THE STUDY OF LITERATURE

We are told there is no royal road to learning; no short cut to the understanding and appreciation of literature. We are told that we must admire Homer, or Addison, or some other immortal author, but no one tells us why or how. No explanation is given of the reason why their work is deservedly immortal. Our schools do not introduce us to the delights of good reading; instead, they handle a few stories and essays as if they were Latin or algebra, making drudgery out of what ought to be enjoyment. The result is that we are frightened away from the great writers; their work is supposed to be a mystery, only to be revealed to those who give years of labor to its study.

But no one is so dull or so heedless of pleasure as not to accept the means of lasting delight when it is put right in front of them. Thousands of people are waiting for the chance to get in touch with the good sense, rousing style, and splendid ideas of the masters of literature. That is why this volume has been prepared. It furnishes a direct and attractive road straight to the heart of literature. It has been laid out systematically so as to be a simple and practical guide.

The leading characteristics of each era, each nation, and each division of literature have been tersely stated, with the authors under each of these classifications listed beneath. The noblest and most fascinating works gain tenfold in interest through the knowledge of these fundamental facts. With them before you, you command a view, not merely of one single author, but of the whole movement of which he was a part. You see the ideas and lines of thought from which a book has sprung, the hidden forces which went into the making of it. Each book stands in association with those of the same literary class, or nation, or period; their relationship with the rest of literature is at once apparent. In this way the wasteful drudgery and folly of aimless reading is avoided. The study of literature pursued with the means here given cannot be tedious, for it is straightforward, simple, and clear.

The results that are to be expected from the limited time which most of us can devote to reading are more extensive than might be thought. In this connection read the following selections, practical and full of common sense, each of them throwing light on the subject of reading.

THE DECISIVE PERIODS IN LITERATURE

First of all: What is Literature?

The expression of thought upon the countless phases of life and the universe as felt by the greatest intellects.

There are innumerable views to be taken of this world of ours; each of us sees it a little differently, the problem of life strikes a nation or an age or an individual in ever changing ways. Homer saw it in heroic terms, Swift, in "Gulliver's Travels," looked at it savagely and sadly, Bunyan, in the "Pilgrim's Progress," saw the religious side. These authors not only saw but felt; their feelings took possession of them, they had to write them down and give them expression. Gray, the author of the immortal "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," took seven years to perfect the expression of the feelings roused by what he saw in that secluded village nook. Poe chose every word of his "Tales of Mystery and Imagination" with the utmost care. The labor of composition was solely for the purpose of giving the reader exactly the impression and emotion desired; for the sake of clearness, force, and ease.

In the second place: Each of the great periods in history has had certain traits and has excelled in some particular field of literature. The traits and the works of an era have been molded by preceding ages and likewise have brought about the development of the periods which followed. Vergil was influenced by Homer and the whole tradition of Greek literature; Shakespeare and the rest of the Elizabethan writers are products of the fresh outburst of activity which we call the Renaissance; Kipling has profited by the work of Dickens, Poe, Milton, Chaucer, and a host of other authors. If we are to appreciate a writer, then, we must know the chief characteristics of these great literary epochs.

The Age of the Ancients. 1500 B.C.–500 A.D. From the dawn of history to the fall of the Roman Empire, all the principal forms of literary expression were developed, at least two of which, epic poetry and tragedy, have never been surpassed. Yet the world was very small then; it was merely the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Its ideals were narrow, limited by paganism and slavery. For those who wrote and those who read there was no struggle for existence, they were waited on by their slaves, they had no faith in a life after death; whether thinkers or heedless wasters, they were selfishly living for to-day and not for the morrow. The bulk of the people were ignorant, even when not enslaved. As their literature was the product of an aristocracy, leading a life of leisure, it was inevitably stately, reserved, and formal in its tone, except in the earliest productions before society had emerged completely from barbarism.

The Dark Ages. 500 A.D.–1000 A.D. Crippled by pride and selfishness Roman civilization was swept away by wave after wave of barbarian invasions. Goths, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Huns, Lombards, and Vandals in turn swarmed over the face of Europe, spreading terror and desolation. Learning, art, industry, and government perished. But the invaders brought a love of freedom, a hatred of bondage and captivity, to offset their contempt for the progress effected by the great thinkers and rulers of antiquity.

There is but little left to us of the scanty literature produced in those dim centuries. It is all primitive, Homeric; rhythmic tales of the heroic lives and deaths of national leaders constitute the sole endeavor that has lasted. But in these is the note of freedom, for the masses of the people as well as the rulers and nobles delighted in Charlemagne and his peerless knight Roland, or in Eric, the Viking adventurer, who dared to sail far forth to Vinland. The great ruler was not a mere commander but a leader whom men of every class gladly followed with love as well as respect. Yet the ideals were low, mainly of physical prowess and sheer brute strength.

Anglo-Saxon Lit. French Lit. German Lit. Norse Lit. Spanish Lit.

The Middle Ages. 1000 A.D.–1400 A.D. However, as soon as the dread of barbarian havoc had passed and peace and government had been restored to some extent, a new and brighter era began. The thirst for learning has never been greater than at this time. Students flocked to the universities of Paris, Oxford, and Bologna in thousands, begging their way, traveling on foot for hundreds of miles. Religion seized men even more firmly, finding them active or meditative occupations either in the monasteries or in the Crusades. The aspirations of the time appear in the legends of King Arthur and the Round Table, as told in the prose of the day by Sir Thomas Malory or in the more recent verse of Tennyson's "Idylls of the King." This is the chivalric ideal of perfect knighthood. The religious feeling is shown in such hymns as the "Stabat Mater," the "Dies IrÆ," or "Jerusalem the Golden." Dante, commonly reckoned the second of the world's poets, proves the zeal for learning and scholarship. The spirit of freedom gleams from the "Old English Ballads" of Robin Hood, the enemy of the oppressive nobles and the friend of the poor and the humble. It is even more evident in the work of John Wyclif, who translated the Bible into English so that the common peasant might have the advantage of hearing the Gospel message read to him in a tongue that he understood, and that he might feel that the teachings of religion were meant for him as much as for the wealthy and the learned.

But science and thought had not yet startled men into recognition of the wonder round about them. Knowledge was assumed to be complete. To probe into the mysteries of nature was unholy and wicked in those days. The awakening from unseeing and unreasoning childhood to the adventuresome zest of youth and young manhood was yet to come.

The Renaissance. 1400–1600. The gradual increase of knowledge and better government toward the close of the Middle Ages caused a desire for higher things. This hidden desire suddenly broke loose with astonishing force when the art of printing was discovered, about 1450. Information had hitherto been spread only by word of mouth or by laboriously copying a volume by hand. The process in either case was slower than we can imagine. But now new ideas, rare books, foreign teaching could be spread broadcast like wildfire.

It also happened at just this time that Constantinople was taken by the Turks (1453). The greatest treasures of Greek literature had been jealously hidden away there for centuries. Now that the scholars had to fly for their lives they let loose a store of new thought on the nations of western Europe. Taking refuge in Italy they brought with them these rich volumes. The Italian enthusiasm and the ardor with which these discoveries were published to the world spread like fire through France and Germany and England.

Everywhere mankind awoke; never before or since have people lived so strenuously. Their newly awakened curiosity drove them round the Cape of Good Hope and across the Atlantic Ocean. Exploration and adventure, the invasion of Mexico and the Americas as well as the Orient, the search for gold and for happiness went hand in hand. At the same time Luther roused northern Europe with his demand for religious reform and founded the Protestant church. In England Shakespeare and his companions had discovered a new field of literary venture and produced plays by the hundred, many of them immortal. The modern world of action and progress had at last come of age.

