now mighty withal on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he
had drunken, waited no longer to hold parley with the hermit, who, in
sooth, was of an obstinate and maliceful turn, but, feeling the rain
upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest, uplifted
his mace outright and with blows made quickly room in the plankings of
the door for his gauntleted hand; and now, pulling therewith sturdily,
he so cracked, and ripped, and tore all asunder, that the noise of the
dry and hollow-sounding wood alarumed and reverberated throughout the
forest.”
33. At the termination of this sentence I started, and for a moment
paused; for it appeared to me (although I at once concluded that my
excited fancy had deceived me)--it appeared to me that from some very
remote portion of the mansion there came, indistinctly, to my ears,
what might have been in its exact similarity of character the echo (but
a stifled and dull one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping
sound which Sir Launcelot had so particularly described. It was, beyond
doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested my attention; for,
amid the rattling of the sashes of the casements, and the ordinary
commingled noises of the still increasing storm, the sound, in itself,
had nothing, surely, which should have interested or disturbed me. I
continued the story:--
34. “But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, was
so enraged and amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit;
but, in the stead thereof, a dragon of a scaly and prodigious demeanor,
and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a palace with a floor
of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shield of shining brass with
this legend enwritten:--
Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin;
Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win.
And Ethelred uplifted his mace, struck upon the head of the dragon,
which fell before him, and gave up his pesty breath, with a shriek so
horrid and harsh, and withal so piercing, that Ethelred had fain to
close his ears with his hands against the dreadful noise of it, the
like whereof was never before heard.”
35. Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild
amazement, for there could be no doubt whatever that, in this instance,
I did actually hear (although from what direction it proceeded I
found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but harsh,
protracted, and most unusual screaming or grating sound,--the exact
counterpart of what my fancy had already conjured up for the dragon’s
unnatural shriek as described by the romancer.
36. Oppressed as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of this second
and most extraordinary coincidence, by a thousand conflicting
sensations, in which wonder and extreme terror were predominant, I
still retained sufficient presence of mind to avoid exciting, by any
observation, the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by no
means certain that he had noticed the sounds in question; although,
assuredly, a strange alteration had during the last few minutes
taken place in his demeanor. From a position fronting my own, he had
gradually brought round his chair, so as to sit with his face to the
door of the chamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his
features, although I saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuring
inaudibly. His head had dropped upon his breast; yet I knew that he was
not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the eye as I caught a
glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was at variance
with this idea, for he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet
constant and uniform sway. Having rapidly taken notice of all this, I
resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which thus proceeded:--
37. “And now the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the
dragon, bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking up
of the enchantment which was upon it, removed the carcass from out of
the way before him, and approached valorously over the silver pavement
of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall; which in sooth
tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the
silver floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound.”
38. No sooner had these syllables passed my lips than--as if a shield
of brass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of
silver--I became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous
yet apparently muffled reverberation. Completely unnerved, I leaped to
my feet; but the measured rocking movement of Usher was undisturbed.
I rushed to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly
before him, and throughout his whole countenance there reigned a stony
rigidity. But, as I placed my hand upon his shoulder, there came a
strong shudder over his whole person; a sickly smile quivered about his
lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and gibbering murmur,
as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closely over him, I at length
drank in the hideous import of his words.
39. “Not hear it?--yes, I hear it, and _have_ heard it.
Long--long--long--many minutes, many hours, many days, have I heard
it, yet I dared not--oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am!--I
dared not--I _dared_ not speak! _We have put her living in the
tomb!_ Said I not that my senses were acute? I _now_ tell you that
I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin. I heard
them--many, many days ago--yet I dared not--_I dared not speak!_ And
now--to-night--Ethelred--ha! ha!--the breaking of the hermit’s door,
and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of the shield!--say
rather, the rending of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges
of her prison, and her struggles within the coppered archway of the
vault! Oh, whither shall I fly? Will she not be here anon? Is she not
hurrying to upbraid me for my haste? Have I not heard her footsteps
on the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating
of her heart? Madman!”--here he sprang furiously to his feet, and
shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he were giving up his
soul--“_Madman! I tell you that she now stands without the door!_”
40. As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been
found the potency of a spell, the huge antique panels to which the
speaker pointed threw slowly back, upon the instant, their ponderous
and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust--but then without
those doors there _did_ stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the
lady Madeline of Usher! There was blood upon her white robes, and the
evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated
frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon
the threshold--then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon
the person of her brother, and, in her violent and now final death
agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he
had anticipated.
