Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 10: The Guide

CHAPTER IX

Close Reading or Study

It is largely because story reading may so easily become careless reading, that prejudice against fiction is found in many minds. In the preceding pages there have been suggested many ways by which story reading may be made profitable, and yet all these methods may be used without calling for that close, intensive reading which we usually call study. You may lead a child to read Rab and His Friends for all the purposes we have suggested, and yet he may have passed over without understanding them many a word, phrase or even sentence. It is possible that there are whole paragraphs that convey little meaning to him. This is certainly not an unmixed evil, for it is well that a child should not exhaust the possibilities of such a masterpiece when he first reads it. In fact, it is a good thing for children frequently to read great literature even when much of it is quite beyond their comprehension. It will pique their curiosity, and some time they will return with wiser minds and broader experience to interpret for themselves the things that once were obscure. It is no sin for a child sometimes to pass over a word he cannot pronounce or does not understand. There could be few more certain ways of destroying his taste for reading than to require him to stop and find the meaning of every new word he meets. Sometimes the meaning will become evident a little later from the context, and in other instances he will understand well enough without the troublesome word.

What has been said does not signify that the habit of skipping new words or of avoiding difficult paragraphs is a good one. It does mean, however, that sometimes the practice should be tolerated, and that close reading should be required at the proper time and in the proper way. In the arithmetic or geography lesson the young must always read very closely, and in their perusal of the classics there are many fine opportunities for exercises of the same character, that should not be neglected. Descriptive passages, arguments, and essays of all kinds require to be read with exceeding care, and often there are passages even in light fiction that repay this kind of study.

Words and phrases are the subjects of consideration in close reading, and the mastery of thought is the object to be attained. The study of words may be made very interesting, and gathering the meaning of phrases may become a fascinating pastime.

An illustration may prove the case. Take the paragraph from Rab and His Friends (Volume VI, page 99) in which death approaches Ailie: “The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord was fast being loosed—that animula blandula, vagula, hospes comesque was about to flee. The body and the soul—companions for sixty years—were being sundered and taking leave. She was walking, alone, through the valley of the shadow, into which one day we must all enter—and yet she was not alone, for we knew whose rod and staff were comforting her.”

A cursory reading will suggest to any young person that the paragraph says Ailie is going to die, and that she does not fear death; but how much more it means to him who can understand it all. The end was drawing on—Ailie was going to her death. The golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord was fast being loosed. Turn to your Bible (Ecclesiastes xii, 3-7), and read what is said. That “animula blandula, vagula, hospes comesque” was about to flee. That sweet but fleeting life, friend, companion and sojourner with her, was about to leave. She was walking alone through the valley of the shadow. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Into which one day we must all enter. May we be equally fearless of evil! She was not alone. Her God was with her every moment, and in her hours of consciousness she knew Him to be present. We knew whose rod and staff were comforting her. “Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”

Like the Psalmist of old she leaned upon the arm of her God and as she thus approached the dark valley, the light of her faith shone into our souls.

The Latin quotation and the allusions to the Bible are skilfully used to give solemnity to the idea of death, to show how inevitable it is, and how for long ages it has been met with the same serene faith and deep religious feeling that made Ailie beautiful in the face of death. Yes, there is more in the paragraph than the statement that Ailie was going to die and that she was not afraid.

To illustrate a different style of close reading and a method of securing it by questioning, we will quote part of a paragraph from Braddock’s Defeat (Volume V, page 379) by Benjamin Franklin: “Our Assembly apprehending, from some information, that he [Braddock] had conceived violent prejudices against them, as averse to the service, wished me to wait upon him, not as from them, but as postmaster-general, under the guise of proposing to settle with him the mode of conducting with most celerity and certainty the despatches between him and the governors of the several provinces with whom he must necessarily have continual correspondence, and of which they proposed to bear the expense.”

The questions designed to bring out the meaning of the above paragraph, to which the answers are usually quite obvious, might be as follows:

Is “our Assembly” the Albany convention mentioned in the note at the head of the selection, or is it the Assembly of Franklin’s own colony? What is the meaning of apprehending? Do you like it better than thinking? What do you suppose was the nature of the “information” the Assembly had received? Do you think that someone had told them that Braddock was prejudiced, or did they infer it from actions of Braddock which had been described to them? Who was averse to it? What is the meaning of “wait upon him”? Do we use that phrase frequently now? What might we say now? What do you understand by “not as from them”? Can you put into that phrase one word that will make its meaning clear? Was Franklin then postmaster-general of his colony? Was he ever postmaster-general of the United States? What is the meaning of guise? What is meant by “under the guise”? Does celerity mean more than quickness? Is there any shade of difference in the meanings of the two words? Do you think Franklin used the best word he could find when he wrote celerity? What are “despatches”? What kind of despatches would pass between Braddock and the governors of the different provinces? How many different provinces were there for Braddock to help defend? What were they? Who proposed to pay the expense? Does propose in this case have a different or larger meaning than that in which you are in the habit of seeing it used? Of what did they propose to pay the expense?

If a young person can answer all the questions in the preceding paragraph, he undoubtedly understands the passage upon which they are based. The questioner must watch the answers and be ready to detect mistakes. Often the answer shows why the person fails to understand, and a different question will then bring out the correct reply. The questions always should be so worded that they do not anticipate the answer, yet so the person questioned will thoroughly understand what is expected. A little help now and then is appreciated by anyone, certainly by those who are being led to think.

