LITERARY INTERPRETATION
In the concluding part of this work it is purposed to lay before
the teacher some examples of literary interpretation. The object
of these is to assist him to a deeper insight into literature, and
hence to become a better reader and teacher of reading.
It is not too much to say that we accept as good reading what
is often the reverse simply because the subject matter does not
appeal to us or is only partly appreciated. A pupil may read such a
passage as the following in a commonplace way, and be complimented
by one teacher for his distinct articulation and forceful
utterance, whereas a teacher who appreciated the true spirit of the
lines would severely condemn the reading.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea;
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
The explanation of the difference in the attitudes of the teachers
is that the former has no appreciation of the spirit of the lines,
while the latter keenly feels their tenderness, their beauty, and
their pensive solemnity.
The best way to learn to love good literature is to study only
good literature, and to study it again, again and again. What is
truly great art cannot be apprehended at a glance, but requires
time for its fullest appreciation. We believe, however, that it is
good pedagogy, in a work of this kind, to lay before the teacher
certain examples of what careful analysis may reveal. The effect of
such analysis upon the reading must be evident to all.
We have already discerned that all analysis preparatory to reading
aloud is virtually literary analysis. This is well illustrated in
the chapters on Climax and on Contrast. It remains, therefore, to
deal only with certain broader aspects of literary appreciation, in
connection with which we shall endeavor to show the application of
the principles discussed in Parts I and II to vocal interpretation.
STUDY IN RHYTHM
It is a truism to state that every poem should be a unity, but we
often forget a most important corollary, that every line should be
scanned with a view to determine that unity. It is only in so far
as we understand the parts that we understand the whole. Let us
illustrate this principle in the following well-known poem:
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX
ROBERT BROWNING
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three:
“Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
“Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear,
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Duffeld, ’twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half chime,
So Joris broke silence with, “Yet there is time!”
At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.
And his long head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye’s black intelligence,--ever that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not in her;
We’ll remember at Aix,”--for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
’Neath our feet broke the bright brittle stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in sight!”
“How they’ll greet us!”--and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ rim.
Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
And all I remember is, friends flocking round
As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the ground,
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
The central idea in this poem is Roland; not the rider, not the
historical element. As a matter of fact, the poem has no historical
basis. Browning tells us somewhere that after a tiresome and
tedious sea voyage he longed for a gallop over the English downs,
and that this poem is a result of that longing. The rhythm of the
poem is peculiarly adapted to express the bounding joy of the poet,
and is in striking contrast to the long, monotonous roll of ocean
waves.
On studying the poem, we note the absence of any but cursory
reference to the rider, and, on the contrary, the constant
reference to the real hero, Roland. One might imagine a setting for
the lines something as follows: Around a camp-fire are gathered
many veterans of the wars. They are telling of the gallant deeds of
their war steeds, when one of their number starts up and says:
“You talk of your horses; have you ever heard of mine? Have you
heard how my Roland helped to save Aix? No? Let me tell you. You
remember so-and-so’s famous campaign, and how the enemy were
preparing to take Aix. You know, too, that the officer in command
had no hope of saving the city and was preparing to capitulate the
moment the enemy began the attack. Well, one night, just after we
had turned in, a messenger came in hot haste to tell us that the
king himself had that day started to relieve the city and that we
must carry the good news to Aix and thus encourage them to hold out
until his arrival. Our commander called for three volunteers to
undertake the dangerous task of hearing the news. We--Joris, Dirck,
and I--offered our services. They were accepted, and a moment after
we had received our instructions,
‘I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;’”
From now on observe how the poet fixes our attention on Roland.
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine.
The whole of the fifth stanza is devoted to praise of Roland; while
the failure of the horses of Joris and Dirck serves but to enhance
the glory of Roland’s feat.
As soon as we perceive the meaning of the poem--its central
thought--the entire reading becomes permeated with the joy and
exultation of the rider in his steed. The poem is well adapted to
develop vocal flexibility, and freedom of expression.
Tennyson’s _Charge of the Light Brigade_ affords another
opportunity for analysis.
The atmosphere of this poem is that of a dirge. This does not mean
that we snivel and whine while rendering it, but that the whole
poem is enveloped in the atmosphere of dignified solemnity. It
is true that this is not the popular view, which seems to be that
Tennyson wrote the poem to afford the reader an opportunity of
making descriptive gestures. Tennyson’s heart ached for those brave
fellows in their useless sacrifice; and he wrote the poem, not
primarily to show how they fought, but that they fought in vain.
True, there is a vein of stirring patriotism in the lines, but
all that is inferior in importance to the dignified solemnity and
controlled pathos of the speaker.
THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
TENNYSON
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismayed?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not--
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble Six Hundred!
It is impossible to overlook the constant recurrence of the phrases
“valley of Death;” “jaws of Death;” “mouth of Hell,” and their
significance. The keynote of the poem is found in the line,
Some one had blunder’d:
Here is the central thought. The men made a gallant charge, went
boldly and willingly to their doom; but it was all a mistake, a
fearful, horrible mistake. We care not for the _fact_ that cannons
were to the right, to the left, and to the front of them. The mere
position is nothing. But who can repress the shudder of despair
as he contemplates that heroic band surrounded by fires from
death-dealing cannon?
On pages 200 and 201 will be found three poems from Tennyson, each
of which presents a different aspect. The first is marked by an
exquisite simplicity. It contains but one simple idea, which is set
forth in the simplest language. Consequently, the reading should be
equally unassuming. The least appearance of affectation or effort
will dissipate the atmosphere.
The second is a lullaby. The rocking cradle is felt in every line,
while in the last line of each stanza we have the rhythmic picture
of the gradual cessation of the rocking, and it seems impossible to
omit the long pause before the last word in each of these lines, a
pause exactly equal to the time of one of the preceding feet.
The third poem is of an entirely different nature. Here we have
the strength of spirit that animated King Arthur’s Knights of the
Round Table. When we bear in mind that this song is sung after King
Arthur’s claim to the throne, which has long been in doubt, has
been firmly established, and he has taken Guinevere to wife, we can
better understand its passionate joy.
One of the most interesting features in connection with the
study of literature is rhythm. The meaning of rhythm is not
always clearly apprehended, many regarding it simply as poets’
playfulness, interesting in the nursery rhyme, tickling the
childish ear, but beyond that a useless and even senseless
filigree. Nothing could be farther from truth. Rhythm is not
a conventional appendage of poetry, but its very heart, life,
spirit. It springs spontaneously from the poet’s heart, and is the
manifestation of his deepest feeling. Who can fail to catch the
bounding spirit of life and joy in the following:
I come, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o’er the mountains with light and song;
Ye may trace my step o’er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.
--_Spring._ HEMANS.
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and joyful Jollity,
Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathèd smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe;
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty:
And, if I give thee honor due,
Mirth, admit me to thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprovèd pleasures free:
--_L’Allegro._ MILTON.
What a dignity is imparted to the scene by the rhythm in the
following extracts:
Here are old trees, tall oaks and gnarlèd pines,
That stream with gray-green mosses; here the ground
Was never trenched by spade, and flowers spring up
Unsown, and die ungathered. It is sweet
To linger here, among the flitting birds
And leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds
That shake the leaves, and scatter as they pass,
A fragrance from the cedars, thickly set
With pale blue berries. In these peaceful shades--
Peaceful, unpruned, immeasurably old--
My thoughts go up the long dim path of years,
Back to the earliest days of liberty.
--_Freedom._ BRYANT.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some through wavering lights and shadows broke
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
--_The Lotos-Eaters._ TENNYSON.
Often in the same poem the emotional changes are manifested in
changes of rhythm. Observe this in the following lines:
Look! look! that livid flash!
