Journeys Through Bookland Volume X Part 17

C. THE SCENES

One of the benefits of good reading is that it fills the mind with beautiful pictures of places that we cannot visit or that live only in the eyes of the imagination. A powerful descriptive writer takes his reader with him, and by graphic words makes visible and almost real the scenes among which they wander. One may sit in the light of his study lamp during a black northern winter and read himself away from the chill and dreariness into some warm, sunny clime where flowers of new and rare forms flaunt their gorgeous colors and perfume the air with strange delicious odors; great trees with tufts of far-reaching leaves cast their welcome shade, and long vines trail gracefully from their living supports. Wonderful birds with brilliant plumage flit about, as through the openings in the trees glimpses are given of long waves rolling gently upon the glistening beach. It is only necessary to give free rein to the imagination and to visualize the scenes that the skilful writer describes.

There are people of such literal minds that descriptive writing fails to appeal to them. It is their misfortune. To others every word brings a picture that appears almost as vivid and as full of detail as those upon which the material eye gazes. Like any other power of the mind, this may be cultivated, even among the mature. Children are highly gifted with this power, to begin with, and only a little training is necessary to make them use the faculty freely for their own delight. Suggest to them the outlines of a picture, and see how rapidly they will fill in the details.

No two can see precisely the same imaginary picture; in fact, no two people looking at the same landscape will see precisely the same things, and if they are asked to describe what they see, it will appear that things which are most vivid to one may have made little impression upon the other. It is not to be expected, then, that two children reading a description of some scene will get the same picture of it. Each will color his own from the previous impressions and experiences he has had.

Yet to each the picture may be very real and very pleasing. Good teachers of reading spend much time and effort in teaching the young to visualize the scenes of which they read, not only because of the pleasure it will afford the young when they are mature, but because the power to see vividly is of greatest a.s.sistance in every department of study.

In some stories little attention is given to the scene; in fact, the persons might appear anywhere and not be in the least affected by their surroundings, and the events might have happened in China as well as in England. Even then, however, there will be found mention of many things that seem to give locality to the story. At the other extreme are writers who lose themselves in descriptive flights and pause to describe a sunset while the heroine is perishing, and the hero must stand helpless until the author has painted the last color in the sky. In the best literature for children, description is so mingled with narrative that while there are fine pictures to see, they do not fall in the way of the events which the young reader follows with such breathless interest. In fact, the pictures aid the narrative.

There is of course in every story much descriptive writing that does not apply to the scenes among which the plot is laid, yet it is well to make a study of description from the scenes, for it is here that the author has his greatest opportunity for pictorial writing.

If the story is brief there may be but one scene. Everything may happen in one place, and none of the surroundings may change. For instance, in the fable of _The Dog and His Shadow_ (Volume I, page 63) there is but one incident, which happens in one place. Such a simple story, however, furnishes the material for a good picture, and in bringing it out to a child who reads or hears the fable for the first time, the parent is giving good service that will lead to keener appreciation and higher power of interpretation in his child's later years. What can be made out of this picture, and how should it be done? Let us see:

The fable is told in simple words, and only plain facts are stated. What are the elements of our picture? We can find only six, viz.: a big dog; a big piece of meat; day; a river; a narrow bridge; the dog's image. Now if we were to draw a picture to ill.u.s.trate this fable we would begin with a general sketch. Should we show a level country, or are there hills about? Is it barren and desolate, or are there trees? Are there houses near? Where did the dog get his meat? Is it a large river, or only a small one? The bridge is narrow; has it a railing along the side?

Would the dog be liable to see his image if it was a wagon bridge? Was it then a mere foot bridge? Would a single plank across a small stream answer the purpose? The dog is big; is it a dog that knows and likes the water? Would you think it could be a Newfoundland dog? What kind of a dog is it? It is day time; is the sun shining? Do you imagine it is morning or noon, or that it is toward evening? In making your pictures would you draw the trees to show the leaves blown by the wind? If the dog sees his image, is the water smooth or rough? Is the stream rapid and rough, or smooth and placid?

While such questioning is going on both speaker and listener are seeing more clearly every minute. Besides, in order to see accurately they are drawing on their own previous knowledge and experience, and are reasoning just as truly as though they were solving a problem in arithmetic.

