his characters remark that an original idea comes" to

miAd about once

a

come

and when

in a lifetime,

should be entertained.

it

mate for most minds.

This

is

does

it

too high an esti-

Ingenuity, novelty, cleverness,

And

they liiay have, but real originality never.

this is

They are in good company, and Even an original mind cannot always

not a disparagement.

have j/lenty of

show

it.

its fertility,

rise to

and many keen, cultured

intellects

never

originality in the high sense just set forth.

thermore,

Fur-

some thoughts never do more than stimulate

even a fertile mind, because they are complete in them-

To change would be

selves.

function into

is

And

a large part of our mental

the result of such stimulating suggestion.

not originality in the strictest sense,

though such

according to the popular use of the term. creative spirit that

many

original

who

It is the

able writers possess,

only to pure originality itself.

man

Their

not to fructify but to stimulate the mind

which they enter.

output is

is

to destroy them.

stands

on

Popularly, his

own

This it is

only

and second

we

feet,

call that

uses

the

and supplement his color borrowed thought

thoughts of others only to stimulate

own, and with the

who

does his best to

hue of

his

he be not a creator,

own is

personality.

at least

need never be a literary thief.

thought that will set the

welcome indeed.

Such a man,

if

a thinker, and a thinker

mind

The entrance of any to

working should be

WHAT

302 2.

Rare

IS

ORIGINALITY

The Sources

of Originality

as genuine originality

is,

the

number of

who attain thereto would ht largely increased make it the object of serious effort.

those

did writers .,

A study of the mental habits of original writers reveals| several suggestive facts.

(a) Original minds are observers of nature. The same perennial source-spring is open to all. Upon every hand are the facts of inanimate and animate nature which

Human beings are much same to-day as when their characteristic traits proved suggestive to Balzac and Stevenson. It needs but an alert, receptive mind to take these things and transforms

spoke so powerfully to others. the

them (b) tively.

into material for fiction.

Original minds have learned to think consecw-

This

is

We

an age of second-hand thinking.

ask for our milk malted, our meats peptonized, and our

books digested.

Reviews, condensations, and referenc^l

works, are quite as typical of the intellectual

life

of the

period as labor-saving devices are characteristic of

material world.

One marked tal

powers.

Short cuts are the mania of the

result of all this is its effect

Men

think consecutively

education

is

upon

are losing both desire and

in part

on other than business meeting

this lack;

the age.

the menability to

lines.

but only in

True, part,

for education cannot cope with the hop-skip-and-jump

mental habits fixed by the fragmentary the average

man skims

articles which

over in his daily reading. A 'i

WHAT

IS

ORIGINALITY

book that requires consecutive thought

3O3

is

generally voted

dry-as-dust.

Dr. Nicholas cation, in the

Murray Butler proposes

them he places 1.

five tests of

broadest sense of the term, and reflection.

edu-

among

Here they are:

Correctness and precision in the use of the mother

tongue. 2.

Those refined and gentle manners which are the

expression of fixed habits of thought and of action. 3.

4. 5.

The power and habit of reflection. The power of intellectual growth. Efficiency, the power to do.

But

if

the lack of consecutive thinking

is

so general

a failing, all the greater are the rewards oiifered to the writer

who

to his

powers of observation

is

willing to

and to think systematically.' him to crown his desire with gift. (c) Original minds cherish the companionship of great thoughts. How much might here be said! Three sentences must suffice. He who would produce original ideas must fertilize his mind by contact with the epochmaking thoughts of all ages. These he will find preserved to him in a few great books, and animating the minds of living men and women who are worth know-

add the ability to

reflect,

Originality waits for i

I

ing.

If there is

anything in a mind, such companion-

I

ship will call

it

forth.

Talks to Students on the Art of Study,_ Frank Cramer (The Co., San Francisco) is full of suggestion for those untrained in thinking. '

Hoffman-Edwards

WHAT

304

IS

ORIGINALITY

(d) Original minds dare

The word

meed of

as severe as the

yourself

to

— never

success said

imitate,"

Dare!

be themselves.

The

not ill-chosen.

is

penalty for failure is

great.

Emerson

— himself

most individual man. The quality of an earnest mind may be tested

Am

stand on

I willing to

my own

feet

now

writer

who

the winds,

dares to be himself, casting

may

begin by writing

than his companions

and invention vance of his

my

— rather than use crutches for the

of more rapid progress in the beginning?

crib,

and he original rivals. Far

less

so

very sake

The young

artificiality to

less brilliant stories

who copy and

will increase,

sional blunders of

a

in this:

— and

strengthen myself for future walking, even by

stumbling efforts

is

" Insist on

will

but his power

end far

in ad-

better the occa-

an original writer than the inane and

icy correctness of a lifeless imitator.

Doubtless natural gifts count for much, but

young writer

of great thoughts,

mind

will

him him cherish the companionship-j him dare to be himself, and his

patiently observe nature, let

consecutive thinking,

come

let

let

to be as original as its native capacity

will allow.

OUTLINE SUMMARY 1.

2.

let the

practise

The Test of Originality The Sources of Originality (o) Observation of Nature (6) Consecutive Thinking (c) High Thinking

(d) Daring to be Oneself

WHAT

IS

ORIGINALITY

305

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDIVIDUAL STUDY 1.

Do you

recall

any book which has

especially set

you

to

thinking?

In general, did you agree or disagree with it? Which stimulates you more, agreement or disagreement with another thinker? 2.

3.

4.

Which

stimulates you

most: books, observation, or

dis-

cussion ? 5.

Do

6.

What

your experiences influences

in this respect

work

vary?

against clear, consecutive thinking?

CHAPTER

II

TALENT AND TRAINING Genius

can never de Stael.

Madame

despise

think that most writers,

I

larly

good idea

into

some

labor.

when

— Abel

Stevens,

Life

of

they have got some particu-

and effective form only partly of their doing,

particularly lucid

of words, often feel that the job

is

and that a good deal of it, and probably the very best of it, came to them by processes more or less independent of their volition.

Nobody

work and mak-

writes without putting his will into the

but what comes is partly what is in him, and partly what is given him to say, and which is which he may not know, nor whence came what was given. What we ing the indispensable effort

call

;

literary talent, or, in its rarer

and more remarkable

form,

genius, seems to be the gift of having extra-good ideas come into the mind and clothe themselves with extra-good language. Very young writers have sometimes powers of expression which persons less lucky never get. There is an ear for language like

Girls of the most limited it. experience and youths of inadequate education seem now and then to possess by instinct the faculty of expression; of putting their words where they ought to go, and doing the trick that

the ear for music, and akin to

makes

literature.

— Edward

S.

Martin,

Writing,

Harper's,

Jan., 1908.

Are

short-story writers born or

Both. those

made?

'

If they are not born, they cannot be made, but

who

rely solely

upon

thing worth talking about.

talent never

The

306

ideal

amount

to any-

combination

is

,

TALENT AND TRAINING training

added

itself until

Superior ability never proves

to talent.

man

a

sets to

307

work.

John Burroughs has said of

what Emerson once

style

declared of certain methods in mathematics, that

So

communicable. that

it is

coin a

is

the artistic spirit.

impossible to implant talent, to inducate

word with a meaning

it is

in-

All must agree it

— to

just the opposite of educate,

which signifies to lead out.

Of course

apply this

I

and constructing writes Professor

to the talent for conceiving

" This gift of story-telling,"

Matthews, " can exist independently of

any other faculty.

He might

now

fictions.

It

may

be

all

that the possessor has.

be wholly without any of the qualifications of

the literator;

he might lack education and intelligence;

he might have no knowledge of the world, no experience of

life,

and no insight into character he might be devoid

of style,

;

and even of grammar

as nothing if

out that, he still

fail

—

all

only he have the gift of story-telling. With-

may have

all

the other qualifications and

as a writer of fiction."

These words are extreme, but fundamental truth.

^

we must

recognize their

Genius intuitively knows what

minds must needs be taught.

ser

the deficiencies are

which the genius moves

calls forth

les-

The atmosphere in " Thus his creations.

Shakespeare was never taught the principles of dramatic

Bach had an instructive appreciation of [the] laws harmony and Turner had some insight into the laws and understood."" painting they simply looked

art;

of of ^

;

—

—

The Gift of Story-Telling, in Aspects of Fiction. to Write a ATofs/ (published anonymously

'How

by Grant Richards), p. 4.

in

London

TALENT AND TRAINING

308

But while one writer springs, as did Minerva, fullpanoplied from the brow of Jove, a thousand, like Achilles, are born of lowlier parents, trained by demigods, and dipped in the Styx to

— and

even then one heel

is

make them

invulnerable

always subject to mortal

Since talent and the artistic spirit and the

wounds.

story-telling gift are incommunicable,

what

is it

that can

how master-fictionThough success can never ists have told their stories. be fully explained, nor guaranteed to those who will folWhy,

be taught?

the knowledge of

low a given course,

still

you may, by analyzing the results two things (and

attained by short-story artists, discover

two things the two important ones to know about any art) its subject matter, and its

these

—

the mechanics of

it

The

a question of

ability

remains to put

into, practice

the principles deduced

from the work of writers coloring

whom men

with the tone of your

all

thing to teach

how good

When Mr. sists in

Mr. Mabie

way

that art

difficulty to

is

art.

good

is

that, "

Art

we have

con-

before us two different

In the one, the short-story artist

attaining an effect which, in so far as

standard,

it is

short-story.

produce beauty," and

both the authors quoted refer to him

literary

It is one

" always and everywhere the best

of doing a thing,"

views of

spirit.

short-stories are written;

William Allen White says

surmounting

application;*

call great, while

own

quite another to teach one to write a

is

and

rest is

form.

it

—

is

— and

regarded

measures up

as

to a

perfect art; in the. other, the craft of the

workman

is

the artistic result

held in view.

The former

— we may explain and

—

that

illustrate and

TALENT AND TRAINING

We

analyze.

As

may

309

help and direct the worker, but no

", the best way of doing " thing a can be'taught in principle and in practice. But

more.

after all

to the latter quotation,

only the ivay to do

is

it

The same

itself.

it,

not the thing

is

it

distinction holds in teaching art of all

kinds.^

Mr: Shefwin Cody, in the Introduction to his collection of The World's Greatest Short Stories, utters some concise and illuminating words regarding both the nature of literary art and its special relation to the short-story. "

There are two kinds of

art,

conscious and uncon-

scious.

When

poet

born, not made,' they by no

is

the knights-errant of genius cry,

imply that form invents

its

is

nothing

own forms

perior to the

is

The

they are thinking,

to

Genius

'

unconsciously, which are far su-

forms selected by the conscious

uninspired by genius.

who

:

'

means intend

They ignore

inspired by genius, for there

who

artist

is

the conscious artist is

nothing at

all in-

The

compatible between conscious art and genius.

fact

however, that the history of nearly every special art

is,

that at first its

is

forms are unconscious,

experimental; and as in perfection

very nearly

and

is

evolution

it

or, let

us say,,

draws near

to'

its possibilities are realized to the full,

all its

That there

its

practitioners

become conscious

great need for story-writers to

more careful study of

their art

is

doubtless

artists."

make

a

more ap-

parent to the reader of manuscripts than to the average ^

Mr. Frank Norris presented a different view in his essay,

Novelists to Order, in

The

Responsibilities of the Novelist.

TALENT AND TRAINING

3IO

Men

and women who admit the necessity of preparation for doing any other work well, seem to asand themsume that authorship is a gift of the gods

writer.

—

selves the recipients of the divine favor!

One

of the judges of an important prize short-story

by

contest conducted

Walter Page. " So

many

good

for

Of

Collier's

Weekly

in 1905

those competing he says:

writers seemed to mistake good materials

stories that I

mistake in our time.

wonder Surely

this

if it

take to forget that story-telling

is

be not a common

a fundamental mis-

is

an

art,

a

difficult art,

A man who has a stirring fact or a thrilling experi-

too.

ence has not a story until he has used

way —- has

constructed

it,

Another experienced

mony, which

many

are

was Mr.

will

has built

literary

work

it

in

some proper

*

worker gives

be seconded by every editor

this testi:

" There

writers throughout the country, with good

education, with clear brains, their

it."

in print,

who

and with the ambition

are failing

to see

merely because they

are not familiar with the technique of the short-story." °

In this connection

known

it

is

interesting to note that well-

authors themselves differ widely in their estimates

of the value of a formal training for authorship as com-

pared with natural agree

ability.

foundation of success. * Collier's °

But upon one thing they

— that constant practice and hard work are

How

to

Not one

feels that

Weekly, Feb. 11, 1905. Write a Short Story, Leslie

W.

a native

Quirk.

all

at the gift,

TALENT AND TRAINING uncultivated, entitles

him

3II

And

to a hearing.

have

all

proved their faith by their works.

Upon

Thomas Wentworth Higginson

the one hand,

says, that

he came to literature by heredity, for the print-

er's

ink in his blood

felt

that he inherited

three hundred years old.

Stedman mother the knack of exLowell thought that " man's style is born with

pression.

is

from

his

Haeckel acknowledged nature " as the

him."

best mistress " in expression. "

owe nothing

Miss

Corelli professes to

Hall Caine says

to systematic training."

that without a " natural ear for prose "

"composition lace to

" Miss

do great things."

ever

and Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

method.

General

Ward

will

that

Lew Wal-

attribute nothing

George Moore says that he was never any-

Andrew Lang

thing but desultory in his studying.

thinks

Robert Barr, H. Rider Hag-

writing comes by nature. gard,

no writer "

Mulock " believed

a gift, not an art."

is

and

first

Arthur Morrison, and " John Oliver Hobbes " have

expressed themselves as doubtful of the value of special training " never

for

fiction

writing,

George

while

had a teacher competent

W.

Cable

to teach the art " of liter-

ary construction.

Of course not every

litterateur

is

able to judge of

what forces were most effective in contributing to his success.

The

literary

worker

if

value of that informal training which a is

The grow as they

unrecognized.

of talent both

constantly giving himself

is real,

even

author of genius and the writer labor.

Other authors, equally eminent, " The present which for training.

testify to their is

made

to

regard

some of us

TALENT AND TRAINING

312

our birth," says Jean Ingelow, " is not that same thing which the others can acquire by study, by thought, and

at

by time.

But though what

yet those

who have

was meant

is

required

a gift can never

is

not the same,

make

what

it

been added."

to be until the other has

it

Hux-

ley ascribed his literary ability to the fact that he had

learned " to spare no labour upon the process of acquiring clear ideas." Dowden thinks that " Genius is energy quite as

much

pendent upon

as insight;

and insight is as much deupon Divine gift." An-

tireless activity as

thony TroUope said that " there

is

well and also of writing easily."

Frank Norris

no way of writing

that in fiction " even a defective training

none."

Good

literary train-

Renan

declared that

men

Wilkie Collins.

training of the

mind

with which Taine

style ;"

of

declareds

better than

George Gissing thought highly of

ing, as also did

"

is

my

the only school of good agreed, saying that, " The is

time in France have

all

received a special

and laying much stress George Meredith counsels

training with a view to style,"

upon

classical

study, as does

discipline.

Marion Crawford.

Grant Allen attached

importance to education, and S. Baring-Gould served an " apprenticeship in literature." William Black

great

and Edward Eggleston recommended incessant practice. Sir Walter Besant believed in studying technique, as did Poe, Balzac,

Stevenson and Hawthorne.

Ambassador Bryce and John Burroughs advise the study of masterpieces

of English.

Parkman acknowledged his great Edward Everett Hale. Oliver

debt to training, as does

TALENT AND TRAINING

313

Wendell Holmes and Edgar Fawcett learned how not to write, by means of instruction." In the last analysis,

it is

a personal problem to discover

what course one should pursue

The

ship.

critic' hesitates

in

preparing for author-

upon any

to lay his finger

one thing as indispensable, for fear of having some one arise

and triumphantly point out that

this

author and that

succeeded without any education, another without having read Shakespeare or even his

— and

aesthetics

own

contemporaries, an-

any knowledge of grammar,

other without

so on.

However,

it

is

rhetoric,

recommend a secondary-school course and, a college career as well. tutions are

Many

schools

if

possible,

and higher

insti-

giving courses in the short-story, while

composition,

in

studies

now

and

surely safe to

rhetoric,

aesthetics,

As

English novel cannot but be helpful.

no professional schools of authorship,

and

the

we have though we are yet,

promised that which seems more practicable

—a

school

of journalism.

Then there

is

no want of admirable books

'

on

all

these

and cognate subjects, with occasional lecture-courses as

A

well.

suggested laboratory method for the study of

short-story

But by

all

persistently,

A

models

is

fully outlined in a later chapter.

odds the most useful thing then revise, and then

is

to write.

Write

— perhaps destroy, per-

cited above are condensed from statements contributed by the authors named, to The Art of Authorship, compiled and edited by George Sainton '

number of the testimonies

original

New York). 'See Appendix E.

(Appleton,

TALENT AND TRAINING

314

Be

haps preserve, perhaps publish!

grateful for

gent criticism whenever you can get

it,

" In

intelli-

whether from

my own

teacher or from an active editor. says Mr. Howells, " I noticed that the contributors

could best be

left to

themselves were those

a

case,"

who

who were

most amenable to suggestion and even correction, who took the blue pencil with a smile, and bowed gladly to

Those who were on

the rod of the proofreader. for offense,

alert

who

resented a marginal note as a

and bumptiously demanded that

slight,

printed just as they had written

much more

the

it,

their

work

were commonly

be not

desired by the reader than by the editor."

If a chance opens to

do newspaper work, you

will

but profitable school; though it leaves and less energy for fiction writing; ahd, as Charles Dudley Warner has pointed out, the newspaper reporter must cultivate compression at the expense find

a

it

little

difficult

leisure

of his power to elaborate.'

But whatever you

do,

do not

The way

as a life-work.

is

lightly

long,

To

both slight and slow to materialize. a trade, to

is

Succeed adopt

in

some an avocation,

it

literature

some,

some a

are

literature

profession."

as an avocation before you venture

fiction as

having

to

take up

and the rewards

your

" visible

means of support."

set professional authorship as

not the lightest hint that will

your

make your

to

But

goal, despise

preparation

more thorough and adequate. Literature and Life. See Our English, A. S. Hill, chapter on English in Newspapers and Novels. 1° See Journalism and Literature, H. W. Boynton. 8

»

TALENT AND TRAINING Consider these words written by "

young

a

for all

They

friend.

who would

315

Mark Twain

" to

are an allegory, serious and big,

essay the literary

life.

"There is an unwritten law about human successes, and your must bow to that law, she must submit to its require-

sister

ments. "

In brief, this law is: occupation without an apprenticeship.

No No

I.

"2.

pay to the apprentice.

This law stands right in the way of the subaltern who wants and it stands (and to be a General before he has smelt powder should stand) in everybody's way who applies for pay and position before he has served his apprenticeship and proved him"

;

self."

But even the apprentice must exercise not be afraid to do things your ful to

the coloring of your

has put

it.

initiative, so

—

spirit," as

" to

do

be faith-

Walter Pater

In his preface to Pierre et Jean, Maupas-

sant finely says self

own

own way

:

"

Each of us

.

.

.

forms for him-

an illusion of the world, an illusion poetical, senti-

mental, joyous, melancholy, unclean, or dismal, accord-

ing to his nature." tion is to cultivate

To some,

I

dom; effort.

So the biggest part of your preparayour personality.

rules are fetters

to others, belts

"

which despoil them of

which gird the

Good judgment

lies at

free-

loins for successful

the far end of a long

But the well-trained mind comes after and the wrong of each step." ^^ Finally, I wish that every timorous worker might read and digest " The Magic Story," whose message, in brief, and up-hill road.

awhile to feel the right

is

this

^-

'1

Talks to Students on the Art of Study, Cramer.

TALENT AND TRAINING

3l6

" Go, therefore,

and do that which

is

within you to do;

take no heed of gestures which beckon you aside; ask of no

man

permission to perform."

^^

OUTLINE SUMMARY Talent and Training Talent Incommunicable Relation of Art to Talent Relation of Training to Talent

Education and Study

Newspaper work Apprenticeship 12

Frederic

York).

Van

Rensselaer

Dey

(Success

Company, New

CHAPTER III ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY The knowledge of words

is

The term "vocabulary meaning.

general

upon the

the gate of scholarship.

" has a special as well as

are indeed

All vocabularies

common everyday words own

a

based

of the language, but

number of words of Such words may be

each special vocabulary possesses a peculiar value for its

— Wilson.

objects.

used in other vocabularies also, but the fact that they are suited to special

a unique order of expression marks them as of

value to a particular craft or calling.*

In this respect the short-story writer differs not at

from the poet, the novelist, the

To

his

scientist,

all

the traveler.

everyday stock he must add words of value for

his special

work.

The

careful study of the diction of a

single great story will yield richer results

than the hasty

reading of a score, be they never so famous. truly possesses

a word until he knows

its

No

one

exact meaning,

" An author's vocabHancock says those words kinds, latent and dynamic latent those he can readily use. Every he understands; dynamic intelligent man knows all the words he needs, but he may not have them all ready for active service. The problem of literary diction consists in turning the latent into the dynamic." ^

Professor Albert E.

ulary is of

two

:

—

:

—

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY

3l8 understands

and has

relation to Other words,

its

it

ready

for use.

How

can

this

be accompHshed?

Gather Words from the Stories of Effective Writers.

I.

Determination and method will do wonders. When you see a familiar word used in an unfamiliar sense, jot it down, look it up, and master it. I have in mind a

who acquired new words he heard or read.

writer and speaker of superior attainments his vocabulary

by noting

all

These he mastered and put

became

lary

large, varied,

accurately five times and

2.

Do

Form

into use.

and

it is

exact.

Soon his vocabuUse a new word

yours.

the Dictionary Habit

not be content with your general knowledge

of

Press your inquiry until you have grasped

its

a word.

individual shade of

become

meaning and usage.

despicable, but accuracy never.

Fluency may

The

dictionary

contains the crystallized usage of intellectual giants.

one

who would

tions

write effectively dare despise

No

its defini-

and discriminations.

3.

Seek Diligently for the Right

Word

This involves a careful study of synonyms and tonyms.

Fortunately, there

is

an-

no lack of excellent man-

uals for ready reference.

" I

am growing

so peevish about

my

writing,"

says

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY Flaubert.

who

" I

am

like

a

man whose

319

ear

is

true, but

plays falsely on the violin: his fingers refuse to

reproduce precisely those sounds of which he has the

inward sense.

Then

the poor scraper's

hand."

to

eyes

come

say,

rolling

and the bow

down from

falls

from

his

^

The same brilliant Frenchman Guy de Maupassant "

sent this sound advice

Whatever may be the thing which one wishes to there is but one word for expressing it, only one

verb to animate is

the tears

it,

only one adjective to qualify

essential to search for this

this adjective, until fied

word, for

they are discovered, and to be

It

it.

this verb,

for

satis-

with nothing else."

Walter Savage Landor once wrote, " I hate false words, and

seek with care, difficulty and moroseness

fit the thing." So did Sentimental Tommy, by James M. Barrie in his admirable novel bearing his hero's name as a title.' No wonder T. San-

those that as related

became an author and a

dys

Tommy, with another Day

in

ship.

word.

^ ^

lad, is

writing an essay on "

A

Church," in competition for a university scholar-

He

gets on finely until he pauses for lack of a For nearly an hour he searches for this elusive

thing, until

up,

lion

suddenly he

and he has Quoted

lost!

is

told that the allotted time

Barrie

may

in Appreciations, Pater, Sentimental Tommy, Scribner.

tell

p. 30.

the rest:

is

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY

320 Essay!

It

was no more an essay than a twig

is

a

tree, for

gowk had

the

stuck

is

stuck in the middle of his second page. Yes, the right expression, as his chagrined teacher had to

admit when the boy was cross-examined. He had not been "up to some of his tricks " ; he had stuck, and his explanations, as you will admit, merely emphasized his incapacity. He had brought himself to public scorn for lack of a word. What word ? they asked testily ; but even now he could not tell. He had wanted a Scotch word that would signify how many people were in church, and it was on the tip of his tongue, but would come no farther. Puckle was nearly the word, but it did not mean so many people as he meant. The hour had gone by just like winking; he had forgotten all about time while searching his mind for the word.

The tattie

other five [examiners] were furious. doolie," Cathro roared, "

.

.

.

"You

little

were there not a dozen words

from if you had an ill-will to puckle? What ailed you manzy, or " " I thought of manzy," replied Tommy, wofuUy, for he was ashamed of himself, "but but a manzy's a swarm. It would mean that the folk in the kirk were buzzing thegither like bees,

to wile at

—

instead of sitting

still."