The passing of the old ideals, of chivalry and monkish study, is nowhere better shown than in "Don Quixote." The love of creative art hand in hand with adventure echoes through every page of Cellini's "Autobiography." Francis Bacon discovered a new method of reasoning; Montaigne did what had not been thought of for hundreds of years, and began to study his own personality, the workings of his mind, and the problems which he found in his own life within himself; Sir Thomas More also took up a subject that had not been touched for seventeen centuries and drew a wonderful picture of an ideal government in his "Utopia." Columbus and a whole squadron of others sailed the unknown seas. The Elizabethan nobles, like Sir Philip Sidney and Sir Walter Raleigh, were poets, statesmen, courtiers, and generals all at once.

The Age of Classicism. 1600–1776. By 1600 imagination and the creative spirit were running riot. The exuberance of wonder and discovery had led to a wordy and confused style of writing. It was time for this unbalanced disorderly manner to be subjected to sound criticism and to be regulated by laws of composition.

This is precisely what happened. Enthusiasm and inventive power were wearied, and thinking men began to criticize and judge the work that was being done. It was clear to them that there was need of proportion and symmetry, that each act of a play, for example, should do its special part in the development of the plot and in the revelation of the characters. The problem in the scholar's mind was: What is the best possible form or model to follow in making a play, a song, or a speech? Wise men came to the conclusion that the classic authors of ancient literature furnished the best examples, and this is why the period is called the Age of Classicism.

It was characterized by the use of reason and judgment, rather than feeling and inspiration, by convention and law, by restraint and dignity. In fact the wilder side of nature was actually disliked; the Alps were not grand, but barbaric and odious, in the eyes of the literary men of that day. Dr. Johnson, in his famous Dictionary, defines a mountain as "a protuberance on the face of nature." The rich land-owners altered the landscapes on their great estates, smoothed out the inelegances of the meadows, cut trees down and planted others, laid out geometrically correct roads and paths, and altogether 'improved' nature until the whole scene was thoroughly artificial; very trim and neat, but very unnatural.

In literature it was much the same. Poetry, such as Pope's, seems stilted and affected to us; the plays of Racine, the opposite of Shakespeare's, are formal and long-winded, so exalted in tone and so restrained in their phrasing that they are dignity indeed, but nothing else.

Yet the movement was beneficial because it cut away the extravagances of the earlier period. It also produced a new branch of literature, the critical essay. The essays of Bacon and Montaigne had been philosophical. Those of Addison and Steele dealt with life and literature critically, using fable and fiction to give point to their verdicts in enforcement of law and convention.

But writing based on the ancient classics demanded a highly educated public. Only the wealthy could obtain the education necessary. Besides, the aristocracy held that the common people should be kept in their place, that learning and scholarship were not for them. The life of thought and progress was remote from the mass of the population, just as the government was carried on without reference to their needs or wishes.

The Age of Romanticism. 1776–1832. The Revolution in America, soon followed by that in France, is the historical sign of the passing of the aristocratic spirit of classicism. Freedom, equality, the destruction of the bondage that had held the common people back from education and advancement, these are the new ideas. In literature as in life a reaction broke out against the formal, stilted, unemotional style of classicism. Wordsworth and Byron in England, Rousseau in France, and Goethe and Schiller in Germany were the leaders in the intellectual activity. Their writings and their principles were directly opposed to their predecessors. Liberty, instead of convention; free expression of passion and feeling, in the place of cold reasoning; individual expression instead of imitation and studied restraint; simple words and direct, clear statement in the place of an affected and artificial style; a love for the wild and picturesque in scenery rather than for the smooth and cultivated parks of the past century. Contrast Byron with Pope, or Scott's novels with Johnson's "Rasselas" to see the radical difference in tone.

This outburst of freedom and self-expression meant progress. To increase the advance, steam and machinery came into use; just as printing accomplished marvels in the days of the Renaissance, so now there was again a blaze of creative genius and inventiveness. National education at the expense of the state and the growth of newspapers and magazines put rich and poor, noble and peasant more nearly on a level than any bloodshed or lawmaking could ever have done.

The Nineteenth Century. The first glow of the romantic enthusiasm soon died away and the new forces of industry and commerce took possession of Europe and America.

But the swift onrush of manufacturing and trading called for armies of accountants, skilled workers, and salesmen. These made up a new class of society; hitherto there had been aristocrats and peasants, educated and ignorant, rich and poor. The army of business employees, alert, vigorous, ready for any quantity of reading-matter that would amuse or furnish knowledge, added their countless numbers to the reading public. Fiction, at first in the novel, and later in the short story, was published as fast as it could be printed. This great middle class itself provided material for genius to work on. Dickens and George Eliot are striking examples of authors who wrote about this new middle class in order to amuse it. The influence of business life made the world more matter of fact and in consequence literature became rather more prosaic, with a tendency to present a realistic picture of everyday life and manners. Science, aided by a multitude of mechanical inventions, made unprecedented progress and assumed a more important place in the minds of men than ever before. History was treated scientifically, thought was more systematic than ever, the nineteenth century presented a union of the enthusiasm of the Renaissance, the love of system of the Classic Age, and the devotion to nature of the Romantic Period.

The following lists have been selected from the great array of nineteenth-century authors with the view of presenting those whose work has been peculiarly significant of the period.

NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS

Each of the nations, like each of the great eras of human progress, possesses definite characteristics of its own. Frenchmen differ from Englishmen in their faces, their customs, and also in intellectual trend. Shakespeare is unlike Ibsen not simply because he lived at an earlier date, in another epoch, but also because he was the native of another country. Kipling's point of view is not the same as that of Thomas Bailey Aldrich; their national traditions and surroundings varied sufficiently to leave a mark upon their work so legible that one is recognized as English and the other as American without need of referring to their biographies.

It is necessary, then, to have in mind the traits that individualize nations and races. For this reason the national characteristics are here set forth briefly, with lists of the principal authors of each country.

Greek Literature. An unequaled perception of beauty, with a love of symmetry and proportion: the reason and the feelings, the intellect and the emotions are perfectly blended. The powers of imagination and creation are highly trained, as well as the logical faculty, resulting in the perfection of skill and insight in epic poetry (Homer), tragedy (Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles), and philosophy (Plato).

Latin Literature. The power of organization, with an ardor for law and order, combined with a genius for adapting and utilizing the best products of the nations which came under the Roman rule. This talent for adaptation and imitation stands in contrast to the Greek creative talent. Inasmuch as Rome's greatest literary works belong to a period four centuries after the best Greek production, it follows that the Roman authors profited not only by Greek achievement but also by the increased knowledge of the world due to the vast extension of the Roman Empire. Apart from this broader point of view, Latin authors borrowed method and style from the Greek; Vergil follows Homer and Theocritus, who was also imitated by Horace. Cicero and Seneca took both thought and style from Greek philosophers. In fact, Athens was the university at which all well-educated Romans had studied.

English Literature. England's isolation as an island has enabled her to develop a national literature continuously for nine centuries with only the slightest interruption from the world without. Foreign ideas have been introduced, certainly, but by Englishmen instead of by foreigners. Where a slothful race would have lain dormant and inactive, the vigorous and adventurous islanders have even led the way in two fields of literary endeavor, for fiction and the essay reached their successive stages of growth more quickly in England than elsewhere. Throughout poetry and prose, with but few exceptions, there is a blend of shrewdness and inspiration which in daily life is called common sense; Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Browning continually sound the practical note, evincing their knowledge and appreciation of material affairs. Another trait is that of searching out the moral lessons in life and thought. "Books in the running brooks, sermons in stones" are constantly sought by English authors. Chaucer, Bunyan, Milton, Dickens, Carlyle, Browning, and many others from the forefront of English letters play the part of teacher and preacher again and again.