41. From that chamber and from that mansion I fled aghast. The storm
was still abroad in all its wrath as I found myself crossing the old
causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild light, and I turned
to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for the vast house
and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the
full, setting, and blood-red moon, which now shone vividly through that
once barely discernible fissure, of which I have before spoken as
extending from the roof of the building, in a zigzag direction, to the
base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened--there came a fierce
breath of the whirlwind--the entire orb of the satellite burst at
once upon my sight--my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing
asunder--there was a long, tumultuous shouting sound like the voice
of a thousand waters--and the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed
sullenly and silently over the fragments of the “_House of Usher_.”
SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS FOR STUDY
1. State as briefly as possible the impression made upon you by the
story under consideration.
2. Cite passages which are most effective in making this impression.
3. Do you find any jarring elements which tend to mar the single
impression?
4. Does the story approach any types besides that of the
impressionistic?
5. Mention any weak points you discover.
6. Write about three hundred words on the merits of the story.
7. Try to find an impressionistic story in some present-day magazine.
8. Criticise Poe’s language, in general and in particular.
9. Would either of these stories be popular if written to-day by an
unknown author?
10. Would cutting improve either of these stories? If so, say where.
11. Compare Hawthorne’s style with that of Poe.
12. Which story do you prefer, and why?
TEN REPRESENTATIVE IMPRESSIONISTIC STORIES
“The Luck of Roaring Camp,” Bret Harte, in _The Luck of Roaring
Camp and Other Stories_.
“The Father,” Björnstjerne Björnson, translated in _Stories by
Foreign Authors, Scandinavian_.
“A Journey,” Edith Wharton, in _The Greater Inclination_.
“The Brushwood Boy,” Rudyard Kipling, in _The Day’s Work_.
“The Great Stone Face,” Nathaniel Hawthorne, in _The Snow-Image and
Other Twice-Told Tales_.
“A Passion in the Desert,” Honoré de Balzac, translated in _Little
French Masterpieces, Balzac_.
“The Pit and the Pendulum,” Edgar Allan Poe, in _Tales_.
“The Silent Woman,” Leopold Kompert, translated in _Modern Ghosts_.
“Jesus Christ in Flanders,” Honoré de Balzac, translated in _Little
French Masterpieces, Balzac_.
“Silence,” Leonid Andreyev, translated in _Short-Story
Masterpieces_.
VII
CHARACTER STUDIES
_The Piece of String._--GUY DE MAUPASSANT
_The Substitute._--FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
Most of us, in actual life, are accustomed to distinguish people
who are worth our while from people who are not; and those of us
who live advisedly are accustomed to shield ourselves from people
who cannot, by the mere fact of what they are, repay us for the
expenditure of time and energy we should have to make to know
them. And whenever a friend of ours asks us deliberately to meet
another friend of his, we take it for granted that our friend has
reasons for believing that the acquaintanceship will be of benefit
or of interest to both. Now the novelist stands in the position
of a friend who asks us to meet certain people whom he knows; and
he runs the risk of our losing faith in his judgment unless we
find his people worth our while.... He ... owes us an assurance
that they shall be even more worth while than the average actual
person.--CLAYTON HAMILTON, _Materials and Methods of Fiction_.
CHARACTER STUDIES
A character-study, whether in the form of a sketch, a tale, or a
short-story, attempts to reveal individual human nature by the
unfolding of the story.
