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ferent points, as a house varies when viewed from one side or the other?

3. Note carefully every trait of the man's personal appearance, character, habits, and from these traits construct your own portrait of the man.

4. Sum up all that the man endured, suffered, attempted, and accomplished. Put this in your own language.

5. Is the man compared with other men of his time, or with men in the same line of life before or since? Make an abstract of these comparisons, and also make some comparisons of your own between him and other men (of like position) of whom you have read.

6. Make a summary of the information that you have gained (from this biography) upon the country in which the man lived, and its customs.

THE DRAMA AND FICTION.

36. Although the Drama and Fiction are forms of Literature, and can be adequately treated only in a work which professes to deal with literary art, yet, in view of their connection with Narration, a few remarks here will be of service in enabling the reader to perceive more clearly what that connection really is and what misconceptions are to be guarded against.

Drama.-A drama is neither a narrative nor a description. It is a human story acted, or intended to be acted, before our eyes. It is an imitation of life itself. It is not told, but acted. What rules or principles should govern such mimetic representation of life, that is a question which lies outside the province of this book. All that need be said here is briefly this: every drama should bring upon the stage a number of persons in conflict with each other; this conflict should be started, carried to a crisis, and brought to a final solution-the dénouement. What these persons say and do to each other on the stage embodies the action of the drama.

But, in addition to the action upon the stage, we are frequently to suppose something done or existing off the stage; and of this we are informed in a narrative or a narrative-description delivered by one of the actors. Thus (Hamlet, iv. 7), the account of Ophelia's drowning, told by the Queen, is a narrative-description. Hamlet's account (v. 2) of his opening and altering the commission given to Guildenstern and Rosencrantz is a narrative. So also the story told by the Ghost (i. 5), of the uncle pouring the juice of hebenon into his ears. In As You Like It (ii. 1) the account of the Melancholy Jaques is description rather than narration. In The Merchant of Venice (i. 3) the story of Jacob and Laban is a narrative; in i. 2 several suitors for the hand of Portia (they do not appear at all in the action) are described by her.

The young reader will find it useful, in reading Shakespeare or any other dramatist, to distinguish such narrative and descriptive passages from the action proper.

Fiction.-A work of fiction, popularly called a novel or a romance, is at bottom a narrative. But it is usually cast, in great part, in the dramatic form-i. e., as dialogue between two or more of the persons. What these persons say to each other, in their own words, corresponds to the action in a drama. But what they say is frequently summed up by the narrator in the ordinary form of narration. So also what they do is narrated. Thus:

(1) "Dear Clifford," said Hepzibah, . . . "this is our cousin Phoebelittle Phœbe Pyncheon-Arthur's only child, you know. She has come from the country to stay with us a while; for our old house has grown to be very lonely now."

(2) "Phoebe ?-Phoebe Pyncheon ?-Phoebe ?" repeated the guest... "Arthur's child! Ah, I forget! No matter! She is very welcome." (3) "Come, dear Clifford, take this chair," said Hepzibah, leading him to his place. "Pray, Phœbe, lower the curtain a very little more. let us begin breakfast."

Now

(4) The guest seated himself in the place assigned him, and looked strangely around. He was evidently trying to grapple with the present

scene, and bring it home with a more satisfactory distinctness, etc.— HAWTHORNE: Seven Gables, ch. vii.

The paragraphs 1-3 are action in the dramatic sense; the italicized clauses would not be expressed in a drama, or would be given only as stage-directions. Paragraph 4 is ordinary narration.

In addition to the dramatic form, there is in most works of fiction another feature to be noted. The author is apt to utilize his story for conveying his peculiar views upon social, political, religious, and other general issues. And such views are frequently given in the form of Exposition. For illustrative passages see §§ 48, 54. The reader cannot learn too soon or too thoroughly to distinguish genuine narration, generalized narration, and exposition. The writings of Hawthorne and George Eliot abound in expository passages.

CHAPTER VI.

DESCRIPTION.

DESCRIPTION is primarily the delineation of a concrete visible object, real or fictitious (description proper). By extension of the term, the attempt to convey an estimate of a certain person's mind or disposition is also called description (character-description).

DESCRIPTION PROPER.

37. The concrete object described may be a single object, e. g., a certain tree, a certain house, the outward appearance of a certain man; or it may be a group of objects, e. g., a clump of trees, a landscape, an army encamped by a river, as in Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum.

The method to be followed is largely determined by one general consideration. What is the purpose of the description? Is it merely to give pleasure? Or is it to give information? and if so, what kind of information?

In a fictitious narrative, the chief aim of which is to give pleasure, the objects described may be fictitious also; although writers of fiction frequently introduce not only historical personages, but scenery and buildings that actually exist or have existed. Yet even in this case the writer is apt to treat such persons and things as if they were imaginary; at least, he feels free to omit troublesome details, and give only so much as he needs for his story. Whereas the writer of a description intended for information is required to be scrupulously exact, and also to give the fullest details. Yet there are numerous exceptions on either hand a writer of fact will occasionally give very little

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detail, and a writer of fiction will describe with great fulThus:

ness.

No person could imagine anything so beautiful as the ancient town of Bahia. It is fairly embosomed in a luxuriant wood of beautiful trees, and situated on a steep bank, and overlooks the calm waters of the great bay of All Saints. The houses are white and lofty, and, from the windows being narrow and long, have a very light and elegant appearance. Convents, porticos, and public buildings vary the uniformity of the houses; the bay is scattered over with large ships; in short—and what can be said more ?-it is one of the finest views in the Brazils.-DARWIN: Life and Letters, i. 204.

The above may be contrasted with the very full description of St. Cuthbert's cell in Scott's Abbot, i. ch. 8.

But, after all, such exceptions are more apparent than real. Darwin's real purpose was not so much to give a scientifically accurate picture of Bahia as to give to his correspondent a general view, to sketch the scene. (See § 44.) Scott's real purpose in picturing St. Cuthbert's cell was partly to provide a fit meeting-place for Roland and his grandmother, but chiefly to make the reader estimate the devastation which attended the Protestant Reformation in Scotland.

In order to test the merits of description, one may compare closely a good work of fiction with a good book of travel. In the former the description should certainly be subordinate to the narrative. If the descriptive passages are too numerous and too long, so as to interrupt the narrative and provoke a feeling of impatience, they are faulty. But in a book of travels introducing the reader to scenes and objects little known or perhaps wholly unknown, the descriptive parts are sometimes more important than the narrative, and it is a merit in the writer to make them as full as his limits will permit; e. g.:

As will be seen from the various sketches of the profile, the summit of the range is broken up into many sharp triangular casques or narrow saddle-shaped ridges. Each casque, separately examined, seems to be a miniature copy of the whole range, and dented by the elements, time

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