In every picture we form in our reading there are certain elements that we must accept and include because the writer gives them to us. Other elements suggest themselves, and we accept them and put them in place or reject them entirely. In the fable just discussed we are told that the dog is big, the piece of meat is big, and the bridge is narrow. We may not see a small dog with a little piece of meat on a big, wide bridge.

Houses, trees, sedges on the river bank, children playing by the side of the path, spring, summer or autumn foliage, or even snowclad sh.o.r.es with black water between--any of these we may put into our picture, for the fable is silent on these points. We must be accurate, and the parent can do no better service in reading than to make his child see accurately whatever he sees at all.

The artist studies the selection he means to ill.u.s.trate in just this way, and then draws his picture. When we see his picture we may accept it as good and true to the conditions, or call it poor and inapplicable.

We should not be hasty, but should try to get his point of view before we criticise. If he violates any of the fixed conditions of the story his work is bad; if he gives us his interpretation and violates no fixed conditions, his work may be good or bad according to the standards we set up: are we always certain that our standards are correct?

In the fable _The Fox and the Stork_ (Volume I, page 73) the artist has given us two beautiful pictures which in themselves tell almost the entire story, and his pictures are almost wholly from his own imagination, for there was given him to work with very little more than a fox, a stork, a wide dish and a vase. Such a pictorial imagination as he possessed is what should be cultivated in children. If they can be encouraged to draw what they see, they not only fix their own impressions, but they learn to see more vividly and more accurately.

In long stories there are many scenes; it may be that no two incidents happen in the same place. In the drama, which contains all the elements of the story, the scenes are limited in number, are fixed and unchanging and after the reader has arranged his scenery he may give his attention exclusively to the dialogue because he knows there will be no change in the scene. In the story the reader may need to be constantly alert, as when his hero takes a long and perilous journey the scenes may change with the quickness of a kaleidoscope, and yet all be important to the narrative. The more complex the story, the greater the variety in scene, and consequently the greater the opportunities for study. It is interesting work for children to pick out the scenes, to count them and then to compare them. Some of them are more vividly portrayed than others. Why? Some are more important as descriptions, and some because of the incidents occurring in them.

Sometimes, especially in speaking of the drama, the word _scene_ is applied not only in its literal sense, but also to include not merely the place but the incidents that happen in the place, as well.

For instance, we may say, "The quarrel between Brutus and Ca.s.sius is a wonderful scene in _Julius Caesar_." Again, the word is used sometimes to mark the division of a play, as when we speak of the second scene in the first act of _Macbeth_. For our purposes, however, in our early reading with children, let us use it to signify only the place where events happen.

An author may tell us at the beginning of a story that the scene is laid in London, or in Calcutta, or in the Black Forest; but unless he employs some method of giving a vivid impression of the setting of the story, we soon lose sight of locality. Sometimes, of course, it is not necessary that we should remember the place--the story moves on independent of scene; but other stories depend in part for their interest and even for their plot upon their setting. In such cases, the author, by reference to the natural features characteristic of a region, or to the peculiar traits or mannerisms or turns of speech of his characters, keeps before us the place in which the scene is laid. Such peculiarities of a place or its inhabitants, when introduced into a story, are given the name of local coloring.

In _A Christmas Carol_ (Volume VI, page 244), d.i.c.kens meant that we should be conscious throughout not only of a Christmas atmosphere, but of an _English_ Christmas atmosphere. The references to the Christmas feeling are too obvious to require pointing out, but the methods by which the author makes us conscious that we are in London do not show so clearly at first sight. By a study of the paragraph which begins in the middle of page 253, and of the one immediately following it, we may get some idea of these methods.

"Meanwhile the _fog_ and darkness thickened so, that the people ran about with flaring _links_." A London boy would not need a footnote to tell him that the fogs of London are famous; that they are at times so thick that all traffic is obliged to cease. Nor would he need to be told that links are torches of tow and pitch, which enterprising London boys provided themselves with at foggy times, that they might earn money by piloting people about. The word _brazier_, too, is in commoner use in England than it is in the United States. The _poulterers'_ trade is another English touch.

Every one knows that the _Lord Mayor_ is the chief official of the city of London, but perhaps we do not all know that _Mansion House_, with its great banqueting-hall where the state dinners are held, is the residence of the Lord Mayor.