"

Even if it does mean that," said Mr. Duthie, with impatience, "what was the need of being so particular? Surely the art of essay-writing consists in using the first word that comes and hurrying on." "That's how I did," said the proud McLauchlan [Tommy's successful competitor]. " I see," interposed '

there being a

.

.

.

Mr. Gloag, " that McLauchlan

mask of people

in the church.

Mask

speaks is

a

of fine

Scotch word." " I thought of mask," whimpered Tommy, " but that would mean the kirk was crammed, and I just meant it to be middling full."

"

Flow would have done," suggested Mr. Lorrimer.

" Flow's but a handful," said

Tommy.

"Curran, then, you jackanapes!" " Curran's

no enough."

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY

32

Mr. Lorrimer flung up his hands in despair. wanted something between curran and maslc,'' said Tommy, doggedly, yet almost at the crying. Mr. Ogilvy, who had been hiding his admiration with difficulty, spread a net for him. " You said you wanted a word that meant middling full. Well, why did you not say middling full or " I

—

mask?" "Yes, why not?"

fell

demanded the

ministers,

unconsciously

caught in the net.

wanted one word," replied Tommy, unconsciously avoid-

" I

ing

it.

" You jewel " muttered Mr. Ogilvy under his breath, but Mr. Cathro would have banged the boy's head had not the !

ministers interfered.

"It

is

so easy, too, to find the right word," said Mr. Gloag.

no;

it's as difficult as to hit a squirrel," cried and again Mr. Ogilvy nodded approval.

"It's

Tommy,

And then an odd thing happened.

As they were preparing to [Cathro having previously run Tommy out by the neck], the door opened a little and there appeared in the aperture the face of Tommy, tear-stained but excited. " I ken leave the school

word now," he cried, " it came to me a' at once it is hantle " Mr. Ogilvy said in an ecstasy to himself, "He had . . to think of it till he got it and he got it. The laddie is a the

;

.

genius

4.

!

—

!

Discuss

Words With Those Who Know Them

Since the short-story closely follows the diction of

everyday speech, in

many

conversation with cultivated

discussion takes the

may be acquired men. And when such

useful words

form of disputation

as to the

mean-

and usages of words, it must prove doubly valuable. The development of word-power marches with the ings

growth of individuality.

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY

322

not Overlook the Value of Translating Languages

Do

5.

6.

A

Study

may

flood of light

word

origin of a essentially

Word

Derivations

stream over a subject when the

A prefix or a

disclosed.

is

stififix

may

change the force of the stem, as in master-ful

and master-ly, contempt-ible and contempt-uous, envi-ous and envi-able. Thus to study words in groups, according to their stems, prefixes and suffixes, is to gain a mastery over their shades of meaning, and introduce us to- other related words.

Do

7.

not Favor one Set or Kind of

Words more

than

Another " Sixty years and

more

ago,

Lord Brougham,

address-

ing the students of the University of Glasgow, laid down the rule that the native (Anglo-Saxon) part of our vo-

cabulary was to be favored at the expense of that other

come from the Latin and Greek. The was an impossible one, and Lord Brougham himself

part which has rule

never tried seriously to observe great writer

made

highly composite, but the

Quincey's phrase, at

difficult *

;

nor, in truth, has any

Not only is our language| component words have, in De

'

happily coalesced.'

It is easy to

'

in -osity

&

'

it

Handbook of English Composition, Hart,

Noble

jest

and -ation, as dictionary words, and But even Lord Brougham would have found to dispense with pomposity and imagination."*

words

the like.

it

the attempt.

Eldredge,

New

York).

p.

341

(Hinds,

ACQUIRING A VOCABULARY

OUTLINE SUMMARY Acquiring a Vocabulary 1.

Gather Words

2.

Form

From

Effective Writers

the Dictionary Habit

6.

Seek Diligently for the Right Word Discuss the Meanings of Words Translate Foreign Languages Study Word Derivations

7.

Practise Variety

3.

4. 5.

323

CHAPTER

IV

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY A LABORATORY METHOD The more we

the

study,

more we discover our

— Shelley, Scenes from Calderon.

ignorance.

Let the student take any representative short-story and

make a study

of the author's method, noting the merits

and the defects of the its

story,

with particular reference

essential parts, after the

method employed

manner of the

in the following study.

to

dissecting

First read the

story through to gain a general impression; then sum-

marize that impression as briefly as possible.

Read

out a short scenario. to

make a study of

Next

write

the story a third time, slowly,

parts, noting results as in the ap-

its

pended example.

THE NECKLACE BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT (185(^1893)

Happy selves,

are they

whom

and be content

a vast disgust, DE Maupassant.

.

.

.

.

life .

.

who can amuse themwho have not discovered, with

satisfies,

that all things are a weariness.

324

— Guy

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

325

Maupassant was a Latin of good,

clear, solid head, a maker sentences shining like gold, pure as the diamond having the good sense, logic, balance, power, and clear-

of beautiful .

.

.

— ^mile

ness of. the old French blood.

Zola.

He who

destroys the ideal destroys himself. In art and in life Maupassant lived in the lower order of facts, the brutal world of events unrelated to a spiritual order. He drained his

power of sensation and reaction; he plunged headlong into the sensual life upon which they opened when the luminous heaven above the material world was obliterated. senses of the last

Madness always lies that way as a matter of physiology as well and Maupassant went the tragic way of the sensualist since time began. Hamilton W. Mabie. as of morals,

—

Maupassant saw life with his senses, and he reflected on it animal revolt, the recoil of the hurt animal. His observation is not, as it has been hastily assumed to be, cold; in a purely

it

is

as superficially emotional as that of the average sensual

man, and of feeling.

its

cynicism

He

saw

is

only another, not

life in all its

details,

less superficial,

and

his soul

kind

was en-

He saw it without order, without recomhe saw it too clearly to be duped by appearances, and too narrowly to distinguish any light beyond what seemed to him the enclosing bounds of darkness. Arthur Symons.

tangled in the details. pense, without pity;

Maupassant was the most finished short-story writer of all; and so he missed much of the world's beauty. An inflexible realist, he pressed his method From life's farther than did Flaubert, his uncle and preceptor. raw materials he wove incomparably brilliant fiction- fabrics, equally distinguished for plot, characterization, and style. Bebut he lacked spiritual power,

sides

"

The Necklace,"

"The

his ablest short-stories are "

"The

"A

The Ven-

Coward," "Moonlight," "Little Soldier," "The ConfesThirteen of his stories have been sion," and "The Wreck." collected in "The Odd Number" (Harper), with an Introduction detta,"

Piece

of

String,"

"Tallow-ball,"

by Henry

James.— The Author.

Horla,"

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

326

THE NECKLACE (Published in 1885.

Length about three thousand words).

She was one of those pretty and charming girls who, as if by an error of destiny, are born into a family of clerks. She had no dowry, no expectations, no means of being known, understood, loved, wedded, by any rich and distinguished man, and she let herself be married to a minor clerk at the Ministry of Public

She dressed

plainly

since

from her proper

women have their

beauty, grace,

and

fineness, instinct for

of

hierarchy, and

3.

life.

su^

atmosphere

French gested.

Hint of unhappy

tone.'

Sordid.

Note force of "

let."

1[

i.

Catastrophe strikes the tone.

station; for

wit,

and charm act birth.

what are

Author

philosophizes.

Natural

is elegant,

their

sole

make from women of

the people the equals of the greatest

of great

Pessimistic view of

neither caste nor race;

instead of family

suppleness

central

figure.

she

could not dress well, but she was as unhappy as a woman who has really fallen

of

Character-study

Note compression of

Instruction. 2.

INTRODUCTION BEGINS

ladies.

She suffered

endlessly,

feeling

herself born for all the delicacies and

the luxuries of life. She suffered on account of the poverty of her dwelling, from the wretched look of the walls, from the dilapidated chairs, from the ugliness of the curtains. All those things of which another woman of her caste would never

Author himself good family.

Eey

of

elaborated

sentence,

throughout U

man

a

3.

all

even have been conscious, tortured her and made her angry. The sight of the little Breton servant who did her humble housework aroused in her despairing regrets and distracted

Maupassant's own the refinements

would

Setting

dictate this.

by

contrast.

love

of

of life

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY She thought of the silent hung with Oriental

dreams.

antechambers

lighted by tall bronze canand with two great footmen in knee-breeches who dozed in the big arm-chairs, made drowsy by the heavy warmth of the stove. She dreamed of the long salons fitted up

327

We

feel the contrast just as the heroine does.

fabrics,

delabra,

with old

silk,

ture

carrying

and

of

priceless

ceeds

from

-the

general

to the particular.

curiosities,

perfumed

coquettish

made

Throughout, Maupassant pro-

of the delicate furni-

the

boudoirs

Picture.

for talks at five o'clock

men

with intimate friends, with

fa-

mous and sought after, whose notice all women envy and desire.

When

4.

cloth

she sat

down

to dine be-

round table covered with a

fore the

days old,

three

her

opposite

husband, who, as he uncovered the soup-tureen,

chanted I

air,

don't

that,"

declared with an en" Ah, the good old stew

know anything

better

than

she thought of dainty dinners,

of gleaming

silverware,

Discontent

still

more

partic-

ularized.

of tapestry

which peopled the walls with ancient personages and with strange birds in

a fairy forest; and she dreamed of delicious dishes served on wondrous plates, and of the whisthe midst of

pered gallantries to which you listen with a sphinx-like smile, while eating

a trout or the wing

the pink flesh of

of a fowl.

She had no

5.

nothing.

els,

else;

she

fine dresses,

And

felt that

no jew-

she loved nothing

she was

made

for

She would so have liked to please, to be envied, to be charming that.

and sought after.

Summary ot Ihtroductioh, WHICH ENDS HERE. FOUNDATIOH CRISIS.

FOR

MAIK

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

328

6. She had a rich friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, whom she did not like to go and see any more, because she suffered so much when she c^me home. She wept whole

Character description by example.

days.

evening 7. One turned home with holding a large hand. 8. " There," said

husband

re-

a conqueror's envelope in

air,

her

he, " is

First plot incident.

his

something

for you." 9. She tore the paper sharply, and drew out a printed card on which were these words

10.

"The

Minister

of

In-

Public

and Mme. Georges Ramponneau ask the honor of M. and Mme. Loisel's company at the palace of the Ministry on Monday evening, January i8th." struction

Note " sharply."

Name first

mentioned

for

the

and then

only

locality here

and

time,

casually.

Mention of

there fixes

the setting as

being in Paris.

Winter.

11. Instead of being overjoyed, as her husband hoped, she threw the invitation on the table with disdain,

murmuring

Minor-climax.

"What do you

12.

expect

me

to

do with that?" 13. " Why, my dear, I thought you would be glad. ,You never go out, I had and this is a fine opportunity tremendous difficulty in getting it. Every one wants to go; they are greatly sought after, and they are !

'

not

giving

whole

official

many world

to

clerks.

The

will be there."

She looked at him with an irriand said, impatiently: 15. "And what do you expect me to put on my back?" 14.

tated eye,

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY 16.

He

17.

"Why," he stammered, "the

had not thought of

that.

you wear to the theater.

dress

looks very well to 18.

that

He

stopped,

his

wife

me —

stupefied,

was

ners of her eyes

It

seeing

Two

weeping.

great tears ran slowly

from the cor-

"What's the matter?" he stut"What's the matter?" tered. 20. But by a violent effort she had conquered her grief, and she replied, in a calm voice, as she wiped her 19.

wet cheeks:

"Nothing; only I have no and therefore I can't go to ball. Give your card to some,

dress, this

Just as tears really flow.

towards the corners

mouth.

of her

21.

329

whose

colleague

wife

is

Stammering,

stuttering,

and

blank questions show stupefaction.

Most

writers said " eyes."

would

bave

Developing incident.

better

equipped than I."

He was

22.

sumed 23. "

in

despair.

He

re-

:

Come,

let

How much would

us it

see,

Mathilde.

cost, a suitable

which you could use on other something very simple ? " reflected a few seconds, 24. She making her calculations and also wondering what sum she could ask without drawing on herself an immediate refusal and a shocked exclamation from the economical clerk. 25. Finally she replied, hesitatdress

Contrast her passionate disposition with his practicality throughout.

occasions ;

ingly 26.

:

" I

don't

think I could

know

exactly, but I

manage with four hun-

dred francs." 27. He grew a little pale, for he had laid aside just that amount to

Hint

at

character,

disclosed

without

description.

which

is

formal

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

330

buy a gun and little

himself to a

treat

summer shooting on

the plain

with several friends who went to shoot larks down there, on Sundays. 28. But he said: Nanterre,

of

29.

four

"All right. I will give you hundred francs. And try to

have a pretty dress." 30. The day of the ball drew near, and Mme. Loisel seemed sad, uneasy, anxious.

Her

dress

was

Local

color.

Scarcely

any

in this story.

Thoughtless and dense, but not really selfish.

End 0? MINOR

CRISIS.

This entire incident not only reveals character but lays the foundation for the

main

crisis.

ready,

however. Her husband said to her one evening: Come, 31. "What is the matter? you've been very queer these last three days." 32.

And

33. " It

she replied:

annoys

me

to have not a

single jewel, not a single stone, noth-

ing to put on. I

go at

all."

34.

He

35. "

I shall look like dis-

should

tress.

Further foundation uaih crisis.

almost

rather

not

rejoined:

You might wear

natural flow-

They are very stylish at this time of year. For ten francs you oan get two or three magnificent ers.

roses." 36.

She was not convinced. No there's nothing more hu-

37. "

;

miliating than to look poor

other

women who

among

are rich."

But her husband cried: How stupid you are Go hunt up your friend Mme. Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels. You're quite thick enough with her 38.

39. "

to do that."

!

See H

6.

Further progress main crisis.

towaui

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY She uttered a cry of

40.

41. " It's true.

I

331

joy.

never thought of

No

waste

talk.

that."

The next day she went

42.

to her

and told of her trouble. Mme. Forestier went to

friend

a 43. wardrobe with a glass door, took out a large jewel-case, brought it back to

Mme.

" Choose,

44.

opened

Loisel,

my

it,

and said:

dear."

Some might true

crisis.

call

this

the

Second Plot

Incident.

Locdl color.

Note

compression

through-

out.

She saw first of all some bracethen a pearl necklace, then a Venetian cross, all gold and precious 45.

lets,

stones,

an admirable piece of workShe tried on the orna-

manship.

ments

before

the

glass,

hesitated,

Character development.

make up her mind to part them, to give them back. She

could not

with

kept asking: 46.

"Haven't you any more?"

47.

"Why,

yes,

look.

I

See how unconsciously she invites her fate.

don't

know what may

strike your fancy." Suddenly she discovered in a black satin box a superb necklace of diamonds; and her heart began to beat with an immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as she took it up. She fastened it around her throat, outside high-necked her dress, and remained lost in ecstasy at the sight of her own image. 48.

Description by effect.

Then she asked, hesitatingly, an anguish of suspense: 50. " Can you lend me this, only 49.

in

this?" 51.

"Why,

yes, certainly."

She sprang upon the neck of her friend, kissed her passionately, then fled with her treasure. 52.

Contrast with H 49.

Minor climax, and iupostant main

advance crisis.

toward

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

332

The day bf the ball arrived. Loisel made a triumph. She

S3-

Mme.

—

was prettier than them all, elegant, gracious, smiling, and mad with joy. All the men stared at her, asked her name, endeavored to be introduced. the attaches of the Cabinet wanted to waltz with her. She was noticed by the Minister himself. 54. She danced with intoxication, with passion, drunk with pleasure, forgetting all in the triumph of her beauty, in the glory of her success, in a sort of cloud of happiness composed of all that homage, of all that

Third Plot Iucident.

The

Contrast.

partial

at-

tainment of her desires produces a marked change in atmosphere.

All

of all those awakened and of that complete victory which is so sweet to woman's heart. 55. She left about four o'clock in the morning. Her husband had been sleeping since midnight in a little

Climax by arrangement.

admiration, desires,

FotTETH Plot Incident. Character contrast, supported by surroundings blazing

—

ball-room,

deserted anteroom, with three other

gentlemen whose wives were having a very good time. 56. He threw over her shoulders the wraps which he had brought modest garments of everyday life, whose poverty contrasted with the

deserted Irony.

room.

A

trifle

ante-

sardonic.

—

elegance of her ball dress. She felt and wanted to escape so as not to be noticed by the other women this,

who were

Touch of

nature.

enveloping themselves in

costly furs. 57. Loisel

58.

"Wait

held her back.

a

little.

You'll

Consistently dense.

catch

go and call a cab." not heed him, but rapidly descended the stairs. When they were in the street, they could cold outside. 59.

She

did

Preparation

I'll

crisis

por

well hidden.

uaik

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY not find a disengaged carriage,

333

and

began to look for one, shouting after the cabmen whom they saw passing at

a distance.

They went down towards the

60.

At

shivering

despair,

in

Seine,

with

on the quay one of those ancient noctamcold.

found

they

last

bulant coupes, which, just as

if they were ashamed to uncover their mis-

ery during the day, are

never seen in

Local color.

Paris until after nightfall.

took them to their door in Rue des Martyrs, and once more, now sadly, they climbed up to their apartment. All was ended for her. And as for him, he reflected that he 61. It

the

must

be

Ministry

the

at

by

First mention of their ** place."

Note

fall

of

spirits

home

in

the

story. Still

acting " in character."

ten

o'clock.

She removed the wraps which

62.

covered her shoulders, standing be-

so as once

fore the glass, see

herself

suddenly necklace

in

she

all

her

uttered

more

to

glory.

But

cry.

The

a

was no longer around her

Contrast.

Main

crisis segihs.

neck! 63.

Her husband, already demanded

half un-

dressed, 64. "

What

is

the

matter

with

you?" 65. She turned madly towards him. 66. "I have I've lost I have Mme. Forestier's necklace." 67. He sprang up, distracted.

—

'

What !— how ?— And they looked

68. " 69.

—

Impossible

" !

in the folds

of the dress, in the folds of the cloak, in all

the pockets, e«ferywhere.

did not find

it.

They

Note emotional expression in these paragraphs.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

334

He

70.

asked: You're sure you had

71. "

when you 72. "

left

Yes, I

the ball ?

on

it

"

felt it in

the vestibule

you had

lost it in the

of the palace." 73. " But, if

we

street It

should have heard

it

fall.

must be in the cab." Probably. 74. "Yes.

Did

you

number?" "No. Didn't you

notice

it?"

take the 75.

76. "

No." 'JT. Thunderstruck, they looked at one another. At last Loisel put on his clothes. 78. " I shall

he,

" over

go back on

walked, to see 79.

foot," said

whole distance

the

if

I can't find it."

And he went

out.

She

sat

there on a chair in her ball dress, without strength to go to bed, over-

whelmed,

Practicality.

we

without

fire,

without

Emotion shown by

inaction.

a

thought. 80.

Her husband came back about

He

seven o'clock.

Suspense.

had found noth-

ing. 81.

He went

ters, to

to Police

the newspaper

Headquar-

offices,

to offer

a reward; he went to the cab comeverywhere, in fact, whither panies he was urged by the least suspicion

—

of hope. 82.

She waited

state of

mad

all

day, in the

same

fear in the face of this

terrible calamity. 83. Loisel

returned at night with

hollow, pale cheeks; he had discov-

ered nothing.

Note natural order efforts

jewels.

at

of

his

recovering the

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY "You

must

write to your "that you have broken the clasp of her necklace, and that you are having it mended. That will give us time to turn around." 85. She wrote at his dictation. 86. At the end of a week they 84.

said

friend,"

had

he,

And

practical

nates

the

mind

emotional

domitem-

perament in this crisis. Emotional excitement declines,

suspense subdued.

Despair shown ty short sentences.

lost all hope.

87.

The

335

who

Loisel,

had aged

five

Description by suggestion.

years, declared: 88. "

We

must consider how

to re-

place the necklace."

The next day they took the box had contained it, and they went to the jeweler whose name was 89.

FiMH

Plot Incident.

which

within.

He

go. " It

consulted his books.

was not

sold that necklace

;

I,

I

Madame, who

simply furnished

Forecast of denouement, yet not disclosed.

the case." 91.

Then they went from jeweler

to jeweler, like

searching for a necklace

the other, consulting their

ories, fairly sick,

chagrin

mem-

both of them, with

and with anguish.

In a shop at the Palais Royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like 92.

Sixth Plot Incident. Then (1886) the jewelry center of Paris.

was worth

one she had lost. It thousand francs, but they could have it for thirty-six thousand. 93. So they begged the jeweler not the

forty

to sell

it

for three days,

Verisimilitude.

making a

he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand francs, in case they found the lost necklace before the end of February. thousand 94. Loisel had eighteen francs which his father had left him. He would borrow the rest. bargain that

Verisimilitude.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

336

9S. He did borrow, asking a thousand francs of one, five hundred of

another, five louis here, three louis

He gave notes, assumed ruinous obligations, dealt with usurers, there.

and

He life,

money

the race of

all

compromised risked

lenders.

the rest of his signature without

all

his

even knowing if he would be able to meet it and, frightened by the pangs yet to come, by the black misery which was about to fall upon him, by the prospect of all the physical privations and of all the moral tortures he was yet to suffer, he went for the new necklace and put down upon the merchant's counter the thirty-six thpusand francs. ;

96.

the

When Mme. necklace,

Loisel

Mme.

returned

Forestier

Climax of sentence

ment

suggests

arrange-

how

drained his borrowing

he ca-

pacity.

Main

Crisis Ewds. Hencewe get results of

forward

the crisis.

No

details

between K 95 and

I 96.

said,

Seventh Plot Incident.

with a chilly manner: 97. it

"You

ought to have returned have needed it." However, she did not open the as her friend had so much

sooner. 98.

case,

I ipight

she had detected the what would she have thought, what would she have said? dreaded.

If

substitution,

Would

Mme.

Loisel reasons.

she not have taken her for

a thief? 99.

Madame

Loisel

now

experi-

enced the horrible existence of the needy. But she took her part, all on a sudden, with real heroism. That dreadful debt must be paid. She would pay it. They dismissed their servant ; they changed their lodgings they rented a garret under the roof.

Character transformation through trouble.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY 100, She came to know what heavyhousework meant and the odious tasks of the kitchen. She washed the dishes, wearing away her rosy nails on the greasy pots and pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish cloths, which she dried upon a line; she carried the

down

slops ing,

Compare

this with

paratively state,

337

It's

easy 2,

her comformer

3.

Careful detail.

to the street every ,morn-

and carried up the water, stop-

ping to take breath at every landing.

And, dressed like a woman of the people, she went to the fruiterer's, the grocer's, the butcher's, her basket on her arm, bargaining, insulted, defending her pitiful money sou by sou. loi. Each month they had to meet some notes, renew others, beg for more time. 102. Her husband worked evenings

straightening accounts,

and

out

some tradesman's he would

late at night

copy manuscript for five sous a page. 103.

And

Suspense suggested again.

this life lasted ten years.

104. At the end of ten years they had paid everything, everything, with the charges of usurers, and the ac-

cumulations of

compound

Note power of climactic

this simple statement of re-

sult of crisis, also sis

by

empha-

repetition.

Intensifies

former

crisis.

interest.

105. Mme. Loisel looked old now. She had become the woman of impoverished households strong and hard and rough. With frowsy hair, skirts askew, and red hands, she talked loudly while washing the floor

Results

of

crisis.

—

But sometimes, when her husband was with great splashing of water.

the office, she sat down near the window, and she thought of that gay at

Tremendous contrast with

U

63.

Whole

nature changed through struggle and environment.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

338

evening of long ago, of that ball where she had been so fair and so feted. io6.

What would have happened

had

she

Who

not

lost

Who

knows?

strange

is

and

life,

How

if

necklace?

that

How

knows?

how

changeful! needed to ruin

little a thing is or to save us! 107. But one Sunday, having gone

to take a

walk

in the

Champs

beautiful, 108.

Forestier,

young,

Loisel

And now

she

was going

Why

it.

The

113. 114.

Minor

crisis of this meeting prepares for full cli-

max.

^me.

Loisel.

paid,

other,

astonished at be-

—

—

Madame! I don't You must be mistaken." " No, I am Mathilde Loisel." Her friend uttered a cry. "But

—

Eighth Plot Incident.

not?

and stammered:

know

whole

to tell her all about

ing familiarly addressed by this plain goodwife, did not recognize her at 112.

the

Yes, cer-

had

that she

She approached her. no. "Good-day, Jeanne."

all,

pervades

conclusion.

moved.

was

109.

111.

SION.

This

Contrast with

Should she speak to her? tainly.

still

fascinating.

still

Mme.

still

op the story, suuop final impres-

filysees

to refresh herself after the labors of the week, she suddenly observed a woman who was leading a child. It

was Mme.