Carried to excess, close reading is wearisome; and parents, remembering this, should be discriminating in their selections for study and not too exacting in their requirements. Everything may be lost by dwelling too long upon even the most delightful selections. Left to himself, almost every child will be fond of The Village Blacksmith, but it may be read and “studied” till the very thought of it is obnoxious to the young reader.

Industry and Sloth

What is the meaning of jocosely? (Flippantly.) What is a court? (A place where disputes between persons are settled by a judge, or by a judge and jury.) What is a jury? (A company of men, usually six or twelve, who hear the evidence and decide on the facts.) What are cases? (The dispute or disagreement is called a case, when it is brought to court to be decided or settled.) What are damsels? (Young girls.) What were the names of the young damsels the young man said he saw? Why do the words “Industry” and “Sloth” begin with capital letters? (Because they are the names of girls.) Were they real girls? What does industry mean? (Work.) What does sloth mean? (Laziness.) Were these real girls? Then what does this mean? (The young man thinks of fondness for work and fondness for idleness as though they were girls.) When we write of qualities, or feelings, as though they were human beings, the words become proper nouns and we begin them with capital letters. Do you know what we call this process of lifting something that is lower to the level of human beings? No? We call it personification. Here industry and sloth are personified and made the equals of human beings. What does entreats mean? What does persuades mean? (That means teases or begs.) Which is the stronger word, entreats or persuades? (Entreats means begs strongly; persuades means begs and makes me believe what is said. I think the latter is really the stronger word.) What does alternately mean? (First one and then the other.) What does impartial mean? (Fair; without any favoritism.) What does detained mean? (Kept.) What does pleadings mean? (Where a case is tried in court the lawyers on each side try to persuade the court or jury to decide in favor of the man [client] who has hired them. The written papers and the speeches the lawyers make are called pleadings.)

Do you think the young man was really serious? Do you think he really tried to decide anything as he lay in bed, or was he just trying to make up an excuse for his laziness? Was there any reason why the young man should lie in bed? Did he think there was? Could you find any better reason than he gave? Do you think he was a bright young man? If you had listened to him would you have taken his excuse? Why? Was it really truthful? Did you ever lie in bed and think, “Well, I must get up; no, I’ll lie a little longer. But I must get up. What’s the use? But I ought to get up. Yes, I really ought to get up,” etc., etc., and finally discover that you had wasted a great deal of time without really intending it? Were Industry and Sloth pleading with you then? Do you think that some people waste much time trying to decide useless questions? Does it sometimes happen that men and women waste so much time in this way that they never accomplish a great deal of anything?

Why the Sea Is Salt

When the water is passing through the land it dissolves and gathers up various substances, especially salt, which “melts” in water very easily. This salt and the other bitter and brackish substances are carried little by little, sometimes pausing, but always on and on till they reach the sea, beyond which they cannot go, for the sea is in the lowest parts of the earth. Now come the sun, the heat and the winds and evaporate the water; that is, draw up the vapor to start on its new circuit. But, notice this, the vapor that rises is pure water. The salt and other substances are left in the sea. At first it was only a little that was left, then more, always a little more till the water couldn’t hold it all and it sank to the bottom and made deposits of salt and other things. But the streams always bring more sediment and the heat and the winds carry off pure water and leave the rest salty and bitter. And that is the real reason why the sea is salt.

Faithless Sally Brown

“Press Gang.” To secure recruits for her navy, England at one time permitted her men to be seized and forcibly carried on board ship, where they were compelled to perform sailors’ duties on long cruises. The bands of cruel men who captured the recruits were known as “press gangs.”

Stanza III. A boatswain is one of the minor officers of a ship. He usually has charge of one of the small boats, such as would carry off a recruit to the big ship.

Stanza VIII. John Benbow was a famous English Admiral who died in 1702 from wounds received in a four days’ fight with the French fleet in the West Indies. His captains refused to obey orders and Benbow was unable to win the battle. When his right leg was shot off he refused to go below but continued to direct the conflict from the deck. “I had rather have lost both legs,” he said, “than have seen this dishonor brought on the English nation. But, hark ye—if another shot should take me off, behave like men and fight it out.” Two of his captains were tried, convicted and shot. The Admiral himself died after three or four months of suffering.

Stanza IX. A tender is a ship that carries supplies or conveys messages from one to another of the ships in a squadron.

Stanza XI. “The Virgin and the Scales.” The Virgin (Virgo) and the Scales (Libra) are two constellations known to the ancients. A person born while these constellations were to be seen in the sky (from near the end of August to near the end of October) was said to be born under them and was believed to have certain characteristics. In the case of Sally Brown the stars were cruel. She could not follow her beau, Ben, but must walk about raising her voice in wailing.

Stanza XV. “To pipe his eye” is a slang phrase meaning to look sharply.

Stanza XVI. “All’s Well,” the usual cry of a watchman, not the name of a song.

“Pigtail” was a kind of chewing tobacco much used by sailors. It was twisted in hard rolls.

The Definition of a Gentleman

—merciful to those whose actions draw ridicule upon themselves?

In conversation, do I recollect those to whom I am speaking, avoid irritating them, keep myself in the background, talk little myself and listen attentively to them?

If I can put to myself each of the tests Cardinal Newman offers in these few pages and can feel myself ring true under each, then may I hope to call myself a gentleman.

Adventures in Lilliput

When Gulliver awoke and found himself bound (page 10), he felt something alive moving on his body. Bending his eyes downward as much as he could he saw it was a human creature not six inches high. We are at liberty to suppose that Gulliver was a man of ordinary height, that is to say, not six feet high. If the Lilliputian was “not six inches high,” what was the ratio of height between Gulliver and his miniature captors? If, then, Gulliver is twelve times the size of one of his captors, we have a standard of comparison.