And instantly follows the rattling thunder
As if some cloud-crag, split asunder,
Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash,
On the earth, which crouches in silence under;
And now a solid gray wall of rain
Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile;
For a breath’s space I see the blue wood again,
And, ere the next heart-beat, the wind-hurled pile,
That seemed but now a league aloof,
Bursts rattling over the sun-parched roof;
Against the windows the storm comes dashing,
Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing,
The blue lightning flashes,
The rapid hail clashes,
The white waves are tumbling,
And in one baffled roar,
Like the toothless sea mumbling
A rock-bristling shore,
The thunder is rumbling
And crashing and crumbling,--
Will silence return never more?
--_A Summer Shower._ LOWELL.
Or in the concluding stanzas of Wordsworth’s ode on _Intimations of
Immortality_:
Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance that was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been, must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O ye fountains, meadows, hills and groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight,
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober coloring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live;
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
In blank verse we get the best and clearest illustration of
the meaning of rhythm. Here the poet has the utmost freedom,
untrammeled by rhyme or any limitations as to the length of his
stanza. The rhythm in the description of the overthrow of Satan is
most suggestive of strength and determination:
Him the Almighty power
Hurl’d headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition; there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms!
--_Paradise Lost_, Book I. MILTON.
How clearly the frantic passion of Lear is shown in the irregular,
erratic, almost chaotic, rhythm of the following speech:
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench’d our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack Nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
--_King Lear_, Act iii., Sc. 2.
Note how the varying rhythm in the following passage corresponds
with the ever varying moods of the King and the poet:
To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath:
“Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,
Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me!
Authority forgets a dying king,
Laid widow’d of the power in his eye
That bow’d the will. I see thee what thou art
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights,
In whom should meet the offices of all,
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice,
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence:
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,
I will arise and slay thee with my hands.”
Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran,
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch’d the sword,
And strongly wheel’d and threw it. The great brand
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon,
And flashing round and round, and whirl’d in an arch,
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock
By night, with noises of the northern sea.
So flash’d and fell the brand Excalibur:
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
And lightly went the other to the King.
--_Morte d’Arthur._ TENNYSON.
In order to give a clear conception of the meaning and purpose of
rhythm, the analysis of an entire poem is given.
THE REVENGE
A BALLAD OF THE FLEET
TENNYSON
I
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bird, came flying from far away:
“Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!”
Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: “’Fore God I am no coward;
But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, 5
And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?”
II
Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: “I know you are no coward;
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I’ve ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 10
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain.”
III
So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 15
Very carefully and slow,
Men of Bideford in Devon,
And we laid them on the ballast down below;
For we brought them all aboard.
And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to
Spain, 20
To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.
IV
He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.
“Shall we fight or shall we fly? 25
Good Sir Richard, tell us now,
For to fight is but to die!
There’ll be little of us left by the time this sun be set.”
And Sir Richard said again: “We be all good English men.
Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, 30
For I never turn’d my back upon Don or devil yet.”
V
Sir Richard spoke and he laugh’d, and we roar’d a hurrah, and so
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were
seen, 35
And the little Revenge ran on thro’ the long sea-lane between.
VI
Thousands of their soldiers look’d down from their decks and
laugh’d,
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
Running on and on, till delay’d
By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred
tons, 40
And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
Took the breath from our sails, and we stay’d.
VII
And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud
Whence the thunderbolt will fall
Long and loud, 45
Four galleons drew away
From the Spanish fleet that day,
And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
And the battle-thunder broke from them all.
VIII
But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went 50
Having that within her womb that had left her ill content;
And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
And a dozen times we shook ’em off as a dog that shakes his ears
When he leaps from the water to the land. 55
IX
And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer
sea, 55
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the
fifty-three.
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons
came,
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder
and flame;
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead
and her shame.
For some were sunk and many were shatter’d, and so could fight
us no more-- 60
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?
X
For he said “Fight on! fight on!”
Tho’ his vessel was all but a wreck;
And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was
gone,
With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck, 65
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
And he said “Fight on! fight on!”
XI
And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the
summer sea,
And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a
ring; 70
But they dared not touch us again, for they fear’d that we still
could sting,
So they watch’d what the end would be.
And we had not fought them in vain,
But in perilous plight were we,
Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, 75
And half of the rest of us maim’d for life
In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and
cold,
And the pikes were all broken or bent and the powder was all
of it spent;
And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; 80
But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
“We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men!
And a day less or more 85
At sea or ashore,
We die--does it matter when?
Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!”
XII
And the gunner said “Ay, ay,” but the seamen made reply: 90
“We have children, we have wives,
And the Lord hath spared our lives.
We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield to let us go;
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.”
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. 95
XIII
And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign
grace;
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
“I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and
true; 100
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!”
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
XIV
And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap 105
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
And they mann’d the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew,
And away she sail’d with her loss and long’d for her own; 110
When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts
and their flags, 115
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter’d navy
of Spain,
And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags
To be lost evermore in the main.
NOTES ON RHYTHM
Stanza I
l. 1-2.--Normal rhythm.
l. 3.--Note the emphasis imparted to the call by the trochees.
l. 4-6.--The effect of the internal rhymes _Howard--coward_,
_here--gear_, _sick--quick_, is very marked. Similar effects are
frequently introduced in the poem.
Stanza II
l. 10.--The two emphatic syllables, _I’ve_ and _nine-_, coming in
succession, add force to Sir Richard’s statement.
Stanza III
l. 13.--Note how the author retards his movement and hence
impresses us with the slow moving picture, by drawing his emphatic
syllables together, as _So Lord How-_; _five ships_; and _that
day_. This effect is one of the commonest in literature, and one of
the most natural. This line will scan as a normal line; but let us
bear in mind that sense accent determines the rhythm in English,
not quantity.
l. 16.--A strange device, the effect of which is to cause Sir
Richard’s gallantry to stand out most strikingly. In spite of the
fact that fifty-three Spanish galleons were coming down upon him,
the brave captain was as considerate in the handling of his sick
sailors as a mother of her babe. And this is emphasized by making
this statement in a line by itself.
Stanza IV
l. 24.--Again note the strength imparted by the successive accents
in _huge sea-castles heaving_.
l. 25-27.--The abruptness aptly fits in with the sentiment. Observe
that the effect of the short line is brought out by the rhyme,
_fly--die_. The further apart the rhyme, the less striking it
becomes. See lines 43-45, and 57-59.
Stanza V
l. 32.--Full of strength and admirably expressive in rhythm.
l. 36.--Again we observe the retardation and its effect. Observe
further, that this is the first time the concluding line of a
stanza has deviated from the normal, and note how appropriate
is the deviation; not merely for the sake of variety, but the
spontaneous expression of feeling.
Stanza VI
l. 37-38.--How forceful is the effect of beginning each line with
the accented syllable!
l. 42.--The contrast of this line with the preceding is most
marked. Line 41 is long drawn out, while in 42 one can feel the
shock of the abrupt stop.
Stanza VIII
l. 53-54.--The first four lines of this stanza are quite regular,
but when we reach the last two, observe the correspondence between
the rhythm and the sense.
Stanza IX
l. 56-60.--How admirably the rhythm lends itself to the expression
of the feelings of the narrator as he recalls the terrible strain
of that never-ending night! One must read the passage aloud to
appreciate this effect.
Stanza X
l. 63.--Observe the strength of _Fight on! Fight on!_ and also the
contrast between the rhythm of this stanza and that of Stanza IX.
The stanza as a whole moves quite rapidly, owing to the
preponderance of unaccented syllables. The appropriateness of this
rapid movement is recognized when we bear in mind that the stanza
is intended to cite but one incident of that awful night, and
serves only as a link between Stanzas IX and XI.
Stanza XI
l. 70.--Compare this rhythm with that of line 56, and observe how
the emotion of Stanza IX is recalled by the similarity of rhythm.
l. 83-90.--Compare with lines 25-28 and 91-95.
Stanza XIII
l. 100.--Compare with lines 42 and 103, and note similarity of mood.
Stanza XIV
l. 112-119.--It is almost impossible to analyze the effect of these
lines, so admirably do sound, sense, and rhythm correspond. We can,
however, clearly observe the forceful effect of _great gale blew_;
the accumulation of power and size in line 115; the exultant joy
of the speaker as he describes the effect of the storm in lines
116 and 117; and the gradual diminution of the passion as the poem
comes back to normal movement in the concluding line.