Moral mary

"Oh, my poor Mathilde! you have changed " 116. "Yes, I have had days hard enough since I last saw you, days wretched enough and all because of you!" 117. "Because of me! How so?" 118. " You remember that diamond 115.

How

!

—

Note swift rise to climax. Emotion shown in rapid, short sentences, crisp and direct.

All

comments are

details

and

suppressed.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY necklace you lent

me

to

wear

339

at the

Ministers' ball?" 119.

"Yes.

120.

" Well, I lost it"

121.

"What do you mean? You

brought

it

Well?"

back."

122. " I

paying

brought you another just And we have been ten years for it. You may imagine

that

was not easy

like it

it

123.

Mme. "You

us

— who

it is

ended,

for

had nothing. But at last and I am very glad."

Forestier stopped.

say that you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine ? " You never noticed it, 125. " Yes. then They were very like." 124.

!

And she smiled with a joy which was at once proud and naive. 126.

127.

Mme.

Forestier,

strongly

moved, took her two hands. 128. "Oh, my poor Mathilde!

Climax,

Why, my necklace was paste. It was worth at most five hundred francs

Denouement

denouement,

and

conclusion. forecast

in

H

!

90.

Naturally,

Mme.

Forestier

returned the jewels, but the ten years could not be returned, nor all they cost and wrought. Maupassant is too wise to tell a word of this.

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASS OR INDI-

VIDUAL STUDY OF "THE NECKLACE" AND

OTHER SHORT-STORIES. 1.

What kind

of story

2.

Is the title

adequate?

3.

4.

is

this?

What is the theme of this story? Write out a brief scenario of the

plot.

THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY

340 5.

How many

characters (a) speak, (b) are present but do

not speak, (c) are referred to but are not present? 6. What is the proportion of dialogue to description and

comment ? 7.

8. 9.

What

is

the author's attitude toward his characters?

Are the characters idealized? Do you regard this story as being

either realistic or ro-

mantic ? purpose apparent? any defects in the story in any respect? the final impression the story makes upon you?

10.

Is the author's

11.

Do you

12.

What

Note:

is

Nine

find

distinct

methods for the study of a novel are The Study of a Novel.

outlined in the appendix to Whitcomb's

Some

of these

may

be applied to the short-story.

PART IV THE MANUSCRIPT AND ITS

MARKET

341

Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men Wait! Longfellow, Hyis told in a single word:

—

teach us perion.

There

is

probably no hell for authors in the next world

they suffer so

much from

publishers and critics in this.

Summaries of Thought; Authors.

342

—

— Bovee,

PART

IV

THE MANUSCRIPT AND ITS MARKET

CHAPTER

I

WRITING THE STORY Write again.

your ink be dry; and with your tears moist Two Gentlemen of Verona.

till

— Shakespeare,

it

no use to write a book and put it by for nine or even for in the writing you will have partly convinced yourself; the delay must precede any beginning; and if you meditate a work of art, you should first long roll the subject under the tongue to make sure you like the flavor, before you brew a volume that shall taste of it from end to end. Stevenson, The Morality of the Profession of Letters. It is

ninety years

;

—

When shall I No one can After reading

begin the actual writing of tell

all

you

that — though

fer.

own It

story ?

plenty will try.

the rhetorical treatises and books of

advice, excellent as they are,

your

my

problem.

The

will not help

you

still

must work out

habits of successful authors dif-

you to know

that one plunges

headlong into his story as soon as he has selected the theme, trusting to the heat of inspiration to carry

through, but

it

great majority

may map

him

be encouragement to learn that the out their work beforehand, so as-

sembling their material as to have every point well in

343

WRITING THE STORY

344

hand before actual writing begins. Try both ways and adopt the method that yields the best results. David could not fight in Saul's armor.

I.

I

The Management of Notes

assume that you

will at least try the

Perhaps you

plan of taking notes.

more methodical

will

The next

scraps of description and conversation.

be to draft the outline of your

will

even write out

plot.

Test

thing for

it

balance (proportion), climax, order of the crises, suspense, concealed denouement, siderations

you wish

and whatever other

Then

to observe.

the introduction, and after you have finished rest of the story at white heat.

then.

If they

con-

carefully fashion it,

write the

Don't bother about

rules

have not formed themselves into an un-

conscious sense of judgment,

it

will not avail to keep

them before you while doing the first writing. Above all, don't follow this, or any other, method of work if doesn't

it

fit

you. 2.

I

have said the

first

Retnsion

writing because, whatever be your

method of writing,

revise

produce an

piece of work.

what

artistic

do

you must

if

"

you intend

The

to

writing of

often an indispensable preliminary what will do." ^ Once in a while it will pay you to employ a literary critic to go over your story. At all events read your work aloud to yourself, will not

is

to the writing of

1

The Art and Craft of

the Author, Heisch, p. 14.

WRITING THE STORY and

if

you read

345

also to others seek their criticism, not

it

could show you a certain piece of discarded manuscript of " Mark Twain's." He has re-

their praise.

cast

I

wish

I

one sentence six or seven times, and every stroke

of his pen has left a record of

At

expression.

first,

and hazy, but with the

general

growing perfection of his thought was

evident,

is

it

labor,

of revising his

expression, the thought itself clarifies, until finally the

expression '

is

as crystal clear as his perfected thought.

Sometimes you

will

have to revise

until the cutting

" I remember, when I was young," says actually hurts. about saniSir Arthur Helps, " writing some paper tary matters I think

and

much wiser

it

— — and showing to an older

was

friend.

it

dare say

I

exuberant faults of youthfulness. dear fellow, I foresee that this will write.

Let

me

is

was

it

He

of the

full

said to me,

'

My

not the only thing you

Whenever

give you a bit of advice.

you write a sentence that particularly pleases you, cut it

out.'

"

Yes,

2

you must

even rewrite parable,

revise.

—" seventy

You must

means unto the measure of

not revise the ginger out it,

perfection.

of your story.

"

more nice than William Matthews, " you cannot put Cowper put

You must

recast.

times seven," which, being a

Be

wise." fire

you can at least put your story into the

into

But do not, as

" If,"

your

said story,

fire."

Write at white heat because you can think big thoughts only under stress of emotion

;

but revise in a cool mood.

''Quoted in Hill's Principles of Rhetoric, from Helps' Social Pressures.

WRITING THE STORY

346

In the hour of revision, Judgment, not Emotion,

sits

on

Emotion must still stand at his right hand to inspire and guide. Patience and persistence mean much here. Sometimes you will revise until you feel sick of the whole story and ready to burn your last charthe Throne; but

Perhaps you ought

acter at the stake. it

is

to,

but perhaps

better to lay the story aside for a clearer-visioned

hour, and then

it

may grow

into the similitude of your

drearn.

Young

writers are apt to despise this plodding prog-

They prefer to see the building rise by enchantment. The easy, graceful style of some popular writers deludes them into thinking that the structural work was easy. The scaffolding they cannot see, nor the hewing of stone, nor the cutting of timber. But the magic wand ress.

of the builder ball is the

I

is

the two-foot rule,

and

his enchanter's

plummet.

have already referred to Poe's disclosure of

method

in writing "

The Raven," '

his

besides quoting

at

length the experiences of Wilkie Collins and Sir Walter Besant.

None

of these, nor a thousand others worthy

of emulation! found that labored composition dulled the edge of inspiration. " I cannot revise," a young writer

once said to me, "

it

takes

all

the

After years of writing she has

life

out of

made no

my

story.";)

progress.

have testimony enough to show that the practice of

We the

best authors has been to labor long over their manuscripts, revising, as did "

Miss Mulock," even up

^Philosophy of Composition.

to the

WRITING THE STORY

347

Where one strong story is conceived and finished in a few hours, a thousand require all the fourteenth time.*

pains art.

which mark the production of any other work of Ruskin has pointed out" that composition means

to place carefully, designingly, together

together, as a laborer cart.

would

The mosaics of

St. Peter's at

of stone and glass, but

ple bits

— not

to

throw

toss a pile of stones into a

Rome

are only sim-

how wonderfully

they

have been composed!

3.

Must

I typewrite

You need ficult

the

Preparing the Manuscript

my

story?

you ought to. Hand-script is difbest and irritates your very busy judge

not, but

to read at

manuscript reader cannot give

fiction if

sciously

full attention to

the act of reading becomes laborious

;

your

uncon-

he regards hand-script as the sign manual .of

experience

;

and, lastly,

it is

much

easier for

in-

you and for

a complete impression of a typed story which must be read slowly and whose script conveys no suggestion as to its final appearance on the

the editor to gain

than of one

printed page.

Neatness counts for as cuffs

do

it

on a salesman.

If

much

in a manuscript as clean

you must

revise the typed copy,

with the same color of ink as that of the typewritten

*See Erichsen's Methods of Authors, Bainton's The Art of Authors Work, in to Authorship, the chapter on Write a Novel, and a rich chapter on The Process of Composition in Whitcomb's The Study of a Novel. Third letter on The Elements of Drawing.

How

How

WRITING THE STORY

348

unabridged dictionary will give you a

Any

page.

list

of proofreader's marks.

Be sure

to

You

use double space in typewriting.

have

no idea how appalling it is to face a long story, badly typed, on poor paper, and every line huddled between two others. Keep your typewriting machine in good order, clean out the types, and see to it that no inadvertent marks are

made on

constantly being

Watch

tor.

the paper to confuse the edi-

the paragraphing, correct the spelling, leave

generous margins, and don't use tissue paper.

The it

short-story chapters.

into

is

too short to warrant your dividing

breaks are needed,

If

numerals or simply leave a blank

Do

editors take such

little

use

Roman

line.

things into account when

selecting stories?

The from

judgment.

editor's only tool is his

flies

Anything

in hot weather to cold feet in winter, from a

crying baby the night before to a Bohemian repast

may befog

—

You

this precious asset.

—

are not responsible

—

him just once in thirty in a bad humor, and then hand him a manuscript days a bar, marked by a reckless matyped with after every word, and then give him a chine, for these distractions, but find

—

|

|

|

|

|

|

|

|

|

I

second story with spasmodic *; punctuation,

hiccoughing " along every line,

-

marks'...

and ask yourself whether

you, in his place, could judge those stories seriously and

with the same fairness with which you would consider the perfectly typed manuscript.

These are both actual

cases,

and

I

may add

that, not-

WRITING THE STORY withstanding their defects,

was

I

bought both

in spite of the handicaps placed

349 stories,'

but

it

upon them by the

careless authors.

Use

letter size

glazed, of

good

duly heavy.

(8j4

x

ii) white or cream paper, un-

quality, neither extremely thin ,

Prepare your

first

nor un-

page thus:

Miss Satin Robe,

3,000 words,

iioi Euclid Ave., Cleveland, Ohio.

Stamped addressed envelope enclosed.

.THE AFFAIR AT OAKLEY By

Satin

Robe

number of words, count

In estimating the

several lines

on the average page in prder to average the number of

words to the the page,

Multiply by the number of lines to

line.

and then by tl^e number of pages. Count the though they were full, and estimate

short lines just as carefully. ;

it

Type or print your n^me and address, do not write in

script.

Some

writers use a small, plain rubber

stamp with which to record their the

name and address on

upper left-hand corner of each page of their manu-

script,

to prevent straying leaves.

Number Most

(folio)

your pages consecutively.

and a few authors, cover and by cutting a piece of heavy paper,

literary agenq^es,

bind thefr manuscripts

WRITING THE STORY

35°

dark and not easily torn, to a size 12 back of the manuscript

is

x

The

8>4.

entin

covered, the extra inch foldec

over the top, and the whole riveted tlirough the top margin. In typing your story be careful to leave enougl margin so that the binding edge may not hide any pan of the top line, or even make it hard to read. The firsi

page may be kept clean by adding an extra sheet of letter-paper bearing precisely the same wording as yoi] place at the top of the

Some

title

page.

editors prefer loose-leaved manuscripts, but nc

one seriously objects to bound manuscript

if

the pages

can be handled with perfect ease and without danger tearing, so style of

do not pin your manuscript or use any

binding or stitching that

is

oj

freak

not substantial, and

is

you extra labor in the end. In a word, do all you can to make it easy for the publisher's reader to pass upon your story. Of two stories of equal merit he will surely lean toward the one which likely to cause

has unconsciously pleased his eye.

I

have known

it to

be actually restful to turn to a neat, plain, clearly-written

manuscript after being tortured into a headache by opposite.

its

CHAPTER

II

SELLING THE STORY

many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of Ocean bear. Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, Full

And

When he

waste

its

sweetness on the desert air. Churchyard.

— Gray, Elegy in a Country

conceived these

lines,

had the poet before

mind's eye a vision of unsold manuscript?

many a disappointed author propriate to his

own

feels that the allusion is ap-

undiscovered gems and flowers.

"However, most good stories finally see the editors

light,

for

everywhere are keenly on the lookout for really

— as

good "stuff"

manuscript

is

and not disremagazine

called,

I estimate that it costs the leading

spectfully.

publishers of this country

more than one hundred thou-

sand dollars a year to read unsolicited manuscripts. does not include professional the countless for fiction

is

and

— known

the best

This

technical journals, or

smaller publications,

The unknown

many

of which pay

publisher and the editor do

manuscript.

give writers

What

his

Doubtless

or

way

—a

fair chance.

to sell a short-story manuscript ?

There are four ways, each having merits of

its

own.

SELLING THE STORY

352 I.

This

is

The Ordered Manuscript

a rare bird, for whose extinction editors are

almost unanimously looping.

shown

that he

tor asks for,

is

None but a

writer

who

has

able to write the kind of story the edi-

need ever hope to get an unqualified order

Even then most authors freely congenerally harder to do good work on an

for a short-story. fess that

it is

ordered story than on the manuscript written on speculation.

As terial,

the result of competition for the most popular maa few much-sought-after writers have promised

perhaps to only two or three magazines write for

many months

ahead, but they

that they are expected to revise

and even

—

all

—

they can

know very

any unsatisfactory

well

stories,

substitute others if they cannot be brought up

to editorial requirements. If such a

poUcy were approved by his

most any editor would in

publisher,

al-

feel reasonably safe in agreeii^

advance to accept short-stories from any one

of a

American or British writers, group of our most for none of them would dream of foisting upon a magazine a really inferior' piece of work, and most good writbrilliant

ers feel quite confident of their ability to dispose of

their

wares in open market. In arranging an order for a short-story, or for a the author generally submits an outline of the

treatment proposed.

may

series,

field and

If these appeal strongly, the order

be given and in nearly every case the transaction is consummated to the satisfaction of all concerned. But

SELLING THE STORY

whose work

the writer

is

353

not greatly in

demand must

not expect to receive advance orders for his stories, even

when he submits a scenario or a partly completed manuscript. It is hard enough to judge a story when it lies complete before you, without attempting to forecast what it will be like when you have seen only a title, or at most an outline. 2.

Many scripts

The Literary Agent ^

successful authors

sell

practically all their

manu-

through agencies, most of which have European

branches or connections. the writer to set his story,

a

The

usual arrangement

maximum and

a

minimum

price

is

for

upon

pay a deposit to cover post and express charges,

allowing to the agent a commission out of the price re-

xeiyed from the publisher. relied

Reputable agencies

The advantages claimed for are, that ities,

may

his system

he keeps in touch with editorial

and needs, and so

is

by the agent

tastes, peculiar-

able to send just the kinds of

manuscripts which are. likely to be salable; that he

more

be

upon to make prompt settlement with the writer.

likely

syndicates

than the author to

know which

is

magazines,

and papers are overstocked, and which may

have suddenly developed a special market; that he not only secures for the author better prices, but also saves

him the embarrassment of commercial dealings, thus enabling

him

to pursue his art without the daily fear of con-

fronting a rejection slip. *

The Building of a Book, Hitchcock (Grafton an excellent symposium covering all York)

See chapter in

Press,

New

—

branches of the title-theme.

SELLING THE STORY

354

urged, that agents have been to send out batches of manuscript with obvious

Against

known

all

this

it

is

disregard for the expressed needs of the magazines;

had better study the magazine field himwhen he sells and so save the agent's commission proved to be even have agents story and that some

that the writer

—

self,

his

;

dishonest.

So there are two sides to the question, and the author must decide if, indeed, the agent upon his part is will-

—

ing to undertake the sale of that author's work.

There

are a few really reliable literary agencies doing business

on both

sides of the Atlantic,

and almost any

editor will

advise you (stamped addressed envelope enclosed in your

him) as

letter to

to those

he has found trustworthy.

Authors living or sojourning abroad, those producing considerable

amount of manuscript, and those who

fer not to negotiate the sale of their

own

a

pre-

stories, will

doubtless find a conservative agency a real boon.

Many

writers

thii;k that a

3.

Calling on the Editor

—

chiefly those

who

the interests of their manuscripts.

ingenious devices to secure a time,

are inexperienced

—

personal interview with an. editor will further

from the

letter

little

Therefore they use

— or much —

of his

of introduction to the plea that " a

lady wishes to see the editor upon an important

er-

rand."

The writers

practice is

among

as various as

editors as to it

is

meeting unknown

with other busy

men

and

SELLING THE STORY

women. you,

But, no matter is

it

who you

355

who

are or

introduces

a mistalte to suppose that a personal talk will

help the chances of your manuscript.

may

the editor his special

It

Upon

possess the editor unfavorably.

may even

pre-

the other hand,

be able to give you valuable hints as to

needs and likings.

After that,

it

rests

with

the story.

But, says the novice, script will ises

me

to

Really,

how can

be sure that

my manu-

do so? you cannot be sure; but you may be

that the editor's assistants,

are as

I

be read by the editor himself unless he prom-

who

will

certain

read your story

competent as the editor himself to say

manuscript contains any promise; and that

if

if it is

ising,

nothing can keep the editor from reading

eager

is

No

promit,

so

he to find material suitable for his pages.

editor

is

too busy to meet for the

work he has

author whose

accepted, or

having appeared in other periodicals first call

first,

your

and the question of

will dictate.

No man

;

first

time an

knows from

its

the length of that

after visits,

good

taste alone

ever gained anything by being a

bore.

Never expect an editor to read your story while you wait.

He must do

his

work

in a methodical fashion in

order to get through at all; besides, he prefers to read

when his mind As I have already it

his

is

undisturbed by any outside force.

said,

an

editor's only stock in trade is

judgment, and naturally he

tempt to force

When you

is

suspicious of any at-

it.

leave your manuscript with the editor, do

SELLING THE STORY

356

not insist upon an answer inside of two or three weeks.

but do not demand it. And do not forget to leave postage not loose postage stamps, but a stamped and carefully addressed envelope of a size to It

may come

earlier,

—

your manuscript.

fit

You

are a salesman trying to dis-

pose of your product in a crowded market, and the easier

you make

your manuscript

to handle

it

making

to the extent of

it

easier to return

cheerfully will your story be examined.

it

—-yes,

even

— the more

It is a simple

case of buying and selling. " hard luck story," true and sorOne word more :

rowful though

it

A

may

be, will not influence the editor

buy your work. How could it? He is employed by a publisher who demands results,, and the editor soon learns that it is cheaper, and more honest, to give char-

to

ity

from

his private purse

— never a

fat

one

— than

to

allow his judgment to be swerved by sympathy.

4.

By

Offering the Story by Mail

number of manuscripts sold are If you keep a carbon copy and you ought to it is scarcely necesthe parcel. However, the publisher is

far the greatest

received by ordinary post. of your story

—

sary to register

—

not responsible for the loss of unsolicited manuscript.

Never roll your manuscript. If your paper is letter and it should never be so large as foolscap it will please an editor to have you send it flat, folded once, or folded twice, as suits your envelope. If you size

—

—

SELLING THE STORY use note

size,

send the manuscript

In a word,

once.

it

venience of the person

will

flat,

357 or, at most, folded

pay you to consider the con-

who

is to pass upon your offering. your manuscript has been out several times and shows signs of much reading, re-type the soiled pages

If

and supply a new top-sheet. Manuscripts

unaccompanied by proof sheets must

carry full letter-postage in the United States.

Do

forget to enclose full reiturn postage, always in the

stamped and

of a size;

Do

fully addressed envelope of appropriate

never merely stick the stamps fast to your

not use flimsy oivelopes which

Many

mails.

may be

a manuscript so enclosed

bad condition, and sometimes several of in transit.

It

not

form

its

is

letter.

torn in the received in

pages are

lost

adds unnecessarily to the cost of mailing

and return to pack your manuscript between pasteboards.

Never write long

letters to

the editor.

Recommendations and

rather than help.

They hurt

letters of in-

troduction will not secure an acceptance. letters

Neither will addressed to the editor and marked " personal."

Except in rare instances, when an emergency

up a manuscript out of

the editor's taking

its

justifies

regular or-

der of receipt, or before one of his helpers has passed

upon

it,

all

manuscripts take the same course.

You

will

hurt your standing with a magazine by constantly asking for special readings. script

with your

It is

name

enough

your manumost the briefest

to send

affixed, or at

note, sent

under the same cover as your story, in form

somewhat

like this

SELLING THE STORY

358

Cleveland, Ohio, Mar.

i,

1909.

Editor of Harper's Magazine,

Franklin Square,

New York Dear I

City.

Sir:

submit herewith a short-story of three thousand

words,

"The

entitled,

your regular

rates.

at

Aflfair

Enclosed

is

Corson's," offered at

a stamped addressed en-

velope.

Very truly yours, Warren W. Hill, 2000 Euclid Avenue. Don't ask for personal criticism of your story. is

work of a

the

an opinion

He would

other things.

but he If

is

professional

at regular rates.

critic,

The

who editor

like to help all

That

will write is

you

paid to do

young

writers,

too busy.

you have

sold

enough manuscript to warrant it, a price upon your story, but by do-

you may wish to set ing so you run -a risk.

No

ordinary circumstance

will

from his regular rate. The fact one or two stories at five cents a that you have sold word to one magazine will not warrant your expecting another to pay you more than its accustomed honorarium. At the same time, if your minimum rate is actually five

lead an editor to deviate

or three or

two

cents a word, frankly say so

by the consequences.

If

you

and

abide

offer a manuscript " at

regular rates " do not haggle about the price after your story has been accepted.

Remember

that

some maga-

SELLING THE STORY zines

359

pay " on acceptance," others pay " on publication,"

while others pay not at

all.

With what rights do you part when you sell a story? Customs differ. Many publishers insist upon purchasing " rights."

all rights," while others specify only " serial " All rights " include foreign and American

rights for

book publication,

serial

or magazine rights,

syndicate rights (the right to syndicate for publication in

other periodicals, usually included in serial rights),

and rights of dramatization and translation. to specify the kinds of rights letter in

which you

you

reserve,

If

you wish

do so

in the

Most maga-

offer the manuscript.

zine publishers are willing to allow the author to retain

book and dramatic rights the short-story is sold.

if

the request

is

made when

See that the receipt you sign

you sell. You may secure American copyright for your story, but if you are dealing with a reputable publisher, better not. It will cost you a fee of fifty cents for each title, and a second half dollar in each case if you wish a certificate of copyright entry. Blanks will be sent you upon specifies the rights

application to the Register

of Copyrights, Library of

Remember that copyright more than a registry of your claim to authoror ownership. As to foreign copyright, consult

Congress, Washington, D. C. is

nothing

ship

an expert, or your lawyer.

As a

rule

it is

unwise to send more than one story

a time to a magazine.

Nor

is it

an editor with manuscript the of your qfierings.

at

ever wise to bombard

moment he

accepts one

SELLING THE STORY

360

Never offer the same story to more than one magazine at the same time. It is not fair to ask an editor to pass on a manuscript only to learn that it has been accepted elsewhere.

Never send the same story to a second magazine beyou have heard from the first periodical to which has been submitted. If you do not get an answer in

fore it

three weeks,

it

may be wise

to

drop a

line courteously

asking for a decision, but you had better wait the month out.

Editors sometimes

otherwise delayed. lects

manuscript.

No It

fall

ill,

take a holiday, or are

reputable magazine wilfully neg-

may

be that your story

is

being

considered by several advisers, and impatience upon your part will never help your cause.

Never put a string

to

your offer of a manuscript by

you will accept his offer if it is good enough. If he is human, such a request will irritate him and may cause him to reject the story forthtelling the editor that

with.

Don't

let

the printed rejection, slip

Really great writers get them, constantly.

humiliate you. It

would

take

much time and money for an editorial staff to write all who offer unsolicited manuscript. Never write back sarcastic letters when your offerings are rejected. You may need that editor some day. Although personal pique seldom actuates him, he may be frail enough to be annoyed when his well-meant efforts

too

personal letters to

are assailed.

Don't load up your envelope with printed notices

your privately-published book, your

lecture, or

any

of

sort

<

SELLING THE STORY

They

of personal advertisement.