How long a bow would a man use? How long would be the arrow that fitted that bow? How long would the bows and arrows of the Lilliputians be? Would an arrow that size, fired with the force a Lilliputian could give, “prick like a needle,” and if there were many of them would they set a man “a-groaning with grief and pain”?

If a man were lying flat on his back could he turn his eyes down so as to see a pencil, not six inches high, placed upright on his breast? When a man’s face was turned two inches to the left, how much of the ground would be concealed from his sight by his shoulder?

How far can a man shoot an arrow? How far could a Lilliputian shoot an arrow? Would an arrow the size of a Lilliputian’s falling from the height to which he could shoot it pierce the skin of a man?

How long were the spears of the Lilliputians? Is it reasonable to suppose that a leather jerkin would be proof against their spears? How tall was the page that held up the train of the “principal person.” (page 12)?

How many times the height of a Lilliputian was the body of Gulliver as he lay on the ground? How many rounds would there be in one of the ladders on which they climbed? “Above one hundred inhabitants” mounted the ladders and walked toward Gulliver’s mouth. They carried baskets filled with meat. Would the quantity of meat be too large for Gulliver to eat? Would the shoulders, legs and loins of a sheep one-twelfth the height of an ordinary one be “smaller than the wings of a lark”? Would loaves of bread the “bigness of musket balls” be one-twelfth the size of ordinary loaves?

In the case of two vessels of the same proportions, but of different heights, do the capacities vary according to the heights, or according to the cubes of the heights? If one of our hogsheads contain from one hundred to one hundred and forty gallons, how much should a Lilliputian hogshead contain to be in proportion?

Is it a fact that being one-twelfth the height of a man a Lilliputian should have one-twelfth of a man’s strength? If a man is reduced to one-twelfth of his height what should his weight be?

When they wished to move Gulliver, five hundred carpenters and engineers were set to work to prepare a frame of wood, which was raised three inches from the ground, was about seven feet long, four feet wide, and moved upon twenty-two wheels. What was the diameter of the wheels that would raise the body three inches from the ground? Would it be an easy matter to move wheels of that size when they bear a weight such as Gulliver’s must have been?

Knowing what we know of the Lilliputians could nine hundred of them using pulleys with cords “the bigness of pack-thread” lift Gulliver upon the engine in less than three hours?

Does Swift keep the correct proportions when he says that Gulliver’s bullets are about the size of the heads of the Lilliputians? Would “an hundred and fifty of their beds sewn together make up the breadth and length” of a bed large enough for Gulliver?

How large would a Lilliputian horse be? Does it seem wonderful that Gulliver’s hat could be brought from the seashore with “only five horses”?

It is unnecessary to carry the questioning any further. Anyone who reads the stories will find an infinity of questions suggesting themselves to him, and he will doubtless get no little pleasure and profit from attempting to answer them. As will be seen, some of the questions are not simple. If Swift has been wise he has not reduced everything arbitrarily on a horizontal scale to one-twelfth of its apparent size, capacity, weight, or strength, but has properly apportioned all. The reader may find that he will be called upon for some nice discrimination, before he can judge correctly as to the accuracy with which Swift has used his scale of reduction.

The Heart of Bruce

2. What kind of armour did they wear? What kind of “ships” rode in the bay? (Remember this happened about six hundred years ago.)

3. What caused the foam that was swept away? Why did they gaze back in silence?

4. Why does the poet call them purple hues, and why does he say they decayed? (Recall the lines: “’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and clothes the mountain in its azure hue.” Did you ever notice the purple on distant hills? What causes it?)

5. What is the “battle-van”? (The front rank.)

6. What is a “freit”? (A superstitious notion or an omen as to right or wrong. Lord Douglas felt a superstitious dread, a chill of foreboding.)

7. What did Robert say on his dying day?

8. What did Robert want his followers to do with his heart?

9. Who dreamed this dream? What was a Pilgrim? (A pilgrim is a wanderer. We think first of the Puritan fathers when we speak of Pilgrims, but the Pilgrim who appeared to Lord Douglas was a palmer who showed by his garb and his olive branch that he had been to the Holy Land.) See picture, page 319.

10. What kind of a Cross did Saint Andrew bear? Who was Saint Andrew? (Saint Andrew was one of the twelve apostles, and is believed to have suffered martyrdom on a cross shaped something like the letter X, that is, one made of two beams of equal length crossing in the middle at an angle.)

11. What is a “belted brand”? (A sword fastened to a belt.)

12. What was “Galilee”? What was the “Holy Mount” and why was it so called?

13. What is “Scotland’s heart”? (The heart of Robert Bruce, so called because of the reverence in which he is held by the Scotch.) Where can you read about the great angel that calls the dead to rise?

14. What is meant by “mark my rede”? (Listen to my advice or counsel.)

15. What was the prediction the Pilgrim seemed to make to Lord Douglas? What did Lord Douglas ask of Sir Simon of the Lee?

16. Why should Scotland’s earth be called “kindly”?

17. What does “betide” mean? Tell in your own words what Sir Simon replied. (“Whatever happens to me, I’ll do as you command.”)

18. What does Sir Simon promise?

19. What does “aye” mean? (In this place it means “for a long time.”) What is meant by on our “lee”? (The wind blew toward Spain, and across the course of the ship; hence the coast appeared on the lee side of the vessel.) Why should the poet say the coast rose “grimly”?