In the sketch it will be a photograph of character in a striking mood,
under stress of emotion, or just before, or during, or after a crisis
that is peculiarly suited to showing either the full character or one
of its interesting phases. Some photographs consist of bold masses of
light and shade, others are so handled as to bring out a multitude
of details. The sketch allows in a literary way the same methods of
treatment, but the typical sketch avoids unnecessary minutiæ.
The tale is also a photograph, but instead of being a single stationary
picture, it is a moving-picture, delineating character by a chain of
incidents which allow us to see what the characters are by what they
do. True to the type of the tale, it does not deal with character
crisis, but merely reveals character in a series of illuminating deeds.
In the character short-story the author’s method is more complicated,
for the whole mechanism of the story--introduction, plot, dialogue,
and conclusion--are designed to show us the characters under stress
of emotion and the results of that emotional arousement. We learn
the characters of the characters--for there is a distinction here--by
seeing how they act upon each other, how they solve problems, how they
meet the crises of life--what effect trouble or joy has upon them--and
the final outcome of it all. It is like studying a human being while
he is being subjected to a test, and observing the development of his
character, or its failure to stand the test, in that critical moment.
By this it will be seen that a character-study is a story with a
purpose--a purpose deeper than that of affording entertainment from the
plot. The finest stories are those which so interest us in the action,
or plot, of the story proper that the profound character disclosures
and changes are borne in upon us while we are watching the progress of
the story. It is this subtle balance of narrative and character-study
which presents the story-teller’s art at its best.
THE PIECE OF STRING
(LA FICELLE)
BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT
_Translation by The Editor_
[Sidenote: Introduction.]
[Sidenote: Establishes the general setting, and station in life of the
characters.]
[Sidenote: Minute observation.]
On all the roads around Goderville the peasants and their wives were
coming towards the town, for it was market-day. The men swung along at
an easy gait, their whole bodies swaying forward with every movement
of their long, twisted legs--legs misshapen by hard work: by holding
down the plough, which throws up the left shoulder while it deforms
the figure; by mowing grain, the effort of which spreads the knees too
wide apart to permit them to stand quite steady; by all the tedious
and laborious tasks of the fields. Their blue blouses, starched and
glossy as though varnished, and decorated at collar and cuffs with neat
designs in white stitching, puffed out about their bony forms just like
balloons all ready to rise, from which protruded a head, two arms, and
two legs.
[Sidenote: Characterization.]
[Sidenote: Local-color by character description.]
2. Some of the men were leading a cow or a calf at the end of a rope.
Following close behind, the wives switched the animals over the back
with branches still covered with leaves, in order to quicken their
pace. The women carried on their arms great baskets from which the
heads of chickens and ducks protruded, and they walked with a shorter,
quicker step than the men--each withered figure erect and wrapped in a
scanty little shawl pinned across her flat bosom, each head done up in
a white cloth, bound close about the hair and surmounted by a cap.
3. Now a wagonette passed, drawn by a nag at a fitful trot, grotesquely
shaking up the two men seated side by side, and the woman in the back
of the vehicle, who clutched its sides to lessen the rough jolting.
[Sidenote: Local-color.]
4. In the Goderville market-place there was a great crowd--a medley of
man and beast. The horns of the cattle, the high, long-napped hats of
the prosperous peasants, and the head-dresses of the women, rose above
the level of the throng. And the voices--sharp, shrill, squawking--rose
in a wild, incessant clamor, which was dominated now and then by a
great guffaw of laughter emitted from the robust chest of some sturdy
bumpkin, or by the long-drawn-out lowing of a cow tethered to the wall
of a house.
5. Everything there smelled of the stable--the milk, the manure, the
hay, the sweat, gave forth that acrid, offensive odor of man and animal
so peculiar to dwellers of the fields.
[Sidenote: CHIEF CHARACTER.]
[Sidenote: The Normans are said to be typically “ambitious, positive,
bold, tricky, economical.”]
[Sidenote: FOUNDATION PLOT INCIDENT.]
[Sidenote: CHIEF COMPLICATION.]
[Sidenote: RESULTANT COMPLICATION.]