The

basket unread.

editor

he

If that is good,

story.

previous literary offenses.

is

may

The

prefer

accept

There

a story of mine, and

same vein."

gd

will all

to the waste-

concerned only with your

writer's saying in his letter, "

contains

361

is

in spite of

it

some excuse

your for a

This month's Scribner's

send you another in the

I

editor likes to

know

that, for

he

may

an accepted author, under certain conditions, and

may have overlooked your

story in the other magazine, though usually he glances over " all the periodicals "

and always reads those in his

own

line.

Don't send a story to a magazine unless you are sure

you understand the

spirit

of that particular periodical.^

Study several copies, of the magazine to see if you have hit

All magazines are not

cent copies,

general tone

alike.

its

and favorite length.

/ cannot sufficiently

Remember

that stories too sim-

emphasise this point.

to those lately published are as likely to

ilar

re-

available as those

which are too different

prove un-

in general tone.

Err rather upon the side of brevity than of length. Don't be discouraged read

and

it,

if

you are

send

the

magazine to which

it

it

fresh again. rectify

it

your story comes back. it is

out again, using your best

do,

again, lay

if

quite sure

it

seems

suited.

aside for another reading If

Reyou can judgment as to If it comes back

the best

when

you see anything, wrong

and send

it

out again.

Many

it

will

be

then, bravely

a story has been

•>,

^looi Places to Sell Manuscript is a helpful list. The monthly numbers of The Editor are also suggestive. Both are published from Deposit, N. Y.

V,

SELLING THE STORY

362

-

But it is a sold on its tenth, yes, its twentieth trip. waste of postage and patience and editorial brain to keep on sending inferior material to magazines which are plainly too critical to accept loosely constructed work.

Timeliness is

is

an important element.

Every magazine

flooded with Christmas material sent during NovemSend all " timely," " seasonable," or " occasional

ber.

material

from four to six months ahead of the time

expected to appear.

Keep a

This

is

careful record of where, when, and

send and receive back your short-stories.

how

Here

simple form for a manuscript book or card index Title

it is

important.

is

you one

CHAPTER WHY The land

III

STORIES ARE REJECTED

A COLLOQUY

of young writers of promise, whose performThey have graduated at high schools and seminaries, and sometimes at colleges for either sex; they have ability lots of it, but it is ability in the raw, in the rough. Their minds are immature, their experience inadequate to the ance

is full

not yet.

is

—

accurate

and satisfactory portrayal of

nature.

One would not

to full stature

some day and do

quently get into print

life

and society and human

be harsh with them, for they fine things.

(in books),

As

it

may grow

is,

they fre-

and sometimes make a suc-

there are many like them among the readers of books. But the doors of magazines must remain mildly but firmly closed against them till they have tarried a sufficient time at Jericho, and learned to understand, to observe, and to depict realities, cess, for

drawing on their own disordered fancies. M. Bird, Magazine Fiction, Lippincotfs, Nov., 1894. instead of

The Editor had uscripts,

when

" Ah, glad

busy

— Frederic

just finished a pile of short-story

his friend the

!

man-

Young Author dropped

you came " he

said.

in.

" No, I'm not too

— I'm about through for to-day, and rather fagged

out.

A man

cross.

marked

can't trust his

See that '

re-read

good or not.

first '

pile

judgment when he's of stuff? Half of

tired or it

because I'm uncertain whether

To-morrow

I'll

363

know

in short order.

I've it's

An

WHY

364 editor

he

STORIES ARE REJECTED

Some

must make allowances for his moods. and on others he can't cry."

days

can't laugh,

"

And

"

'

what's in that second pile ?

Not

available

"

stories."

'

" I thought most of the manuscripts were weeded out

for you by your assistant readers." " So they are, usually but every now and then I want ;

to read everything that

a talk with at things

"

You

my

comes

staff so as to

in myself,

and then have

be sure that we're looking

from pretty nearly the same view-point." get a pile every day, I suppose."

" Oh,

it

varies

about two thousand a month,

;

count manuscripts of

all

kinds —

you

if,

articles, stories, verses,

epigrams and jokes." "

And

every one

" Certainly

read ?

is

"

But not necessarily all through. Someenough to show that it is impossible.' But everything which on brief examination looks at all hopeful is read, sometimes by five different persons, !

times a glance

before

it

is

'

is

sent back, or accepted.

good magazines are

alike

;

In this respect

all

every manuscript gets a square^

deal."

"

Now

why you "

Yes

;

that

'

not available

reject each

do.

try.

I sort

explain.

Here's a story

of nine thousand words.

know when

of

Let's look these over for a I'll

do you know

lot,

definitely

at least, I could formulate a reason if I tried

but mostly I don't

and

'

one?"

moment,

—a

in confidence,

good thing

Entirely too long.

use a short-story of more than

fiv

they won't

thousand.

We

too

—

rarely

And

look

WHY

365

—

one facts all mixed up, details plainly inaccuand yet a good yarn at bottom. That's the trouble

at this rate,

with lots of writers

story that

—

way next

is

ment.

it

— they

Then

do things well.

will not take the trouble to

you

see here:

The

too slender.

it's

can't say of this

fault

the other

all

is

The

has incident enough to stock a novelette.

out of date, both in subject-matter and in treatIt's

too late a day for the troubles of a horse-

car driver to is

STORIES ARE REJECTED

realism

seem

real to

This next story

our readers.

— and nothing more.

It isn't

a short-story at

but merely a photograph, very minute and very clear,

all,

They

an absolutely uninteresting group of people.

of

talk exactly as

ordinary people would

viously true to

commonplace

ten lines,

first

and a look

life.

talk.

It's

The

Here's another.

show

at the rest,

that the writer

has modeled his style after the shilling shocker. can't

too ob-

use this other one either, though

And

really a

it's

I

good

story."

"How's that?" " Well, a year story

The Atlantic. see. it's

ago the fellow sold another magazine a

he had deliberately cribbed from an old copy of Editors

tell

each other such things, you

This next story I couldn't get interested

smoothly written and shows no

handling.

It's

simply

dull.

I'm

sorry,

writer generally sends us first-rate stuff.

in,

though

experience in

little

too,

for

He must

the

have

a careful letter explaining." "

That seems

"

Now

fair."

look at this dainty

but I can't accept

it.

little

sketch.

I

like that,

Within two months we've bought

WHY

366

more

STORIES ARE REJECTED

many

of that kind than can be used in as

Sorry, but back

years,

goes."

it

a, Memorial Day story." came in just four months too late. Last November I was down on my knees for something of Then in December two good ones came in this kind. one we're using this year, and the other will keep till, next May. This one isn't quite big and strong enough to hold over for two years, so I'll have to let it go. You see how chance runs? Last November it would have

" This looks Uke " It

is

;

and

it

—

been accepted, almost surely."

"Tough luck!" " Yes, but there's no help for too

late.

written

Now,

— but —

very funny

nasty.

Pity

^in spots.

The

it's

it

when they come

another story that's

there's

Here's one that's funny,

!

rest of

it

is

too strained

to be redeemed by the genuinely humorous parts.

tained

humor

is

in

brilliantly

so rare that

we jump

at

it

Sus-

when

it

comes our way." " Well, what's the matter with this

one? "

" Needlessly horrible.

climactic interest,

Good

plot,

very well written, but simply reeking with gore; while here's a would-be tragedy that is so pink-papery that is

ridiculous.

The

slaps at the heroine

villain fairly lisps

" ;

I've seen several of her things

good magazines lately. What is her story like?" " Evidently a juvenile effort she's trying to float on

the If

it

daintily

!

" Here's a bright girl in

while he

wave of her present

it

gets into print

it

popularity.

will

She'd better burn

do her more harm than

it.

good.

WHY Not

that

it's

STORIES ARE REJECTED

—

so bad

way, yesterday

can be used

It

hundred words from the

probably not conscious padding, but

it

believes

It's

if

first half.

She'll

do

it,

a delight to deal with an author

that an editor

she It's

simply clogs the

action without helping the atmosphere.

and thank me.

the

another of her stories which

we're going to ask her to change. cuts out three

By

you know.

just childish,

I laid aside

367

too,

who

genuinely interested in his

is

writers."

"

What would you

stories as they,

say,

now,

is

the chief defect of

run ? "

" They're merely good, that's the trouble.

They lack So many people can write fair English nowand possess some ingenuity in plot construction, is easy to write a fairly good short-story. But no

distinction.

adays, that

it

magazine can afford to be merely kind of stuff won't ity at least, if

imitators.

not in

See that

It micst

Most

all.

file

January number

the S.

sell.

—

'

writers are

of Harper's there ? 1908.

good/ so that

fairly

be unusual in one qual-

See here

:

commonplace Let

it's

me have

by Edwin

Martm:

"

a great advantage to a writer to have sense, but he can moderate supply of it if he is a good enough writer. It is an advantage to him to have learning, provided he has it under good control and doesn't let it run away with him or dam him up. But the thing he must have is ideas. It is '

It is

get along with a

hard sledding for a writer to get along without ideas. Somehow, if he is going to be a writer, he must have bubbles in his mind. He can borrow a great many thoughts if he knows where to find them. What is learning but the assimilation of other men's ideas! But while some persons are writers because they are possessed with ideas that

demand

to be expounded,

a good

<

WHY

368

STORIES ARE REJECTED

others attain more or less painfully to the possession of ideas because they are called to be writers and are peremptorily;j«!j constrained to have something to impart. It isn't quite enough'

many

you know enough words and attain you can make them go a good ways. You must have some kind of an idea to string them on if you are going to make a tolerable literary job. Sit down Then if you need one. with pen, paper, ink, and a dictionary we all know what happens. You have got to think. There is no way out of it. Thinking is to the natural man a severe and to

have language, though

if

to a truly skilful use of them,

—

repugnant exercise, but the natural

man

is

not a writer.

Before

anybody becomes a writer he must subjugate nature to the extent of partially overcoming his distaste for consecutive thought.'

" I see. The average short-story " Exactly." -

is

short on ideas."

" But, apart from that, you must have some principle

in

surely don't

mind by which you judge sit

here and turn

down

count of technical defects." " That depends on what you

definite

fiction.

mean by

the term.

Technical defects are not theoretical, but the big of structure which rob a story of

You

stories simply on ac-

its grip.

faults

Technique

has grown up out of the usage of good yarn-spinners,

and not contrariwise.

Most of

the stories

imperfect, but not glaringly so.

we

accept are

If they throb with hu-

man

interest, do not drag, strike a fresh note, vibrate some emotion, and are generally well-done, the minor

technical defects are likely to be overlooked, or

ask the author to correct them.

we may

In a word, the

story

counts more than the manner, though we want both." " But you haven't answered my question."

WHY "As

STORIES ARE REJECTED

369

a general underlying principle?

to

I couldn't

formulate one.

An

I'm afraid

editor tries to keep his

tastes

sane and fresh and manly, and then select the

stories

he

Professor Brander

feels his readers will like.

Matthews once said a good thing about fits

the editor's case too, I suppose.

writers,

and

In his essay

'

it

On

Pleasing the Taste of the Public,' in Aspects of Fiction, he suggests that the only way is, not to attempt a sly

survey of the field and then it

'

give the dear public what

you have and

wants,' but to give the public the best

depend upon there being enottgh of similar mind to ap-

what you

preciate

"

Of

offer."

course I see what he means, but an editor can't

do just as he pleases, can he ? "

Not altogether

by his

;

he

is

limited in his choice not only

own magazine, but by the fact that he is buying The broadest magazine must be

magazine material.

narrow as compared with a book, for

more or alone,

less fixed.

A

its

clientele is

book the public may take or

let

but the management must consistently give the

man who

subscribes for a magazine

what he has a

right

to expect."

" If a chap could run

eye to the box-office

an endowed magazine, with no

" !

" Y-e-s, he might print things but I doubt

if

'

regardless,' I suppose,

the humanizing element of

'

a public

not the very thing needful to keep the editor

jEoming a

mere

visionary.

Anyhow,

as

'

is

from be-

some one has

said, the editor is merely a middleman who caters to the and isn't always certain as to wants of his customers '

'

—

WHY

370

what they want.

STORIES ARE REJECTED If

he guesses right more than sixty

per cent, of the time he is happy." " All this sounds pretty hopeless for a young fellow like

Now

me.

look at that quotation from Dr. Bird

you have pasted up there on your desk "

In one case only, or in one set of cases, the most stringent may be relaxed not broken. It is a case which editors are always hoping for, but which seldom occurs to gladden them. Do something that nobody has done before; let in light on a dark place; make a dull theme attractive, raise the dead to lifej invest a trivial topic with dignity, cause the desert to rejoice and blossom, turn old things into new: before such a key doors open, and hearts, too. What was expected of monkeys and bears and tigers? Yet there is the Jungle Book. Huguenot wars were counted stale and threadbare, but A Gentleman of France has revived them. The world is still conservative, not '

—

rules

—

its Kiplings and Weymans till they show the them; but that once done, theirs is the right of way everywhere. It was the misfortune or the fault of the magazines if they did not "discover" and first exploit these two but many a talent has risen from obscurity to fame through the monthlies, and in their pages the stars of the future may now be faintly twinkling and preparing to mount aloft.'"

ready to welcome stuff that is in

;

" Yes,

it

does sound hopeless, until you consider that

this is

only one magazine, that there are a thousand other

fiction

markets not quite as exacting in their require-

ments, and that a writer

may

learn to write

—

if it's in

him." "

Of course, that's how is he to know ? " Set to

the point

—

work and dig

about finding out chant genius.

if

she

is

—

if

just the

it's

in him.

way a woman man a

a real singer, or a

They judge from

But

goes

mer-

natural tendencies and

WHY then try

STORIES ARE REJECTED

The average

it.

writer doesn't succeed any

earHer than the average lawyer easily,

and rarely so

371

largely,

if

— and,

dollars

frankly, not so

measure

success.

For ten years Conan Doyle sent manuscripts around, and in no one year did he earn so much as two hundred and fifty dollars. Suddenly his work took hold, and

—

well,

you know how it is now: we all want him. The was not in the editors, it was in him.; He

difference

had served his apprenticeship and had arrived. see, all

'

You

these rejected manuscripts are not failures, by a

A

lot

of them will be sold elsewhere.

simply do not

fit

in with

long shot.

They

our plans, or are untimely, or

some other way are unsuitable. Many a good story away from us because I haven't sense enough to see its value until some other fellow has published it. Then I'll turn around and discover something that has slipped in

gets

Odd,

through his fingers. "

But how about the

" Well, that one

is

isn't it ?

"

rest of these ?

a good story, but what sense

is

there in writing a yarn just to say bitter things about a

form of religion with which you are not Singularly enough, the very next story fense of the cult the other story that gives

away

There's one that it

is

its

woman

a covert de-

attacks

mystery before

sympathy?

in

is

it is

!

Here's a

half through.

so full of technical musical terms that

would require a lexicon to read it. And so on down list. Many could be remedied if some one could

the

and explain. But you see how would be for an editor to take up!

just take the writer aside

hopeless a job that

As

foi^thfe rest

— they are simply without merit.

Their

WHY

372

STORIES ARE REJECTED

authors never will learn

how

to write, for they

What

not the faintest glimmerings of ability. fellow can't

tell

"

And

"

Ah, they are

them so frankly

this last little pile?

staff four

fine

!

the

!

"

Only three and ;

it

took our entire

days to find them out and decide upon them.

But they make up for

And

show

a pity a

all

the drudgery put

Young Author went away

on the

thinking.

rest."

PART V APPENDICES

373

Some day, when nobody is about, line yourself up in a corner and find out just what you are capable of doing in this literary game. Point your finger sternly and make yourself surrender your knowledge. Can you depict sentiment, romance, adventure? Have you ever lived or loved? Do you study technical advice, or do you just scan it? Do you practise faithfully? Are you a steady current or an intermittent jumpspark? What can you do? What will you do? What can't you do? After you're robbed of your conceit, and duly ashamed, you'll be able to look your friend Ability in the face without flinching. After that Well, anyhow, corner yourself and get a view of the situation. The Editor, October, 1908.

— —

" It's too hard,"

you

say,

"

and you're

tired

and

sick of

it

Why, man, you're a shirker and a coward. Here is a woman who is blind, patiently smiling and writing her way to success. Here's a man whose health gave out and who all."

turned to literature as a last resort, finding it not only a suctessful profession, but a solace for his aflSiction. Here's a man in prison, writing with faith untouched. Here's a woman all, heart and soul, with a body God could hardly have meant for contact with life: look at her face, read her work, and think of yourself

— quite

reach the heights. while.

Would

it

strong, quite capable, quite clever enough to It is hard,

.sufEce

if

we

but that's what makes it worth all could write the butcher's

—

and you and me? It's the task that makes the reward. If you're weary of it all, your perspective of life is distorted: you shirk and you fear. The prize is worth the struggle and, remember, the struggle must come first.—

boy and the

street urchin

—

Ibid.

374

PART V APPENDICES

APPENDIX A COLLECTIONS OF SHORT-STORIES, SKETCHES AND TALES

The

figures used in this

list

are for reference, and cor-

respond to the figures in parentheses in Appendices

There has been no attempt

and C.

make

B

this list ex-

nor to include collections which are not pub-

haustive, lished

to

in America.

Volumes made up

tales

and sketches not

type,

have been excluded.

closely akin to It

exclusively of

the short-story

has not seemed necessary

to list the collected sKort-stories of authors (such as Poe,

Dickens and Balzac) whose works commonly appear in complete

Since each author

sets.

is

represented by but

one volume, the writer of this treatise does not wish to imply that the volume selected necessarily contains the author's

most important story or

stories.

Other repre-

sentative short-story writers are listed in Appendices

B

and C.

{Appendix

I.

Miscellaneous Collections

F

contains a

list

of American publishers

with their addresses, and the abbreviations used throughout this volume.)

375

APPENDICES

376

American Short Stories; by Charles S. Baldwin;

1.

essay,

edited, i vol.

with introductory

Longmans.

of the Short Story, The; edited, with introductory essay, notes and full epochal lists of tales and

Book

2.

by Alexander Jessup and Henry Seidel

short-stories,

Canby;

vol.

i

Appleton.

3.

Chap Book

4.

Digit of the

ries)

I vol.

;

Stories; 2 vols. Duffield.

Moon,

A

(East Indian tales and

sto-

Putnam.

Great Short Stories; edited, with biographical notes,

5.

by William Patten; 3

vols. Collier.

Harper's Detective Stories; containing forty-nine

6.

by A. Conan Doyle, Maurice Leblanc, Arthur Morrison and Samuel M. Gardenhire; 6 vols. Harper. stories,

7.

Harfer's Novelettes (short-stories by contemporary with brief introductions, by

authors)

;

Ho wells

and H. M. Alden; 7

edited,

vols.

W.

D.

Harper.

Library of the World's Best Mystery and Detective Stories; edited, with introduction, by Julian Hawthorne; 8.

6

vols.

Review.

9. Little Classics; edited,

ter

Johnson; 18

sketches )

vols,

with introduction, by Rossi-

(several of which are verse and

Houghton.

.

French Masterpieces; edited, with introducby various critics, by Alexander Jessup; 6 vols.

10. Little

tions

(Flaubert, Merimee, Gautier, Balzac, Daudet, Maupassant).

Putnam.

11. Little

Masterpieces of Fiction; edited by Hamilton

W. Mabie (who Strachey

;

8

vols.

writes the introduction)

Doubleday.

and

Lionel

APPENDICES 12. Little

edited by

377

Masterpieces of American Wit and

Thomas

L. Masson; 6

vols.'

13.

and anecdotes). McClure. Love Tales; 5 vols. Jacobs.

14.

Modern Ghosts;

15.

Short Story Classics, American;

Humor; many

(including

sketches

1 vol.

Harper. edited, with in-

troduction and biographical notes, by William Patten

;

5

vols. Collier. 16.

Short Story Classics, Foreign

edited, with bio-

;

graphical notes, by William Patten; 5 vols. Collier. 17.

notes, 18.

Short-Story, The; edited, with introduction and

by Brander Matthews;

i

vol.

American.

Specimens of the Short Story; edited, with and notes, by George Henry Nettleton;

duction

introyol.

i

Holt. 19.

Stories by

American Authors; 10

vols. Scribner.^

by English Authors; 10 vols. Scribner.'' by Foreign Authors; 10 vols. Scribner. Stories from McClure's; 5 vols. McClure.

20. Stories 21. Stories

22.

from Scribner's; 6 vols. Scribner. 24. Stories New and Old, American and English; edited, with introduction and notes, by Hamilton W. 23. Stories

Mabie;

i vql.

Macmillan.

25. Tales from Blackwood; 6 vols. Doubleday.

from McClure's; 5 vols. McClure. Tales from Many Sources; i vol. Dodd.

26. Tales 27.

Cheaper edition issued by Success Co., American Fiction. ^ ^Cheaper edition issued by Success Co., 1

of of

English Fiction.

New

York, as Library

^,

,,

New

,

,

.,

York, as Library

APPENDICES

328

World's Greatest Short-Stories, The; edited, with

28. *

introduction and notes, by Sherwin

Cody

;

vol.

i

Mc-

Clurg.

2.

Volumes of Stories by One Author

29. Aldrich,

Thomas

30. Barr,

Robert; Revenge.

31. Barrie, ].M..; 32. Bell, J. J.; 33.

34.

35.

40.

and Other

Stokes. in

Thrums.

Macgregor.

Scribner.

Harper.

;

;

Houghton.

William

37. Bourget,

39.

Daw

The Babe, B. A. Putnam. Putnam. Bierce, Ambrose In the Midst of Life. Bjornson, Bjornstjerne; The Fisher Maiden, and

36. Black,

ange.

A Window

Wee

Benson, E. F.

Later Stories.

38.

Bailey; Marjorie

Houghton.

People.

;

The Magic Ink.

Paul; Monica.

Harper.

Scribner.

Brown, Alice; Tiverton Tales. Houghton. Castle, Agnes and Egerton; Flower 0' the OrMacmillan.

Chambers,

Robert

W.

;

The King

Yellow.

in

Harper. 41. Chesterton, Gilbert K.';

The Club

of

Queer

Trades.

Harper. 42. Collins, Wilkie; After

Dark.

Harper.

Ten Tales. Harper. The Stickit Minister.

43. Coppee, Frangois; 44. Crockett, S. R. 45. Davis,

;

Richard Harding; Van Bibber, and Others.

Harper. 46. Deland,

Margaret; Old Chester Tales.

Harper,

APPENDICES

Eugene;

47. Field,

A

Little

379

Book of

Profitable Tales.

Scribner.

Fox, John,

48.

Jr.

W.

49. Fraser,

;

Hell fer Sartain.

A.; Thirteen Men.

Freeman, Mary Wilkins;

50.

A

Harper. Appleton.

Humble Romance.

Harper. 51. Garland,

Hamlin; Main Traveled Roads.

Mac-

millan. 52.

Gibbon, Perceval ;

Grobelaar and

Her Lead-

"Gorky, Maxim"; Twenty-Six and One.

53-

&

Taylor

F.

Edward Everett The Man Without a Coun;

and Other Stories. Halevy,

55.

J.

Co.

54. Hale, try

Vrouw

McClure.

ing Class..

Little.

Ludovic;

Points

Parisian

of

View.

Harper. 56.

Hardy, Thomas

57. Harris,

Friends. 58.

Joel

;

Life's Little Ironies.

Chandler;

Uncle

Harper.

Remus and His

Houghton.

Harte,

Bret;

The

Luck

of

Roaring

Camp.

Houghton. 59.

" Henry, O."

West. McClure. ; Heart of the Hewlett, Maurice; Little Novels of Italy. Mac-

60.

millan. •61.

Hichens, Robert; The Black Spaniel.

Stokes.

62.

Hoffman, E. T.

W.

Scribner.

6T).

" Hope, Anthony "

64.

65. ers.

;

;

Weird

Tales.

Dolly Dialogues.

Harpef.

Hopper, James; Caybigan. McClure. Howells, William Dean; A Pair of Patient LovHarper,

APPENDICES

380 66. Jacobs,

W. W. The Lady

67. James,

Henry,

;

68. Jerome,

Jr.

;

Jerome K.

of the Barge.

The Wheel ;

of Time.

Dodd. Harper.

Sketches in Lavender.

Holt.

Myra; Wards of Liberty. McClure. Lewis, Alfred Henry; Wolfville. Stokes. Lincoln, Joseph C; The Old Home House.

69. Kelly, 70. 71.

Barnes. 72. 73.

London, Jack; The Love of Life. Macmillan. Loomis, Charles Battel!; Cheerful Americans.

Holt. 74.

MacGrath, Harold; Enchantment.