INTERPRETATIVE NOTES
The poem as a whole is a magnificent specimen of vigorous
Anglo-Saxon. There are few inversions, the style is simple and
direct, and the imagery peculiarly appropriate. The speaker is
a survivor, and brings us face to face with one of the proudest
moments in the history of English naval warfare.
The poem deals with an event at the close of the expedition of the
Spanish Armada against Great Britain, and it is interesting to know
that it is almost literally true to fact and history.
Stanza I
l. 4-7.--The opening words seem a little like brag. But Sir
Richard’s reply, which is borne out by history, proves the
contrary. The oath is not the vain oath of a braggart, but the
solemn words of one who believes in God and calls upon Him to bear
witness to the truth of his statement.
Stanza II
l. 8.--The delivery of the first five words will certainly manifest
the pride of the narrator in such a leader.
l. 12.--Note the contempt expressed in _dogs_ and _devildoms_.
Stanza III
l. 15-18.--Be sure to bring out the speaker’s emotion. How the
common sailor worships him who stayed to certain death to save the
lives of his sick men!
l. 21.--Note the irony, contempt, and even hate.
Stanza IV
l. 25-28.--The rhythm clearly indicates the abrupt manner in which
these lines should be read.
l. 29.--_We be all good English men_: this is Sir Richard’s answer
to their appeal.
Stanza V
l. 33.--_Heart_: right into the midst of the fleet. The Spaniards
came down in double line of battle. It was evidently Sir Richard’s
intention to attempt to escape with his fleet craft by running the
gauntlet of heavy, large, unwieldy Spanish galleons. A picture of
these galleons, with their triple and quadruple decks, will greatly
assist us to comprehend the disastrous outcome of one of the most
elaborate naval demonstrations in the history of the world. The
vessels were so unwieldy that only a few at a time could attack the
Revenge, and, by constant maneuvering, Sir Richard could almost
always avoid the effect of their cannonading.
Stanza VI
l. 37-38.--There is bitter sarcasm in these lines as the speaker
recalls the outcome of the fight.
Stanza VIII
l. 50.--_Bethought herself_: note the sarcasm.
Stanza IX
l. 56-60.--The emotion of these five lines is very striking. Oh!
the anguish, horror, and suspense of that awful night. The sun went
down, but the battle went on. The stars came out, but still no
rest. And so on, on, on, through that dreadful night.
l. 62-61.--Observe the sudden transition and the exultant shout at
the end.
Stanza X
See note on rhythm.
Stanza XI
l. 72.--Observe the note of pride and grim determination.
l. 74.--The speaker apologizes for even an appearance of
boastfulness.
l. 75-81.--Pathos.
l. 83-90.--Note the contrast between the emotion of Sir Richard in
these lines and that of the speaker in uttering lines 75-81.
Stanza XII
l. 92-95.--The sailors would naturally speak rapidly. The rhythm
helps us to understand their feelings.
l. 93.--And therefore we have no right to kill ourselves. A most
significant line.
Stanza XIII
l. 99.--Observe the tribute the Englishman pays to his foe. See
also line 108. The voice should manifest the speaker’s attitude and
will when we grasp the situation.
l. 101-103.--Note and bring out the blunt defiance of Sir Richard.
Stanza XIV
l. 111.--How natural seems the use of _her_! It is expressive of
the sailor’s love for his vessel. And further, we remark that the
Revenge becomes human as she yearns for those who so long have
seemed her very children.
l. 112.--Here we have one of the most significant lines in the
whole poem. History tells us that a storm arose and shattered the
remnant of the Armada, and sunk the battered hulk of the little
Revenge. Poetry conjures up this storm as an avenging Nemesis. Out
of the lands _they had ruined_ comes the storm that avenges the
Revenge.
l. 118.--What tenderness is there in that word _little_!
l. 118-119.--There is no regret in these lines. On the contrary,
they are full of exultation. Remember, the poet was limited by
history. He could not save the Revenge, but he could sink her on
the spot where the glorious victory had been won. The picture of
shattered greatness is not an inspiring one. If the Revenge had not
sunk, she would have been dragged ignominiously at the hawser’s end
into some Spanish port, to become the object of every Spaniard’s
petty spite, and finally to fall into decay and ruin. Now she lives
evermore as she was in that fight, a glorious inspiration to every
son of England.
HINTS ON READINGS
YOUNG LOCHINVAR
SIR WALTER SCOTT
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best:
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone;
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar! 6
He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Esk river where ford there was none--
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 12
So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
’Mong bride’s-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride’s father, his hand on his sword--
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word--
“O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war?
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?” 18
“I long wooed your daughter, my suit was denied;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” 24
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar--
“Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar. 30
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!
While her mother did fret and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whispered, “’Twere better by far,
To have matched our fair cousin to young Lochinvar!” 36
One touch to her hand, and one word to her ear,
When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near.
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow!” quoth young
Lochinvar. 42
There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see!
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar! 48
We observe, in the first place, that the rhythm is very pronounced.
It reminds us of the rhythm of _The Ride from Ghent_, and suggests,
in fact, what we soon discover to be true, that the two poems are
in spirit very closely allied.
l. 2-6 are intended to win our sympathy for the hero. Observe his
courage in riding unarmed and alone.
l. 10.--The accent on _gallant_ is on the final syllable. Observe
how the emphasis on _-lant_, _came_, and _late_ retards the
movement and suggests the contrast between Lochinvar’s hope and his
failure to arrive in time.
l. 11.--Note the contempt in _laggard_ and _dastard_. Also in line
16, where the movement is again retarded.
l. 19-24.--How cleverly Lochinvar conceals his true intention,
under the guise of indifference!
l. 20.--Love swells like ocean tides, but diminishes with equal
rapidity: I can get along without your daughter.
l. 32.--_Galliard_: a lively dance.
l. 33-34.--Bring out the pictures clearly. Do not slur.
l. 37.--Accelerate the movement, but not with a manufactured speed.
Catch the spirit of haste and the movement will accelerate itself.
l. 41-42.--Note the triumphant joy of Lochinvar.
l. 41.--_Scaur_: a steep bank; pronounced _scar_.
l. 43-45.--The lively movement continues throughout these lines.
l. 46.--This is a summary. The time will be slow when we recognize
and endeavor to express the full import of the passage.
* * * * *
Longfellow’s _Peace-Pipe_, from _The Song of Hiawatha_, is
particularly adapted to analytic study. We shall confine our study
principally to questions of sense relations, such as Momentary
Completeness, Values, and the like.
THE PEACE-PIPE
LONGFELLOW
On the Mountains of the Prairie,
On the great Red Pipe-Stone Quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
He the Master of Life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry 5
Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together.
From his footprints flowed a river,
Leaped into the light of morning,
O’er the precipice plunging downward 10
Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet.
And the Spirit, stooping earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, “Run in this way!” 15
From the red stone of the quarry
With his hand he broke a fragment,
Moulded it into a pipe-head,
Shaped and fashioned it with figures;
From the margin of the river 20
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it!
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow;
Breathed upon the neighboring forest, 25
Made its great boughs chafe together,
Till in flame they burst and kindled;
And erect upon the mountains,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
Smoked the calumet, the Peace-Pipe, 30
As a signal to the nations.
And the smoke rose slowly, slowly,
Through the tranquil air of morning,
First a single line of darkness,
Then a denser, bluer vapor, 35
Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,
Like the tree-tops of the forest,
Ever rising, rising, rising,
Till it touched the top of heaven,
Till it broke against the heaven, 40
And rolled outward all around it.
From the Vale of Tawasentha,
From the Valley of Wyoming,
From the groves of Tuscaloosa,
From the far-off Rocky Mountains, 45
From the Northern lakes and rivers
All the tribes beheld the signal,
Saw the distant smoke ascending,
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe.