American Literature. Obviously akin to English literature, yet more democratic in tone, owing to national tendencies, such as the character of the settlers, and the subsequent historical developments. Longfellow, Emerson, Whitman, and the other leading American authors wrote for the nation and not for any restricted class; the aristocratic note characteristic of much of eighteenth-century English literature is not to be found in American writers.

French Literature. A marked love of beauty, almost Greek in its nature, with a feeling for accuracy and organization which is decidedly Latin. These qualities have produced delicacy and clearness of expression; but their tendencies lead to perfection of style and form rather than to depth of thought, giving an effect of lightness and brilliance, and at times of superficiality.

German Literature. Depth of thought and forceful expression, which are in part responsible for the complex character of the national style as opposed to the clarity of the French. Owing to the unsettled condition of Germany for many centuries, the arts in general, and literature especially, did not begin to flourish to a noteworthy degree until the eighteenth century. While Luther was the first great author to use the language in its present form, it was not until two centuries later that the next eminent writers, Lessing, Schiller, and Goethe, appeared, whose work marks the highest point in the history of German letters.

Italian Literature. Emotional and imaginative rather than reflective, and therefore at its best in the brilliant and exuberant era of the Renaissance, which first came into full bloom in Italy.

Spanish Literature. Marked by the dignity that is the predominating characteristic of the nation. Just as Spain has had but one brief period when she was supreme among the European nations, so she has produced but one supreme author, Cervantes. Her literature, for the most part, and notably at the present day, is imitative, behind rather than ahead of the times.

Scandinavian Literature. Norway, Sweden, and Denmark are nations of the same race; their history, literature, and civilization are inseparably associated. Climate, racial character, historical developments, and other causes have combined to retard the growth of their literature. Apart from the sagas little of universal interest appeared until the nineteenth century, in which Ibsen created a sensation with his dramas of relentless criticism of the vanity and pettiness of life in the prosperous, democratic society of Norway.

Russian Literature. In some respects more closely related to the East than to the West, and hampered by despotism until the twentieth century, Russia produced nothing of value until a century ago. The novelists mentioned below then began a series of vivid pictures of the struggle for freedom, knowledge, and civilization as opposed to tyranny, universal ignorance, and barbarism. Their work has a strong national flavor, coupled with a youthful energy and an enthusiasm for the mission of enlightenment that recalls the spirit of the Renaissance and its zeal for discovery and progress.

Oriental Literature. Arabia, Persia, India, China, and Japan live and think along lines utterly at variance with our mode of life. Their points of difference from each other are by no means as distinct as the radical contrast between their customs and ours. As we all know, Arabic and Hebrew are written from right to left, so that a book's first page corresponds to the last page with us; in China and Japan people write down the page in vertical columns. Again, with us energy and activity, wisely used, form the basis of our life and our religion, whereas in the Orient it is held best to abstain from all action, to lead a life of absolute quiet and inactivity, if possible.

It follows that the literature of the East is first of all exceedingly difficult to translate well and in the second place is not to be judged in the same fashion as Western writings.

THE DIVISIONS OF LITERATURE

Poetry, history, the novel, the short story, the essay, and other branches of literature have all passed through successive stages of change and progress. To trace one of these divisions from its beginnings is not only interesting, but affords an excellent method of study, easily carried out and immediately beneficial. The novel of to-day, for example, is the product of centuries of authorship, in which various elements were gradually blended; the contributions of Cervantes, Defoe, Addison, and Scott, extending over a space of two hundred and thirty years, have each played a decisive part in its formation. So it is with history, poetry, and the rest of the forms of intellectual expression. The origin and nature of each of these divisions is considered in the pages that follow, with the usual lists and examples under each heading.

POETRY

How did poetry originate? In every nation the beginnings of its literature have been poems. This highest form of literary expression is also the oldest; it is not the final triumphant product of a highly civilized age, after centuries of slow development and gradual growth of power and art in the use of words. It is exactly the opposite; the earliest authors are the poets who sang and chanted the brave deeds of the leaders of their nation; the "Iliad," the Norse sagas, the "Song of Roland" are well-known examples of this primitive yet glorious poetry. But why is this, that one of the greatest of the arts should be already highly perfected in barbaric times? Because poetry rests on two principles: it is imaginative in its nature and rhythmic in its form. Man's imagination stirred him to conquest for the sake of glory and dominion, and then his imagination was again roused to tell in words of splendid imagery of his honor and fame and valor, of loveliness and happiness and power. Man's instinct for the regular cadence that he heard in the tramp of marching feet led him to chant aloud in firm, even measure while the words he sang fitted themselves to the beat of his music. It was only a slight matter to vary the length of the lines or group them in stanzas or use rhyme in order to increase the beauty of verse construction. However, the true test of poetry has always been the value of its imaginative power; no matter how accurate or elaborate its form, unless it expresses great ideas it cannot rank as great poetry, but merely as good verse. Like all art, poetry is the expression of genuine feeling in beautiful form. (See Sidney's "Defense of Poesy.")

The Chief Divisions of Poetry

Epic poetry tells the story of a great sequence of events, such as the wanderings and home-coming of Odysseus, in the "Odyssey." It is the earliest form of literature and one of the grandest. No great period or nation has failed to produce its epic.

For examples in Ancient Literature see "The Epic of Pentaur" under Egyptian Literature; Homer; and Vergil. The works of the last two are known as 'heroic epics.'

In the Dark Ages: "Beowulf" under Anglo-Saxon Literature; "The Song of Roland" under French Literature; "The Nibelungenlied" under German Literature; "The Saga of Eric the Red" under Norse Literature; and "The Chronicle of the Cid" under Spanish Literature.

In the Middle Ages: Dante and Tasso, who wrote 'sacred epics.' The "Old English Ballads" are excellent examples of the shorter poetic tales from which such epics as the "Iliad," the "Nibelungenlied," and the "Song of Roland" were built up.

In the Renaissance: Spenser, whose "Faerie Queene" is an epic of chivalry. Milton's great epics of "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained" are sacred epics, reflecting the Puritan influence that came over England at the close of the period.

In the Age of Classicism: the mock-epic of Pope's "Rape of the Lock," and the epic tale in prose, "Telemachus," by FÉnelon.

In the Age of Romanticism: Scott's "Lady of the Lake," and Byron's "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," although this last is perhaps best regarded as a study of the poet's emotions upon visiting the grandest scenes in Europe.

In Nineteenth Century Literature: Longfellow's "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha" are short epics. Owing to the central, unifying figure of King Arthur, Tennyson's "Idylls of the King" have much of the epic effect.

Lyric poetry includes all verse that presents the poet's feelings and passions; it is characterized also by plentiful use of varied ideas, rich and fanciful imagery, and rhythmical flow of language.

From the beginning there were shorter songs, as well as the epic, often accompanied on the lyre, a small harp, from which this branch of poetry takes its name. To-day lyric poetry tends toward a lighter tone and spirit than in the Romantic Period; in length it may vary very widely, from the little quatrain, of four lines, to an ode or a ballad of almost epic extent. Burns, Milton, Moore, Byron, Keats, Shelley, Shakespeare, and Wordsworth are among the foremost in this field; among the ancients Catullus, Horace, and Sappho are prominent; while the writings of Goethe, Heine, Uhland, Longfellow, Whittier, Browning, Tennyson, and Swinburne contain many that are familiar. Musical accompaniment is no longer essential. There are several forms of the lyric, chief among which are the following:

Idyllic poetry briefly presents a picture, complete and lovely, usually pastoral and romantic. Tennyson's "Idylls of the King," Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," the Idylls of Theocritus, and the Eclogues of Vergil are the best examples.