75. " Maclaren, Ian "

;

Bobbs.

Beside the Bonnie Briar Bush.

Matthews, Brander; The Story of a Story, Harper.

etc.

76.

yy.

Maupassant,

Guy

de

;

The Odd Number.

78. Meredith, George; Short Stories.

79.

The Untilled Field. Lippincott. Frank A Deal in Wheat. Doubleday. O'Higgins, Harvey J.; The Smoke Eaters. Cen-

Moore, George

80. Norris, 81.

Harper.

Scribner.

;

j

;

tury. 82.

Osbourne, Lloyd; The Motormaniacs.

83. " Ouida " 84.

Page,

;

A Dog

of Flanders,

Thomas Nelson In Ole

85. Phelps,

Elizabeth

Stuart;

etc.

Lippincott.

Virginia.

;

Men,

Houghton. 86. Poe, Edgar Allan Monsieur Dupin tective stories). McClure.

Bobbs.

Scribner.

Women

and

Ghosts.

;

87. Post, Melville

Randolph Mason. 88.

(collected de-

Davison; The Strange Schemes

Putnam.

Poushkin, A. S.

;

Prose Tales.

Macmillan.

of

APPENDICES 89. Reade, Charles;

Good

381

Stories.

90. Sienkiewicz, Henryk; Hania. 91. Smith, F.

Hopkinson; The

Harper. Little.

Wood

Fire in No.

j.

Scribner. 92. Stockton,

Frank R.

The Lady or

;

the

Tiger.

Scribner. 93. Stuart,

Salina Sue^ 94. " .

Ruth McEnery; The Second Wooing

of

Harper.

Thanet, Octave "

;

Stories of a Western

Town.

Scribner. 95. Turgenieff,

Ivan; The lew, and Other Stories.

Scribner. 96. " 97.

Twain, Mark "

The $30,000 Bequest. Harper. Edward; The Biased Trail. McStewart White, ;

Clure. 98. 99.

In Our Town. McClure. Wiggin, Kate Douglas The Village Watch Tower. White, William Allen

;

;

Houghton. 100. Zangwill, I.;

The

Celibates' Club.

MacMillan.

APPENDIX B ONE HUNDRED REPRESENTATIVE SHORT-STORIES This

not an attempt to select " one hundred best

i^

short-stories," for the opinions of competent critics

would

be sure to differ as to the exclusion or inclusion of

many

writers and stories.

Accessibility to the general reader

has governed some selections; other stories chosen were

thought to be more representative of their authors than better-known examples while most are widely recognized ;

as typical masterpieces.

The

fact that certain excellent

magazines are not referred to in for

by the

fact that

many

this list is accounted

short-stories

which

originally

appeared in their pages were later collected in the listed

Appendix A.

in

The numerals

sets

in parentheses

refer in every case to the collections listed in Appendix

A — which, ment

this

with Appendix C, will also largely supple-

list.

following story lished in

The names of titles,

publishers not in

italics,

indicate that the stories are pub-

book form under the same

titles

Appendix E

gives the full styles and addresses of publishers whose

names are abbreviated elsewhere 1.

Abbott, Eleanor Hallowell;

in this volume.

"The

Sick-a-Bed Lady."

Collier's, Oct., 1905. 2.

Ade, George;

"To Make 382

a Hoosier Holiday." (15)

3.

Aldrich,

Thomas

Bailey

;

" Marjorie

Daw."

Hough-

ton. 4.

Andrews, Mary R. Shipman McClure.

R; "The

5.

Anstey,

6.

Atherton, Gertrude

;

"

A

Good Samaritan."

Black Poodle." (20) "

;

The

Bell in the Fog."

Har-

per. 7.

Bacon, Josephine

8.

Balzac,

Uncelestial."

Daskam

" Edgar, the Choir-Boy

;

McCliire's, Jan., 1902.

Honore de

"

;

The Unknown

Masterpiece."

(16) 9.

Bangs, John Kendrick " The Utilitarian Mr. Carraway." From " The Booming of Acre Hill." ;

Harper. 10.

Barbour, Ralph Henry

;

"

The Dub."

Lippincott's,

Nov., 1905. 11.

Barrie,

James M.

Bell." 12.

Besant,

;

"The

Courting of T'Nowhead's

(II) Sir

Walter

;

" In

Deacon's

Orders."

Harper. 13.

Bourget, Paul; "Another Gambler."

14.

Brainerd,

Eleanor

(21)

" Concerning

Hoyt;

Belinda."

Doubleday. 15. "

Buchanan, Captain Lloyd "

;

"

The Team."

Lip-

pincott's, Nov., 1906. 16.

Bunner, H. C.

17.

Burnett, Frances

;

"

Love in Old Cloathes." (19) Hodgson " Little Saint Elizabeth." ;

From "Sara Crewe." 18.

Butler, Ellis Parker

;

Scribner.

" Pigs

is

Pigs."

McClure.

APPENDICES

384

21.

"The "The

Conrad, Joseph;

and

Houghton.

Other Parisians." 20. Castle, Egerton;

" Zut,

From

Guy Wetmore; "Zut."

19. Caryl,

Baron's Quarry."

(8)

McC lure's,

Brute."

Nov.,

1907. 22. Cooke,

MacGowan; "Their

Grace

First Formal

Harper.

Call."

23. " Craddock,

Charles Egbert "

Witch-Face Mountain." 24. Crawford, F.

Marion;

Mary

25. Cutting,

"

;

The Mystery

of

Houghton.

"The Upper Berth." (15) "The Suburban Whirl."

Stewart;

McClure.

Alphonse ; " The Goat of Monsieur

26. Daudet,

guin."

27. Davis, Richard ant.

Harding " Van Bibber's Man-Serv;

(45)

28. Deland,

Margaret;

29. Dickens,

Charles;

30. Ford,

Se-

(10)

"An

"A

Paul Leicester

;

"

Encore."

(7)

Christmas Carol."

Wanted

:

Works.

A Match-Maker."

Harper's, Sept., 1900. 31.

Forman, Justus Miles; "The Dream."

Harper's,

Oct., 1908.

32. France, Anatole

;

"

The Juggler of Notre Dame."

(21) 33. Frederic,

Harold " Brother Sebastian's ;

Friendship.''

(15) 34. Futrelle, Jacques

;

"

The Gray Ghost."

Everybody's,

Aug., 1903. 35. Garland,

Hamlin ;"

36. Gautier, Theophile;

Up

the Coulee."

(51)

"The Dead Leman."

(10)

'

APPENDICES 37.

Harben, Will N.

"

;

385

The Whipping of Uncle Henry."

From "Northern

Georgia Sketches."

"On

38.

Hardy, Thomas;

39.

Harte, Bret;

40.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel

41.

Henry, O."

42.

Hewlett, Maurice

43.

(60) Heyse, Paul

44.

Hibbard, George

45.

HoUoway,

"The

(56)

Outcasts of Poker Flat."

(11)

;

"

Ethan Brand."

" Cupid a la Carte."

;

;

"

;

Harper.

the Western Circuit."

(59)

Madonna of

" Andrea Delfin."

(24)

the Peach-Tree."

(8)

"

The Governor." Scribner. Edward Stratton; "The Master." ;

Reader, Nov., 1905. 46. " Hope,

Anthony "

;

"

From

Modenstein."

The Sin of the Bishop of " The Heart of the Princess

Stokes. " Caybigan." McClure. 47. " Thief in the Night." 48. Hornung, E. W.

Osra."

Hopper, James

;

A

;

Scrib-

ner. 49.

W.

Howells,

D.

" Editha."

;

51. 52.

(7)

Washington " Rip Van Winkle." " Owen Wingrave." Henry; James, (67) Jewett, Sarah Orne " Marsh Rosemary."

50. Irving,

;

(3)

;

Atlantic,

57:590.

Owen

"

The Hero

of an Hour."

Satur-

53.

Johnson,

54. 55.

day Evening Post, Aug. 29, 1908. (21) Jokai, Maurice; " In Love With the Czarina." Kipling, Rudyard " The Man Who Was." (17)

56.

Knapp,

;

;

cott's,

George

;

" Blood

Nov., 1907.

o'

Innocence."

Lippin-

APPENDICES

386 57.

Lewis, Will

;

"

Mike Grady's

Everyhod'/s,

Safety."

Oct., 1905. 58. Linn,

W.; "The

J.

Girl

at

McClure's,

Duke's."

Aug., 1903. 59.

Long, John Luther;

60.

"Maartens,

"The

Century, July,

Siren."

1903.

"The

Maarten;"

Christian."

Little

Lippincotfs, March, 1900. 61.

McCutcheon, George Barr; " The Day of the Dog." Bobbs.

62. 63.

MacGowan,

"A

Alice;

MacGrath, Harold

64. " Maclaren, Ian

;

"

;

(7)

The Blind Madonna."

"A

"

Doll."

(74)

Doctor of the Old School."

(75) 65. Maeterlinck,

cents." 66. Martin,

Maurice;

"The Massacre

(21)

Helen

Yingst."

"

;

The

Betrothal

of

Maupassant, Guy de; "Vain Beauty."

68.

Merim^e, Prosper

69. Mitchell, S.

Elypholate

Cosmopolitan, June, 1903.

67.

From

of the Inno-

;

"

Weir " ;

The Venus

of

A Draft on the

" Hepzibah Guinness."

(10)

Ille."

(6)

Bank of

Spain."

Century.

" Simon L'Ouvrier." ColGouverneur Aug. 25, 1906. Norris, Frank; "The Passing of Cock-eye Black-

70. Morris,

;

lier's,

71.

lock." 72. "

Century, July, 1902.

Ouida " (Mile. Louise de the Storm."

73. Page,

la

Ramee)

;

"

A

Leaf

(20)

Thomas Nelson;

"

Marse Chan."

(19)

in

APPENDICES 74. Phelps,

Elizabeth

387

"His Soul

Stuart;

to

Keep."

Harper's, Sept., 1908.

Henry Wallace; "Red Saunders

75. Phillips,

at

Big

Bend."

McClure's, Jan., 1904. Poe, Edgar Allan; "The Pit and the Pendulum." 76. ,(24)

"The Shot." (21) "The Box Tunnel." (18) Elsie; "The County Seat." Atlantic,

77.

Poushkin, Alexander;

78.

Reade, Charles;

79.

Singmaster,

May, 1908. John Reed

80. Scott,

The

First Hurdle."

Lippin-

Nov., 1907.

cott's,

81.

"

;

Spearman, Frank H.

"A

;

Million-Dollar Freight

Train."

82.

(22) Stevenson, Robert Louis ;" Markheim."

83. Stockton,

Frank R.

"

;

The Lady or

(3) the

Tiger."

Scribner.

Ruth McEnery " A Note of Scarlet." Century, May and June, 1899. Sudermann, Hermann " The New-Year's Eve Con-

84. Stuart,

85.

;

;

fession." 86.

-

Tarkington,

(

16)

Booth

" Monsieur

;

Beaucaire."

Mc-

Clure. 87. Taylor, 88. Taylor,

Bayard; "

Mary Imlay

Forgot."

91.

;

"

She? "

(19)

The Window That Monsieur

Booklovers, Jan., 1904.

Lyof "An Old Acquaintance." (21) Turganev, Ivan; " Mumu." (21) "Twain, Mark"; "The fi,cx)0,ooo Bank Note." From " The American Claimant." Harper.

89. Tolstoi, 90.

Who Was

;

APPENDICES

388

Vorst, Marie; " Bulstrode in Loco Parentis."

92.

Van

93.

Watson, H. B. Marriott "

94.

Weyman,

95.

Wharton, Edith; "The Duchess

Scribner's, Nov., 1906. ;

lee's,

A Delicate

Story." Ains-

June, 1907. Stanley

J.

;

"A

" Crucial Instances." 96. White, Stewart

Perilous

Amour."

at Prayer."

Scribner. " Life of the

Edward

;

(20)

From

Winds

of

Heaven."

McClure's, Aug., 1902. William Allen ; " The King of Boyville."

97. White,

(27) 98.

Wiggin, Carol."

99. Wister,

100. Zola,

(n).

Kate

Douglas

;

"

The

Bird's

Christmas

Houghton.

Owen "The Game and the Nation." (24) Emile; "The Death of Olivier Becaille." ;

APPENDIX C THE PLOTS OF TWENTY SHORT-STORIES The numbers

in parentheses refer to the collections of

short-stories listed in I.

Appendix A.

Markheim, by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-

1894)

;

about 7,000 words

Markheim enters the shop of a dealer buy a Christmas present for a

tensibly to

the old dealer with a long is

A

written in 1884.

;

psycho-

study of intense emotional force (16).

logical character

,

.

the

,

He

stabs

skewer -like dagger, and then

stricken with terror as " the

noiseless bustle

in antiques, oslady.

whole room was tall

gross blots of darkness swelling

filled

with

shadows nodding, the and dwindling as with

respiration, the faces of the portraits

and the china gods

The

changing and wavering like images in water." striking of clocks, the reflections of mirrors, the

of his

own

him with

a score of other matters,

steps,

fright.

"

On

every side he was haunted and

begirt with presences."

body upstairs,

still

beset

At

length he carries the limp

by

fearful fancies.

a step

is

heard upon the

way.

A

Visitant enters and shows

knows

all.

He

sound

stagger

all

stair,

offers the

Suddenly

a face peers in the door-

Markheim

that

murderer immunity

in

He ex-

change for a service, but Markheim fears such a bargain

389

APPENDICES

39°

might cost him

He

his soul.

all his

seeks to disclose

motives, to uncover his very heart to the Tempter

—

whose face suddenly takes on an almost angelic smile as Markheim decides to place himself beyond the possibility of doing more evil. The Visitant fades away, and Markstair, saying to the maidservant whom he confronts on the threshold, " You had better go for

heim descends the the police

2.

:

I

have killed your master."

The Man Who Was, Rudyard

Kipling (1865-

about 6,500 words; written in 1889. story,

A

)

human-interest

The

with strong emphasis laid upon the setting.

middle-distance characters stand out clearly (16). " Dirkovitch

...

was

an

officer in

a Cossack

regi-

ment, and corresponding for a Russian newspaper."

In

India he visited one troop after another and, by order

was civilly treated. Finally he became the guest of the White Hussars. During a gala dinner the mess was disturbed by the capture, outside, of a wretch in native rags who had apparently been one of a band of desperate carbine thieves. The miserable fellow seemed a lunatic, but as he wept an Indian of the Indian government,

officer noticed that

sar heard set

him

he cried

him moaning, "

at table

like

an Englishman.

My God

!

A Hus-

" in English.

and gave him a stimulant.

He

They

reached

out to a piece of silver plate on the table and touched a spring

known

way he

only to the Hussars.

in a child-like

room and thickly asked for a cerfamous old regimental drum horse.

inspected the

tain picture of a

Then

APPENDICES

which used

391

hang above the mantel. Had he once beThey tested him with their own peculiar toast to the Queen, and he responded as only an officer of the White Hussars could. Then Dirkovitch addressed him in Russian, and the man groveled. It gradually transpired that he was Lieutenant Austin Limmason, recorded as missing before Sebastopol thirty to

longed to their regiment?

Captured by the Russians, he had insulted

years prior.

was knouted horribly, and after years of mind now a blank, he had stumbled home to his regiment he was not a carbine thief. The care of his comrades came too late, however, for three days later he died and was buried with an officer's honors. As Dirkovitch ended his visit he predicted a clash in the East between Britain and Russia. their Colonel,

suffering, his

3.

—

A Derelict, by Richard Harding Davis

(1864-

about 11,500 words; from " Ranson's Folly," 1902. character study of crisis and denouement

James Keating,

News

to

a newspaper

A

14)

by the Consolidated

Santiago Harbor, wherein Cervera's

bottled up.

The

reporter, is sent

(

)

fleet

is

In Jamaica he runs across Charlie Channing,

man

of rare genius, but of dissolute habits.

latter is unattached,

ment does not come, he a " beach-comber."

and when is

his hoped-for assign-

reduced to leading the

The Syndicate

life

of

reporter, Keating, of-

—

the Channing a job as stoker on the press boat Channing first at refuses, only one there at the time. then decides to accept. When he goes on board he finds fers

APPENDICES

392

is still drunk the following day, makes its dash to escape. Though braced sick with fever, Channing writes a great story up with quinine and orders the captain to steam to Port Antonio and get the story on the wire. Because he knows that Keating's future is imperilled by his debauch, and that he has a young wife, Channing generously signs Keating's name to the dispatches. Then he succumbs to the fever, and when he gets on his feet again, six weeks later, the war is over. The Fruit Company at Port Antonio sends him north in one of its

Keating drunk, and he

when

the Spanish fleet

—

—

steamers.

When

he reaches

New York

he goes to a

Bohemian restaurant, and there meets acquaintances who tell him that they are giving Keating a farewell banquet on this the eve of his departure for Paris, where he is to cover the Peace negotiations, and then become the Syndicate's Washington correspondent. Keating, he learns, owes his good fortune to the remarkable news-beat he (Channing) sent in about the destruction of the Span-

Channing looks in and sees Keating at the head of the long, crowded table, then he draws back. " You say good-by to him for me," he says. " And, tell him Norris tell him that I asked you to say ish fleet.

'

—

to him,

'

'

—

He'll understand."

place

—

It's all right,' that's all, just that,

'

It's all right'

As he moves away from the only

where he was sure of food and a welcome that For he's a good fellow " But it was for Keating that the

night, the revelers break into the chorus, " jolly

chorus rang out.

!

APPENDICES 4.

The

393

Piece of String, by Guy de Maupassant about 2,500 words; written about 1885.

( 1 850-1 893 )

;

A psychological

story of compact plot and swift, pathetic

denouement (15).

Old Master Hauchecorne had just come from the counmarket when he saw a bit of string lying in the roadway. Being economical, he picked it up, and was

try to

about" to thrust the

it

into his blouse

when he

realized that

Harness Maker, an old enemy, was looking

Ashamed of

his niggardly act, he

at him.

fumbled about, pre-

tended to be looking for something

else,

concealed the

and then painfully hobbled on. Later in the day peasants and citizens were summoned by drumbeat to the string,

market square and told that a wallet containing

hundred

francs

had

been

lost.

Presently

five

Master

Hauchecorne was sent for by the mayor, who told him that the

Harness Maker had seen him pick up the wallet

morning on the road. Hauchecorne explained that was merely a bit of string that he had picked up. The mayor was incredulous, the old man protested, was confronted by his accuser, and at last temporarily disthat it

Everywhere he went he repeated his story and everywhere he was not believed. The next day the walHauchecorne again started let was found and restored. out, triumphant, and buttonholed every one with his story, but people laughed and were still unconvinced. They thought he had tossed the wallet where it would be found. He was dumfounded at their incredulity. charged.

Thereupon he again made

his rounds,

still

explaining.

APPENDICES

394 " '

Those are a

back. " He realized

it

liar's reasons,'

;

people said behind his

he gnawed his

himself in vain. " He grew perceptibly thinner. " Now the jokers asked him to

nails,

tell

and exhausted

the story of The

Piece of String for their amusement, as a soldier

has seen service

is

mind, attacked at " Late in

" In the

asked to source,

its

tell

grew

December he took first

about his

battles.

who His

feebler.

to his bed.

days of January he died and in the de-

lirium of the death-agony he protested his innocence,

repeating " see,

S. (

'

A

little

here

it

piece of string

is,

The Great Stone

1804-1864)

;

—a

little

piece of string

—

m'sieu' mayor.'

Face, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

about 8,500 words ; published

in 1850.

An

allegorical, idealistic, didactic story (27).

The Great Stone Face " was a work of Nature in her mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpendicu" Its lar side of a mountain by some immense rocks." features were noble, and the expression was at once grand and sweet, as heart, that

if it

embraced

had room for more." lous valley that there

man

were the glow of a

vast,

warm

mankind in its affections, and There was a tradition in the popuwould some day appear a noble

all

with the very countenance of the Great Stone Face.

As little Ernest sat with his mother he wished that such a man might indeed appear. The boy, who grew up

APPENDICES

395

under the benignant inspiration of the Face, one day it said that Mr. Gathergold had returned to his

heard

native place after having

mony

become very rich. With cerehim as the man of prophecy,

the citizens acclaimed

him give out merely coppers in charity, was not he. Later another son of the valley returned full of glory Old Blood-and-Thunder they called this military hero and thought they had found in him the desired likeness. But in the " warworn and weather-beaten countenance, full of energy, and expressive of an iron will," Ernest could see no

but as Ernest saw

knew

he

that

it

— —

similarity to " the gentle

wisdom, the deep, broad, tender

Next a great statesman returned to his native valley, and because the people thought he looked like the Face, they called him Old Stony Phiz, but Ernest knew that he too was lacksympathies " of the Great Stone Face.

ing.

At length a Poet visited the home of Ernest, now an man. The two conversed profoundly, and in his visitor Ernest sought to find the expected Man, but the poet old

suddenly, " by an irresistible impulse, threw his arms aloft,

and shouted

self the likeness

"

Then

all

—

'

Behold

!

Behold

!

of the Great Stone Face

Ernest

is

saw that what The prophecy was

the people looked, and

deep-sighted poet said

was

true.

him-

!

the ful-

But Ernest, having finished what he had to say, took the poet's arm, and walked slowly homeward, still hoping that some wiser and better man than himself filled.

would by and by appear, bearing a resemblance Great Stone Face."

to the

APPENDICES

396 6.

"

(Sidney Porter), (1865body's

Magazine,

)

Dec,

;

"

O. Henry about 6,000 words; Every-

Next to Reading Matter," by 1907.

A

"

humorous

surprise

story, ingenious in diction.

The narrator

is

accosted on the street in

by Judson Tate, the homeliest ugliness

was

less repellent

man

New York

imaginable.

than startling

" His

— arising from

a sort of Lincolnian ruggedness and irregularity of feature that spellbound

you with wonder and dismay."

The two men tells

struck up a hasty acquaintance and Tate his story. As a " gentleman adventurer " he had

become a great man and the real power behind the president of a South American republic, all through his wonderful gift of speech. At an early age he had perceived that what he lacked in looks he must make up in eloquence, and now no one could stand before him. Judson Tate had a friend, Fergus McMahan, who was as handsome as Tate was ugly, but " his conversation was about as edifying as listening to a leak dropping in a dish-pan at the head of the bed sleep."

McMahan

falls in

when you want

tin

to go to

love with " Seiiorita Anabela

Zamora, the beautiful daughter of the Alcalde of Aratama," and arranges with Tate to visit her window by

woo

night and

The ruse

her

— for McMahan — by his eloquence.

succeeds, but

he himself

falls in

love

when Tate

finally sees

and warns

his friend that

her beauty

he

will

marry the young lady. McMahan only laughs, but Tate's eloquent words actually charm her away from his handsome rival and she engages to marry the homely Tate.

APPENDICES

397

Suddenly, while calling upon the Seiiorita, the charmer

— and

loses his voice

In six days she runs after

with

it

upon

his hold

away with McMahan.

But Tate,

hurrying to the apothecary and getting some throat

The medicine

medicine, overtakes the eloping couple.

has worked a miracle, his voice the

his fiance.

is

as potent as ever, and

young lady once more succumbs to the eloquence of They were married, and are now, he tells

Judson Tate.

the narrator, living in Jersey City.

He

is

now

himself to the sale of " Tate's chial

devoting

Magic Chuchula Bronbut the Lozenges," which did so much for him

—

listener at this point tears himself

away.

After some reflection, the narrator decides that he has as

much

story

right to turn Tate's advertising dodge into a

as other

reader that he

have to puff a favorite

fiction-writers

make of automobile

— and so he

" can't

But he warns the buy the chuchula plant in the drug does.

stores."

7.

The Monkey's Paw,

by

W. W.

Jacobs (1863-

)

;

about 3,500 words; Harper's Magazine, 105:634. A story of ingenious plot and surprising denouement, dealing with the supernatural.

While in

visiting

an elderly couple and their grown son

an English village, a British

soldier,

who

has just re-

turned from India, shows them a dried monkey's paw, upon which, he declares, an Indian fakir once cast a spell, so that

by means of

it

wishes granted him.

each of three

He

tells

men

them

could have three

that the previous

APPENDICES

39^

owner had three wishes, the last being for death; and that he himself had three also, but he refuses to explain what the wishes were. He. seems to fear the gruesome object and finally throws it on the fire, from which it is rescued by the son.

The

old man's keeping

though he warns him that no good

will

come of

pounds

The

it.

paw

takes the

it,

in his

to clear their

soldier finally consents to the

and the old man hand and wishes for two hundred

visitor then leaves

home of

day a stranger comes and

tells

its

The next

mortgage.

them that

their son has

been mangled to death by being caught in some ma-

and on behalf of the mill-owners offers them two hundred pounds. Ten days later the old woman again thinks of the monkey's paw, and insists that her husband wish their boy alive again. Under protest he chinery,

does as she wishes.