20. What are “atabals”? (Tabors or kettledrums used by the Moors.)

21. Who asks the question about the Eastern music and the crowd of armed men?

22. What was Castile? (A province of Spain.) Who answers the question asked in the twenty-first stanza?

23. What is meant by the “Cross in jeopardie”? (The Spaniards were a Christian nation fighting under the symbol of the Cross. The Moors were the infidels or Moslems whose success would destroy the Christian religion in Spain. Their symbol was the crescent.)

24. What does “Have down” mean? (It means “Let us land.”)

25. Who speaks in the twenty-fifth stanza?

26. Explain what is said in the twenty-sixth stanza. (Do you come because you have promised to fight the pagans or do you come to fight for money? Are you French or Burgundians?)

27. What is a “belted peer”?

28. What is the meaning of “died upon the tree”?

29. What is a “weltering wave”? (To “welter” is to tumble over. The “weltering wave” is the sea.)

30. Does the word “pilgrim” mean the same here as in the ninth stanza?

31. What King is this who speaks in the thirty-first stanza?

32. What do the words “full well” express?

33. Is the word “amain” in use nowadays? What does it mean?

34. What is a high glance?

35. What does this speech by Douglas show us of his character?

36. What were “cross-bolts”? (Short, blunt arrows fired from the cross-bows.)

37. What is a Saracen? (Here the word means merely a Mohammedan hostile to the Christians.) What does “rode like corn” mean? (We rode through their ranks as we would ride through corn.)

38. What is the meaning of “fain”? (Willing.)

39. What does “fell” mean? (Deadly.)

40. What is meant by “Make in”? (Here it means, “Gather together.”)

41. What was the “rain”? What was the “swarm”?

42. What had happened to Saint Claire?

43. What was James’s purpose in holding aloft the heart of Bruce?

44. Why did he throw the sacred relic before him? What does “wert wont of yore” mean? (“As you used to do.”)

45. What is the meaning of “stour”? (Battle or combat.) Why are the spears said to come in “shivering”?

46. Who speaks in the forty-sixth stanza?

47. Who replies in the forty-seventh stanza? What does “dree” mean? (Suffer, endure.)

48. What does “stark” mean?

49. What is the meaning of “lyart”? (Gray. The word was usually applied to a horse.)

50. What is this “heaviest cloud” that is bound for the banks of Bothwell?

51. What is this “sorest stroke” that has fallen upon Scotland?

52. What was to be carried back to the ship and laid in hallowed ground in Scotland?

53. Who is the “Lord King” referred to in the fifty-third stanza?

54. Does the line “so stately as he lay” seem a natural way of expressing the fact?

55. What does the speech of the Spanish King show of his character?

56. Why does the poet say that we steered the ship “heavily”?

57. Does “no welcome greeted our return” mean that none of the Scotch met the returning soldiers?

58. What were “Douglas Kirk” and “fair Melrose”? (The church of the Douglas clan and the stately abbey of Melrose. The latter may still be seen in beautiful ruins in southern Scotland.)

Annie Laurie

The Lost Child

1. Where did the poet wander? Is the picture on page 409 a beautiful one? Is it your idea of a sunny glade? On what or on whom was the poet musing? Where his thoughts pleasant? To what does he liken his thoughts? What are guideless thoughts? Do you think his “love” is a person, or is it his work, his calling?

2. What chanced to go astray? Did Lowell sometimes fear for the future? How does he express the fear? Who brought back the wandering thoughts? Where did the thoughts rest? Who had the “snowy arms”? If Lowell feared the future at any time, what was it that brought calm to him again?

3. What is the “soft nest”? Who is the “happy one”? Whose hair “shone golden in the sun”? How could a thought of fear seem like a “heavenly child”? Was it Hope that thus transformed all his thoughts?

4. Upon what did Hope’s eyes smile mildly down? What was blessed with so deep a love? What clasped the neck of Hope? What was it that fell asleep? What was the lost child?

David Crockett in the Creek War

No apology is needed for including the selection in these volumes, although it has no fine literary merit; for it is the plain, direct story of a strong man with a clear brain, who accomplished whatever he undertook, whether it was building a home, fighting the Indians, or writing a book.

The story will speak for itself, and as it is a truthful account of things that actually happened, it will appeal strongly to the imagination of all young readers. However, it is worth while to call specific attention to some of the faults in style and actual errors in grammar, in order that the reader may not be affected unfortunately by the language, or be led to approve it as a style to be followed in these modern days. This can be done by means of questions, and as an illustration of the method we will consider the first four paragraphs of the selection, beginning on page 37.

“There had been no war among us for so long that but few who were not too old to bear arms knew anything about the business.” Does the phrase among us mean that the settlers had not fought among themselves, or that they had not been in conflict with the Indians? What was Crockett’s exact meaning? Does he convey it clearly? Does the word business seem dignified enough to be applied to war?

“I couldn’t fight at all.” Does the abbreviation of the words could not make Crockett’s style dignified or familiar? Do you often see similar abbreviations in what is known as “good literature,” except as they are found in conversation, where the tendency is always to use abbreviated forms and familiar terms? Does not the use of such abbreviations in this selection make it seem as though Crockett were talking to his readers in a free and easy manner, rather than as though he were writing a formal book?

“When I heard of the mischief.” In the first sentence of this paragraph, Crockett speaks of a “most bloody butchery” at Fort Mimms. Now he refers to it as the mischief. Is the word mischief strong enough?

“In a few days a general meeting of the militia was called.” Who were the militia? Why could not the militia be sent out as a body instead of calling for volunteers? Does he mean the organized militia, or simply the able-bodied men in that vicinity?