Now-a-days we all know what English _plum pudding_ is--it is served at many American tables on Christmas day. But nothing is more characteristically English, unless, indeed, it is the _roast beef_, not turkey, which the tailor was planning to have for his Christmas dinner.

Probably no one but an English writer, writing of an English subject, would refer in d.i.c.kens's off-hand manner to Dunstan, the English statesman and archbishop who accomplished so much for religion that he came to be known as Saint Dunstan.

One of the most characteristically English touches in the two paragraphs is the reference to the _carol_ sung by the boy at Scrooge's keyhole.

Other countries have Christmas carols, but the custom of singing them before people's houses is peculiarly common in England. The carol of which the first two lines are quoted is perhaps the one most frequently sung.

These instances will give some idea of what is meant by local color, and of the methods used in securing it. It will be an interesting study to find other words and phrases in the remainder of the story which strengthen our feeling of the "Englishness" of _A Christmas Carol_.

_Journeys Through Bookland_ furnishes an abundance of good stories of fine descriptive power. A few of the best are the following:

Volume II, page 405. _The King of the Golden River._ Volume IV, page 174. _Incident of the French Camp._ Volume IV, page 322. _The Attack on the Castle._ Volume VI, page 173. _Sohrab and Rustum._

D AND E. THE LESSON AND THE AUTHOR'S PURPOSE

The stories of the present day are many of them written with the avowed purpose of mere entertainment. The author is satisfied if his work sells, and cares nothing for the lesson he may teach, although by means of false views of life he may do ineffaceable harm to the minds of his readers. Many of the popular magazines and other periodicals, not even excepting some of those published especially for children, are full of light reading which vitiates the taste and may even undermine character by its seductive influence. In the effort to be entertaining the recent writers for children have only too frequently sacrificed strength and virility to a fascinating brilliancy that seizes the imagination of youthful readers and gives no material for subsequent growth. The earlier writers, those who produced the great cla.s.sics which still are the most inspiring things in our language, were actuated by n.o.bler motives. To them literature was not a trade, but a high calling, to which the writer came as a priest approaches his altar. Such a writer held a high purpose and kept it in view, often giving hours of thought and the best of his genius to work that the modern story writer neglects entirely or pa.s.ses over with hasty evasion.

The purpose of the author is always a subject of interesting inquiry, and whenever it appears a serious one it is worthy our careful study.

The novel is often the medium of conveying the results of deep study into human character, and a few of the greatest stories have been epoch-making in their effect upon the human race.

As the fiction which children read has a profound influence in the formation of character, it should always be examined with greatest care to see that the author's purpose is a laudable one and that he carries it out in such a way that the lesson is wholesome and salutary. Some stories may be entertaining merely--they are for the play-spells of the imagination; others should be instructive--they are for hours of study and reflection; a third cla.s.s should be invigorating and inspiring, full of good lessons of high moral import--they are for times of stress, or the still hours when character is made.

If, however, the purpose of the author is too evident, if his lesson is too obvious, none are so quick to catch the fact as wide-awake childish readers. The author who lugs instruction and information into his stories will find the boys and girls skipping all that he values, or laying down his books with laughter and derision. The writer who moralizes may find his work to be immoral in its effect on his juvenile readers, or may see his stories relegated to the overloaded bargain counters.

In the same sense, it is often unwise to dwell long upon the moral of a story or even to point it out if it be at all evident. There is no phase of teaching reading that requires such careful thought or such fine discrimination from the parent as that which relates to the lesson of the story. It is often better to let the selection do its own work than to try to elaborate its purpose. Yet a skilful and sympathetic leader, one quick to read the feelings of his young listeners, may often render his greatest service in free conversations about what the story teaches.

It would seem that no one could do this quite as well as the parent who has known his boys and girls from infancy and can see in his offspring those very traits of character which have been to his own advantage or detriment.

More will be accomplished by questioning with occasional comments than by preaching, more by showing the help the story gives to the questioner than by trying to foist its a.s.sistance upon the hearer. "Now there is a fine lesson for you, my boy. I want you to remember it," is not half so effective as "That idea seems good to me. I've often thought about it but never seemed to realize it so much. I shall try to remember it."

Wouldn't you, dear parent, rather learn _with_ your friend than to have him always instructing you? "What do you think of that, John?" is much more apt to help the boy than "You must see it this way, John." Are you not, dear parent, rather proud of your own judgment, and do you not suppose your son has inherited your feeling to some extent at least?