Dramatic poetry, in which the form of a play or drama is used, has always been chosen for the deepest and most majestic presentations of the problems and wonders of human life. The dramatic poets of the ancients as well as those of modern times rank among the most far-seeing thinkers and ablest writers of the world. No philosopher or historian has ever been able to reach the people or express the profoundest reflections so readily and forcibly.

The tragedies of Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, with those of Shakespeare and the "Faust" of Goethe, are the highest achievements in literature; their effect, from the stage, is instantaneous, and even in reading them the mind receives a direct impression of wonder and awe not elsewhere given. The Greek tragedies mentioned above have for their underlying theme the power of relentless fate, the inevitable omnipotence of right, and the final destruction of wrong and falsehood. In these and "Macbeth," "Hamlet," and "King Lear" the mastery of plot and action is superb; the play gathers force and momentum until the catastrophe sweeps down upon the evil-doers and unfortunates like a tidal wave. Yet each step in its progress, even the least trifle, is so natural as to seem unavoidable. Here is the proof of the poet's genius, in that he selects the message to be presented to his audience or readers, chooses his characters, and outlines his plot, then combines the three elements with such skill and with such inspiration as to leave an effect of perfect truth and actuality. Aristotle, the ancient philosopher and critic, declared that the very souls of the audience were cleansed and rid of pettiness and self-seeking by beholding such works as these; that the spectacle of disaster brought down upon men by their own vanity and wrong-doing, and portrayed in language of such vivid grandeur, was the most impressive means of reaching the hearts of men.

In addition to the authors mentioned above, Calderon, Jonson, Lessing, Marlowe, MoliÈre, Racine, Rostand, and Schiller have made notable contributions to the poetic drama. (See also Drama, p. 49.)

FICTION

The practice of telling tales of love and heroism is older than history itself. Ever since men sat about the fire of an evening and recited the deeds of their chieftains or extolled the beauty of their princesses, in other words, ever since the days when poetry first began, stories and tales have been handed down, first by word of mouth, then by carvings and inscriptions and at last by writing and printing. The first fiction was a simple, imaginative invention of adventure, told to pass the time. Æsop's "Fables" and Apuleius's "Story of Cupid and Psyche," ancient as they are, show the progress already made in the art of narration, the one simple and insistent in its purpose of teaching common sense by whimsical anecdotes, the other a delicately artistic legend told with exquisite grace. In "Jewish Literature" the story of Tobit's wonderful adventures at once calls to mind the "Arabian Nights," which were of similar origin, told by professional story-tellers for centuries before they were finally written down and translated for our perpetual delight.

The novel, a new feature in fiction, shows its first faint beginnings in the tumult and enthusiasm of the Renaissance, that strenuous age of new ideas and discoveries. Cervantes in writing "Don Quixote" had a definite purpose in mind beyond mere entertainment; the passing of the age of chivalry and the pathos and humor of life form the true subject of his tale. Bunyan in the "Pilgrim's Progress" shows the same intent of doing something more than providing interesting reading; the growth of a noble character through struggle and temptation on the journey through life is the central thought of his work. His hero, Christian, changes in character, becoming a stronger, better man as the story goes on. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe goes through much of the same evolution. And this is the underlying principle of the novel, that it has a purpose beyond simple story-telling, possessing a plot or unified succession of incidents, with actors whose characters develop. It is a picture of human life, with strength and weakness, happiness and misery, all bound together and forming a united and well-proportioned whole.

However, it was not until Addison and Steele, in the "Spectator" essays, had shown such skill in drawing characters and depicting manners and customs that the time was ripe for the true novel to appear. For one of the chief duties of the novel is to criticize life, to furnish comment on the social conditions and tendencies of the day. Among the earliest and also the greatest of the English novelists, Fielding, whose work appeared about thirty years after the "Spectator," not only draws sturdy and truthful pictures of the life of his day, but also makes the reader see the true value of that life and estimate its good and its bad qualities. In the same way Dickens and Thackeray, not very long after, supplied unending amusement and fun for the world and at the same time did far more by making the nations sit up and think, pointing out with almost brutal clearness the need of unselfish action and the love of truth and simplicity. There is not a novel of high rank but contains more than meets the eye at first glance. It is the readiest means of putting a critical estimate of history, of life and society, directly before the world.

NOVELS AND GENERAL FICTION

The short story, as distinct from a story that is short, is a nineteenth-century development in fiction. During the last hundred years the magazines grew so rapidly in numbers and circulation that they could not depend entirely on continued stories; they had to have tales that would be complete in one number, which could be read at one sitting. The demand brought the needed solution, a story which instead of length, with intricate action and complex studies of personality, supplied rapid action, brilliantly imaginative description, and a terse portrayal of character. Scenes, persons, and events were stamped immediately on the reader's mind; the effect desired by the writer was attained by force and bold decision. Edgar Allan Poe was one of the first to excel in this field, utilizing his critical powers as well as sheer inspiration to meet the situation.

The variations in style and manner are as manifold in the short story as in the novel. Boccaccio, "The Arabian Nights," French Literature, and the "Gesta Romanorum" show the work of the Middle Ages, from mere anecdote with a moral tagged on, in the "Gesta," to the graceful prose poem of "Aucassin and Nicolete." Barrie, Brown, and Hawthorne do little more than draw quiet sketches of simple life, while BjÖrnson, Eliot, Hardy, Harte, Irving, Kipling, Macleod, Maupassant, Stevenson, and Tolstoi deal powerfully with situations that bring home to us the force of fate which lurks hidden in petty incidents. Aldrich, Collins, Crawford, Hale, and Watson have all used this type of fiction effectively. Indeed, Hale's "Man Without a Country" drives home the idea of patriotism so vigorously that Italy recently issued a translation in an edition of a million copies for distribution to her army.

HISTORY

Like poetry and fiction, history emerges from the darkness of the unknown ages, at first no more than a boastful record of slaughter and usurpation, such as shows through the gloss and splendor of epic poetry. The sagas in "Norse Literature," the crisp record of invasion and conquest by CÆsar, and that of Josephus on the Roman conquest of the Jews are all of this type, a chronicle by an eyewitness of the succession of deeds that made up some event in a nation's life.

An improvement came with Herodotus in ancient times and again with Froissart in the Middle Ages. Both of these historians added zest to their tale by including some account of the principal personages as well as picturesque, well-drawn pictures of the scene. In other words, they filled in the background of their pictures, their wars were waged by people with definite personalities and in a country with certain individual features and peculiarities.

From this method to the modern scientific style was a further advance. It is now understood that we must perceive the growth of a nation, its social changes, its increase of intellectual as well as physical power, its innermost secrets of success or failure. Thucydides, the Greek historian, and Tacitus, the Roman, felt something of this and have left us far more than a mere list of battles and rulers. Gibbon, in "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," and later still, Guizot, Mommsen, and Ferrero, have carried on the work of analyzing the complex mysteries of history and civilization and have brought it to its highest development. The more stirring visions of heroism and kingly dominion have been replaced by pages in which not an emperor but a nation is born, passes through childhood to maturity and wisdom, succumbs to disease or an enemy's murderous attacks, and perishes.