“Began to beg me not to turn out.” Is turn out a slang phrase here, or is it a term commonly used in speaking of the assemblage of the militia?

“It was mighty hard to go against her arguments.” Does the word mighty show refinement? What word would be better? Does the phrase go against look well in a book?

“Told her that if every man would wait till his wife got willing to let him go to war, there would be no fighting done until we would all be killed in our houses.” Is the word would as it appears the first time used properly? Is should the right word to use? Is got willing correct English? Does the word until express the meaning Crockett intends to convey? If “there would be no fighting done until they were all killed in their houses,” could there be any fighting done afterward? What words should be used in place of until? Is the word would used properly the second time it appears in the sentence?

“Seeing I was bent on it.” Can you find authority for using the phrase bent on it to mean determined to do it?

“The truth is my dander was up and nothing but war should bring it right again.” What does the dictionary say about the use of the word dander? Do you suppose it was a common word among Crockett’s friends? Is the word should properly used in this sentence? Is the proper word would? Is it a common mistake even now to use would for should and should for would? How may we know which word to use?

“When the men were paraded, a lawyer by the name of Jones addressed us, informing us he wished to raise a company, and that then the men should meet and elect their officers.” Who were the men that were paraded? Was Crockett among them? Whom did Jones address? When Crockett uses the word men and the word us, twice in the same sentence is his meaning perfectly clear?

“I believe I was about the second or third man that stepped out, but on marching up and down the regiment a few times we found we had a large company.” Who were marching up and down? Does this mean that they marched up and down in front of the regiment? What was this regiment before which they marched up and down? Does regiment here mean the same as militia in the paragraph before?

“We received orders to start on the next Monday week.” What is the meaning of next Monday week? If they assembled on Wednesday, how many days would elapse before they were to start, and on what day would they start?

“Mounted my horse and set sail to join my company.” How can a man set sail when he is mounted on a horse? Is such a mixing of figures evidence of good writing?

“All mounted volunteers and all determined to fight, judging from myself, for I felt wolfish all over. I verily believe that the whole army was of the real grit.” Is felt wolfish all over a fine phrase? Is it an expressive phrase? What was to be judged from himself—that all were determined to fight, or that the whole army was of the real grit? Does the fact that Crockett felt wolfish all over show that he was determined to fight, or that he had real grit? What is the literal meaning of grit? What does it mean as Crockett uses it here? Is it proper to use the word as Crockett uses it?

Probably it is not worth while to push this critical study any farther. It will be seen by this time that Crockett wrote as he talked, and accordingly, his story lacks the polish and literary beauties that men trained to write could have given it.

The Impeachment of Warren Hastings

Words are interesting things, and people who have never tried the experiment will be surprised to learn how much pleasure there is to be found in the use of the dictionary. We consult the dictionary only when we wish to know the meaning of a word, or its pronunciation, but there are numberless other facts in the volume that are more interesting, if not more valuable, than the definitions and marks of pronunciation. In the history and derivation of words may be found many interesting and surprising facts which, if they are known, give increased force and meaning to the words.

There is a great difference among writers in the kinds of words they use. Some naturally use simple words of Anglo-Saxon origin, while others use longer and more sonorous words which come from the Latin and the Greek. It is interesting to take paragraphs from different writers, say, for instance, from Hawthorne, Lamb, Longfellow, Tennyson, Macaulay and Irving, make a list of the leading words in the paragraphs, and then look up their derivations and see how many Anglo-Saxon, how many Latin and how many Greek words are found in each paragraph.

It will be seen that it is a characteristic of Macaulay to use numerous many-syllabled words, most of which come directly from the Latin. His essay on the Impeachment of Warren Hastings shows this trait.

Probably that furnishes as good an illustration as anything in the books of the kind of literature from which studies in words may best be made. Taking two paragraphs at random, let us look them over and see what interesting facts may be gleaned from the dictionary concerning the words we find:

“The Opposition was loud and vehement against him. But the Opposition, though formidable from the wealth and influence of some of its members, and from the admirable talents and eloquence of others, was outnumbered in Parliament, and odious throughout the country. Nor, as far as we can judge, was the Opposition generally desirous to engage in so serious an undertaking as the impeachment of an Indian Governor. Such an impeachment must last for years. It must impose on the chiefs of the party an immense load of labor. Yet it could scarcely, in any manner, affect the event of the great political game. The followers of the coalition were therefore more inclined to revile Hastings than to prosecute him. But there were two men whose indignation was not to be so appeased, Philip Francis and Edmund Burke.

“Francis had recently entered the House of Commons, and had already established a character there for industry and ability. He labored indeed under one most unfortunate defect, want of fluency. But he occasionally expressed himself with a dignity and energy worthy of the greatest orators. Before he had been many days in Parliament, he incurred the bitter dislike of Pitt, who constantly treated him with as much asperity as the laws of debate would allow. Neither lapse of years nor change of scene had mitigated the enmities which Francis had brought back from the East. After his usual fashion, he mistook his malevolence for virtue, nursed it, as preachers tell us we ought to nurse our good dispositions, and paraded it, on all occasions, with Pharisaical ostentation.”

In the two brief paragraphs given, there are, among others, the following words of more than passing interest:

1. Vehement. This word is derived from two Latin words, meaning to carry and the mind; hence a vehement speech is one that is supposed to carry the mind away by force. We use the word furious when we wish to speak of anger or other passions, but the word vehement when we speak of zeal, love, expression. In this paragraph the Opposition was loud and tried to carry the minds of others by force.