6. Master Hauchecorne, of Bréauté, had just arrived at Goderville,
and was moving toward the square, when he observed a little piece
of string on the ground. Economical, like a true Norman, Master
Hauchecorne thought that everything which could be used was worth
saving; so he stooped down painfully, for he suffered from rheumatism,
picked up from the dirt the insignificant scrap of twine, and was
just about to roll it up with care when he noticed Master Malandin,
the harness-maker, standing on his doorstep looking at him. Once the
two men had had a difference over the matter of a halter, and ever
since they had remained angry with each other, cherishing their spite.
Master Hauchecorne was seized with a sort of shame at having his
enemy thus see him searching in the mud for a mere scrap of string.
He therefore hastily hid away his find in his blouse, and then in his
breeches-pocket. At the same time he pretended to be still searching
in the dirt for something which he had not been able to find. Finally
he moved on toward the market-place, his head thrust forward, his body
bent double by his pains.
[Sidenote: Local-color.]
[Sidenote: See note on ¶6.]
7. In a moment he was lost in the slowly shifting, noisy throng,
agitated by its own constant chafferings. The peasants felt of the
cows, turned away, came back again, much puzzled--always fearful of
being over-reached in the bargain, never reaching a decision, watching
the eye of the vendor, seeking ever to unmask the ruse of the man and
the defect in his animal.
8. The women, having set their huge baskets at their feet, took out
their poultry, which they laid on the ground with legs tied together,
terror-stricken eyes, and scarlet combs.
9. They listened to offers, maintaining their price with a keen air but
impassive face, or else suddenly deciding to take the counter offer,
crying out to the slowly retreating customer:
10. “It’s settled, Master Anthime, I’ll give them to you!”
11. At length, little by little, the square became empty, and when the
Angelus sounded noon, those who lived too far away to go home repaired
to the inns.
[Sidenote: Setting for main crisis.]
12. At Jourdain’s, the large hall was crowded with diners, while the
great courtyard was full of vehicles of every sort--carts, gigs,
wagonettes, tilburies, traps, nameless carriages, yellow with mud,
shapeless, patched, shafts pointing to heaven like two arms, or with
noses in the ground and backs in the air.
13. Right opposite the diners at table, the immense fireplace, all
brightly aflame, cast a lively warmth on the backs of those ranged
along the right. Three spits were turning, laden with chickens,
pigeons, and legs of mutton; and a delectable odor of roasting meat,
and of juices streaming over the browned skin, rose from the hearth,
kindled good humor and made everyone’s mouth water.
[Sidenote: Note how the author gathers the people to witness the
crisis.]
[Sidenote: _Maît’_--colloquial abbreviation for _Maître_, equal here to
“Mine Host.”]
14. All the aristocracy of the plough were eating there, at _Maît’
Jourdain’s_, inn-keeper and horse-trader--a sly fellow who had made
money.
15. The dishes went round, and, like the jugs of yellow cider, were
emptied. Everyone told of his affairs: his sales and his purchases.
They exchanged news of the crops--the weather was good for vegetables,
but a trifle wet for wheat.
[Sidenote: Approach of crisis.]
[Sidenote: Typical of their class.]
16. Suddenly the roll of a drum sounded in the courtyard before the
house. Instantly everyone was on his feet, save a few indifferent ones,
and ran to the door or to the windows, with mouth still full and napkin
in hand.
17. After the public crier had ended his tattoo, he shouted out in a
jerky voice, making his pauses at the wrong time:
[Sidenote: Preparation for crisis.]
18. “Be it known to the people of Goderville, and in general to
all--persons present at the market, that there was lost this morning,
upon the Beuzeville road between--nine and ten o’clock, a black leather
pocketbook, containing five hundred francs and some business papers.
You are requested to return it--to the mayor’s office, without delay,
or to Master Fortuné Houlbrèque of Manneville. There will be twenty
francs reward.”
19. Then the man went away. Once again was heard afar the muffled roll
of the drum and the faint voice of the crier.
20. Then they began to talk over the incident, estimating the
chances Master Houlbrèque had of recovering or of not recovering his
pocketbook. Meanwhile the meal went on.