And the Prophets of the nations 50
Said: “Behold it, the Pukwana!
By this signal from afar off,
Bending like a wand of willow,
Waving like a hand that beckons,
Gitche Manito, the mighty, 55
Calls the tribes of men together,
Calls the warriors to his council!”
Down the rivers, o’er the prairies,
Came the warriors of the nations,
Came the Delawares and Mohawks, 60
Came the Choctaws and Camanches,
Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet,
Came the Pawnees and Omahas,
Came the Mandans and Dacotahs,
Came the Hurons and Ojibways, 65
All the warriors drawn together
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe,
To the Mountains of the Prairie,
To the Great Red Pipe-Stone Quarry.
And they stood there on the meadow, 70
With their weapons and their war-gear,
Painted like the leaves of Autumn,
Painted like the sky of morning,
Wildly glaring at each other;
In their faces stern defiance, 75
In their hearts the feuds of ages,
The hereditary hatred,
The ancestral thirst of vengeance.
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
The creator of the nations, 80
Looked upon them with compassion,
With paternal love and pity;
Looked upon their wrath and wrangling
But as quarrels among children,
But as feuds and fights of children! 85
Over them he stretched his right hand,
To subdue their stubborn natures,
To allay their thirst and fever,
By the shadow of his right hand;
Spake to them with voice majestic 90
As the sound of far-off waters,
Falling into deep abysses,
Warning, chiding, spake in this wise:--
“O my children! my poor children!
Listen to the words of wisdom, 95
Listen to the words of warning,
From the lips of the Great Spirit,
From the Master of Life, who made you!
“I have given you lands to hunt in,
I have given you streams to fish in, 100
I have given you bear and bison,
I have given you roe and reindeer,
I have given you brant and beaver,
Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl,
Filled the rivers full of fishes; 105
Why then are you not contented?
Why then will you hunt each other?
“I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your wars and bloodshed,
Weary of your prayers for vengeance, 110
Of your wranglings and dissensions;
All your strength is in your union,
All your danger is in discord;
Therefore be at peace henceforward,
And as brothers live together. 115
“I will send a Prophet to you,
A Deliverer of the nations,
Who shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer with you.
If you listen to his counsels, 120
You will multiply and prosper;
If his warnings pass unheeded,
You will fade away and perish!
“Bathe now in the stream before you,
Wash the war-paint from your faces, 125
Wash the blood-stains from your fingers,
Bury your war-clubs and your weapons,
Break the red stone from this quarry,
Mould and make it into Peace-Pipes,
Take the reeds that grow beside you, 130
Deck them with your brightest feathers,
Smoke the calumet together,
And as brothers live henceforward!”
Then upon the ground the warriors
Threw their cloaks and shirts of deer-skin, 135
Threw their weapons and their war-gear,
Leaped into the rushing river,
Washed the war-paint from their faces.
Clear above them flowed the water,
Clear and limpid from the footprints 140
Of the Master of Life descending;
Dark below them flowed the water,
Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson,
As if blood were mingled with it!
From the river came the warriors, 145
Clean and washed from all their war-paint;
On the banks their clubs they buried,
Buried all their warlike weapons.
Gitche Manitou, the mighty,
The Great Spirit, the creator, 150
Smiled upon his helpless children!
And in silence all the warriors
Broke the red stone of the quarry,
Smoothed and formed it into Peace-Pipes,
Broke the long reeds by the river, 155
Decked them with their brightest feathers,
And departed each one homeward,
While the Master of Life, ascending,
Through the opening of cloud-curtains,
Through the doorways of the heaven, 160
Vanished from before their faces,
In the smoke that rolled around him,
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe!
It is to be hoped that the following notes will be carefully
considered. Inflections are most subtle indications of
interpretation, and their meaning none too well apprehended. Time
spent in such an analysis as that herein undertaken should solve
all the ordinary difficulties of the class-room.
l. 1.--Incomplete, hence rising inflection[15] on _Prairie_.
l. 2.--The same inflection on _Quarry_.
l. 3-5.--(_a_) _Gitche Manito_ is the central idea; hence there
will be more force on those words. (_b_) Note that _descending_
is separated from the next line by a comma. This is a good
illustration of the function of punctuation; for if the comma were
not inserted we should read, _descending On the red crags of the
quarry_, and should not learn of our mistake until we came to the
next line.
l. 6.--_Nations_: falling inflection. A good illustration of the
principle that punctuation does not determine inflection: the sense
is complete, and the falling inflection instinctively denotes
that fact. The whole paragraph is pointing forward to the main
statement, _called the nations_. There might be some reason in
the use of a falling inflection on _erect_, but perhaps the other
interpretation is to be preferred.
l. 8-9.--Falling inflections on _river_ and on _morning_.
l. 10.--Rising inflection on _downward_. There is likelihood of
misinterpretation here. Paraphrased, lines 10 and 11 are equivalent
to, And the river, plunging downward over the precipice, gleamed
like Ishkoodah, the comet.
l. 11.--Falling inflection on _Ishkoodah_, because the river did
not gleam like the comet Ishkoodah, but like Ishkoodah, which is
the Indian name for comet.
l. 12.--_Stooping earthward_: subordinate idea.
l. 12-15.--It is surprising how careless pupils are in reading
these lines. They nearly always read them to convey the idea that
the Spirit stooped earthward with his finger on the meadow. Observe
how the meaning is brought out by the following reading:
And the Spirit (_pause_), stooping earthẃard (_pause_),
With his finger (_pause_) on the meadoẃ (_pause_),
Traced a winding pathẁay for it̀ (_pause_),
Saying to it́́ (_pause_), “Run in th̀is way!”
l. 17-19.--The melody is virtually the same in each of these lines,
with a falling inflection on _fragment_, _pipe-head_ and _figures_.
l. 21.--Rising inflection preferable on _pipe-stem_. The poem
abounds in lines ending with falling inflections; hence, one should
be on the alert for such lines as this.
l. 23.--Falling inflection on _willow_.
l. 25-26.--Rising inflection on _forest_ and on _together_. We note
that these two lines point forward.
l. 28-31.--Rising inflections throughout, even on _calumet_, upon
which word the pupil often errs.
l. 30.--_The Peace-Pipe_ is not a subordinate idea; it is an idea
coördinate with _calumet_.
l. 32.--Observe the rhythmic change and its meaning.
l. 33.--Falling inflection on _morning_. Lines 32 and 33 contain
the general statement, and
l. 34-39 contain the particular. When we perceive this latter fact
we will use the rising inflection at the end of each line until
we reach _heaven_ in line 39, when, of course, we shall have the
falling.
l. 37.--Subordinate.
l. 40.--Observe that _broke_ is the emphatic word, not _against_.
Rising inflection on _heaven_.
l. 42-46.--It is an open question whether we should use a rising
or a falling inflection at the end of each of these lines. To use
the falling would convey the idea that each detail was important;
to use the rising, to lay the stress upon the whole. (See Momentary
Completeness, page 61, _et seq._) The former reading seems the
better.
l. 51.--Falling inflection on _Behold it_.
l. 53-54.--Subordinate.
l. 56.--Falling inflection on _together_.
l. 58.--An interesting point is presented in this line. The poet
intends to convey the idea that some tribes came _down the rivers_
and others _o’er the prairies_. Hence the melody and force of the
two phrases will be identical.
l. 59.--Falling inflection on _nations_.
l. 60-65.--The most natural interpretation seems to be to use a
rising inflection on the name of the first tribe in each line, and
a falling on the second.
l. 66-67.--Rising inflection on _together_ and on _Peace-Pipe_.
l. 68.--Falling inflection on _Prairie_.
l. 70.--Rising inflection on _meadow_.
l. 71-74.--Falling inflection on _war-gear_, _Autumn_, _morning_,
and _other_.
l. 74.--This is the strongest line of the four.
l. 75-76.--_Faces_ and _hearts_ are not contrasted. The melody of
the two lines is virtually the same.
l. 81.--Falling inflection on _compassion_.
l. 86.--Falling inflection on _hand_ is to be preferred.
l. 87-89.--These three lines should be construed as one idea. Hence
rising inflection will be given on _natures_ and on _fever_.
l. 90-93.--Rising inflections on _majestic_, _waters_, _warning_,
_chiding_. Why? Falling inflection on _abysses_. Why?
l. 94.--Does he use rising inflection or falling on _children_?