2. Formidable. Synonyms of formidable are dreadful, terrible and shocking, yet it is rarely the case that two words are exact synonyms. In this case, formidable means something that excites fear, but it is neither sudden nor violent in its action. A dreadful thing would excite fear or dread, and might act violently, but not suddenly. A shocking thing would startle us because it was both violent and sudden. Does formidable appear to be the right word by which to characterize the Opposition?

3. Influence. This word is derived from two Latin words which mean flowing over, and consequently an influence brings about change by gradual process. There is no idea of right in the word influence as there is in the word authority. Does it seem that influence is the right word here?

4. Talents. The history of this word is an interesting one. In origin it is Greek, and there it was the name of a weight, which in silver had a certain money value. The same word appearing in Hebrew had a similar meaning. A Hebrew talent in silver would be worth something over seventeen or nineteen hundred dollars of our money. In the New Testament (see Matthew XXV, 14 to 30), Christ utters the parable of the talents. We now use the word to mean intellectual ability or capacity, or skill in accomplishing things, or some special gift in some art or science. It is probable that this figurative meaning of the word has originated from the parable, and although many writers have criticised the use of talent in our sense, it has become well established in the language.

5. Odious. The Latin word from which odious is derived means hatred. An odious thing is a thing to be hated. Our word odium differs slightly in use from our word hatred. We exercise hatred, but we endure odium.

6. Desire. The origin of this word is not certain, but it was probably derived from the French words which mean literally from the stars or constellations.

7. Immense. This word is derived from two Latin words which mean cannot be measured.

8. Coalition. The two Latin words from which coalition is derived mean to grow with; consequently, a coalition is a thing composed of several elements which have grown together. We should not expect a coalition to be suddenly formed; it must come about by process of growth.

9. Appease. Literally, appease means to make peace. It also means to satisfy, and is derived directly from the Latin. We try to appease those who are in passion and try to calm those who are in trouble or apprehension. Does Macaulay use the word properly when he speaks of appeasing indignation?

10. Fluency. The Latin word from which fluency is derived means to flow. Accordingly, a fluent person is one from whom speech flows smoothly and readily. To lack fluency Macaulay considers an unfortunate defect in Francis.

11. Asperity. The Latin word asper means rough or harsh, and was applied to things which had a rough surface. Macaulay uses the word as we now know it, in the same figurative sense in which we now sometimes use the word roughness.

12. Lapse. This word from the Latin means sliding or following. In speaking of the lapse of years Macaulay intimates that they gradually slid away.

13. Pharisaical. The Pharisees were a sect of the Jews who were noted for the strict way in which they followed the rites and ceremonies that had been handed down to them by tradition, and who believed themselves superior in sanctity to the other Jews. They held themselves apart and were charged with being hypocrites. The word Pharisaical has now come into common English use, and means hypocritical.

14. Ostentation. This is a Latin word meaning show or parade. Ostentation and parade both imply effort, but the former refers to the intent rather than to the manner. Ostentation may be shown by parade.

From The Death of Caesar

“Northern star”; the pole star; the north star. To us this star always appears fixed in the northern heavens. The other stars and the constellations revolve around it; Ursa Major, the Big Dipper, is most conspicuous, and by a line through its two front stars we may always locate the North Star and, hence, the direction, north. Mariners have steered by this star for centuries. Many a lost and wandering man has found his way to safety by its fixed light.

“Resting”; always stationary.

“Fellow”; equal.

“Firmament”; sky, heavens.

“Painted”; decorated.

“Sparks”; stars.

“Doth”; does.

“Furnished”; filled.

“Apprehensive”; doubtful, filled with forebodings and easily moved.

“Unassailable”; not subject to attack; here the meaning is rather that of unconquerable.

“Constant”; insistent, the first time the word appears; but unchangeable, the second time.

B. Phrases. “Well moved”; easily moved.

“If I were as you”; if I were as you are, or if I were like you.

“Could pray to move”; could try to change the opinion or the determination of someone else.

“True-fixed and resting quality”; quality of always remaining true or fixed to the one spot in the heavens.

“So in the world”; as all the unnumbered stars shine in the heavens and all move but one, thus in the world.

“Holds on his rank unshak’d of motion”; is fixed in his ideas and unmoved by prayers and petitions.

“And that I am he”; and I am that one immovable man.

“Let me a little show it”; let me give a little proof.

C. Sentences. The first sentence means: If I could beg others to change their purposes, I could be induced to change mine; but I am as fixed in my conclusions as the north star is fixed in the heavens. The second sentence says: As there are unnumbered movable stars in the heavens and only one that is fixed, so in the world there are unnumbered changeable men and only one who is fixed in his determination; that I am the one determined man let me prove a little by saying that, as I was persistent in banishing Cimber so will I continue to keep him in banishment.

D. The paragraph. The whole speech is a refusal on Cæsar’s part to grant the petition of the conspirators who plead that Cimber may be brought back from banishment. The words are well calculated to stir up resentment and to fix the plotters in their plan to murder Cæsar. Even Brutus would be convinced by such sentiments that Cæsar was a dangerous man; if the great Roman thought himself the only man with such determination, might he not think himself the one man of the world in all respects? The conspirators were looking for an excuse for killing Cæsar, and they might find it in this speech; Brutus was being led to believe that Cæsar was too ambitious and here was the final argument to convince him.