The study of history nowadays may involve the scholar in years of drudgery, such as searching out and listing the exports and imports of the city of London between the years 1340 and 1400. However, the conclusions drawn from his discoveries may be of world-wide importance. The questions of tariff reform, wage-scales, taxation, and representative government will all be affected by the data which his scientific investigation will have brought to light. Those of us whose life-work lies in other directions can give no attention to the details of toilsome labor like this. But the results must always be significant for us. The great movements in the troublous advance of the nations from barbarism to civilization are full of lessons which we must learn. History, regarded as a series of wars, an unceasing fury of bloodshed and misgovernment, is of slight interest to peace-loving people. But history as a series of pictures, showing the conditions of life in various ages and countries, picturing the spread of liberty and equality, and the slow yet sure increase of justice—history viewed in this manner is one of the most stirring and educative subjects for reading and study.

How was the Roman Empire built up? What was the condition of the people in the days of Homer? How did the ancient tribes live from which the German nation is descended? What was England like in Shakespeare's time? These are some of the questions which we should ask. Many of the ablest brains in Europe and America have spent their lives in finding out the answers.

The following lists group the historians according to the nation which they discuss.

Egyptian Literature, Guizot's "History of Civilization in Europe," Japanese Literature, Josephus on the conquest of the Jews by Rome, Motley's "Relief of Leyden," Norse Literature, Tacitus's "Customs of the Germans," and Voltaire's account of Charles XII of Sweden are other selections.

BIOGRAPHY

The lives of great men have always been of interest not merely for the sake of satisfying curiosity, but because of the value of further knowledge about their habits, thoughts, and actions. The personality of a great man attracts us; perhaps through reading an intimate account of his life we may see into the reasons for his superiority, possibly we may find the key to the secret of power. So much can be learned from biography that it seems absurd how little importance is given to the subject even in our best colleges. Yet Christianity rests upon the life and teachings of one Personality, nation after nation has been saved or ruined by the deeds of one individual, wisdom and contentment have been found by the great minds of the world. By considering their lives, their principles, their virtues, and their failings we can get an extraordinary insight into the problems of happiness and wholesome living. Carlyle rightly called a Great Man "the most precious gift that Heaven can give to the Earth; a man of 'genius' as we call it; the Soul of a Man actually sent down from the skies with a God's-message to us." To see such a man at his work, at his play, thinking, dreaming, attaining greatness little by little or in a flash, to spend hours with him in thought, learning from him or from his friends and critics wherein he proved his power and how he labored to express it: to be in such close touch with one of the giants of the earth is a privilege which we must not dare to neglect. The opportunity is ours, ours be the blame and the failure if we neglect it.

ESSAY

Originally intended, as its name implies, to be a tentative effort rather than a finished production, the essay has none the less become one of the most perfect forms of prose. Its subject and the treatment thereof may be of almost any nature, provided it is well wrought and finished in style; for an essay is the artistic consideration of a topic, often critical, as in the case of Matthew Arnold's masterpieces, humorous, as with Lamb, philosophical as with Emerson, Carlyle, and Ruskin, and so on through a dozen diverse manners. In general the essay is brief, critical, and scholarly, and bears the stamp of the author's personality and individual opinion in his most polished style.

Bacon and Montaigne were the first to use it, Milton followed, and then Addison and Steele brought it to a high state of light and pungent perfection. Lamb, Macaulay, and Stevenson are perhaps the leaders in its later development. The work of such writers as Walton and Gilbert White, though not perhaps within the stricter limits of the definition, is closely related to the essay in tone and style.

HUMOR

Humor is the most subtle of intellectual modes of expression. To define it and lay down its laws and principles is all but beyond human power. For it ranges from the inspired nonsense of Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking-Glass" or the rough and ready gusto of Browne's "Showman's Courtship" to the airily intangible delicacy of Lamb's "Essays of Elia" and the venomous sarcasm of Swift's "Gulliver's Travels." Mere wit turns on an absurd similarity in words or ideas, as in Hood's lines:

Yet the deepest humor is all but pathos; Don Quixote's demented visions of giants that prove to be windmills and of castles that turn out to be taverns provoke our laughter while they stir our pity.

Humor would seem to depend, according to some, upon the association of ideas or circumstances that have no true relation to each other, as if they actually possessed a natural relationship. For this reason a cat or a cow dressed in coat and trousers provokes laughter, or a village bully described as a proud monarch causes a smile. An unexpected answer made as seriously as if it were appropriate is one of the commoner examples of the ludicrous. It is much for the same reason that actual misfortune may appear laughable, if the element of suffering is suppressed, as in Joel Chandler Harris's "Uncle Remus" stories, or Gilbert's "Yarn of the Nancy Bell." Its very subtlety limits the appeal of humor. "One man's meat is another man's poison" applies more closely to this division of authorship than to any other. What tickles the fancy of one person, and more especially, one nation, may not afford even passing amusement to another. Englishmen find our comic papers dull, while many Americans see little to laugh at in "Punch."

FOR THE CHILDREN

The foundations of good taste are best laid in childhood. Fairy tales, adventures, and all sorts of stories for children may be well designed and well written, or the opposite, just as much as books for older people. Choose your children's books as you choose their food; take care they get no trash, arrange a tempting diet of wholesome nourishment for their minds. The authors listed below wrote as carefully and thoughtfully for little folks as when they wrote for grown-ups. Andersen devoted his life to authorship for children; the Grimm brothers made a scientific study of folk-lore and fairy tales throughout the German empire, collecting the stories told by the firesides in each district. Carroll, Hawthorne, Kingsley, and many others put their best efforts into books which are unquestioned examples of great literature and yet were purposed entirely for youth. There is no occasion for young people to ruin their taste and their appreciation with ill-written rubbish.

TRAVEL

The majority of travelers have been men of action rather than words, filled with enthusiasm and inspiration for deeds instead of books. Columbus, Magellan, Drake, and the rest of the leaders of exploration have left nothing that can be called literature. Their records, at best, are scientific reports of their discoveries. Still, ever since the days when Pausanias made his remarkable tour of Greece and described its wonders and Herodotus jotted down the travelers' tales of Egypt, there have been able writers to tell of the marvels, real or imaginary, to be found in foreign lands.

DRAMA

In both ancient and modern literature the drama is of religious origin. Among the Greeks it began as a service in memory of some dead hero, the choir or chorus chanting the story of his life and deeds. Their leader presently began to take an actor's part, addressing the audience or congregation, and then other persons were introduced who carried on a dialogue with him and at last played the part of characters in the hero's history. In the Middle Ages, when the great majority of the people could not read, the Bible story was acted at Christmas, Easter, and other festivals in order to impress it on their minds more vividly. From this it was an easy step to the presentation of historical events, and it was but one more step to the modern drama's elaborate staging and well-rounded plot. (For the poetic drama, see p. 40.)

In general the drama has certain limitations which must be taken into account before passing judgment upon a play. Three hours is the utmost duration for a play; it must 'get across' within that period, since an audience becomes wearied during the third hour. It appeals to two senses, hearing and sight, while other forms of literature appeal but to one. This is an advantage as far as it enables the dramatist to tell his story by scenery and action as well as by speech and incidental music. It is a handicap when the action or the scenery is faulty and distracts the attention of the audience from the dialogue. Descriptions of any length, the study or analysis of personality, all features of ordinary fiction which delay the action are impossible on the stage. Speech and action must be fitted together so as to carry the plot through without pause, revealing the story forcibly, clearly, and yet naturally, within the restricted time.

These limitations have been handled in widely varying manners: three systems of presentation have been employed, the ancient, the medieval, and the modern, all of which are to be seen at the present day, thanks to the revival of Greek plays in the stadiums and amphitheaters of our colleges and likewise to the revival of the Elizabethan drama during the past ten years.