We heard the old fables in our babyhood and read them in Latin as we grew older, and we still are fond of them, though the "morals" have long since been forgotten. Those wise lessons so graphically presented have helped to form our characters, but not through the formal "moral" at the end. Beware of "_Haec fabula docet_."[189-1]

As a further suggestion of method we may consider for a few moments that beautiful but sad little story of Andersen's, _The Fir Tree_ (Volume II, page 68). Every good story is worth reading more than once, and every good method of teaching involves more than one reading. In this instance as children read or listen, they are first interested in the story as a story; that is, in the plot. They enjoy the adventures of the Fir Tree and may feel for it in its misfortunes, but their interest is in the tale. When they have read to the end, however, they will be interested in the appearance of the tree, their hero, and in the other characters which give vitality to the story. Then the scenes may be talked over, and varied enough they are to excite real interest as the story is read now with the definite purpose of seeing the pictures Andersen has sketched. With all this in mind the children are ready to think over it again and learn the lesson the great prose-poet meant to give. If the character of the Fir Tree is well understood, the lesson almost tells itself, for ambition, arrogance and discontent are seen as the traits that make for unhappiness. The Fir Tree might have been happy many times if it had only been content. At the worst it gave happiness to others, and therein, perhaps, filled its place in the world. Human beings must often find their pleasure in giving happiness to others and must be content to know that they are of service to others. Some of the lessons of _The Fir Tree_ are rather hard for little folks to understand, and there is something in the charming story for those older readers that have hearts young enough to see the meaning.

Study the purpose in the following:

Volume I, page 414. _The Ugly Duckling._ Volume II, page 124. _The Snow Queen._

F. THE METHOD AND STYLE OF THE AUTHOR

Small children are not interested in considering the way in which an author tells his story, nor the methods he employs to secure attention and excite interest. Yet there comes a time when such a study is highly pleasing to inquiring youth. It is desirable always that children should early begin to appreciate the difference in the way plots are handled, to discriminate between a tale that is well told and one that is poorly told. At an early age boys delight in stories that are full of the excitement of adventure, conflict and mystery. Their craving is natural enough and must be satisfied. At such time they will read little or nothing else unless they are driven to it, and to compel them to read what they do not want is to make them hate reading for the time being and perhaps permanently. In time they will outgrow the taste--it is nothing to be feared if properly guided. The danger lies in the fact that they may find the excitement they wish in stories that are really immoral, or that are so poorly written that they destroy all taste for fine literature. The right course is to supply plenty of reading in which excitement abounds, where Indians stalk the woods, pirates rove the seas, and knights fight for their lady-loves, but always in stories that are so well told that the taste for good reading is cultivated unconsciously as the boy reads. _Treasure Island_ is b.l.o.o.d.y enough for the most exacting boy, and it bears many a reading, for it is so charmingly told that long after the cry, "Pieces of eight, pieces of eight," has ceased to make the welcome chills run up and down the boy's back, he returns to the story for the pleasure he finds in the style of Stevenson. In later years the boy will write better and speak better for having read the story.

However, the parent may do much to help his child along by calling attention to vivid figures of speech, to happy expressions of all kinds, and to those graceful touches of humor and pathos that are so characteristic of Andersen, Stevenson, Ruskin, Kingsley, and other great writers for boys and girls. No child who can read well for himself is too young to appreciate a good figure of speech if the comparison is based upon something falling within his own experience. Who is so young, or so old, for that matter, that he will not thrill a little at Longfellow's lines:

"Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels."

What does the poet say? "The stars appeared in the sky." In saying it what does he make us feel? As we repeat the lines we see the immense expanse of the heavens, and as we gaze, the sparkling dots of light appear silently, slowly, one after another, just as beautiful flowers appear as the early morning light gilds the green meadows. We think, too, in the poet's fanciful way, that these are no common flowers, but exquisite tokens of the loving care the angels have over us, and a gentle reminder that always should we trust in them.

Often the highest sentiment is clothed in lines whose figures, most beautiful in themselves, exalt the spirit as ordinary expressions could never do. At the close of _The Chambered Nautilus_, Oliver Wendell Holmes sings:

"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, n.o.bler than the last, Shut thee from Heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown sh.e.l.l by life's unresting sea!"