CHAPTER X

Close Reading—(Concluded)

The Author—Figures of Speech

Real appreciation of literature is dependent on effort, and each acquired impression aids all others in proportion to its intensity. We can interpret only by what our minds already contain, so that the earlier years of one’s reading are largely devoted to the acquirement of material for future use. In this way the myths and folk stories with which children fill their minds become the touchstones that enable them in later years to read with interest and judge accurately the literature that falls within their reach. The later one begins his reading, the more difficult it is for him to master the art. He has not the simplest standards of literary judgment nor even the ideas from which such standards are to be formed. Elegance of style and skill in the choice of words are entirely lost upon him, as is the delicate meaning involved in the play of appropriate figures and in the brilliance of the pictures limned in colors to which his eye is blind. Such a person can come to enjoy the pleasures of literature, but it is by way of a long and careful course of study, and it is probable that his appreciation will never be as keen as it would have been if he had gathered his literary stock in trade at the same time that his senses were first opening to the world. Then the skies and the flowers, the song of birds and the hum of insects, the quiet reaches of still lakes and the roaring surge, gave to him the sensations to which literature appeals.

There is no need for one to feel discouragement when at first he does not admire all that the critics say is beautiful, but prefers some of the simple things that he knew in his childhood. The critic is right from his point of view, but there is merit, too, in the judgment of the humble reader. A person would hesitate to say the critic’s judgment is the higher were it not for the fact that anyone reading carefully will find his tastes changing and constantly approximating higher standards. Each year brings him nearer to the critic’s position and he sees excellence and is touched by beauty in selections that before have been devoid of any interest. It is to aid this growth in power of comprehension, this refinement of taste, that one reads.

The Author. When the study relates to a specific selection it is wise to create an interest by looking for all the contributory aids that can be found. Sometimes a knowledge of the life of the author or of the circumstances under which the selection was written will stimulate a desire to know what has been said and will moreover assist to make the meaning clear and to create the same sentiment that inspired the writer. To know that Snow-Bound is a description of Whittier’s own home, that the people about the fireside are his own parents, brothers, sisters, and that he paints them with a loving touch after all but the one brother have passed to the other side, is to make the poem appeal to our emotions with an intensity which the beautiful lines alone could not effect. Ichabod we read once, but when we know the meaning of its spiritual name and remember that it is Whittier’s indignant rebuke of Webster for his vacillating policy in the slavery agitation, we read it again with a renewed and more vivid interest. Many things, however, are so universal that one cares not whether they were written by a Hindoo or an American, whether they are full of personal experience or drawn with the fervor of the most ardent imagination. Wordsworth’s Daffodils (Volume VII, page 1) would charm us and our hearts would dance as joyfully if we knew nothing of the pensive poet of the English lakes.

Sentences. Words alone are not a sufficient possession. They must be known in all their relations. A comprehension of the structure of the sentence is always necessary. A sentence is a unit of thought, an idea reduced to its lowest terms. It may not be necessary that each sentence be analyzed strictly by grammatical rules, but it is essential that the reader should recognize by study if necessary the subject and the predicate and the character and rank of all the modifiers of each. Even the practiced reader by unconsciously laying undue prominence upon some minor phrase frequently modifies the meaning an author intends to convey. This is particularly true in verse, where the poet, hemmed in by the rules that govern his meter and his rhyme, varies the natural order of the elements of a sentence to bring the accents where they belong or to throw the rhyming word to the end of a verse. The grouping of related sentences into paragraphs is an aid to the reader and should be noticed by him till the habit of expecting a slight change in thought with the indentation of a line becomes fixed and automatic.

Allusions. But one may have the most perfect knowledge of all the words, his comprehension of the meaning of the sentence may be exact and full, and yet the special thought which the expression carries may never reach his mind. Ruskin writes: “Gather a single blade of grass and examine for a minute, quietly, its narrow swordshaped strip of fluted green. Nothing, as it seems, there, of notable goodness or beauty. A very little strength, and a very little tallness, and a few delicate long lines meeting in a point—not a perfect point either, but blunt and unfinished, by no means a creditable or apparently much cared for example of Nature’s workmanship; made, as it seems, only to be trodden on today, and tomorrow to be cast into the oven; and a little pale and hollow stalk, feeble and flaccid, leading down to the dull brown fibres of roots. And yet, think of it well, and judge whether of all the gorgeous flowers that beam in summer air, and of all strong and goodly trees, pleasant to the eyes and good for food—stately palm and pine, strong ash and oak, scented citron burdened vine—there be any by man so deeply loved, by God so highly graced as that narrow point of feeble green.” Words and sentences are all plain and simple and clear. Perhaps we pause a moment at “scented citron,” for the citron as we know it is a vine bearing a melonlike fruit and we are not aware that it is especially fragrant. But this is another plant—a tree that bears a sweet-scented fruit not unlike the lemon. “Burdened vine” seems a trifle obscure—why burdened vine? A vine carrying a weight? What weight? The ripened clusters of purple fruit bending the swaying vines to the warm earth while autumn tints the leaves to harmonious colors. “Burdened vine” is a suggestive expression indeed to the person of a little imagination who has walked through the long aisles of a thriving vineyard. Is the passage now clear to us and perfectly understood? Does it convey to us what Ruskin really thought?—“Tomorrow to be cast into the oven.” What a strange expression! Do we put grass into an oven? How came Ruskin to mention such a thing? “To be cast into the oven.” We have seen “burdened vines” and we understand the “scented citron,” but what of this grass “cast into the oven”? Back in the mind of the artist-critic lie the lessons of his childhood when an ambitious father and a strict mother intended him for the church and trained him carefully to a close and accurate knowledge of the scriptures. So when he writes of the grass of the field he almost unconsciously uses the language of the bible: “Wherefore if God so clothe the grass of the field which today is and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” We his readers interpret his feelings and his meaning in this only as we have learned the same lessons.