The ancient or Greek drama was presented in a stone amphitheater against a background of marble, constructed in the form of a palace or temple; the semicircular space occupied by the orchestra seats in our theaters contained an altar in the center and was used by the actors as a part of the stage; the chorus in particular used this space for their stately dances and stood at one side during the progress of the action, commenting on the course of events in odes which they chanted. The lack of movable scenery, and other limitations, resulted in the restrictions known as the three 'unities,' of action, time, and place. No play, according to the unity of action, should introduce incidents that were not a part of the main action; the plot must be absolutely simple. Thus the story of Jessica and Lorenzo, in "The Merchant of Venice" would be barred by this convention, as it does not contribute to the development of the main story of Antonio and Shylock. The unity of time required that the action should not represent the occurrences of more than a day at the very outside, and the unity of place held the action to one spot. These latter conventions were to increase the impression of truth and actuality on the minds of the spectators, heightening the effect of complete naturalness and leaving their imaginations free to grasp the problems of the plot without the additional effort of supposing lapses of time and changes of scene to have occurred. The number of actors was small; usually two, or at most three, were permitted to take part at one time in a portion of the dialogue. These conventions produce a simplicity that was not bare and dull, but just the reverse; the attention is focused directly upon the leading character and his fate from beginning to end. The effect is single and direct, there is no complexity or intricacy to puzzle the audience or distract its interest in the crisis which is so obviously approaching. The grandeur of this type of drama is like that of a great hymn, such as "Old Hundred," sung by a vast congregation.

The medieval plays, which reached their height in Shakespeare's time, were very different from those of the ancients. The stage was almost as bare and scenery was not used, but changes of locality were frequent, indicated by hanging out a sign with the words, "This is a garden" or "A Street in Venice" and so on. In the same way there was no restriction upon time; years might be supposed to have passed between one act and the next. The imagination of the audience was expected to take care of such matters, and indeed it did so with the utmost ease. The plot could be supplemented with all sorts of incidents whether they directly concerned it or not. For example, the wrestling scene at the beginning of "As You Like It" was inserted to satisfy the Elizabethan love of sport, not because it could be of use in advancing the progress of the story, as it did nothing of the kind. The Greek unities were disregarded completely; however, the most impressive of Shakespeare's tragedies do adhere to the principle of the unity of action,—"Macbeth," for example, deals with the consequences of unscrupulous ambition, each event in the play leads directly on to the catastrophe without a pause, there are no minor events or plots.

The modern play differs from both the earlier forms of the drama in its appeal to the eye. The use of scenery, which came in at the beginning of the Age of Classicism, has led to an elaboration of stage effects which sometimes is injurious to the success of a production. Much of the modern stage-craft is concerned with scenic effects and therefore does not come into this discussion. The chief distinction to-day lies in the treatment of problems of everyday life in an everyday manner. Neither the ancient nor the Shakespearian playwrights handled tragedy in the setting of ordinary life. The Greeks portrayed famous heroes and princes and so did the Elizabethans, but rarely, except in comedy, was there any presentation of the life of the middle classes of that time. Sheridan and Ibsen, in common with most of the modern playwrights, take the life of the mass of the people and draw their illustrations of success and failure direct. The audience of to-day sees itself walking and talking on the stage, playing the fool or the hero.

Each style has its merits and its faults, each is powerful in the hands of a genius and each fails when used by incompetents. The average drama depends largely upon the actors for its success, it can hardly be classed among literary efforts. Only the plays wrought by masters of thought as well as of speech can be given a place in the realm of literature.

ORATORY

The art of addressing a large gathering and winning their support, as well as their attention, by sound argument and also by eloquence is a study that is in danger of falling into a decline, owing perhaps to the prevalence of newspapers and the rapidity with which an argument or an idea can be spread broadcast over the world by the telegraph and the press. In reading even the finest speeches of the past or the present allowance must almost always be made for the personal magnetism of the speaker, the appeal made by his presence, his gestures, and his voice. For this reason it is difficult to form a just estimate of the worth of a speech, especially at a date when the subject has become less vital or even unfamiliar through the passage of time. The sole bases of criticism under these conditions must be the force of the argument and the eloquence of the style. This is aptly illustrated in the case of Burke, whose arguments were admitted to be irresistible in their strength, but who had so poor a delivery that he was called the dinner-bell of the House of Commons, in reference to the departure of the members when he rose to speak. The most influential speakers have been those who combined skill in argument with grace and eloquence and reinforced these qualities with a commanding personality. These talents are needed to-day if we are to maintain the standard set by Washington, Webster, and Lincoln.

PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE

The aim of philosophy, like that of science, is to probe the mystery of life, to discover as far as possible the nature of man and of the universe in which he dwells. These efforts began when men first asked "What am I? What is this world?" Philosophy attempts the answer by reasoning and meditation, while science uses inventions, such as the telescope, mathematical calculation, and all other means of obtaining accurate information regarding the physical environment and nature of man. The former is concerned with the spirit, the unseen, the motives of honor, love, and the like, and the infinite possibilities of the mind and the soul; the latter deals with the actual, material conditions of life. The best of scientific literature so closely borders on philosophy that it has been included among the selections that treat of philosophic problems.

RELIGION

Certain hymns will always linger in the memory from the days of childhood; and certain sermons and devotional works have so feelingly expressed the aspirations of Christian life that they have attained enduring fame. These are here collected without reference to denominational distinction.

Also, as it is of interest to note the ideals of thinkers in other than Christian lands, passages are included from the teachings of Confucius, the Chinese scholar; Cleanthes, the Greek poet; the life of Buddha, in Hindoo Literature; the Talmud, in Jewish Literature; and the "Koran" of Mohammed.

HYMNS

SERMONS AND DEVOTIONAL WORKS

FROM SEVEN TO TWENTY-ONE

Lists of readings for young and old.

Showing how to acquire, by easy stages, a knowledge of the best in literature, year by year.

Unlike poets, painters, and the rest of the world of artists, booklovers are made, not born. But many a booklover has been spoiled in the making, too; so that we must needs give thought to the process of transforming everyday folk into willing and skilful readers and lovers of books. Many boys and girls and many men and women have lost all interest in the realm of books through lack of suitable material for enjoyment and adequate opportunity for practice. What books they could find round the house failed to meet their desires or hold their attention; probably they were technical or 'dry-as-dust.'

In other words the untrained reader, whether young or old, must be trained and exercised on the right books at the right time. Not that he should be coaxed and tempted with light fiction or showy trash, quite the contrary; he must acquire strength of mind and intellectual habits—he is to be trained to grasp serious thought as well as highstrung romance. Conan Doyle's thrilling "White Company" or Blackmore's tender "Lorna Doone" form excellent entertainment, but they must be supplemented by sturdy common sense, such as one finds in Franklin's "Autobiography," Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast," or Bancroft's account of the Lexington and Concord fight. The young mind, and the old one as well, cannot grow strong and able without exercise. Just as tennis, football, swimming, or golf help to develop and strengthen our physical powers, so the mind likewise must take exercise that will ripen and enlarge the intellectual powers. The joy of living is dependent upon full vigor of brain and brawn; the weakling, whether in intellect or in muscle, loses the best that life has to give. Our ideal must be not merely a sound mind in a sound body but, rather, a strong mind in a strong body.

The lists that follow have been devised to meet the requirements for training the mind to a ready facility and enjoyment of books and reading. Naturally, these groups are arbitrary, they definitely place one author or selection in the eleven year old's list, another in the fifteen; whereas either might well be transferred, in individual cases. The object manifestly is to group writers and selections as a means of guidance and help to the average reader whether parent or child, but not to draw hard and fast lines. The sooner the reader becomes ready to wander as he will, the sooner will he be a true booklover.