What would be the difference in the idea conveyed by each?
l. 95-96.--Do these lines mean “Will you not listen?” If so they
are full of pleading. If the speaker is imperative the inflection
will be falling.
l. 98.--Falling inflection on _Life_. Observe how meaningful are
the words _who made you_.
l. 99-105.--Shall there be rising or falling inflection at the end
of these lines? What would each convey respectively?
l. 112.--Observe the radical change in the speaker’s attitude. He
has been asserting; now he argues and pleads.
l. 116-117.--Falling inflection on _you_ and on _nations_.
l. 118.--Rising inflection on _guide_.
l. 119.--_Toil_ and _suffer_ should be joined together, with the
main pause after _suffer_. Do not emphasize _with_.
l. 121.--Rising inflection on _multiply_.
l. 122.--Note the contrast on _unheeded_.
l. 124-127.--Falling inflection on all the emphatic words. There
will be a tendency to use the rising inflection on _war-paint_,
_blood-stains_, _war-clubs_.
l. 128.--Rising inflection on _quarry_. Why?
l. 130.--Rising inflection on _you_.
l. 131.--Falling inflection on _feathers_.
l. 133.--Principal pause after _brothers_, with perhaps a brief
pause after _live_.
l. 134.--Short pause after _then_; longer after _ground_.
l. 135.--Rising inflection on _deer-skin_ seems preferable.
l. 136.--Falling inflection on _war-gear_.
l. 138.--Falling inflection on _faces_.
l. 139.--Falling inflection on _water_.
l. 140.--Falling inflection on _limpid_.
l. 142.--Rising inflection on _water_.
l. 143-144.--Falling inflection on _crimson_ and on _blood_.
l. 134-144.--This is the climax of the poem. When one grasps this
idea the voice becomes full of joy. Be sure to get the picture of
the clear and limpid water as it flows down to where the warriors
are, and note the change as it passes _below_ them, tinged with the
war-paint it has washed away. Note the emphasis on _clear above_,
and on _dark below_.
l. 145.--Rising inflection on _warriors_.
l. 148.--Falling inflection on _weapons_.
l. 149-150.--Rising inflection on _mighty_ and on _creator_.
l. 151.--Falling inflection on _smiled_.
l. 152.--Pause after _silence_; rising inflection on _warriors_.
l. 153.--Rising inflection on _quarry_.
l. 154.--Falling inflection on _Peace-Pipes_.
l. 155-156.--Rising inflection on _river_, _feathers_.
l. 158.--Note the pause after _ascending_. He ascended _through_
and _vanished in_.
l. 158-160.--Rising inflection on _Life_, _ascending_, _curtains_,
and _heaven_.
l. 161.--Falling inflection on _vanished_; rising on _faces_.
l. 162.--It seems that the rising inflection would be preferable on
_him_.
In the following poem it is purposed to offer comments principally
as to the movement. There is nothing that conduces more to variety
in reading than frequent changes in movement. Not that these
changes should be haphazard; on the contrary, as we have seen in
Chapter I, there is a definite principle underlying movement. The
analysis should reveal that the various ideas are of different
degrees of importance, and the recognition of these differences
will lead to the variety of movement.
Attention is also directed to transitions, and occasionally to the
atmosphere.
Every comment should be carefully considered and challenged. The
printed page is a monochrome of type. The danger is, therefore,
that we read monotonously. With the years we acquire a fatal
facility for pronouncing words without getting the underlying
thought. The object of these analyses is to take the mind from
the words to the ideas which they express, and so to improve the
reading.
HORATIUS
A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCIX
I[16]
Lars Porsena of Clusium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.
* * * * *
XI
And now hath every city 10
Sent up her tale of men:
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousands ten.
Before the gates of Sutrium
Is met the great array. 15
A proud man was Lars Porsena
Upon the trysting day.
XII
For all the Etruscan armies
Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman, 20
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name. 25
XIII
But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city, 30
The throng stopped up the ways:
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.
XIV
For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child, 35
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sunburned husbandmen 40
With reaping-hooks and staves,
XV
And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine, 45
And endless trains of wagons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
Choked every roaring gate.
XVI
Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 50
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the city,
They sat all night and day; 55
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.
* * * * *
XIX
They held a council, standing
Before the River-Gate:
Short time was there, ye may well guess, 60
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:
“The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Naught else can save the town.” 65
XX
Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear:
“To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here.”
On the low hills to westward 70
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.
XXI
And nearer fast, and nearer,
Doth the red whirlwind come; 75
And louder still, and still more loud,
From underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
The trampling and the hum.
And plainly, and more plainly, 80
Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left, and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,
The long array of spears. 85
* * * * *
XXV
But when the face of Sextus
Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the housetops was no woman 90
But spat towards him, and hissed;
No child but screamed out curses.
And shook its little fist.
XXVI
But the Consul’s brow was sad,
And the Consul’s speech was low; 95
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
“Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge, 100
What hope to save the town?”
XXVII
Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
“To every man upon this earth,
Death cometh soon or late. 105
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods,”
* * * * *
XXIX
“Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 110
With all the speed ye may:
I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three. 115
Now, who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?”
XXX
Then out spake Spurius Lartius,--
A Ramnian proud was he,--
“Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, 120
And keep the bridge with thee.”
And out spake strong Herminius,--
Of Titian blood was he,--
“I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.” 125
XXXI
“Horatius,” quoth the Consul,
“As thou sayest, so let it be.”
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome’s quarrel 130
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
In the brave days of old.
* * * * *
XXXIV
Now, while the Three were tightening
Their harness on their backs, 135
The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe.
And Fathers mixed with commons
Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
And smote upon the planks above, 140
And loosed the props below.
XXXV
Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold,
Come flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright 145
Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 150
Rolled slowly towards the bridge’s head,
Where stood the dauntless Three.
XXXVI
The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter 155
From all the vanguard rose:
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew 160
To win the narrow way.
* * * * *
XXXVIII
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath;
Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth; 165
At Picus brave Horatius
Darted one fiery thrust,
And the proud Umbrian’s gilded arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.
* * * * *
XL
Herminius smote down Aruns; 170
Lartius laid Ocnus low;
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
“Lie there,” he cried, “fell pirate!
No more, aghast and pale, 175
From Ostia’s walls the crowd shall mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania’s hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursèd sail.” 180
XLI
But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamor
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears’ lengths from the entrance 185
Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.
XLII
But hark! the cry is Astur;
And lo! the ranks divide, 190
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand 195
Which none but he can wield.
XLIII
He smiled on those bold Romans,
A smile serene and high
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye. 200
Quoth he, “The she-wolf’s litter
Stand savagely at bay;
But will ye dare to follow
If Astur clears the way?”
XLIV
Then, whirling up his broadsword 205
With both hands to the height,
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow. 210
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh:
It missed its helm, but gashed his thigh.
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.
XLV
He reeled, and on Herminius 215
He leaned one breathing-space,
Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,
Sprang right at Astur’s face.
Through teeth and skull and helmet,
So fierce a thrust he sped, 220
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan’s head.
XLVI
And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus 225
A thunder-smitten oak.
* * * * *
XLVII
On Astur’s throat Horatius
Right firmly pressed his heel,
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere he wrenched out the steel. 230
“And see,” he cried, “the welcome,
Fair guests, that waits you here!
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?”
* * * * *
LI
Yet one man for one moment 235
Strode out before the crowd:
Well known was he to all the Three,
And they gave him greeting loud.
“Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
Now welcome to thy home! 240
Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
Here lies the road to Rome.”