Examples of such allusions abound throughout literature. In The Vision of Sir Launfal, Lowell says:

“Daily, with souls that cringe and plot,
We Sinais climb and know it not.”

With a knowledge of geography we might locate the mountain and understand the sentence, but the tremendous power of the lines can never be felt unless we know the story of Moses and so realize that we stand every day like the patriarch of old in the very presence of God himself.

The mythology of Greece and Rome furnishes to English literature allusions so pointed, so vivid, and so full of beautiful suggestion that a knowledge of the myths is necessary to any real culture. Modern writers do not make such ready use of them as did the older schools, but Lowell and Tennyson, Browning and Arnold, and a host of minor writers assume that their readers know as their alphabet the stories of mythology. In his hymn On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity, Milton has this stanza following one which tells that the shepherds heard the sweet music:

“Nature that heard such sound
Beneath the hollow round
Of Cynthia’s seat the airy region thrilling,
Now was almost won
To think her part was done,
And that her reign had here its last fulfilling;
She knew such harmony alone
Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier Union.”

How little of intelligent interest attaches to the first three lines if one has no knowledge beyond the literal meaning of the phrases! “The hollow round of Cynthia’s seat” has beauty for that person only who knows something of the Ptolemaic system of astronomy and of the huntress-queen of Greek mythology.

Allusions lead one to every department of knowledge and are the result of the early training and experience of the author. No one needs to be told that Milton studied the classics, that Ruskin and Tennyson read the bible devotedly, that Shakespeare passed his early life in the country. The unconscious trend of their thought as shown by their allusions gives that information most distinctly. If a man loves history in his youth his writings will be filled with historical allusions; if he is a devotee of science one will find the phenomena of nature the source of his illustrations. The reader must be ready to understand and interpret feelingly these allusions no matter what the particular bent of the author. To the student the allusion is often very difficult of comprehension, for if it comes in the way of an ingenious paraphrase he may pass over it without the slightest recognition. When it is direct, a dictionary or other reference book will frequently make it sufficiently clear.

Basis of Figures. The allusion is but one of many ways in which an author varies the literal meaning of his sentences and gives more force and beauty to his statements. There are a large number of different figures of speech, but such fine distinctions as the rhetoricians make are unnecessary for the ordinary student of literature. It is the meaning the figures convey that concerns us, for an adept in reading always notices the skilful use of figures, and his pleasure is heightened by their delicacy and beauty.

“—selfish worthless human slugs whose slime
Has failed to lubricate their path in life.”

Here the reader must see disgusting slugs or snails crawling lazily across the ripening apples in the orchard and leaving behind them the filthy streak of slime with which they made the way easy for their ugly bodies, but in so doing defiled the fruit for human use. So much is the basis in fact. Knowing this one can feel the poet’s stinging denunciation of the one who cast the beautiful girl in the way of the heartless Guido instead of “putting a prompt foot on him the worthless human slug.”

“To unhusk truth a-hiding in its hulls.”

Here Browning has gone to the fields for his figure and we shall see the ripened grain, the corn or the wheat, the merry huskers at work upon it, turning out the glowing ear from its covering of dim paper wraps; or perchance a group of disciples walking with their Master and rubbing the hulls from the wheat gathered on the Sabbath day. Whatever the scene that comes in mind, one fact there is—underneath the dried and worthless hulls lies the living and life-giving grain. So we find truth bright and genuine when we have torn from it the coverings with which it has been concealed.

Such practice as this in working out elaborately the figure often given in barest hint strengthens the imagination and gives to thought the versatility that makes reading a delight and an inspiration. Till the imagination is furnished material and given freedom, literature is as worthless as the husks.

Simile. As we learn to know one thing from its likeness to another, it is natural that the writer should seek to make impressions vivid by comparison with better known things. Sometimes these comparisons are expressed in words, and one thing is said to be like another, while at other times the comparison is left to be inferred and one thing is said to be another. The simile states the likeness. Browning seeks to make us see vividly the hideous character of one of his villains and says that on his very face you could read his crimes—

“Large-lettered like Hell’s masterpiece of print.”

The comparison “like Hell’s masterpiece” is a simile.

Study each simile you find, and state the exact meaning of each literally. Compare your statement with the figurative one and see if the latter is clearer, more forcible, or more beautiful. If any one of the similes seems less vivid than your own literal statement, ask yourself if the fault is your own in that you are not thoroughly familiar with the basis of the figure. It is not necessary that your judgment should be unassailable. The value of the proceeding lies in the exercise of your attention and reason. Your judgments will improve, your appreciation grow keener and more delicate.

Metaphor:

This is another quotation from Browning in which he says intellect is a sword and energy a spear, thereby assuming a comparison and using the figure metaphor, while in the last line he uses the simile “like a shield.” Ingersoll calls the grave “the windowless palace of rest,” and Whittier refers to it in a beautiful metaphor as “the low green tent whose curtain never outward swings.”

Synecdoche and Metonymy. Another group of figures consists in naming one thing for something else closely associated with it in thought. When this relation is that of a part to the whole or of the whole to a part, the figure is synecdoche. Thus, when Browning says “pert tongue and idle ear consort ‘neath the archway” he conveys the idea that idle gossips gather beneath the archway and with sharp tongues talk over the failings of their neighbors, and he uses synecdoche in making the ear and the tongue, parts of the body, signify the person. Our everyday language is full of these figures in which a part of an object is named to represent the whole. We speak of owning “twenty head of cattle,” of hiring “ten hands,” of seeing “fifteen sails,” when we mean that we own twenty cattle, that we hire ten men, that we see fifteen boats.