Seven to Ten Years of Age. At this time of life, as every one knows, fairy tales are an unfailing delight and form the foundations, moreover, of all thorough literary appreciation. In addition to these, tales of adventure or of travel, such as Malory's Morte Darthur, or Marco Polo's astonishing discoveries in China, serve as admirable supplementary reading at this age.

Eleven and Twelve Years of Age. The next step consists in awakening the sense of understanding, rousing the mind to grasp actual scenes and situations. For this purpose the "Pilgrim's Progress," "Two Years Before the Mast," "The Village Blacksmith," or "Horatius" are especially suitable. For while the fairy tale element is continued in "Cupid and Psyche," the "Odyssey," and "Undine," it is to these more realistic selections that we must look for the stimulus to imaginative growth that the children need. For this reason, "Robinson Crusoe" is of paramount value at this time simply because it trains the young mind to picture the scenes or events with the utmost care for details; probably no other work of fiction in English Literature can equal it for realistic vividness and precision.

Thirteen and Fourteen Years of Age. This period should mark the beginning of true reading power—the faculty of perceiving and absorbing the pictures, the facts, the ideas that lie within the printed page. The true joys of reading first-class fiction, for example, "Don Quixote" or "The Cloister and the Hearth," are usually first experienced in these years. And in the same manner young readers delight in the more vivid pages of history, such as "The Relief of Leyden," or "The Conquest of Peru," or—best of all—Raleigh's telling account of the fight of the 'Revenge' together with Tennyson's magnificent poem, built up from the prose of Raleigh. For it is in such passages as these that the natural tendency to hero-worship is roused and fostered. Jim Bludso, Sir Launfal, Alexander the Great, John Halifax, Lorna Doone, and Constantia, together with the splendid characters in the works already mentioned, all establish in the minds of the average boy and girl examples of courage, courtesy, and nobility that are never forgotten.

Fifteen and Sixteen Years of Age. The appreciation of poetry is one of the most subtle and difficult developments in the youthful intellect. Yet some enjoyment of poetry, not merely narrative poems, but contemplative verse as well, should manifest itself during these next years. Furthermore, it is high time to form an acquaintance with writers who will be met again and again in days yet to come. No one will maintain for a moment that a sixteen year old lad will fully understand and appreciate Milton's "L'Allegro," with its treasury of allusion; yet, on the other hand, no one will pretend that this same lad should not at least be granted the opportunity to listen for the first time to those immortal lines. For this reason not only Milton, but Lincoln, Cowper, Pepys, Tolstoi, Hodgkin, Gray, and several others are included in the list.

But apart from the more serious and contemplative side of the reading that can be commenced at this age, there is much that will fascinate and delight those who are looking for pastime rather than deep thinking. Barham's "Ingoldsby Legends," of which "The Knight and the Lady" is a most characteristic tale in verse, have long been the joy of all who love laughter and nonsense; and so with Irving's "Knickerbocker's New York," which in many respects is unequaled for wit and delicate fun. Crawford's "The Upper Berth," Doyle's "White Company," and Dumas's "Three Musketeers" furnish thrill enough for the most eager adventure seeker. Tolstoi and Goldsmith will satisfy a quieter mood with their gentle satire on the folly and stupidity and vanity of everyday people, who none the less are the salt of the earth, after all.

Note. The reader should take care to read and even to reread the majority of the selections in the previous lists before attempting further progress.

Seventeen and Eighteen Years of Age. With increasing maturity we may naturally expect the mind to enjoy the more calm and meditative moods of life: for example, the essays of Addison and Lamb, the more forceful historical reflections of such writers as Green, Froissart, and Parkman, the "Utopia" of Sir Thomas More, Thoreau's "Walden," and Washington's "Farewell Address." These form an excellent introduction to the deeper thoughts which will shortly be forced upon youth as it goes out into the world to fight for a career.

At this time, too, interest is stirred to attempt an understanding of the 'reason for things'—the mind endeavors to arrive at some law or principle beneath the varied course of life and action in the world. In other words, boyhood and girlhood are past, and an older view of life and its responsibilities must naturally take the place of the carefree spirit of earlier days. The qualities of friendship that appear in "Tennessee's Partner" and the search for spiritual as well as intellectual companionship and understanding that is emphasized in Tennyson or Matthew Arnold are at this time beginning to be more fully appreciated and understood.

Nineteen and Twenty Years of Age. Unquestionably, as the years pass on, we read again the books that have already given us so many hours of happiness and amusement. For this reason it is well for the young booklover to return to the lists for the previous years and renew acquaintanceships there. No doubt some of the authors whom he found but moderately amusing then will now win far more favor in his sight. Meanwhile, among the fresh material history and criticism naturally find a prominent place. Mommsen's estimate of Julius CÆsar and Chesterton's appreciative critique of Dickens stand among the foremost studies of great men that the world has yet produced. In the field of poetry it is high time to spend some quiet hours with Emerson, Browning, Shakespeare, Shelley, and Wordsworth. These five poets represent perhaps the very best that English verse has produced in the way of meditation—insight into the depths of nature and humanity.

At this point the reader will do well to consider other chapters in this Handbook, notably that on Literary Criticism, and the rest of Part II, which deals with the general principles underlying a fuller comprehension of literature. Part III, Studies of Great Authors, will be of even greater help to those readers who are finding increased pleasure in reading as students rather than for the sake of recreation or light reading alone. By following out the lines of thought presented in Parts II and III, especially if one does not attempt to carry too heavy a quantity of reading at a time, the enjoyment of books and thought will be immensely stimulated and broadened.

Twenty-one and After. During these years, through respect for wisdom and experience, maturity rapidly quickens into being. Once we get a few hard knocks in the battle of life, our regard for the learning and understanding of our elders soon increases. We likewise can enter more thoroughly into the work of such thinkers as Carlyle, Galton, Emerson, Ruskin, Shaler, or of such poets as Chaucer and Goethe. For these men have spent the best of their lives in studying and probing into the causes and developments of our moods and characters. Carlyle has given us the most terrific and stirring account ever written of the battle that is waged in every man's soul between the forces of good and evil. Goethe has dramatized this same problem, revealing the wretchedness of him who only thinks of self, who drags his nearest and dearest down to ruin simply to gratify his lusts or his whims. Ruskin searches architecture, painting, or even the workmanship of everyday trades in order to discover their true merit—their greatness and their weakness. From such writings we can learn more and yet more each time we peruse them. There is no end to the richness and wealth of thought and experience to be gained from these alone.

Apart from the power to appreciate the thought itself, the reader by this time is surely ready to take pleasure in the style of such writers as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Matthew Arnold, Walter Pater, Herrick, and Spenser. And with respect to the matter, he surely will profit in the company of Sir Thomas Browne, Thomas À Kempis, Mill, and Plato, presenting four remarkably valuable points of view in their studies of what is most worth man's consideration. Further reading of interest in style and in matter will be found under the headings of "Essay," "Travel," "Drama," "Oratory," "Philosophy," etc., on pages 46-53 of this Handbook.