LII
Thrice looked he at the city;
Thrice looked he at the dead;
And thrice came on in fury, 245
And thrice turned back in dread,
And, white with fear and hatred,
Scowled at the narrow way,
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
The bravest Tuscans lay. 250
LIII
But meanwhile axe and lever
Have manfully been plied;
And now the bridge hangs tottering
Above the boiling tide.
“Come back, come back, Horatius!” 255
Loud cried the Fathers all.
“Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
Back, ere the ruin fall!”
LIV
Back darted Spurius Lartius:
Herminius darted back: 260
And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,
And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 265
They would have crossed once more.
LV
But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam,
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream: 270
And a long shout of triumph
Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops
Was splashed the yellow foam.
LVI
And like a horse unbroken, 275
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane,
And burst the curb, and bounded,
Rejoicing to be free, 280
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement and plank and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea.
LVII
Alone stood brave Horatius,
But constant still in mind; 285
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.
“Down with him!” cried false Sextus,
With a smile on his pale face.
“Now yield thee,” cried Lars Porsena, 290
“Now yield thee to our grace.”
LVIII
Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see;
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus naught spake he; 295
But he saw on Palatinus
The white porch of his home,
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.
LIX
“O Tiber! father Tiber! 300
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge this day!”
So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed
The good sword by his side, 305
And with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in the tide.
LX
No sound of joy or sorrow
Was heard from either bank:
But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 310
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges,
They saw his crest appear,
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 315
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer.
LXI
But fiercely ran the current,
Swollen high by months of rain:
And fast his blood was flowing, 320
And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armor,
And spent with changing blows;
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose. 325
* * * * *
LXIII
“Curse on him!” quoth false Sextus:
“Will not the villain drown?
But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town!”
“Heaven help him!” quoth Lars Porsena, 330
“And bring him safe to shore;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before.”
LXIV
And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands; 335
Now round him throng the Fathers,
To press his gory hands;
And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate, 340
Borne by the joyous crowd.
* * * * *
Stanza I
l. 1-4.--The exalted position of Lars Porsena, the oath, and the
grandeur of the Tarquin house, all contribute to make the movement
slow and the atmosphere dignified.
l. 5.--Note the repetition and its effect on the movement.
l. 7.--Rather fast.
l. 8.--According to the importance we attach to this line will be
the rate of movement. If it means simply in all directions, the
time will be moderate. If, however, we desire to emphasize that
the messengers rode far to the east, and far to the west, and so
forth, the time will be slow. Probably the former is the better
interpretation.
Stanza XI
Colloquial style and moderate time prevail throughout the stanza
except in
l. 16, where the transition is marked.
Stanza XII
The atmosphere is that of the pride of Porsena in his army.
Stanza XIII
l. 26.--Observe the transition to the atmosphere of fright and
terror that pervades the entire stanza.
l. 30.--Conceive that mass of humanity and note how the length of
the inflection on _mile_ is extended.
l. 33.--Very slow; each day and each night seems to be endless.
Stanzas XIV and XV
Observe that the principal verb does not appear until line 49.
Hence there will be a rising inflection at the end of every line of
these stanzas except 49.
The movement is rather fast and the atmosphere that of despair.
l. 49.--Very slow.
Stanza XVI
l. 50-54.--Narrative style.
l. 55.--Slow.
l. 56.--Note the longer inflections on _every hour_.
Stanza XIX
l. 58.--Be careful to separate the last two words.
l. 63.--Slower time and marked transition.
Stanza XX
l. 66-67.--Fast time; not in imitation of the speed of the scout,
but in sympathy with his feelings.
l. 68-69.--No effort should be made to shriek these words; it is
sufficient to suggest the fact that he is calling, and his fear.
The time will be fast.
l. 70.--Observe the change in time and atmosphere.
l. 73.--A good illustration of the principle underlying movement.
This line is read slowly, for it announces the doom of the city.
Stanza XXI
l. 74-75.--Moderate time.
l. 76-79.--Note that the time grows gradually slower as the mind
becomes more and more engrossed with the picture, and how the voice
swells with increasing grandeur.
l. 80-85.--Prevailingly moderate movement.
l. 84.--Rising inflection on _bright_ because the speaker no doubt
has in mind the two lines, 84 and 85.
Stanza XXV
The hatred and contempt of the speaker will color the entire
stanza. The movement will be on the whole moderate.
l. 88.--Slow.
Stanza XXVI
l. 94.--Slower time, and an atmosphere of sadness. Bear in mind the
speaker sympathizes with the Consul.
l. 98.--Despair and sadness.
Stanza XXVII
l. 102-103.--Manifest the speaker’s pride in Horatius, and note the
striking contrast between the atmosphere of these lines and that of
the concluding lines of the preceding stanza.
l. 104-109.--Solemn and deliberate.
Stanza XXIX
l. 110-115.--Note the change in Horatius.
l. 116-117.--As if addressing the crowd; a marked transition.
Stanza XXX
A good study in variety; nearly every line presents a change of
atmosphere.
Stanza XXXI
l. 126-127.--Very deliberately the Consul speaks. Why? What are his
feelings?
l. 128-129.--Observe the patriotic ring in the speaker’s words.
Stanza XXXIV
The stanza is in simple narrative style, and contains but little
emotion. The significant idea is that the patricians in this hour
of trial worked side by side with plebeians.
Stanza XXXV
The time is moderate at the beginning, becoming gradually slower to
the end.
Observe the change in atmosphere in the last line. Once more it is
well to remind the reader that the speaker is a patriot.
Stanza XXXVI
The movement of the first two lines is rather slow; after that it
accelerates to the end, in sympathy with the fast moving picture.
Stanza XXXVIII
The atmosphere is that of struggle and of the joy of victory.
The time will be rather fast, retarding towards the close.
Stanza XL
l. 170-173.--See note on preceding stanza.
l. 174.--Transition. Observe the hate of Horatius.
Stanza XLI
The time is prevailingly slow, and the atmosphere in marked
contrast to that of the preceding stanza. There is, too, a note of
contempt and irony.
Stanza XLII
l. 189.--Abrupt transition to atmosphere of what is almost fear.
Time fast.
l. 190-196.--Time slow, and atmosphere in sympathy with the size
and strength of Astur.
Stanza XLIII
l. 197-198.--Observe the contrast between the atmosphere of these
lines and that of the succeeding two.
l. 201-202.--Astur’s contempt for his own allies.
l. 203.--Boastfully.
Stanza XLIV
l. 205-208.--Fast and strong.
l. 209-210.--Fast.
l. 211-212.--Slower, and note change in feeling: Horatius is
wounded.
l. 213-214.--The joy of the enemy serves but to increase the
speaker’s sorrow.
Stanza XLV
l. 217-222.--Note the intensity of the speaker’s feeling and his
savage joy at the close.
Stanza XLVI
Slow time throughout.
Stanza XLVII
l. 227.--Moderate time.
l. 231-234.--Transition to the proud and contemptuous defiance of
Horatius. The time is moderate; the key is high, because Horatius
is calling to the opposing army.
Stanza LI
l. 235-236.--Simple narrative.
l. 237-238.--Contemptuous.
l. 239-242.--Sarcastic throughout. Time quite slow.
Stanza LII
l. 246.--Very slow and contemptuous, especially the last four
words. Falling inflection on _dread_.
Stanza LIII
l. 251.--Note the transition.
l. 251-254.--Rather fast.
l. 255.--Suggest the sustained call and the warning.
l. 256.--Subordinate.
l. 257-258.--Faster and with greater trepidation.
Stanza LIV
l. 259-262.--Fast.
l. 263.--Transition.
Stanza LV
This stanza is the climax of the poem. Horatius’ work is done! The
atmosphere is that of joy, triumph, and exultation.
Stanza LVI
The excitement of the speaker carries him on with headlong speed as
he recalls the picture described in this stanza.
Stanza LVII
l. 284.--The excitement subsides.
l. 286-287.--No hope.
l. 289.--What is the emotion of Sextus? Note the _smile_.
l. 290.--Observe the difference between Lars Porsena and Sextus in
their feelings toward Horatius.
