A sense of proportion as necessary to reader 135 The love of a story a natural instinct: The The man behind the book: Shakespeare and Fletcher: Other examples of individuality: Style not a matter of caprice: Parodies: Comparative studies, e.g., Peter Bell and The Ancient Mariner: The influence of environ- ment: Literary mannerisms: Literature and the great questions of life: Personality in traditional literature: Racial personality: The individuality of epochs: G. B. Shaw on style: The paradox of style: The vagaries of The necessity for rereading: The sublime knows no laws: Catholicity of taste: The sublime in unexpected places: Effect of the sublime upon the reader: Examples of sub- limity: Fine writing: The importance of the setting: Personal search is essential: The use and abuse of anthologies: Palgrave's Golden TRAINING IN LITERARY APPRECIATION CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY Who reads Incessantly, and to his reading brings not And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge, MILTON It is common to hear a reader complain because a book has made too great a demand upon his patience and attention. He stigmatizes the book as dry, and its author as inefficient; it rarely occurs to him that he himself is probably at fault. His role, so he thinks, is a passive one merely. He feels that nothing can be expected of him other than the ability to read the letterpress. It is the author's business to cultivate whatever qualities of learning or style may be necessary, and he should not levy too great a tax upon the reader's patience. So much being taken for granted, the reader will proceed to pass an airy judgment upon the writer's work according to the amount of pleasure or instruction it has afforded him at little cost. But there is another side to the question. The great French critic Sainte-Beuve tells us that "the first consideration . . . is not whether we are amused or pleased by a work of art or mind, nor is it whether we are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is whether we were right in being amused, or in applauding it, or in being moved by it." Matthew Arnold quotes these words with approval in his Critical Essays, and adds that what we require above all things is a literary conscience. There is a right and a wrong, a good and a bad, in books as well as in morals. Certainly the reader should never be content merely to take a passive part. The relation between reader and writer, if it is to produce the best result, makes as great demands upon the one as upon the other. "The reader," says Mr. E. J. Payne, "must meet his author half-way; he must contribute something more than a bare receptivity." If one must show learning and industry, the other must have a passion for knowledge and a willingness to work, or at best he will behold a purposeless exhibition of mental gymnastics that may excite his curiosity for an hour, but will leave him not a whit stronger. Similarly, if the writer should have the gift of investing his words with sweet music, the reader must have a cultivated and sensitive ear to catch the tones. Carlyle remarked on one occasion that "to sit as a passive bucket and be pumped into can be exhilarating to no creature." That is perfectly true here. As readers we must be active; our faculties must be wide awake; we must be able to judge for ourselves. It may not be desirable that we should all be writers, but it is imperative that we should all be efficient critics, not in the sense of gratuitous fault-finding, but in that of the ability to seek out and to appreciate the best. This can only be done by the cultivation of literary taste-taste that will enable us to fasten upon what Addison called the specific qualities of an author; to delight in a good story well told; to have an eye for the beauties of landscape; and an ear for the subtle changes and recurrences of verbal music. We may laugh at Mr. Tulliver's astonishment when he discovered that, in dealing with books, "one mustn't judge by th' outside." "They was all bound alike—it's a good binding, you see," he explained concerning a purchase he had made, “and I thought they'd all be good books." Without doubt we know better than |