One of the chief problems of the reader deals with the question of foreign authors. Perhaps one man in a hundred thousand can find time to learn to read more than four languages fluently. If he is to get in touch with the great writers of other tongues than those which he knows, he must perforce read translations. And for most of us translations are the only resource. The modern writers have been translated with but slight difficulty, mainly because their views of life are so closely akin to ours that their thoughts may be put into English with slight trouble. But the ancients, the masters of Greek and Roman Literature, regarded life from other standpoints than ours. They were mainly interested in interpreting fate and the mysteries of life. Their work, then, is for the most part philosophic, even when presented in the form of drama or of poetry. It is so great, so lofty in tone and so profound in its perception of everlasting truths that we cannot afford to neglect it. But it can only be grasped by a mature mind and by calm and patient meditation. The tragedies of Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, the poetry of Lucretius and Cleanthes, and the meditations of Marcus Aurelius rank among the grandest and most sublime works that mortal mind has ever achieved. For complete lists of foreign authors, see the classified entries on pages 28-35 of this Handbook.

THE INDEX AND THE BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES

The Use of the Index. The thoughtful and habitual use of the Index will prove of more lasting benefit than any other practice associated with reading. Not only is attention called to authors, to the titles of selections, and to the opening lines of familiar and unfamiliar poems, but hundreds upon hundreds of topics are there listed, dealing with subjects of endless variety as viewed by the ablest minds of the past and the present. Agriculture, for example, is dealt with by ancients and moderns—among others, by Cicero and by Charles Dudley Warner. America's development, we find, has been presented from such diverse viewpoints as those of Ferrero, the modern Italian historian; of Goethe, the master-poet of old Germany, as bitter a foe of Prussia as any who live to-day; of Hamilton, the statesman-economist; of McMaster, the historian; of Henry, the patriot orator; of Leslie Stephen, the English critic, and other leaders of the world's thought. The value of books, the use of chariots of war, the case for and against Charles I of England, the nature of conversation, the progress of the drama in ancient and in more recent times—these topics suggest the amazing diversity of outlook.

Whether for the sake of study or merely as a pastime, every moment employed upon the Index will prove stimulating, will open trains of thought and furnish additional means of enjoyment that otherwise will lie undiscovered.

These fifty pages provide an encyclopedia of intellectual entertainment and cultivation. Through them the reader can pursue a subject or a line of thought as nowhere else. Not the opinion of one man, or of one nation, or of one era alone, but the best and most valued reflections of the great men of all the ages are here collected under every important heading on which they best expressed themselves.

Throughout this whole work, Opportunity lies in wait, needing only to be recognized; then, she at once enriches your life and your usefulness. Not a page but contains thoughts, suggestions, grave and gay, old and new, matter-of-fact or sublime,—yet all of them leading to a more sincere and purposeful understanding of the deeds and thoughts that make up a sound and full career. But of all these thousands of pages and selections not any contain more hints for the reader than the pages of the Index.

The Use of the Biographical Sketches. The reader who has once grasped the inestimable value of reflecting on the books that he meets, will naturally perceive the worth of the Biographical Sketches that immediately precede the selections in the Library. For although these are purposely terse, yet they have been painstakingly constructed to supply two essential needs; first, an introduction to the author, as well as to his best work; second, a guide to his other works.

As has elsewhere been pointed out (pages 19, 28, 55, etc., of this Handbook), the true appreciation and enjoyment of a writer are unquestionably increased by understanding his personality and his outlook on the world.

In the second place, the selections present the best and only the best achievements of each writer. They obviously cannot include thirty volumes of Scott's novels, for example; nor is it desirable that the quotations from any author should extend beyond complete passages of assured distinction. On the other hand, persons attracted by an author's style or subject matter will naturally desire to read more of his work and even to acquire several of his most characteristic books. The Biographical Sketch lists his principal writings so that you can send for them to bookseller or public library.

The Library of Entertainment will thus form the nucleus of a collection that can become unique, in that it will not contain an author that you have not tested before purchase. To own books that you value and esteem unfailingly leads to reading with increased pleasure day by day; such reading forms the purpose that lies behind these volumes.

LITERARY CRITICISM

Criticism is a term that is commonly misused and misunderstood. It does not mean condemnation and disapproval. It does mean sound judgment, a careful valuation of the work under discussion, weighing its merits and its faults; therefore it follows that sincere criticism may be wholly free from fault-finding, provided the subject proves to be without blemish. The criticism of Milton's minor poems, "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," and "Lycidas," must be an appreciation of their beauty and power, since they are practically faultless.

To form a trustworthy opinion regarding a piece of literature is not difficult; all that is necessary is to make a definite, orderly inquiry into certain essential facts.

I. The first of these concern the author himself, his surroundings, and the influences which shaped his thoughts.

1. The period when he lived. Each of the great ages of literature has its special characteristics and tendencies, without a knowledge of which it is impossible to judge a writer's work. (These periods are defined on p. 19 ff.) For example, if Dickens had lived in Shakespeare's time his writings would have been very different in form and in style; he would have probably written comedies for the stage instead of novels.

2. His nation. Nationality also has strong traits that must be taken into account. (These are stated on p. 28 ff.) If Dickens had been a Frenchman, he would have paid more attention to the grace and clearness of his style; if he had been a German, he would have tended to be more philosophical in his thought, his plots would have been deeper, and his characters less vivid.

3. His life and immediate surroundings. Equally significant are the social conditions in which a man is reared, whether noble, like Byron, or poor, like Burns; well-educated, like Macaulay, or self-taught, like Bunyan; unfortunate and dissipated, like Poe, or fortunate and happy, like Holmes. These facts all have a direct bearing on the view we must take of the man's productions. Joel Chandler Harris could never have written his amusing "Uncle Remus" stories, if he had not spent his boyhood on a Southern plantation. De Quincey would never have written "Our Ladies of Sorrow" if he had not been the slave of opium. Stevenson's "Travels With a Donkey," one of his most charming books, is due to the fact that his consumptive tendencies compelled him to go on a walking trip in the pure and bracing air of the mountains of southern France.

II. A second group of facts deals with the work itself.

1. The form; poetry, fiction, history, essay, drama, etc. (These are discussed on p. 36 ff.)

2. The style. The worth of the author's work as a piece of composition is best decided by observing the following elements, which taken all together make up the style and quality of his writing.

What words does he use? Are they commonplace or do they express his exact meaning? Are they simple, or unusual and even unintelligible? Are they forceful or weak? etc.

How are his sentences constructed? Are they straightforward or confused? Do they express a simple, direct thought or do they contain several ideas? If complex and lengthy, are they still powerful? etc.

Are his paragraphs unified; that is, do they contain one leading idea? Do they follow in systematic order, leading from one to the other? Is the development of the author's subject easily followed? etc.

Are the scenes and characters, the plots and purposes clearly shown? Does it require more than one reading to find out what the writer is trying to say? Is his work convincing? Do the characters change, and if so, is the change natural or does it seem unreal and artificial? Are the incidents natural or do some of the events seem forced? If the latter, do you think the author is justified? What is the author's aim? Has he any further purpose than that which is immediately evident? etc.

What is the tone of his work? Realism? Imagination? Mystery? Charm? Beauty? Accuracy? Delicacy? Pathos? Humor? Joy? Sarcasm? etc.

3. The effect. What are your feelings regarding the work? Do you like it or dislike it? Why?

What is your cold judgment regarding it? Note that this is by no means necessarily the same thing as what you may feel. Many people do not care especially for Dickens or Kipling, yet they all grant that both these authors have deserved their fame. They may not like them, but their reason and their judgment compel admission of their ability. It is accordingly important to ask what impression a book makes on your feelings and on your judgment as well, and to ask why that impression has grown upon you.

The value of this systematic consideration of a passage of literature is manifest. The reader's knowledge is increased, and, better still, his ability to arrive at a wise judgment of other literature is greater than before. Efficiency in habits of thought is encouraged, his outlook on life is broader, he becomes more fit to take a prominent part in social and in business life, wherever judgment and thought are needed.