Stanza LVIII
l. 292.--Slower time. Is there not a note of pride in the speaker’s
voice as he recalls the bravery of Horatius?
l. 297-299.--Tender and slow.
Stanza LIX
l. 300-303.--Slow and reverential.
l. 304-307.--Rather fast, with pause before and after _headlong_.
Stanza LX
l. 308-312.--Rather slow.
l. 313.--Note transition to the feeling of joy.
Stanza LXI
The entire stanza is permeated with the speaker’s suspense and with
his sympathy with the struggles of the wounded man.
Stanza LXIII
Observe again the contrast between Sextus and Lars Porsena, both
enemies of Horatius.
Stanza LXIV
If we will follow the picture and describe it as we see it and as
the speaker now recalls it, we will make long pauses after _bottom_
and _stands_.
The time increases in rapidity through the first four lines, and
then is retarded to the end.
The atmosphere of the first four lines is that of joy, and it is
hardly possible to keep back the tears as we utter the last four.
* * * * *
In the final selection we shall call attention to all the
interpretative difficulties which the teacher is likely to meet
with in the class-room. There is no reason why such a piece of
literature as this cannot be used to advantage even in the public
school, provided we take the time for careful analysis.
JULIUS CAESAR.--SHAKESPEARE
ACT IV., SCENE 3
_Brutus’s Tent_
_Enter_ BRUTUS _and_ CASSIUS
CAS. That you have wrong’d me doth appear in this:
You have condemn’d and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
BRU. You wrong’d yourself to write in such a case.
CAS. In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his comment.
BRU. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm; 10
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.
CAS. I an itching palm!
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
BRU. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
CAS. Chastisement!
BRU. Remember March, the ides of March remember:
Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
What villain touch’d his body, that did stab, 20
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
CAS. Brutus, bay not me;
I’ll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, 30
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
BRU. Go to; you are not, Cassius.
CAS. I am.
BRU. I say you are not.
CAS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther.
BRU. Away, slight man!
CAS. Is’t possible?
BRU. Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? 40
CAS. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this?
BRU. All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;
Go show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.
CAS. Is it come to this? 50
BRU. You say you are a better soldier;
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well: for mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
CAS. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;
I said, an elder soldier, not a better:
Did I say ‘better’?
BRU. If you did, I care not.
CAS. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.
BRU. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.
CAS. I durst not! 60
BRU. No.
CAS. What, durst not tempt him!
BRU. For your life you durst not.
CAS. Do not presume too much upon my love;
I may do that I shall be sorry for.
BRU. You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
For I am arm’d so strong in honesty
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me: 70
For I can raise no money by vile means:
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection: I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer’d Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 80
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
Dash him to pieces!
CAS. I denied you not.
BRU. You did.
CAS. I did not: he was but a fool that brought
My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart:
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
BRU. I do not, till you practise them on me.
CAS. You love me not.
BRU. I do not like your faults.
CAS. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 90
BRU. A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
CAS. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn’d, and conn’d by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, 100
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth;
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know,
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.
BRU. Sheathe your dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 110
That carries anger as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.
CAS. Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-temper’d, vexeth him?
BRU. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too.
CAS. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
BRU. And my heart too.
CAS. O Brutus!
BRU. What’s the matter?
CAS. Have not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me 120
Makes me forgetful?
BRU. Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus.
He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
A few words of introduction are first necessary. We should
understand the play as a whole, and be conversant with the events
that lead up to this particular scene; further, we should bear
in mind the tense, splenetic character of Cassius, and the calm,
controlled, stoical disposition of Brutus.
l. 1.--In Scene 2 we get the keynote to Cassius’ manner. He
is so full of his supposed wrong that he pays no heed to the
surroundings, and bluntly plunges into the matter in hand. Brutus
restrains him, and together they move to the former’s tent. No
sooner do they enter than again Cassius bursts forth.
l. 4.--Cassius is piqued that his letters should have failed to
shield Lucius Pella from the punishment for his wrongdoing.
l. 5.--Subordinate and explanatory.
l. 6.--Brutus’s answer is simple and direct, yet without feeling.
l. 8.--_Nice_ is equivalent to unimportant, small. There is a touch
of contempt in this speech.
l. 9.--Again we note the directness of Brutus’s statement, and the
absence of feeling. Note, too, that he in no way seeks to soften
his charges.
l. 12.--Imagine the surprise and rage of Cassius. There will be
a sweeping upward inflection on _I_. It is only with the utmost
effort that the fiery Cassius can control himself.
l. 15-16.--Paraphrased, these lines mean, The name of Cassius is
associated with this corruption, and hence the hands of justice are
tied. For, to bring the corrupters to trial would be to drag in
Cassius with them.
l. 17.--Do you dare to use the term _chastisement_ in connection
with _my_ name?
l. 18.--Unmoved by the anger of Cassius, Brutus proceeds calmly and
perhaps too ruthlessly to arraign his friend.
l. 21.--Observe the high moral standard of Brutus.
l. 21-26.--Rising inflections throughout.
l. 27.--Observe the contempt.
l. 28.--During the speech of Brutus, Cassius can scarcely contain
himself. Never has any one dared to arraign him. Now he is even
forgetting the deference he has been wont to show to one whom he
recognizes as his superior.
l. 32-34.--Rapidly, as the passion of the men rises.
l. 35-36.--Now Cassius begins to threaten.
l. 37.--There is no anger in this. Brutus knows that Cassius
is beside himself, and brushes him aside as one would brush an
insignificant dust speck from his clothing.
l. 38.--Such treatment Cassius cannot understand. The line is
exclamatory rather than interrogative. It is equivalent to, Can I
believe my ears?
l. 38.--Brutus now begins to assert himself. It is a new aspect of
his character, which we can comprehend only when we learn, as we do
later, that Portia is dead.
l. 40.--Brutus must be greatly moved to call his dearest friend a
madman.
l. 41.--The strain of listening to such words is becoming too great
for Cassius to bear.
l. 42.--Brutus seems almost to enjoy the terrible lesson he is
reading Cassius. It is well-nigh incredible that the thoughtful,
loving husband of Portia, and the considerate master of Lucius,
should speak thus to any one, let alone his best friend.
l. 50.--There seems to be no feeling but surprise in this,
surprise verging on bewilderment. As Brutus grows more passionate
Cassius seems to subside.
l. 51-54.--It is Brutus now who appears to lose self-control.
Cassius never said he was a better soldier.
l. 55-57.--Anger and bewilderment give way to a sense of having
been wronged: the last sentence is almost pathetic in its humility.
l. 57.--Anger and contempt.
l. 58.--Cassius’ passion is again beginning to rise.
l. 59-62.--Note the increasing astonishment in the speeches of
Cassius, and the superciliousness of Brutus.
l. 63-64.--A threat uttered not so much in anger as in fear that he
may not be able to control his feelings.
l. 65.--_Have_ and _should_ are the emphatic words.
l. 65-82.--This speech needs no commentary. It is a plain and
unmistakable arraignment, uttered in unequivocal language, and in
simple, direct manner.
l. 82.--Cassius is pained that his friend should so misunderstand
him. From now to line 93 Cassius seems to throw himself upon the
mercy of his friend, while the latter repels his advances, each
time with greater harshness.
l. 93-107.--Cassius’ heart is broken. If his best friend can so
wantonly misunderstand him, what can he hope from his enemies?
There is nothing left to live for, and he would eagerly welcome
death even at the hands of Antony. The passage is overflowing with
heartbreak, and gains our sympathy for one who else would seem but
a crafty, self-seeking schemer.
l. 107.--The speech of Cassius brings Brutus back to himself. Here
is the real Brutus, full of tenderness and love.
To understand fully the unusual display of feeling in this scene we
should read further to the stage direction, _Re-enter Lucius, with
wine and taper_.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] Let it be understood once for all that the various elements in
expression should be the spontaneous outcome of the mental action.
