intellectual delights, the content with ideal possessions, cannot but be good for us in maintaining a wholesome balance of the character and faculties. I for one shall never be persuaded that Shakespeare left a less useful legacy to his countrymen than Watt. We hold all the deepest, all the highest satisfactions of life as tenants of the imagination. LOWELL: Books and Libraries.

Turn back, now, to the remarks on literature that constitute Chapter I of Part I of this book, and read again DeQuincey's words on the two kinds of literature. We may use here the terms he has given us: fact is the material of the literature of knowledge; truth is the material of the literature of power.

CHAPTER X

HOW TO STUDY A PIECE OF LITERATURE

The style of a piece of literature is sometimes called, in metaphor, the dress of the thought. We all know that different dress is suitable for different occasions. For simple, every-day life, simple dress is most appropriate; for more formal occasions, we don more elaborate attire. In like manner, what is proper and in good taste in literary expression depends entirely on the character of the thought to be expressed.

The general principle regarding the adaptation of style to thought is strongly put by Herbert Spencer in his Philosophy of Style. The chief consideration in expression is economy of the reader's attention; i. e., that style is best which distracts the attention of the reader least to itself and concentrates it most on the thought. All the graces of adornment, all the devices of expression used, should emphasize not themselves but the thought they express, the effect they are intended to produce.

If then, the thought and the effect are the main considerations, we have first, in studying a piece of literature, to determine what is the thought and what is the effect desired; i. e., what is the "informing spirit" of this work of art. The study of the writer's style is a study of the means by which he forcibly and elegantly expresses his thought or produces his effect.

To ascertain the thought we must first give the poem (or story, or essay) a careful, though not detailed, reading. After this preliminary reading we should be able to state concisely what thought the author wishes to convey, or what effect he wishes to produce. We should know whether the spirit of the work is pathetic, humorous, animated, vigorous, dignified or sublime; and we should have noticed whether the style is touching, lively, energetic, brilliant, stately, lofty, or splendid. We should see the general plan, also, of the work.

We should next consult biographies, histories of literature, and critical works to learn whether the circumstances of composition throw any light on the author's purpose or method. Sometimes they do not; often they do. One of Longfellow's poems grew out of the circumstances of his visit to the United States Arsenal at Springfield, Massachusetts, and it is impossible to appreciate the poem, or even to study it intelligently. without first knowing what was said on that occasion.

We are now ready to examine our classic in detail. Since every piece of writing worth careful study shows perfect adaptation of style to thought, we shall understand and feel the thought better for the attention we give the style. We shall gain by saying definitely what we find in the diction, the sentence-structure, the figures, the allusions, the meter, the melody, the harmony of the classic that impresses on us more deeply the effect the writer wishes to produce. Our study of rhetorical devices should not be a mere listing of epithets, figures, etc.; it should be a clear explanation of the manner in which the writer, by his form of expression, makes his meaning more effective. This is the only sort of rhetorical study sufficiently vital to be worth our time and effort; and

this is worth our time because it gives us an intelligent appreciation of the author's thought and art.

Many students wish to content themselves with the first preliminary reading of a classic, and do not wish to go on with a study of details. Bacon was right when he said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed." It is a good thing to be able to read books of no great importance "in part" and not "curiously." But Bacon was equally right when he added, "and some few to be chewed and digested." We make a great mistake if we fail to read those that come under this last class "wholly, and with diligence and attention." Without careful study of the details of style, we miss the fine points in the development of the thought, and we miss also much of the force lent by the suitable expression. In a general reading we may, in minor details, even misinterpret our author. He has employed no word without a definite purpose, and it is our duty to give him a fair hearing.

Ruskin, in Sesame amd Lilies, has spoken strongly of the necessity for careful study of literature. The following passages are particularly note-worthy.

- At least be sure that you go to the author to get his meaning, not to find yours. Judge it afterward, if you think yourself qualified to do so; but ascertain it first.

And therefore, first of all, I tell you, earnestly and authoritatively (I know I am right in this), you must get into the habit of looking intensely at words, and assuring yourself of their meaning, syllable by syllable nay, letter by letter.

Then, after explaining carefully a passage from Milton's Lycidas, he continues:

We have got something out of the lines, I think, and much more yet is to be found in them; but we have done enough by way of example of

the kind of word-by-word examination of your author which is rightly called 'reading;' watching every accent and expression, and putting ourselves always in the author's place, annihilating our own personality, and seeking to enter into his, so as to be able assuredly to say, 'Thus Milton thought,' not 'Thus I thought, in mis-reading Milton.'

The understanding is not the only one of our faculties that needs to be thoroughly alive in our study of literature. The activity of the imagination is exceedingly important. We do not fully comprehend unless we realize so vividly the thought of the author that we actually, for the time, believe that we see the sights, hear the sounds, smell the odors, taste the food, feel the sensations, experience the emotions, and live the life described. The purpose of the author is to make the reader "live sympathetically through the experience he is interpreting." We must give ourselves, for the time, wholly into the author's power, to be guided and controlled, intellectually and emotionally, by him. We may judge afterward, if we will, but we must first know.

It is more difficult to realize clearly a general or abstract statement than a specific or concrete one. It is, therefore, often desirable that the reader illustrate an abstract statement for himself, if the writer does not do it for him. He will thus make the statement clearer, and at the same time enlist in its interpretation his imaginative powers. An example of such illustration is to be found in this volume in the study of Emerson's Heroism, where an abstract moral question is converted into a concrete one by reference to a story involving it. (See page 285 and Appendix II.]

It is easier to state the principles discussed above than it is to give rules for their application. For the precise method of studying any work of literature depends on the construction of that particular work, and directions general enough