tions are perhaps quibbles, yet they show that we have to test narration and description, exposition and argumentation, not altogether on the exact kind of material they deal with, but also on the aim which they represent and the emphasis which they carry.

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It is with the recognition of the interdependence of these methods of composition that this series of specimens has been instituted. Since, as has been shown, no rigid dividing lines can be laid down, the policy of wisdom is for a teacher of method to abandon fine theoretical distinctions, and to use examples to illustrate the scope of a kind of composition whose theory is at best a rather rough generalization.

Nor is the value of examples less apparent in a treatment of narration than in argumentation, exposition, or description. For, excepting the handing down of knowledge, nothing seems to be more useful or more common than the telling of what has happened. And, just as there exist good arguments and very bad arguments; just as there have been printed descriptions which burn objects into one's brain, and descriptions which suggest only the stupidity of the writer; so there are narratives obviously good and obviously bad, neither amusing nor instructive, neither interesting nor well told. Indeed, though we can hardly generalize on such a subject, the place of narration in literature is second to none: narration has been persistent in human interest from the earliest

11 Baker: Specimens of Argumentation (Holt, 1893); Lamont : Specimens of Exposition (Holt, 1894); Baldwin: Specimens of Description (Holt, 1895).

campfire song after the mammoth hunt to the latest account of a shipwreck in the World; from the 'mediæval beast tale to the modern analytic novel; from the epic poem to the dramatic lyric; from Homer to Browning. That narrative is so important and so varied; that it is so ill defined; and, finally, that there has been so much bad narrative in the world is the justification for offering a few specimens of good narrative.

of narrative.

II.

SINCE narration rarely exists in a pure state, almost every bit of narrative, be it long or short, simple or The elements complex, will be found to contain expository, descriptive, and even argumentative elements. Looking at these from the point of view of our subject, we call them the Elements of Narrative. The first of these grows out of the typical mood, and in a story or a drama is called plot. Since this action implies actors, there follows the second element, character. From these two follows the third, setting or situation, inasmuch as character must have some place in which to act. The fourth element is purpose, which concerns the motive of the narrator, whether his aim is to amuse or instruct, to sketch life as it is or as it ought to be. These four elements, as has been well said,' answer the four questions: What? Who? Where? and Why?

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12 Fletcher and Carpenter, p. 81.

Plot.

There are very many ways of combining these elements. Plot, for example, may follow the simple time order without regard to the mutual dependence of the events. Such is the method of chronicle history. Still following the order of time, the narrator may explain at the start just what he intends to do, selecting such events as he pleases to illustrate or carry out his purpose; such is done in Macaulay's History. Again, the author may present events with a view of building up a climax; or to make clear the sequence of events according to cause and effect; or, as in Browning's Dramatic Lyrics, events may be so chosen as to suggest what has taken place and what is to follow. From a different point of view, we may classify series of events by their length or complexity, by their brevity or simplicity.

So with characters. They may be men and women, or they may be stocks and stones. They may be breathing, vital creatures, with individCharacter. uality, or mere types of humanity, or moving mouthpieces for the expression of the author's ideas, mere counters in his development of the plot. They may remain the same from the beginning to the end of the narrative, or they may undergo change and development. They may be pictured to us as they appear to the senses, or their inner life may be dissected before us. We may know them chiefly from what they do-the most representative method in narration-or chiefly from the words they utter. They may be many, and come in a rout; or few, and one balanced against another.

Setting.

Of setting, there are two principal aspects-time and place. These may be of the simplest character, mere dates and names, with no higher purpose than that of localizing the action or defining the dramatis persona, or they may be structural, necessary, that is, for the exact working out of the plot; or again, they may be used to give atmosphere, to heighten the dramatic effect, to give basis for the action as an organ bass gives volume to the air.

It is the narrator's purpose that gives form and substance to these elements. It is this general purpose that must intervene to decide on some

Purpose. line of action, some quality of actors, some function of setting, some general proportions. But of itself purpose is helpless to make narrative good; it must, in its turn, be guided by some principle of selection, of structure, or of style.

III.

ONCE knowing his purpose, the next thing for a narrator to do is to determine on the objective point best suited to exemplify his purpose, and so to

of the objective

lection.

The necessity choose his material as best to bring point and of se- out that point. Nor is this choice of subject and material of small moment ; for the faults of all bad story-tellers and historians seem to be twofold-though they may know why they want to tell a story, they do not know the main point

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or the most effective road to it. The necessity of selection is obvious: all life is the fit material for narration, but no one narrative can deal with all life. Life is so tremendous, so complex, so incoherent,' that no one narrative, be its purpose as broad as the heavens, can present more than an isolated and untangled fragment, a single grain of the vast sandheap; and no one narrative should attempt more than the refining of the atom of gold from the mass of iron pyrites. In any narrative which pretends to be more than chronicle, there must be some objective point, and the material must be selected to bring out that point. In all cases, that artistic point must be clearly in the mind of the narrator. He must write with his eye upon it.

Unity.

First, then, material must be selected with regard to unity of effect. In a long story, to be sure, such unity is often disregarded, but in a short story, as Professor Brander Matthews has pointed out," this unity of effect is not only absolutely necessary, but is also one of the distinguishing traits of the so-called "short story." Careful selection is well illustrated in the opening of Poe's famous Fall of the House of Usher. For several pages the details are chosen to bring out one prevailing impression, the atmosphere of impending fate, the forecast of the coming doom, Often, in less emotional stories, in such novels as Miss Austen's Pride and Prejudice, novels which attempt to portray

18 For excellent statements of the case, see Mr. Henry James's The Art of Fiction, and Stevenson's A Humble Remonstrance. 14 The Philosophy of the Short Story, in Pen and Ink.