In the night they are aroused by

a familiar rapping on their door. boy, the

woman

treaties of her

Expecting to see her

runs to open the door, despite the en-

husband,

who remembers

the awful con-

While she

struggling with

dition of their son's body.

is

the door fastenings, the husband hurriedly finds the key's paw, diately the

and utters his third and

last wish.

knocking ceases, and when the

woman gets the

door open, the street lamp flickering opposite

on a quiet and deserted road.

monImme-

is

shining

His third wish has been

granted.

8.

The

Substitute, by Francois Coppee (1842-..); written about 1883. pathetic

about 3,500 words;

story of unexpected moral heroism (16).

A

APPENDICES

399

Jean Frangois Leturc "was scarcely ten years old when he was arrested for the first time for vagabondage." With a man's cynicism he tells the judge of his checkered life of vagrancy. " Nobody claiming him, they sent him to a reform school." When at seventeen he was set free, he fell among his old reformatory associates and followed their criminal courses. another until he had a bad

One arrest followed name with the police and at

When he was bounds and slipped back to Paris.

length served five awful years at Toulon. released he broke

Moved by Brothers'

he reforms thoroughly and finds a

" Jean Francois and Savinien scarcely ever left

friend.

each other.

under

the recollections of early teaching in the school,

For a while they both throve and expanded

this friendship,

gay

life

mits "

a

but Savinien

of Paris, spends too theft,

much

and the gold

infected with the

is

for his income, com-

found

is

in

his

trunk.

Jean Francois, who came to take his (Savinien's) hands. 'I understand you stole the three '

Listen,' said

gold pieces to buy some

trifles

for a

That would

girl.

have been worth six months of prison for you. do not get out of that except to go back again I

-

.

.

have done seven years in the reform school, one at

Sainte-Pelagie,

three

Now, do not get it

But you ;

on " '

my

at

scared.

and

Poissy,

at

five

It is all settled.

I

Toulon.

have taken

shoulders.'

Poor

fellow,' cried Savinien

;

but hope was coming

back to his cowardly heart."

Jean Francois ended up a life-prisoner at Cayenne, registered as incorrigible.

APPENDICES

400

The Cask

9.

(1809-1849)

;

of Amontillado, by Edgar Allan Pee about 2,500 words; Godey's Lady's Book,

A

Nov., 1846.

sombre and characteristic Poe story, told it is compact, swift and climactic.

partly by suggestion;

The "

plot

is slight,

but the manner perfect (2).

The thousand

I best could; but

revenge.

...

overtakes

tion-

injuries of Fortunate I

had borne

as

when he ventured on insult, I vowed A wrong is unredressed when retriburedresser.

its

when the avenger him who has done

fails to

It

make

the wrong."

is

equally unredressed

himself

felt

Fortunate

is

as such to

a connois-

seur in wines, so Montresor, the narrator, professes to

have a cask of alleged Amontillado which he wishes have judged. sires to

leads

Fortunato

go at once to

damp

test the

palace the servants are at

cellar.

wine.

all

Montresor

craftily

that Fortunato ought not

When

vaults.

to

in carnival dress, but he de-

him on while professing

to enter the

two

is

they reach Montresor's

gone to the carnival, so

the

once enter the catacombs which form the wine-

Montresor

first

makes Fortunato drunk, and

then suddenly chains him to the wall in a dark and

re-

mote niche beneath the river bed. From beneath a pile of ancient bones Montresor draws some stone and mortar and, despite Fortunato's cries and pleadings, walls him up

in his tomb.^

10.

Mrs. Knollys, by F.

Dale"), (1855-

)

;

J. Stimson ("J. S. of about 6,000 words; Century Maga-

1 Compare Balzac's La Grande Breteche, and Edith Wharton's The Duchess at Prayer.

APPENDICES Nov.,

sine,

1883.

A

delicate,

about a single novel idea

The

(

401

poetic

story,

centering

16)

story deals with the steady

movement of the great Pasterzen glacier, which " rises in Western Austria and flows into Carinthia, and

is

fourteen or seventeen miles

you measure it from its birth in the snow field, or from where it begins to move from the higher snows and its active course is marked by the first wrinkle." Charles Knollys was a young English government clerk who was spending an ideal honeymoon in the Alps, when one day he " slipped into a crevasse and vanished utterly from the earth." For many days the eighteen-year-old bride would not leave the place but sat and watched the long, as

made hopeless efforts to recover the German scientist explained to her the movement of the glacier, thus blunder-

crevasse while they

One day

body.

character

a

and the

ingly crushing her hopes.

received a letter loss

A

year

from the great

him

of her husband had caused

act study of the glacier,

would be preserved

willing to live.

— that And

to

England, she

saying that the

make a more

ex-

and assuring her that the body

in that icy

with the slow-moving glacier. said, in forty-five years.

later, in

scientist

And

It

world and move down

might be recovered, he

this pathetic

hope made her

" There were but two events in her

life

which was past and that which was to come."

so she waited until at length the five and forty

years had passed, and, true to the scientist's prediction, the glacier delivered out of its

mouth the

perfectly pre-

served husband of twenty-one to the bride of sixtythree.

APPENDICES

402

The

Insurgent, by Ludovic Halevy (1834- ); compressed huabout 2,ocx) words written in 1872. II.

A

;

man-interest story (16).

Martin, a Parisian

fifty-five

tells his

years old,

story to

by which he is being His father had been fatally shot tried as an insurgent. " By his side, on the litter in the uprising of 1830.

the president of the military tribunal

was

his gun.

—

"

and Take it,' he said to me 'I give it to you against the govinsurrection whenever there shall be an " and died. ernment always, always, always The boy was fifteen and in frame a mere child, but he offered himself to the Commune, and from that moment '

;

—

—

!

'

became what he remained for forty years

He was under

the

fire

first

— an insurgent.

to climb the iron fence of the Louvre

of the Swiss in 1830

— but monarchy

still

pre-

In 1832 he distinguished himself again, and was

vailed.

wounded

in a chapel of the

church of

St.

Mery.

After

ten years in prison he used to return to the chapel, not to pray, but to see the stains of his blood

marked of 1834.

the stones.

which

still

In prison he had missed the rising

In 1848 he failed again as an insurrectionist

and was sent

— 1852 — he was pardoned

to Cayenne, but after four years

(having missed the revolt of 1851)

in

from drowning. Back again widow of an old comrade, and Under the Empire all was peace, but he

for saving a French officer in Paris, he married the

a son

is

born.

reared his son in the ideas his

own

father had given

At length Martin took part in an assault against La Villette, and was again imprisoned, but was soon

him.

APPENDICES

403

released by a change of government. risings of 1870

All through the and 1871 he was prominent. " I loved

for the revolt

revolt

at the start; I

am

club without going it,

itself.

An

insurgent, I told you

an insurgent. in,

a political

I can't see

an insurrection without running to

my

a barricade without taking

stone to

it."

But

after forty years of devojion to revolt, he plains, " you tell me that this insurrection

com-

Now

That

not lawful.

am

is

possible, but I don't quite see

was why.

muddled between these insurrections which are a duty and these which are a crime." He gets medals and applause for the one, and for the other, prison, exile, death. He is confused and discouraged. All he I

asks

getting

is

who

that they deal gently with his son,

is

not

responsible for his father's teachings. "

As

for me, you've got

the advice I give you. sides, is; I

me

what would you have? was born on the wrong

12.

;

don't

let

me

Nothing can

alter

(1843-

13,000 words; The Galaxy, July, 1869. little

—

that's

what

side of the barricade."

A Light Man, by Henry James

study, with

go

I'm too old to change, and be-

A

)

5

about

character

action, but handled with the subtlety

characteristic of the author (13).

Returning ffom long residence abroad, Maximus Austin (who tells the story in the first person and in diary form) receives a dore Lisle.

month

at

letter

from

his old-time friend,

The letter bears an the home of an aged

Theo-

invitation to spend a millionaire,

Frederic

APPENDICES

404 Sloane,

who

has

known

Austin's mother years before.

Austin accepts and finds Theodore Lisle settled as secretary to Sloane,

who

really " a light

tin is

the

newcomer

self

—

Lisle.

struggles

Sloane

is

Three weeks

worldling.

to

an interesting but battered old suffice to

show

Lisle that

man," and that Sloane has

Aus-

set

Being

in

need

of

the

situation.

Lisle

maintain his hold upon his patron, but

begs Austin to remain with him to the

finally

end, offering to destroy his will, which Austin finds

Upon

Lisle's fajVor.

the will

up

him-

in his affections to the detriment of

is in

being pressed, Austin goes to get

from Sloane's desk, and some other papers

the will and

finds Lisle standing with

The

in his hand.

latter

asserts his ignorance of the contents of the will, but reads it

at Austin's request.

Knowing now that he is about much more the loss of

to lose the fortune, Lisle regrets his faith in Austin,

and so himself destroys the

bids farewell to the friend he has lost.

and

and while the men are still together announces the death of Mr. Sloane now

Austin but a

little,

—

the valet intestate.

Meredith

will,

All this moves

The

heir-at-law, as nearest of kin

— telegraphs that she

" I shall remain

till

is

coming

—a

Miss

to the funeral.

she comes," resolves Austin, with " I have lost a fortune, but have

characteristic coolness. I irretrievably lost a

friend?

I

am

sure I can't say.

Yes, I shall wait for Miss Meredith."

13.

On the

Stairs, by Arthur Morrison (1863-

about 1,600 words. tion

(27).

A

realistic tragedy, told

);

by sugges-

APPENDICES

On

405

the stairs of a grimy, ugly, eight-family tenement

End

in the East

Her name

doorway.

woman pauses as a woman stands in the

of London, a gaunt

door opens, and a tottering old is

Mrs. Curtis, and Mrs. Manders,^

her gaunt neighbor, asks after her sick son.

no

She need not ask the doctor

better.

No, he

to find that out

for she heard three spirit raps last night, a sure " 'E's goin,' " said the old mother.

— ,

is'

omen

Mrs. Manders rehearses with pride the oft-repeated

details of the " 'an'some funeral " she

had given her hus-

band with the twelve pounds received from the

Odd

Fellows, and the old dame declares that her son shall also be " put away decent " though she is doubtful if

—

the insurance will permit her to afford both hired

mourners and " plooms."

When

comes.

At

he leaves the sick-room he

the patient's only chance of recovery

is

wine, but the old mother complains that

it is

The

pense." his

own

small resources, not

woman room

puts the

money

knowing

good port " sich a ex-

that the doctor

the day before. But the away, and " nothing left the

" Like

woman too.

night.

"Ah,

itor.

wax.

'e's

.

,

."

first vis-

a lovely corpse," said Mrs. Manders.

So was my

'usband."

feels able to hire the

They

from

sum

Nothing that opened the door The next morning the gaunt neighbor is the all

that

insists

in

assistant then gives her five shillings

himself had given a like

mute

this the doctor's assistant

ain't sich

mutes

And now

—

"

the old

and the plooms

a great expense, after

all."

APPENDICES

406

Tennessee's Partner, by Bret Harte (1839about 4,000 words written about 1870. A humorously pathetic character study, of Western local 14.

1902)

;

;

color

(16).

After showing

Jack " and

appellatives as "

how such

" Saleratus Bill "

came

Dungaree

to be applied to the

California gold-seekers, the author takes

up

his story.

a

Tennessee's Partner leaves Poker Flat to procure

At Stockton he

wife.

and returns to Poker oflf

is

suited, and in a week marries

Presently Tennessee makes

Flat.

with his partner's wife, but somebody else soon takes

her from him.

He

returns to Poker Flat, and his in-

jured partner shows no resentment but takes the double steal philosophically.

" Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had

grown up on the Bar. He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued intimacy with Tennessee after the

affair

above

quoted could only be accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime."

At last Tennessee is detected in a plain " hold-up," is pursued, captured and tried before " Judge Lynch." He refuses to say anything for himself, but his partner simple, serious, direct

and

loyal

— comes into the impro-

vised trial-room, and haltingly .

At length he

pulls out of

speaks for Tennessee.

an old carpet-bag his

— seventeen hundred — which he as watch " pile "

dollars in coarse gold,

offers

—

compensation, to "

entire

and call

a it

APPENDICES square." But the gold " court," and Tennessee

is

407

indignantly refused by the

is

"

convicted.

For the

first

time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strange

Tennessee smiled, showed his white

advocate met. and, saying,

'

Euchred, old

Tennessee's Partner took

it

man

!

in his

teeth,

held out his hand.

'

own, and saying,

'

I

was passin' to see how things was gettin' on,' let the hand passively fall, and adding that it was a warm night,' again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and without a word withdrew." dropped

just

in as I

'

After the lynching Tennessee's Partner

is seen near by Asking for the body, he places he has made^ and the bystanders join in

with his donkey-cart. it

a

in

coffin

He

the funeral procession.

buries Tennessee without

and then says a few memorial words

help acter

and simple pathos.

long survive.

As he

vision of Tennessee himself, sober,

and

full

of char-

Tennessee's Partner does not

dying his eyes light up with the

is

—

—

"

'

coming

this

his face a shining.

way, too

—

Tennessee

!

all

by

Part-

ner!' " And so they met."

15.

Where Love

Is^

There God

Is Also,

by Lyof

Tolstoy (1828- ); about 5,500 words; written about didactic story, told with conviction and sim1890.

A

plicity.

The Outlook, March

28, 1908.

Martin Avdyeeich was an honest Russian cobbler whose children and wife had died, leaving him with but one

child, a small boy,

upon

whom

he had

set his heart.

408

APPENDICES

But that

A

child also died,

and Martin reproached God.

Pilgrim monk, however, directed him to the gospels

and he became a devout follower of their teachings. One day he heard a voice which bade him look to-morrow But He into the street, for Christ would come to him. did not appear, only a chilled old snow-sweeper, to

whom

Martin gave hot tea to drink, as he explained the gosMartin conpel; and then the grateful old man left. tinued to look for Christ, but

he saw a poorly clad

woman

He

did not come, though

with a

child,

little

whom

he fed and warmed, hearing her story and giving her an acted as mediator between an old

chievous boy

who had

He woman and a

summer garments.

old jacket to cover her thin

stolen her apples

;

and

next mis-

to her also

expounded the new truth which has possessed him the doctrine of love.

All day long he had looked for the

Christ and had not seen him, but his

cellar

said, "

My

—

a Presence declared

Inasmuch as ye have done

brethren, ye have done

it

now

itself it

as he returned to as

He who

had

to the least of these

unto Me."

"

And

Martin

then understood that his dream had not deceived him,

and

that the Saviour

and he had i6.

had

come to him Him."

really

really received

that day,

Another Gambler, Paul Bourget (1852-

about 6,GOO words; published in

1889.

A

);

dramatic,

psychological study of morbid remorse, done in semirealistic style (20). •

Two young men

of good family, Claude and the nar-

rator, are discussing the suicide of Claude's cousin

Lu-

APPENDICES ,

which has just ended

cien,

Claude

dishonesty.

his career of

narrator

the

tells

409

gambhng and the

following

story, as illustrating the gambler's faith in fetiches

When

Claude was a boy he passionately desired a sa-

bre which

hung

in the

Ten francs would buy sum One day

large a

!

window but

it,

of a Parisian toyshop.

how

should he save so

gave him two same time a ten-franc piece,

his cousin Lucien

francs as a gift, and at the

which he charged him to give to the

should meet — night.

bre

!

first

beggar he

to insure gambler's luck for Lucien that

The ten francs, he reflected, would buy the saThe boy yielded, in spirit, and gave a blind beg-

gar the silver coin, keeping the gold piece for the coveted

But he suffered torments of conscience. He perhaps suicide he had brought misfortune

sabre.

that

—

felt

— to

Lucien, so he arose in the night, stole out of the house,

and started off

to give the coin to the blind beggar.

On

slipped in the

piece. '

way he

the

That night

cheated,

17.

Lucien

began his vicious

The Father,

snow and

lost

career,

heavily

lost the

at

and ended a

baccarat, suicide.

Bjornstjerne Bjdrnson (1832-

about 1,500 words; written in i860.

A

gold

);

realistic story

of pathos and lofty spirit, exhibiting compression and the

power of suggestion (16).

Thord Overaas was

the

first

man

of his parish.

One

day he presented himself at the priest's and asked bapnewborn son, requesting that he be baptized

tism for his alone.

As Thord

left

the pastor prayed that the child

4IO

APPENDICES

might prove a blessing to

his father.

Sixteen years later

he came to the priest to arrange for the lad's confirmation, and this time he is proud that his boy will head

Eight years more, and Thord comes to the priest with the request that he publish the bans for his

the

list.

— he

marry the richest girl in the village. A young man is drowned before his father's eyes. A year passes and for the fourth time Thord comes to the priest. He has changed from a robust man to one of bowed form and white hair. He

son

is

to

fortnight later the

upon the

lays

his son's "

table half of his wealth, to be invested in

name

They

as a legacy for the poor.

sat there

for a while,

eyes, the priest with his eyes fixed

Thord with downcast on Thord. Presently

the priest said, slowly and softly: "

'

think your son has at last brought you a true

I

blessing.'

"

'

Yes,

two big i8.

1870)

I

think so myself,' said Thord, looking up while

tears coursed slowly

Mateo Falcone, by ;

about 5,500 words

;

Mateo Falcone was a

his cheeks."

Prosper

Mdrimee (1803-

published in 1829.

edy, exhibiting local color and

in the

down

were often the resort of fugitives from

thickets

justice.

his wife set out early to visit

flocks, leaving their little

trag-

well-to-do sheep-raiser, living

open plateau country of Corsica, whose

day Mateo and

A

marked climax (16).

one of

son Fortunato at home.

eral hours later a bandit, limping painfully

One their

Sev-

from a wound

APPENDICES

41

received from the pursuing soldiery, claims protection

because of his friendship for Falcone.

under a haystack. cannot

make

Soon the

bandit

man

soldiers come, but threats

A

the boy betray the bandit.

however, proves an effective bribe.

silver watch,

Just as the

wounded

dragged from the haystack, Falcone returns

is

and learns the

truth.

When

bearing their prisoner on a little

Fortunato hesi-

but at sight of a five-franc piece hides the

tates,

the

litter,

soldiers

have gone,

the father takes out

Fortunato and shoots him as the

first traitor in

the

family.

19. (

The

1842-

)

Damned ;

Thing,

about 9,000 words.

of Life," 1898.

A

by

Ambrose

From

Bierce

" In the Midst

fantastic story of the supernatural,

with pseudo-scientific conclusion (14).

The

setting is a small

coroner's

inquest.

Western community, during a newspaper man,

William Harker,

who has been visiting Hugh Morgan, the deceased, is summoned as a witness, and he introduces in his testimony a copy of the description of the tragedy, which he has sent to the newspaper he represents. He and Morgan were out after quail, when he heard a sound as of body dragging itself through some nearby bushes, and Morgan became violently agitated. He ascribed the noise to what he called "The Damned Thing," and when a moment later some wild oats not far away were bent as though some animal was passing through them, though nothing was visible, he fired at a heavy

APPENDICES

412

Harker was thrown down by the sudden impact of a large, soft body flung against him with great force. When he arose, he saw his friend on the ground some distance away, writhing in an apthe spot, then turned to

flee.

parent struggle with something, though nothing was

Morgan was Harker then noticed the same motion among the wild oats as he had seen before, only this time the Thing was evidently going away.

He

visible.

hurried to his assistance, but

dead, his throat horribly lacerated.

A

diary kept by the dead

man

speaks of "

The Damned

Thing " as a huge, savage creature which cannot be seen. Morgan's solution of the mystery was that, just as there are sounds which cannot be heard by mortal " The ears, so there are colors which we cannot see. Damned Thing," he asserted, must have been of such a color.

The

verdict of the coroner's jury was, "

come to their end at but some of us thinks, all

We,

the

jury, find that the remains

the hands

of a mountain lion,

the same,

they had

20.

fits."

"^

What Was

It?

O'Brien (1828-1862)

words; written

in

in

;

A

Mystery, by

Fitz-James

condensed form about 5,000

1859.

A

realistic

story of

unex-

plained mystery (i'6).

The

was one of a group of boarders would remove a spacious house reputed to be haunted. For some narrator, Harry,

who agreed to

to

go with

his landlady if she

weeks nothing happened, but one night, after a long 2

Compare with the next

plot.

dis-

APPENDICES

413

ciission of ghostly matters with his friend

Hammond,

Harry was trying to fall asleep, when a Something dropped upon his chest and clutched his throat. A struggle of horrible intensity followed, in which Harry was at last victorious. He bound the unseen Thing and turned on the light but saw nothing, though he still

—

had one arm around " a breathing, panting, corporeal shape."

Hearing the

noise,

Hammond

room They upon the

entered the

and also touched the Thing, but could not see

it.

more securely and threw it Then followed prolonged observation of its movements, as shown by At the bed-clothes. It slept, but neither ate nor spoke. last they secured a plaster mold of the Enigma by giving it an anaesthetic. It was in form like a misshapen man. For two weeks its heart-beats grew daily feebler, until it died. They buried the invisible Horror in the garden, and rumor had it that the plaster-cast was to be exhibited in a well-known museum. then fastened

it

bed — which creaked under the weight.

APPENDIX D DIGEST OF RHETORICAL RULES APPLICABLE TO SHORT-STORY

WRITING ^ I.

(o)

Diction

•

The Right Use

Pure

1.

Use

2.

Avoid the needless use of

Words

neither obsolete words nor words too new to be standard.

isms and 3.

4.

local-

technical terms.

Rarely employ a foreign word until

'

of Right Words

it

has become naturaUzed.

Be too alert to use the wrong word even if it sounds like the right one.^

(b) Proper

Do

not use the same word in more than one sense in the same paragraph.

Words

•

6.

Among word

synonyms, that

choose

conveys

the

exactly

your shade of meaning, both (c) Precise

Words 7.

in kind and in degree. Avoid general words when specific words will convey your idea.

1 Adapted from the author's How to Attract and Hold an Audience (Hinds, Noble & Eldredge, New York). ^ As, discomfort for discomfit, demean for bemean.

414

APPENDICES II.

8.

415

Sentences Short sentences should be used for

emphasis,

vigor,

movement,

and

rapid

impassioned

discourse. 9.

Too many

short sentences pro-

duce a disconnected, jerky effect.

10.

For detail, smoothness, rhythm, and beauty, use longer senr

11.

Use

tences.

Kinds

care lest long sentences ob-

scure the meaning. 12.

Use balanced

sentences to bring

out contrast.* 13.

To

sustain interest, use periodic

sentences.* 14.

For easy and informal discourse

15.

Learn to use

use loose sentences." all

kinds of sen-

tences and so avoid monotony.

*"If the

flights

of Dryden therefore are higher, Pope con-

tinues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dry-

den often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below it. is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight." Johnson's Lives of the Poets: Pope. * Grammatically incomplete if ended before the last words. "By a curious irony of fate, the places to which we are sent when health deserts us are often singularly beautiful." Stevenson; Ordered South. "May be ended earlier and yet be grammatically complete.

Dryden

4i5

APPENDICES III.

Essential Properties of Style i6.

17.

Keep your tenses congruous." Use the subjunctive only when the condition

18.

Use

shall

and

is

doubtful.'

will,

should and

would, with care. 19.

(«)

Grammatical

"

Do

not

intervening words

let

disturb the agreement of verb

Correctness

and subject." 20. Rarely place

— Genung.*

an adverb between

the parts of an infinitive.' 21.

Let the sense rather than gram-

mar govern your

treatment of

collectives.

22. Place adverbs

and adverb modi-

fiers close to the

(b) Clearness

modify.

Beware

words they especially ot

" only." " Often, too, they are places we have visited in former years, or seen briefly in passing by, and kept ever afterwards in pious memory; and we please ourselves with the fancy that we shall repeat many vivid and pleasurable sensations, and take up again the thread of our enjoyment in the same spirit as we let it Passage immediately following the foregoing extract. fall." * " I never was so long in company with a girl in my life and succeed [succeeded] so ill.' Jane trying to entertain her Austen, Mansfield Park, ii, p. 160. " If I ' Note the difference in conditions in these sentences : be dishonest you are to blame " " If I am dishonest, you are to blame." * " In these expressions were shadowed out the whole of that H. L. Bulwer, Historical course subsequently developed." Characters, ii, p. 336. * Called a " split infinitive," as " to sweetly sing."

—

—

—

;

—

APPENDICES 23.

Arrange

417

relative

and

restrictive

modifiers so that there

no doubt as

may

be

what they

to

modify.*"

Clearness

24. "

Between a word and its modifier do not put anything that can

steal the modification."