21. They were finishing coffee when the corporal of gendarmes appeared
in the doorway.
22. He asked:
[Sidenote: Closer approach of crisis.]
23. “Master Hauchecorne of Bréauté--is he here?”
24. Master Hauchecorne, who was seated at the other end of the table,
replied:
25. “That’s me.”
26. And the corporal replied:
27. “Master Hauchecorne, will you have the goodness to go with me to
the mayor’s office. _Monsieur le maire_ would like to speak with you.”
[Sidenote: Note how throughout the author emphasizes physical
characteristics as indicating character.]
[Sidenote: Minute observation.]
28. The peasant--surprised, disturbed--drained his glass at a gulp,
got up, and, more doubled up than in the morning, because the first
steps after a rest were always particularly difficult, he started off,
repeating:
29. “That’s me, that’s me,” and he followed the corporal.
30. The mayor was awaiting him, seated in an armchair. He was the
notary of the place, a large man, grave, and pompous in speech.
[Sidenote: FULL CRISIS.]
31. “Master Hauchecorne,” said he, “you were seen to pick up this
morning, on the Beuzeville road, the pocketbook lost by Master
Houlbrèque, of Manneville.”
32. The countryman, speechless, stared at the mayor, already terrified
by this suspicion which rested upon him without his understanding why.
33. “Me, me, I picked up that pocketbook?”
34. “Yes, exactly you.”
35. “Word of honor, I ain’t even so much as seen it.”
36. “You were seen.”
37. “They saw me, me? Who’s it 'as seen me?”
[Sidenote: Note how the complication is involved by personal prejudice.]
38. “Monsieur Malandin, the harness-maker.”
39. Then the old man remembered, and understood. Reddening with rage,
he cried:
40. “Ah! he saw me, that cad! He saw me pick up this here string--look,
_m’sieu le maire_.”
41. And, fumbling at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled out the little
bit of cord.
42. But the mayor, incredulous, shook his head.
43. “You will not make me believe, Master Hauchecorne, that Monsieur
Malandin, who is a man worthy of belief, has mistaken that bit of
string for a pocketbook.”
44. The peasant, furious, raised his hand and spat to one side, thus to
attest his honor, repeating:
45. “All the same it’s the truth of the good God, the holy truth,
_m’sieu le maire_. There! Upon my soul and my salvation, I say it
again.”
46. The mayor replied:
[Sidenote: Circumstantial evidence. The miser’s character helps condemn
him unjustly.]
47. “After having picked the thing up, you even hunted a long time in
the mud to see if some piece of money had not fallen out.”
48. The good man choked with indignation and fear.
49. “How can anyone tell--how can anyone tell--lies like that to
misrepresent an honest man! How can anyone tell--”
50. However he might protest, no one believed him.
51. He was confronted with Monsieur Malandin, who repeated and
sustained his affirmation. They railed at each other for a whole hour.
At his own request, Master Hauchecorne was searched. They found nothing
upon him.
[Sidenote: Suspense.]
52. At last, the mayor, greatly perplexed, sent him away, with the
warning that he would advise the public prosecutor, and ask for orders.
53. The news had spread. When he came out of the mayor’s office the
old man was surrounded and questioned with a curiosity either serious
or bantering, but into which not the least indignation entered. And he
began to recount the history of the piece of string. No one believed
him. They laughed.
[Sidenote: Tone of story.]
54. He went on, halted by everyone, stopping his acquaintances,
renewing endlessly his recital and his protestations, showing his
pockets turned inside out to prove that he had nothing.
[Sidenote: Note Maupassant’s use of the short paragraph.]
55. They said to him:
56. “G’long, you old rascal!”
57. And he grew angry, working himself into exasperation, into a fever,
desperate at not being believed, not knowing what to do, and always
repeating his story.
58. Night came on. He must go home. He started out with three
neighbors to whom he showed the place where he had picked up the piece
of string; and all along the road he kept talking of his adventure.
59. That evening, he made a round of the village of Bréauté, in order
to tell everyone of the matter. He encountered none but unbelievers.
60. He was ill of it all night.