Genung. 25.

careful to use "

Be

as

whom "

only

an objective, never as a

nominative.** 26.

A

clause should not be used in-

stead of a noun, or a pronoun as the antecedent of a relative

Clearness {Continued)

pronoun. 27. Let

no doubt

there be

as

to

which, of two or more nouns

of like number and gender, a personal pronoun relates. 28.

Omit no

parts not evidently im-

plied (understood).*^ 29.

(c)

Unity and Coherence

During the course of a sentence do not change its subject or shift the standpoint.

" I went to see the assistant to the physician that *" Obscure you recommended." " Wrong case " The younger Harper, whom they agree was :

:

rather nice-looking."— Disraeli.

.

,

,

,

^

,

The domain of the husband to whom 12 Error by omission : she felt that she had sold herself, and [by whom she] had been nay, paid more than she had dared to paid the strict price

—

ask."— Daniel Deronda.

4i8

APPENDICES 30.

The sentence should be completely

dominated by one main

thought,

and upon that

di-

rectly should each subordinate

thought depend. 31.

Do

not crowd together conflict-

ing ideas, nor thoughts unnaturally related. (c) Unity and

32. Rarely attach relative clauses to

Coherence,

other clauses which are themselves dependent. 33-

A

too free use of parenthetical tends

expressions

to

switch

thought away from the subject.

34- Rarely

attach a

supplementary

expression to the end of an

already complete sentence.

IV.

Special Properties of Style 35.

For emphasis, accord a conspicuous place in the sentence to the

main

idea,

using the other

parts as a background.

(a)

Emphasis

•

36. Invert the position of the modifier to

37.

An

give

it

emphasis.^'

inverted sentence-order will

emphasize the logical subject, or principal idea. 1^ "

A

forehead high-browed and massive."

APPENDICES 38.

By

419

putting

matter

subsidiary

the logical subject will

first,

be emphasized (periodic sentence).

Emphasis

39. Repetition

of

sentence-forms

sometimes adds emphasis. 40.

Observe

sequence,

proportion,

and climax for emphasis. 41. Plain, specific, short,

and strong

words give vigor to sentences. 42.

Avoid the repetition of ideas, and the use of unnecessary '

words, especially connectives. 43. "

End

with words that deserve

— Wendell.

distinction."

44.

(b) Force

For weighty fiers,

force, cut out

condense

modi-

clauses

and

phrases into equivalent words,

and choose the most emphatically direct

45.

Do

words.

not depend upon

italics

and

exclamation points to strength-

en weak thoughts weak words J

and weak arrangement. 46.

To

secure

harmony

sound of words (c)

Harmony

47. Select

suit

synonyms when

it is

essary to repeat ideas. 48.

Use

the

to the sense.

alliteration sparingly.

nec-

APPENDICES

420

49.

(c)

Arrange your material with an ear to the prevalence of har-

Harmony

monious sounds. 50.

To

give vitality to discourse, use

direct, idiomatic English.

between an idiom and a worn-out stock expres-

51. Distinguish

sion. 52.

Avoid the too

free use of poetic

forms.

(d) Vitality 53.

54.

Beware the pitfall of a stilted and exaggerated style. Rapid movement is secured by suppressing details, and using epithet to portray the characteristic points.

55. Occasionally

denying

affirm its

a thing by

opposite

(li-

totes)." 56.

Used guardedly, circumlocution gives variety.

(e)

Variety

57.

Study the art of recasting

sen-

tences. 58.

Figures of speech afford variety.

59.

Use epithet sparingly. Use suggestion to relieve

60.

—

scription. ^* "

A

citizen of

no mean

— Paul.

city."

de-

421

APPENDICES 61.

Vary

and interroga-

declarative

tory with exclamatory forms.

may be varied by changing the voice of the verb. Study the inversion produced by

62. Expression

63.

with

introducing sentences " there " and " it." 64.

Learn to change from

65.

Employ

direct to

indirect quotation (discourse).

(e)

Variety

the

present,

historical

but not too freely. 66.

Learn how

paraphrase poetic

to

into prosaic language,

and con-

trariwise.

67. Practice contracting clauses into

phrases vvell

and

into

as expanding

words; as

words and

phrases into clauses. 68.

For condensed and scription,

use

vivid

simile,

de-

meta-

phor, allusion, and personification,

69. Interrogation, exclamation,

hyperbole

(f) Figures

are

used

for

and im-

pressive assertion.

of Speech

70. Apostrophe,

and vision (the

his-

torical present), are suited to

dramatic narration. 71.

For

illustration,

study the use of

figures of comparison.

APPENDICES

422

72.

not use figures except where

Do

you desire to add

clearness,

force, or beauty.

73. Figures should

harmonize with

the general character of the story.

74. (/)

Figures of speech

Vary ing

the use of figures by study-

many

different objects for

suggestions. 75.

Do

not in the same sentence mix

figures of speech with literal

language. 76. Figures should neither be carried

so far as to be incongruous,

nor used to excess.

V.

The Thought-Divisions

yy.

Each

division of the

should pletely

whole story com-

dominated

be

by one main thought,

and upon

it

directly

should

each subordinate thought depend.

Relation of

J

7^-

Each such thought-division must preserve its unity by including

79.

The

Thoughts I

only

its

own

logical material.

several divisions

must

fol-

low one another progressively, each growing out of its predecessor, so that the entire series

may move toward

a climax.

1

noughts

unforced.

VI.

The Whole Story

8i. Let your style be determined

by

the type of the story. 82.

Entire Effect

Do

not sacrifice earnestness, in-

dividuality,

and

directness, to

gain literary finish; you really

need not. 83. Subordinate

story to the

each

part

efifect

of the whole.

of

the

APPENDIX E ABBREVIATIONS OF PUBLISHERS' ADDRESSES American

American Book Co

Appleton

D. Appleton

Baker

The Baker

Barnes

A. S. Barnes

Bobbs Brentano

New York New York

& Co

&

.New York

Taylor Co..

New York

& Co.

The Bobbs-Merrill Co

.

.

.

Indianapolis

.Brentano's

New New New New New New New

York York York York York York York

Century

The Century Co

Collier

P. F. Collier

Dillingham

Doubleday

The G. W. Dillingham Co. Dodd, Mead & Co Doubleday, Page & Co.

Duffield

Duffield

Editor

Editor Publishing Co. .Deposit, N. Y.

Funk

Funk & Wagnalls Co Ginn & Co The Grafton Press

Dodd

Ginn Grafton

Harper Heath Hinds Holt

Houghton

&

Son

.

Harper

.

.

& Co

&

New York Boston

New York New York

Bros

& Co Boston & Eldredge. New York Henry Holt & Co New York Houghton, Mifflin & Co Boston D. C. Heath

Hinds, Noble

424

.

Co Co

Lippincott

J.

Little

Little,

Longmans

Longmans, Green & Co. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard

Lothrop

Macmillan

McClure McClurg Mofifatt

Page

B. Lippincott

Brown &

Philadelphia

Boston .

.

New York Bostor

New New

The Macmillan Co The McClure Co A. C. McClurg & Co MoiFat, Yard & Co L. C. Page & Co

Yorl Yorl

Chicago

New

Yorl

Bostor

New

Putnam

G. P. Putnam's Sons

Review

Review of Reviews Co.

.

.

.New Yorl

Scribner

Charles Scribner's Sons

.

.

.

Stokes

The Frederic A. Stokes J. F. Taylor & Co

Taylor

Co.

New New New

Yorl

Yorl Yorl Yorl

APPENDIX F BOOKS FOR A FICTION-WRITER's LIBRARY

4.

The Standard Dictionary; Funk. The Working Principles of Rhetoric, John Franklin Genung; Ginn. ^ English Composition, Barrett Wendell Scribner. Every-Day English, Richard Grant White; Hough-

5.

Likes and

1.

2.

'

3.

;

ton.

Opposites

(synonyms and antonyms)

Hinds. 6.

A

Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases, P. M.

Roget

;

Lippincott. ^

7.

Talks on Writing English, Arlo Bates

;

8.

A

;

9.

ID.

Houghton. Study of Prose Fiction, Bliss Perry Houghton. The Study of a Novel, Selden L. Whitcomb Heath. ;

The Technique

of the Novel, Charles F.

Home;

Harper.

12.

Authorship, James Knapp Reeve; Editor. The Preparation of Manuscripts for the Printer, Frank H. Vizetelly; Funk.

13.

Essays on Authorship (pamphlet)

14.

The

15.

looi Places

11. Practical

Way

Into Print (pamphlet) to Sell

;

;

Editor.

Editor.

Manuscript ; Editor.

426

APPENDIX G BIBLIOGRAPHY I.

1.

Books on

Albright, Evelyn

the Short-story

May; The

Macmil-

Short-Story.

lan, 1907.

Charles

2. Barrett,

Raymond; Short Story

Writing.

Baker, 1900. 3.

Canby, Henry Seidel; The Short Story; Yale Studies

4

Hart,

in English.

Holt, 1902.

W. M.

;

Hawthorne and

the

Short Story.

Berkeley, Cal., 1900. 5.

Matthews, Brander; The Philosophy of the ShortStory.

6.~Qliirk,

Longmans, 1901. W. Hozu to Write a Short Story.

Leslie

;

Editor, 1904. 7.

Smith, Lewis Worthington;

and

28, in

of

the

Heath, 1902.

Short Story. See also numbers 18, 24,

The Writing

i,

2, 5, 7, 8, 9,

APPENDIX

A,

10,

all

11,

15, 16, 17,

of which contain

introductory essays or notes on the short-story. 2.

Books Referring

How

to the

Write a Novel.

8.

Anonymous;

9.

Bainton, George (Editor)

to

Short-Story

London, 1898. 427

;

London, 1901.

The Art of Authorship.

428 ro.

APPENDICES Baldwin, Charles S.; College Manual of Rhetoric.

11. Besant,

Walter; The Art of Fiction. London, 1884. How to Write Fiction. London,

12.

Cody, Sherwin;

13.

Cody, Sherwin, and others;

1895.

14

On

the

Art of Writing

London, 1894.

Fiction.

Ginn, 1898.

Dye, Charity; The Story-Teller's Art.

15. Gosse,

Edmund;

"Kipling's

Questions at Issue.

Short

Stories,"

in

Appleton, 1893.

16.

Hamilton, Clayton; Materials and Methods of FicBaker, tion; Introduction by Brander Matthews.

17.

Hawthorne,

18.

Heisch, C. E.

1908.

Nathaniel;

American

Note

Book.

Works, Houghton. ;

The Art and Craft

of the Author.

Grafton, 1906. 19.

Howells,

W.

D.

;

Criticism

and

Fiction.

Harper.

1891 ; Literature and Life. Harper, 1902. " The Art of Fiction," in Partial 20. James, Henry ;

Macmillan, 1888.

Portraits. 21.

Matthews, Brander; Aspects of Fiction.

Scribner.

1896. I22.

Guy de

Maupassant,

;

Introduction to Pierre et Jean.

Paris, 1888. 23. Norris,

Frank; The Responsibilities of the Novelist Doubleday, 1903.

(and other papers). 24. Pain,

Barry

;

First Lessons in Story Writing.

Lon-

don.

Edgar Allan; The Philosophy of Composition. Works.

25. Poe,

APPENDICES 26. Stevenson, ries

and

429

Robert Louis; Vailima Letters; Portraits.

27. Winchester,

Memo-

Scribner.

Caleb T.; The Principles of Literary Macmillan, 1899.

Criticism.

See also numbers F,

all

5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11, in Appendix of which contain valuable sections bearing on the

short-story.

3.

28.

Magazine Articles

Andrews, E. F. Beginners

"

;

Rudimentary Suggestions for

Story

in

Writing."

Cosmopolitan,

Feb., 1897. 29.

Anonymous; "The Short

Story."

Eclectic,

139:

45530.

"B. P."; "The Short Story." Atlantic, 90:241. M. " Magazine Fittion and How Not

31. Bird, Frederic

to

Write

;

It."

Lippincotfs, Nov., 1894; " Fact in

Fiction," July, 1895;

"Bad

Story-Telling," Oct.,

1897. 32. Black,

Ebenezer Charlton

Short Story." 33. Cable,

George

Teller."

;

"

The Future of the

International Monthly,

W.

" Afterthoughts

i

:205.

a

Story-

North American- Review, 158:16;

" Spec-

;

ulations of a Story-Teller."

of

Atlantic, July, 1896.

"

The Short Story." Dial, 31:271; "The Modern Short Story;" Sept. i,

34.

Canby, Henry Seidel

35.

De

;

1904.

Leon, T.

C; "The Day

cotfs, Nov., 1897.

of Dialect."

Lippin-

APPENDICES

43°. 36. " E.

A. B."

" Fallacies

;

Academy, 63

About the Short Story."

:396.

Mary Tracy; "The Problem

37. Earle,

Book Buyer, Aug.,

"The

38. Editorial;

May

of Endings."

1898.

Harper's Weekly,

Short Story."

Harper's Magazine, Jan.

23, 1908.

&

Feb.,

1909.

Comment

39. Editorial

hausted ? "

Edgar

40. Fawcett,

"

;

Plots

the

Some Advice

Independent,

ers."

41. Fenn,

Have

"

;

Been Ex-

Current Literature, June, 1896.

George;

May

"The Art

to

Young Writ-

1896.

14,

of Mystery in Fiction."

North American Reznew, 156:432. John Phelps " The Rationale of the Short Story, According to Poe." Poet Lore, 16 157.

42. Fruit,

43. "

;

H. H. F."

;

"

Names

in Fiction."

Literature, Jan.

19, 1899.

44. Hamilton, Clayton

45.

"

;

The Structure

of the Short-

Reader, Feb., 1906.

Story."

Hapgood, Norman;

editorial notes in Collier's deal-

ing with prize awards in short-story contests.

Apr.

8, Oct. 14,

Ma^

1905; Jan. 13,

26,

Aug.

11,

1906. 46. Higginson,

W. D.

;

"

The Local

Short-

"

Some Anomalies of the Short North American Review, Sept., 1901.

47. Howells,

Story." 48. Martin,

Thomas Wentworth

Independent, Mar. 11, 1892.

Story."

;

Edward

S.;

"Writing."

Harper's,

Jan.,

1908. 49.

Matthews, Brander

;

" Story of the

Munsey's, Aug., 1906.

Short-Story."

APPENDICES 50.

51.

431

Matthews, William " Misleading Titles of Books." Saturday Evening Post, Apr. 21, 1900. Mabie, Hamilton W.; "A Comment on the Short ;

Story."

Outlook,

May

16, 1908.

52. Page, Walter, Henry Cabot Lodge, and William Al-

White; Comments.

len

53. Parker, Gilbert

;

"

Feb. 11, 1905.

Collier's,

The Art of

Fiction."

Critic,

Dec,

1898. 54.

Payn, James; "Story-Telling."

Living Age, 146:

412. 55. Poe,

56.

Edgar Allan; "Hawthorne's 'Tales.'"

ham's Magazine, May, 1842. Saintsbury, George " Names in Fiction." ;

lan's,

57. Smith,

Gra-

Macmil-

49:11s. F.

Stories."

Hopkinson

;

,

"

How

to

Write

Short

Interview in the Boston Herald, synop-

tized in Current Literature, June, 1896.

60.

James " The Luxury of Pity." Forum, 5 :8. Symposium: Robert Barr, Harold Frederic, Arthur Morrison and Jane Barlow " How to Write a Short Story." Bookman, Mar., 1897. Thompson, Maurice " The Domain of Romance."

61.

Walsh,

58. Sully, 59.

;

;

;

Forum, 8:328. W. S.; "Real People cott's,

62.

in Fiction."

Lippin-

48:309.

Wedmore, Frederick

;

"

The Short

Story."

Nine-

teenth Century, Mar., 1898.

Note: voted to

The Editor and The Writer, magazines the interests of writers, give much space to

short-story.

See back numbers.

dethe

GENERAL INDEX _

Names of

authors whose words or

titles

are quoted, are printed

in small capitals; titles of books and stories appear in italics; while topics and persons referred to are set in plain type. The authors and titles referred to in the chapter on Titles and in the Appendices are not included in this Index.

Action, 228, 251.

Addison, 191. Albright, Evelyn Short-Story, 55,

Balfour,

May, The 66, 83,

edie Humaine, 21 Happy, 184; La

Aldrich, T. B., Marjorie Daw, 77; Quite So, 224.

Br Heche,

Allen, Grant, 312.

Battle, 224.

Esther

;

Grande

88, 239, 185.'

246;

Barr, Robert, 71, 311. Barrett, Charles Raymond, Short Story Writing, 17, 77, Barrie,

21,

mental

286,

and

287.

Tommy,

Grizel, 55

7; Senti319; Tommy

How

;

it to

Mag

Gavin Lownie,

224.

97, 151.

Authors, Methods of, 40. Authorship, Preparation

James M.,

Birse Put

Art, 308, 309.

Atmosphere,

of

203, 220, 246, 264, 266.

Aristophanes, igo. Aristotle, 63.

Matthew,

78,

Pere Goriot,

Allen, James Lane, 165, 167; The Chair Invisible, 169. Altsheler, J. A., After the

Life

9, 158, 159, 183, 221, 223, 302, 312; Com-

189,

263, 264, 284.

Arnold,

Graham,

Stevenson, 97. Balzac, Honore de,

for,

Bates, Arlo, 40; Writing English,

Talks

on

53, 152, 156,

IS7, 244, 291.

52.

Beauty, 185. Beranger, 191.

Bach, 307.

Bacheller, Irving, A Tale of Two Burdens, 213. Bacon, Francis, 58, 60. Background, 160. Bagehot, Walter, 56. Bainton, George, The Art of Authorship, 313, 347.

Besant, Walter, 105, 266, 346. Bible, 193, 289; Prodigal Son, S ; Ruth, s, 29.

Baldwin, Charles S., American Short Stories, 4, 8.

Boccaccio, Decameron, 24, 28. Body of the story, 173.

Biography, 24, 116. Bird, Frederic M., 47, 48, 69, 84. 85, 363, 370.

Black, William, 312.

433

INDEX

434 BouRGET, Paul, Le

Roman Ex-

perimental, 175. BovEE, Summaries of Thought, 342-

BoYNTON, H. W., Journalism. and Literature, 314. Brougham, Lord, 322. Browne, Porter Emerson, •

Doyle's Debut, 139.

Brunetiere, R, 287. Bryce, James, 312. BuFFON, 275.

;

Burroughs, John, 312. Butler, Ellis Parker, Fleas is

Fleas, 113.

Nicholas

Murray,

303.

Butler, Samuel, 191.

Byron,

56-

Cable, George W.,

44,

57, 87,

167, 311. Caesar, 163.

Caine, Hall,

65, 88, 311.

Canby, H.

The Book of

S.,

Short Story, 4, 8, 17, The Short Story, 98.

90, 346;

Woman Comfort,

Bed,

_

Au-

A

Terribly The 146;

in White, 102. Will Levington,-

The Fighting Death, Compression, 24, 291.

156.

Conclusion, 23, 207, 209, 210.

Congreve, 191. Contrast, 82. Copyrights, 359. CoRELLi, Marie, Barabbas, 2gi, 311.

CowPER, 34S. Craddock, Charles Egbert, 167. Cramer, Frank, Talks to Students o.n the Art of Study, 173, 303, 315-

Crawford, Marion, 312; The Novel: What It Is, 95 ; The 208.

Crisis, 74, 199, 204. Criticism, 60.

Croesus, 195. Eliot, 149.

Darwin, Charles, 181, 238. Daudet, Alphonse, 294; Let-

83.

Cervantes, 191. Characterization, 218, 230. Characters, 94, no, 128, •

The Ancient

Mariner, 155. Collins, Wilkie,

Cross, J. W., Life of George

Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, 278. Carroll, Lewis, Through a

ISO, 218.

309-

Coleridge, S. T.,

Upper Berth, the 29;

Caricature, 231.

Looking Glass,

Climax, 22, 89, 199, 203, 205. Cody, Sherwin, The World's Greatest Short Stories, 218,

Strange

169.

BuNNER, H. C, Love in Old Cloathes, 121 The Documents in the Case, 121. Burke, Edmund, On the Sublime and Beautiful, 195.

Butler,

Classics, 58.

tobiography, 102;

BuLWER, 254; The Last Days of Pompeii,

Clark, Harrison, The Affair of the Browns, 129.

^

ters

from

133/

142,

143,

/

Monday

My

14s,

Mill, 117, 140, 146, 15s, 189;

Tales, 140.

Character delineation, 247.^

Davis, Richard Harding, 60.

Character-studies, 175, 176, 221,

Day, Holman, 54. Dean, H. B., Pluck Versus Diplomacy, 114. Defoe, 28.

234-

Chaucer,

Geoffrey, Canterbury Tales, 28, 157, 299.

INDEX

De

An

Inspired

Margaret,

Many

Forest, J. W., Lobbyist, 137.

Deland, Waters,

128, 246, 267. 205. Description, 152, 231 ; Seven steps of, 159. De Stael, Madame, 306. Detective stories, 23, 80, 106.

Denouement,

435

Romola, 21, 149, 239; Silas Marner, 149, 162. Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 18, 116; The American Scholar, 59.

Emotion, 81, 181, 192, 346. Environment, 168. Epic, The,

Epithet, 156.

316. Dialect, 258.

Erichsen,

Dickens,

Methods

,

of

Au-

thors, 347.

Charles,

223,

191,

Dialogue, 127, 244.

Diary form, 120. 248; Christmas 188, 233;

^\>

2.

Episode, 23.

Dey, F. v., The Magic Story,

Carol,

67,

Hard Times,

234; Martin Chusslewit, 233, 249; Old Curiosity Shop, 195; Our Mutual Friend, 234, 250. Diction, 321. Didactic fiction, 27. Discussion, 59.

Erotic fiction, 185. Essays, 8. Experience, 54, 58. Exposition, 153. Eugene Sue, 66.

Fact and

fiction, 63, 67.

Farce, 68. Fawcett, Edgar, 313.

Figures of Speech, 157. Fielding, Henry, Tom Jones,

DiSH^Li, Benjamin,

154.

23-

DowDEN, Edward, 312. Doyle, A. Conan, 371 Adven;

Flaubert, Gustave,

160,

229,

319.

An

tures of. Brigadier Girard, 116; The Leather Funnel, 45

Flower, Elliott,

Sherlock Holmes

Flynn, Claire Wallace, The

80, 116, 130;

stories, 32,

The Mystery of

Dress, 238.

254.

George,

Peter

Ibbetson, 157, 158.

Dupin,

Teller's Art, 177, 243.

Mary

Freeman, Mary Wilkins, 38, A Church 159. 167; S4. Mouse, 44; The Joy of Youth,

79.

Dyar, Muioel Campbell, The Tea Party, 235. Dye, Charity, The Story-

Earle,

Fire Rekindled, 186.

Fowler, Ellen Thorneycraft, Concerning Isabel Carnaby,

Sasassa Valley, 137. Drama, The, 6, 228, 285.

Dryden, 191. Du Maurier,

Error of

Judgm-ent, 214.

Tracy,

Problem of Endings, Edwards, Amelia B.,

'

The 210.

The

Four-Fifteen\Express, 141. Eggleston, Edward, 312. Eliot, George, 'Life of, 149;

112.

Gardiner, J. H., The Bible as English Literature, 194. Garland, Hamlin, 167. Garnett, Richard, 287. Gautier, Theophile, 7.

Genung,

J.

Principles

F.,

The Working

of Rhetoric,

152, 158, 181, 244.

Gesta Romanorum, XVI.

Ghost

stories, 80.

54,

INDEX

436

280, 293, 312; The Ambitious Guest, 224, 246; American Note Books, 59, 95, 99! The Artist of the Beautiful, 83;

Gissing, George, 312.

Goethe, 21, 228. Goldsmith, Oliver, 85 The Vicar of Wakefield, 23, 32. GosDY, J. P., New Psychology, ;

The Birthmark, 83; Dr. Grimshaw's Secret, 99; The

181, 223.

Gorky, Maxim, and One, 67. GossE,

Twenty-Six

Edmund, Questions

Gould, S. Baring, 166, 312. Gras, Felix, The Reds of the Midi, 277. Gray, Elegy, 299, 351.

Anna

Sword

Katharine,

19; The of Damocles, 299.

The Filigree

Peter

at

Issue, 64.

Green,

Great

Carbuncle,

Faun,

Marble

Ball,

81 170,

Goldthwaite's

The

;

276; Treas-

ure, 99; The Scarlet Letter, 239Hazlett, 280. Hearn, Lafcadio, Chita, 26, 252.

Heisch, C.

The Art and

E.,

Craft of the Author, 344: Helps, Sir Arthur, Social Pleasures, 345.

Haeckel, 311. Allen Haggard, H. Rider, Quatermain, 145, 311. Hale, Edward Everett, 312, The Man Without a Coun-

"Henry, O.," 38, 54, 113, The Reformation of liope, 73, 176.

Hewlett, Maurice, The Judgment of Borso, 138; The Forest Lovers,

try, 117.

Hale, Lucretia

P.,

The Spi-

der's Eye, 144.

Hains, Shark,

Jenkins,

T.

Johnny

24.

Hancock, Albert Harben, Will N., Hardy, Thomas,

E., 13, 317. 167.

Tess,

233; Cal-

168.

Hichcock, F. H., The Building of a Book, 353. HiGGiNSON, T. W., 311; Book and Heart, 220. Hill, A. S., 254; Our English, 314; Principles of Rhetoric,

151,

345"

Mrs. Bir-

Hobbes, John Oliver, 311. Hoffman, E. T. A., 9. Holmes, Sherlock, see Doyle,

Harris, Joel Chandler, 90. Hart, J. M., English Compo-

Homer, 156. Hood, 191. "Hope, Anthony,'' 38; Dolly Dialogues, 132, 228, 254; The

239, 292. Harkee, L. Allen, kin's Bonnet, 186.

Harmony,

284.

sition, 322.

Harte, Bret, 6; The Luck of Roaring Camp, 98; The Outcasts of Poker Flat, 82, 240, 246; The Rise of the Short Story, 286. Hauff, Wilhelm, The Singer, 87. 7, 8,

9. 17. 19, S6, 57, 153, 196, 248,

the Apple Rupert of

F., The Technique of the Novel, 120, 174,

HoRNE, Charles 231, 24s, 284.

HowELLS, W.

132.

Hawthorne, Julian, 80, Hawthorne, Nathaniel,

Philosopher in Orchard, 135;! Hentzau, 78.

153, 218, 221

Fiction, 64; Life, 314-

D., 75, 86, Criticism

;

94,

and

Literature and

INDEX

How

to Attract

and Hold an

Audience, 56, 299, 414. to Write a Novel,

How

Yeere, 145 ; False Dawn, 144; Jungle Books, 277, 370; The Light that Failed, 207;

155,

218, 283, 307, 347.

How

to

Write Fiction,

437

Man Who Would Be

The King,

The 70, 224; Administration, 98 Soldiers Three, 118, 145, 239, They, 83; Wee 248, 252; Willie Winkie, 248; Without Benefit of Clergy, 29,

94.

Hugo, Victor, Les Miserables,

67,

Smith

193.

Humor, see Mirth. HuTTEN, Bettina VON, Our Lady of the Beeches, 120. Huxley, 312.

70, 188, 201, 246.

Idealism, 66, 67, 231.

Lady of

Imagination, 57. Impressionism, 20, 97, 285.

Lamb,

the Decoration, The,

120.

Ingelow, Jean, 312. Incidents, 21, 174, 240; Dramatic, 95; Opening, 138. Interest, 8g.

Introduction, see Opening the story.

Washington, 7, 29, Legend of Sleepy Hollow, 33; Rip van Win-

Irving,

233, 293;

8, zz, 238; Tales of a Traveler, 28.

^^e,

191.

Landor, Walter Savage,

W. W.,

James, Henry,

38. 26, 38, 75, 86,

Locality, see Place.

Longfellow, Hyperion,

342. 22, 183. R., 155, 157, 299,

Love element,

232.

LuNDT, Dog,

Lowell,

Samuel, 85, 253, 282; Rasselas, 164. Juvenal, 191.

J.

311.

Lucian, 191.

Mabie,

Dorothy,

Dikkon's

144.

Hamilton

W.,

308,

325 ; Essays on Books and Culture, SI ; Masterpieces of Fiction, 16, 69; Stories New and Old, 34, 219.

by.

Johnson,

Life of

G.,

Scott, S3.

23s; Flickerhridge, 100; Partial Portraits, 220, 221 ; The Liar, 268; Portrait of a Lady, 96; The Tragic Muse,

Janvier, Thos. A., Santa Pi's Partner, 224. Jessup, Alexander, see Can-

The

Letter-form, 120. Literary Agent, 353. Local color, 159, 164, 258.

Lockhart, John Jacobs,

275,

319.

Lang, Andrew, 311. Lanier, Sidney, 229; English Novel, 162. Length, 293. Lessing, Laocoon, 161.

123,

Macaulay,

191.

Keats, 280.

Macdonald, George,

Kingsley, Charles, 275. Kipling, Rudyard, 7, 38, 117, 146; In Black and White, 146; The Education of Otis

MacGrath, "

275.

Harold,

Princess Elopes, 164. Maclaren, Ian," see son.

The

Wat-

INDEX

438 Manuscript, 347.

Martin, E.

S.,

Writing, 306,

367-

Materials of

fiction, 51.

Matthews, Brander,

26,

86,

121 Aspects of Fiction, 307, Philosophy the of 369; Short-story, 22, 291 ; The Short-story, 4. ;

Matthews, William, Hours With Men and Books, 345. Maupassant, Guy de, 7, 16,

The

Meredith, Nicholson, Port of Missing Men, Nodier, Charles, 9.

19.

NoRRis, Frank, 160, 181, 312; The Responsibilities of the Novelist, 290, 309. Note books, 60. Notes, 344. Nott, Charles P., The Tale of a Goblin Horse, 144. Novel, The, 6, 7, 285 ; how dif-

from

ferent

short-story,

19.

S6, 57, 160, 229, 291, 294, 319,

The Confession, 325;

324;

A

325

Coward, ;

Fear, 99

29, ;

The Horla, 325

;,

81,

99,

211,

Happiness, 99

188, 208, Little Soldier, 140, 325

121,

Moonlight, 177, 325; Necklace, 69. 23.';. 32.^, A Piece of String, 44, 325 Pierre et Jean, 298, ;

The 326

;

224,

315

Tallow Ball, The 325; Wreck, 325; The Vendetta, 325.

Memory,

57.

Meredith, George, 312. Merimee, Prosper, 7; Mateo Falcone, 189. Michelangelo, 25.

Milton,

Mitchell, S. Weir, Dr. North and His Friends, 254. 168.

246. Observation, 51, 52, 302. Occupations, 168, 238. Opening the story, 125, 141. Originality, 87, ^, 299. " OuiDA," Leaf in the

A

Storm,

311. 280. Morrison, Arthur, 311. Motive, 83, 284.

Moulton, Richard G., Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, 94; Four Years of Novel 63.

"Mulock, Miss," 311, Mystery stories, 79.

260.

Page,

Thomas Nelson,

167;

Marse Chan. 24. Page, Walter, 310. Parkman, Francis, 312. Partridge, Anthony, Passers By, 259. Pater, Walter, 40, 315 Pathos, 185. Perry, Bliss,

A

Prose Fiction,

;

Ap-

Study

of

64, 72, 96, 205,

346.

Perry, James Raymond, The Delusion of Gideon Snell, 79. Personality, 239. Place, 163, 165. Plausibility, 85. Plot, 21, 71 ; Complication in, 74, 75, 84; Development of, 93; Essentials of, 84; Kinds of, 76.

PoE,

Edgar Allan,

19, 20,

Names,

163, 166, 167, 169, 212,

227.

Moore, George, Montaigne, 191,

Reading,

The

Fitz-James,

Diamond Lens,

preciations, 319.

58.

Mirth, 189, 285.

Mood,

O'Brien,

237. National characteristics, 286.

7,

9,

17,

21, 26, 27, 44, 56, 57, 153. 170, 185, 210,

66, 79, 96,

248,

312;

The

American

INDEX Drama, 75, 88, 109 Berenice, 9; The Cask of Amontillado, 88; The Fall of the House ;

of Usher, 21, 81,

169, 268; 44, 116, 224, Ligeia, 203, 212,

The Gold Bug,

270; 267 ; The Masque of the Red Death, 195 The Pit and the Pendulum, 69; The Philosophy of Composition, 100, 209, 28s, 293, 346; The Pur246,

;

loined Letter, 29. Point of view, iii, 158, 275. Pope, 191.

Highways

of

Literature, 199.

Psychological fiction, 176. Purpose, 284; see Motive.

QuntK, Leslie, 76, 89; How to Write a Short Story, 310. Rabelais, 191.

Reading, 58. Realism, 64, 67, no, 149, 159, .175.

Reeve,

185, 231.

James

Knapp,

Vaw-

der's Understudy, 55, 301. Reflection, 57. Rejected manuscripts, 363. Renan, Ernest, 193, 312.

Yarn

First 181,

100,

Ivanhoe,

221, 229, 24s;

Sentiment, 185. Sentimentality, 185. Setting, 127, 133, 149, 228, 251. Shakespeare, 170, 191, 228^ 307. 313; Hamlet, ig6, 239; Macbeth, 205, 239 ; Two Gentlemen- of Verona, 343. Shelley, P. B., Scenes from Calderon, 324.

Sheridan, 191.

Shute, Henry, The Diary of a Real Boy,

Real 121.

Sidney, Sir Philip, 56. SiENKiEWicz, H., Quo Vadis,

ty Seat, 260. Sketch, 25, 150, 176.

Smith,

F.

Hopkinson,

Smith, Sydney, 191. Smollett, Tobias,

Random,

17, 60.

Roderick

23.

Speech, 236; see Dialogue. Spencer, Edmund, The Faerie

175. '

195.

Value of, 31. RusKiN, John, 25, 52; The Elements of Drawing, 347.

Rules,

Sacred Books of the East, Sadness, 185.

The

Hurdle, 254. Scott, Sir Walter,

Singmaster, Elsie, The Coun-

120, 211.

Romance,

the Fields, 246. Scott, John Reed,

169.

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 284. Richardson, Samuel, Pamela,

Romanticism, 65, 231. Rollin, Ancient History,

ScHLEGEL, A. W. voN, Dramatic Art and Literature, 96. " ScHocK, Georg," a Venus of

Simplicity, 84, 85, 162, 289.

Revision, 344, 347.

Robertson, Morgan, A Without a Moral, 224.

Pearl, 224. Scarron, 191. Scenario, 24.

162; Rokeby, 53. Self-study, 56. Selling the story, 351.

stories, 78. Proportion, 288.

David,

Saintsbury, George, 88. Sardou, Victorien, The Black

191,

Problem Pryde,

439

5.

Queen, 58. Stedman, E. C. 311. Sterne, 191.

Stevens, Abel, Life of Madame de Stael, 306. Stevenson, R. L., 7, 97, 155, 223, 229, 235, 302, 312; A

INDEX

440

Gossip on a Novel of Dumas', 236; Gossip on Romance, 175; Humble Remonstrance, 93, 180; a Lodging for the Night, 246; Markheim, 29, 239; Memories and Portraits, 192, 280; The Merry Men, ^, 238; The Morality of the ProfesNote sion of Letters, 343; on Realism, 149; Technical Elements of Style in Literature, 173; Treasure Island, Vailima Letters, 168, 232; 207; Will o' the Mill, 25,

A

A

A

Theocritus, Fifteenth Idyll, 245-

Thmkmg, Time,

Titles, 45, 263. Tone, ISO, 284. Tragedy, 94, 285.

Training, 307. Trollope, Anthony, 312; tobiography, 252.

Truth in fiction, 68, TuRGENEV, g7, 220. Turner, 25, 307.

"Twain, Mark," 345;

31S. field's

252.

Frank

Stockton,

R.,

The

Lady' or the Tiger, 78. Stoddard, Francis Hovey, The Evolution of the Novel, 65, 182, 219.

Story-tellers, i, 3. Story-telling, Methods of, 109, Style, 40, 275.

Sub-plot, 21. .Suggestion, 154. Surprise, yy.

Negative Pole,

Sympathy,

38,

54,

68,

StormHeaven, 134;

Captain

Visit to

Typewriting, 347. Typical characters, 226. Unities, 96.

Unity, 8s, 28s.

Dyke, Henry,

41.

Vorst, Marie, and Mrs.

The

Woman Who

Toils, ss.

Verisimilitude, 68. Veronese, Paola, 164. Viewpoint, see Point of view.

136.

Symons, Arthur,

87.

$30,000 Bequest, 237. Tybout, Ella M., The Blast of the Trumpet, 130.

John,

SuTPHEN, van Tassel, At the

Au-

The

Van Van

Suspense, 201.

302.

161.

325.

195.

Vocabulary, 192, 317. Taine, 312. Talent, 306.

Voltaire, 79, 191.

Tales,

Waliszewski, Wallace, Lew,

4, 24, 26, 27, 28.

Tappan, 162. Tarkington,

Booth,

Mrs.

Protherce, 246.

Thackeray, W. M., 223; The Ballad of Bouillabaisse, 259; De Finibus, 230; Vanity Fair, 94.

Themes of range

short-stories,

of, 41 ; choice- of, 42;

72;

Spontaneous Search after,

44; Undesirable, 45.

287. 311. Artemas, 164.

Ward, Ward, Elizabeth Stuart

Phelps,

311-

Warner, Charles Dudley, s Modern Fiction, 176. Watson, Dr. John, A Doctor ;

of the Old School, 13s.

Wedmore, Frederic, 246. Wells, H. G., 86. Wendell, Barrett, English Composition, 12s, 1S2.

INDEX Westcar Papyrus, 3. Weyman, Stanley,

man

Winchester, Caleb, Principles

A

of Literary Criticism, 184. Wit, see Mirth.

Gentle-

of Prance, 370.

Wharton, Edith, The Duchess

Words, see Diction. Wordsworth, 280. Wyckoff, Walter, The Work-

at Prayer, 88.

Whipple, E.

P.,

441

Literature and

Life, 189.

ers, 55.

Whitcomb,

Selden L., The Study of a Novel, 35, 162, 224, 286, 289, 347.

White, William Allen, 210, 308; The Home-coming of Colonel Hucks, 292; The King of Boyville, 144.

.

Zangwill, Israel, 180. Zola, Emile, The Death Olivier Becaille, 115;

Roman iSi.

Experimental,

of

Le 64,

A Book

that

is

Different

Are you quite satisfied with, the text-book in rhetoric you are But if you If so, you will riot care to read further. have found it weary work to put a class through a book of the older sort, with its long discussions of rhetorical theory, figure of speech, and its pages of bad English for correction, perhaps you will be interested in our new book. using?

It is different.

For example, there

is

a chapter on newspaper

reporting;^

schools pvhlish papers; most school-boys at some tims will have occasion to write something for a newspaper, yet the tisual text-book on rhetoric omits this subject altogether. In this book the pupil is told what news is, how to get it, and how to

Many

Then follow exercises, giving topics within the write it up. range of the pupil, and in which he will be interested. The chapter on letter wrUing is not a dry set of forms for headings and superscription: it deals with the spirU of the letter*, and gives illustrations from, the best English writers of letters. The chapter on exposition tells how to use the card-catalogue sind the indices which make available all the resources of the

modem

library.

you require an exhaustive

treatise, three hundred pages with the minuticB of technical rhetoric, this is not the book. If you wish the essential principles of good writing stated in a

If

filled

hundred pages, vrUh exercises that are practical and suggestive, our book may impress you favorably. If you are a teacher of composition, we shall be glad to send you a complimentary copy on request, for examination with a viewTio adoption.

Short

Sttfd'ies in BY BENJAiaiN

Author

CLOTH

HINDS,

of

"How

—50

to

A.

Composition HETDRICK

Study Literature"

cents, postpaid

sixteenmo

NOBLE & ELDREDGE,

Publishers o!

How To

Study Literature, 75 cents. Outline of Books I Have Read, 25 cents. Trimble's ptandbook Eng. and Amer. Literature,

31-33-35 West J5th

Street

New

$1.30.

York City

Hart's Rhetoric TWELVEMO— Price

$1.00 Postpaid

^ham-

leather

Hart's COMPOSITION and rhetoric in its present is a new and revised edition of a work which, because of its remarkable adaptation to the practical wants of both teacher and pupil, has for years been the standard text-book on the subject, and has been used more widely than any other Rhetoric in the schools throughout the country. The revision has been made by Dr. James Morgan Hart, of Cornell University, son of the author of the original work. The first part, treating of Style, has been but sUghtly changed, and then mainly for the sake of brevity or conciseness; but the second part, treating of Invention, has been entirely re-wntten. In this work the subject has been taken up analytically* and in most practical form for the use of students; beginning with Punctuation and Capitals, followed by chapters on Diction, Sentences, Figures, Special Properties of Style, Metre, Poetry and Prose Composition. Part second, on Invention, has chapters on Paragraphing, Composition-writing, Oratory and Debate, and closes with a Historical Sketch of the English Language. Clear and concise rules and definitions covering aU points are given, each one being illustrated and provided with examples for practice, which have been carefully chosen. In its present form this work is as nearly as possible in complete accord with the spirit of pedagogical progress, and cannot fail to commend itself to every teacher who is desirous of keeping up with dress

this spirit. * Radford's Composition and lUietoric, another of .our publications (clotn, SI .00), treats the subject eynOiMcaUy.

HINDS,

NOBLE & ELDREDGE,

Publisftets o£

How To Study Literature, 75 cents. Outline of Books I Have Head, 25 cents. Literature, 90 cents. Smyth's American Trimble's Handbook Eng. and Amer. Literature, $1.30.

3}-33-35 ^est )5th

Street

New

York Qty

Radford's TWELVEMO

—Price

Rhetoric

$1.00 Postpaid

cloth

Radford's composition and rhetoric presents and forcibly the fundamental principles which underlie good writing, and the author's plan is thoroughly to impress these principles on the mind of the student through plentiful illustrations, clearly

and through

questions

and comments upon these

illustrations.

The author treats the subject synthetically* taking up first the whole composition and then the paragraph with reference to unity, coherence and mass, as they are concerned in both. Following these the sentence, that most difficult element of style, is treated; and lastly the word. The matters of punctuation, sentence structure and the use of words are relegated to the appendices, instead of the body of the work; tha idea being that the student who does not m.ake mistakes in these things should not see such mistakes in print, while the one who does is to turn to the appendices to find the mistakes "corrected before his eyes. Throughout the work particular emphasis is placed upon structure, and the illustrations have been chosen with this in view. The student is continually referred to preceding examples to enforce fresh points, with the idea of fixing the general theory more firmly in the mind. All the illustrations are chosen from the best literary soiu-ces, thus giving the students inspiring models on which to form their own work. Hart's " ComposiHon and Rhetoric," another publication of ours (cloth, Sl.OO), treats the subject

mNDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE, How To Smyth's

Publishers of

Study Literature, 75

Outline of Bocks I Trimble's

analyticaUu-

American

Handbook Eng.

3J-33-35 West J5th

cents. cents. Literature, 90 cents. and Amer. Literature, $1.30.

Have Read, 25

Street

New

York Qty

.

Mastering

a

Classic

Having read a book, are you prepared to deciare you have made it really your own? Can you

that

discuss

it or write about it in a thoroughly intelligent and comprehensive way, as if you had really sized it up completely ? There are many text-books on literature. But so far no »?ork has appeared which provides sytematic instruction in the study of literature itself, applicable to every classic, let us say, or to any classic. Such a book we published last year. It is entitled How to Study Literature. It is a guide to the study of jiterary productions. Taking up Narrative Poetry first, an outline is given, in the form of questions, which will lead the student to comprehend the subject matter, to analyse the structure, to study the Iharacters, the descriptions, the style and the metre of such a work for example as Tennyson's "Princess" Next follows or Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." Lyri". Poetry, with questions lor \\ve. study of the thought, and suggestions the nood, the style, the metre ]n a for comparative study and collateral reading similar way the drama, the essay, the oration and the novel are taken up, and questions given which will lead to a full comprehension of the work studied. The author is a successful teacher in one of the ;

great normal schools. The book grew up in the class room, and so is practical in every detail, not only adapted for class use in schools, but also the very thing for literary societies, reading circles, and fireside study. The list of terms it contains to designate any literary quality or characteristic one may wish to describe, is alone worth having. Teachers who have tested this book as a class-hook, in connection with our new device for recording one's reading (books I HAVE READ, 25 cents postpaid) assure us that their pupils benefit to the extent of eight to twelve added doints in examinations.

How To

Stuciy Literature

Price 75

HINDS, NOBLE J-33-35 West

cents,

&

J5th SUeet

postpaid

ELDREDGE,

Pablisliers

New York

From

the Preface of Sheran's

Literary Criticism As Sidney Lanier pointedly remarked, there is no book extant in any language which gives an analytical and comprehensive survey of all the well-marked, widely varying, literary forms which have differentiated themselves

in the course of time the essay, the oration, history, fiction, biography, the lyric, the drama, the epic. This volume attempts to furnish such a survey. The student thus enjoys the advantage of viewing critically the whole field of letters an advantage which no other manual oflfers. Iri common with all the other fine arts literature has its own province, its own form and content. And the art-form and art-content of literature should be ascertained before the student makes any detailed study of the various departments in which literary art finds expression. The introductory chapters of this manual are devoted to such an analysis. special claim in favor of this handbook is conciseness as well as comprehensiveness. While dealing in a practical way with all the departments of literature, the author has endeavored to give the briefest possible compendium of the best criticism. The "first principles" of literary art are tersely set forth and their application to the various prose-forms and verse forms is equally terse. The numerous quotations from the critiques of so many of the highest authorities constitute in themselves a most effective, while most entertaining, object-lesson in literary criticism.

—the

letter,

—

A

HINDS, NOBLE

&

ELDREDGE,

Publishers

of

Sheran's Handbook of Literary Criticism, $1.35. How to Study Literature, 75 cents Noteboolj for Boofis I Have Read, 25 cents. Smyth's American Literature, 90 cents. ISng. and Amer. Literature, $1.30.

Trimble's Handbook

3J -33-35 Vest J5th Street

New York City

Trimble^s

Literature

Eng;Iish and The Handbook, $1.30

American

The Short Course, $1.00

In the HANDBOOK OF LITERATURE the author has taken up the subject in an elaborate, carefullyplanned manner, and has produced a book which delights teachers, not alone because of its intrinsic worth, but also because' by its arrangement it permits a great deal of freedom in the scope of the actual work in the classroom. Due consideration has been given to the historical, critical and illustrative phases, the selections having been very discrimi,

natingly chosen. The work is divided into seventeen chapters, thirteen treating of English and four of American Literature, and each chapter deals with an era and the writers who flourished during that era. It is made especially valuable for classroom purposes by the addition to each chapter of a syllabus which gives in brief paragraphs the substance of the chapter. The Introduction suggests a number of different ways in which the subject may be taught with this work as a text-book.

The SHORT COURSE

IN LITERATURE

is

mainly a

abbreviation -of the handbook, prepared for classes requiring a comprehensive view in one term's work. Minor authors have been omitted in favor of the more prominent writers of the different eras; but all the essential and distinctive features of the larger work have been retained. skilful

HINDS, NOBLE How To

& ELDREDGE,

Study

Literature,

Pablishew of

75

cents. cents. Hart's Composition and Rhetoric, SI. 00. Thorpe's Civil Gov't U. S. vrith State Editiona, $1.00.

Outline of Books I

3J -33-35 West J5th Street

Have Read, 26

New

York Qtf

A

Brief Outline

BOOKS

HAVE READ

I

BOARDS

FLEXIBL'7.

Of The

25 Ceuts — BLANK BOOK BTYLB

"PtiCC

This device makes possible the keeping' of a systematic, uniform, concise and complete record of the books one reads. It -will be eminently serviceable to every book lover tor recalling' impressions of books read; and it wili be peculiarly practicable for teachers to place in ths hands of students for

—

recording and preserving unpretentious analyses of books read in class and in general readingf< Its many advantages are in brief as foUo-ws;It is logical

pedagogical

It is

and complete encourages systematic habits It economises labor It encourages neatness It encourages self-activity, self-direction It ii simple, concise It

enables teachers to keep track of home 'work develops thought, attention, discrimination It provides permanent data It will prove a boon to the directors of reading It

It

clubs,

and

to

every mernber thereof I

the memory will develop the critical faculties renders possible a desirable uniformity throughout the school

It assists

It It

It is

inexpensive.

contains separate defartments for Fiction, Narrative, the Drama, for the Essay, and for Lyric Poetry; and the sub-divisions are so simple and obvious that the reading club director, or the teacher can tell at a glance whether the reading It

has

been

done

attentively,

intelligently

and

thoroughly.

HINDS, NOBLE

& ELDREDGE,

Publishers of

How To Study

Iviterature, 75 cents Smyth's Americaii Literature, 90 cents Trimble's Handbook Eng-, and Amer. I
3J -3J-35

West >5th

Street

New York

City

ll!||fili!i