As has been so often stated, to tell a pupil to use a rising
inflection or to emphasize this word or that, is a violation of the
fundamental principle of correct teaching.
[16] The stanzas are numbered as in the original poem.
INDEX TO SUBJECTS
Antithesis, rhetorical, 143.
Atmosphere, 184;
examples illustrating, 185;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 193;
of description, psychology of, 199.
Central idea, 138;
study of, a logical process, 141.
Character, contrast of, 207.
Climaxes, 212;
of significance, 212, 214, 215;
of intensity, 213;
gradation of, 216.
Complexity, defined, 11.
Contrasts, 205;
two kinds of, 211.
Criteria of vocal expression, 17.
Criterion of force, 101.
Criterion of pitch, 42.
Criterion of quality, 80.
Criterion of time, 19.
Emotion, 172;
affects quality, 82;
how to develop, 172;
contrast of, 205.
Emotional transitions, examples of, 162.
Emphasis, rules for, 139;
drills in, 140.
Expression, complexity of, 178
Figurative interrogation, 61.
Force, criterion of, 101;
pedagogical aspects of, 112.
Grouping, 28, 128;
independent of punctuation, 28;
extract from Legouvé on, 40.
Hints on readings, 254.
Imagination and quality, 84.
Imitation, 227;
not art, 189;
tendency toward, 191.
Inflections, meaning of, 57;
rising, 57;
falling, 63;
circumflex, examples of, 67.
Intangibility, defined, 11.
Interpretation, literary, 231;
vocal, 232.
Key, defined, 45;
reasons for, 49;
dependent upon degree of tension, 54.
Literary interpretation, 231;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 284.
Melody, 43, 54;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 71;
of long sentences, 77.
Mental attitude of the reader, 117.
Mental technique, 129.
Methods, mechanical, 9;
“get-the-thought,” 9;
laxity of, 13;
concluding remarks on, 224.
Momentary completeness, 61, 136;
drills in, 65;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 256.
Movement, analysis of selection illustrating, 266.
Pause, as related to time, 27;
an expressive element, 32;
examples of, 35.
Pedagogical aspects, of time, 38;
of pitch, 75;
of quality, 98;
of force, 112.
Phases, studies in, 163.
Phrases, subordinate, 150.
Pitch, criterion of, 42;
meaning of, 42;
Raymond’s definition of, 42;
melody of, 42;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 71;
pedagogical aspects of, 75;
low, 107.
Primary reading, the teaching of, 118.
Punctuation, effect upon reading, 30.
Purpose of the reading lesson, 12.
Quality, criterion of, 80;
physics of, 80;
effect of emotion upon, 82;
Rush’s classification of, 82;
orotund, 83;
imagination and, 84;
elevated feelings in relation to, 85;
normal, 90;
examples of normal, 91;
aspirated, 92;
dark, 94;
bright, 94;
examples of dark, 95;
examples of bright, 97;
pedagogical aspects of, 98;
William L. Tomlins on, 100.
Reading and literature, relation of, 10.
Requisites for the teacher of reading, 10.
Rhythm, analyses of selections illustrating, 236, 244, 254;
study in, 232;
meaning of, 238.
Sight reading, 120.
Skip, psychology of the, 56.
Stress, defined, 101;
radical, 101;
final, 102;
degrees of, 103;
Raymond’s definition of radical, 104;
Raymond’s definition of final, 105;
median, 106;
examples of radical, 107;
examples of final, 109;
examples of median, 110.
Subordinate phrases, 150.
Subordination, 149.
Succession of ideas, 132.
Suggestive lesson, 121, 130, 136, 147, 155, 167, 173, 197, 209, 221.
Teacher of reading, requisites for, 10.
Teaching reading, mechanical method of, 9;
“get-the-thought” method of, 9;
laxity of methods of, 13;
concluding remarks on method of, 224.
Technique, defined, 226.
Time, criterion of, 19;
Raymond’s definition of, 19;
psychology of, 19;
expansive paraphrase to reveal, 20;
examples of slow, 21;
examples of fast, 23;
analysis of selection illustrating, 26;
relation of quantity to, 27;
relation of pause to, 27;
pedagogical aspects of, 38.
Transitions, 159, 160;
emotional examples of, 162.
Values, 157;
examples of, 157;
analysis of a selection illustrating, 256.
Vocal expression, criteria of, 17.
Vocal interpretation, 232.
Voice, defects in, 81.
INDEX TO FIRST LINES OF SELECTIONS
A fool, a fool!--I met a fool, 48.
A land of streams, 240.
Alas! my noble boy! 95.
Among the exploits of marvelous, 152.
And as a hungry lion, 79.
And do you now put on your best attire, 140.
And now go bring your sharpest torments, 110.
And the evening star was shining, 87.
And the old Tartar came upon the sand, 185.
And thus King Priam supplicating, 165.
And you,--you who are, 152.
Antonio, I am married to a wife, 44.
Arise, shine; for thy light is come, 110.
As thro’ the land at eve we went, 200.
As when a boar or lion, 164.
As when some hunter in the spring, 203.
At Atri in Abruzzo, 78, 154.
At Flores in the Azores, 284.
At the moment when death, 38.
Awake, my soul! Not only passive praise, 87.
Before a quarter pole was pass’d, 24.
Blessings on thee, little man, 175.
Blow trumpet, for the world, 201.
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! 94, 242.
Bury the great Duke, 87.
But in the gloom they fought, 107.
But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth, 201.
But when public taste, 79.
But when the gray dawn stole into his tent, 28.
Did your letters pierce, 188.
Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear! 162.
Figure to yourself a cataract, 22.
For even then, Sir, even before, 112.
Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth, 153.
Gloriously, Max! gloriously! 28.
Great have thy sufferings been, 166.
Gusty and raw was the morning, 193.
Half a league, half a league, 236.
Haste thee, nymph, 48, 239.
Hear the sledges with the bells, 98.
Hector, thou almost ever chidest me, 164.
Here are old trees, 239.
He spoke, and Sohrab kindled, 202.
He spoke; but Rustum gazed, 162.
Him the Almighty power, 242.
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, 112.
However as the sun baked, 151.
How lovely are thy dwellings fair! 23.
How now, Tubal! 205.
How the robin feeds her young, 176.
I can not tell what you and other men, 180.
I come, I come ye have called, 239.
If there be three in all your company, 207.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now, 162.
I had a dream, 47.
I know that virtue to be in you, 217.
In 1815 M. Charles Myriel, 58.
In his early manhood, 153.
In the furrowed land, 134.
I sprang to the stirrup, 232.
It is but a legend, I know, 47.
It is but change, Titinius, 144.
It is my purpose, therefore, 155.
Lars Porsena of Clusium, 266.
Lead out the pageant; sad and slow, 30.
Let me play the fool, 97.
Look! look! that livid flash! 240.
Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate, 44.
Messer Bernado del Nero was as inexorable, 37.
Most of all, fellow citizens, 85.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 179.
Mr. Speaker: The mingled tones of sorrow, 21.
My good blade carves the casques of men, 210.
Nay, curs’d be thou, 35.
Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea, 94.
Next morning, waking with the day’s first beam, 219.
No one venerates the Peerage more than I do, 153.
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit, 32.
Often have I swept backward, in imagination, 21.
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 254.
O, my offense is rank, 95.
Once more into the breach, dear friends, 50.
On Linden, when the sun was low, 170.
On the Mountains of the Prairie, 257.
O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, 216.
O, sing unto the Lord a new song, 112.
Over his keys the musing organist, 46.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I, 53.
Reputation, reputation, reputation! 181.
Sea-kings’ daughter from over the sea, 51.
Search creation round, 21.
See what a grace was seated, 86.
Sheltered by the verdant shores, 207.
She mounts her chariot with a trice, 97.
Sir, the gentleman inquires, 160.
Some of the softening effects, 37.
Soon after William H. Harrison’s nomination, 31.
Speak the speech, I pray you, 91.
Sweet and low, 200.
That you do love me, I am nothing jealous, 146.
That you have wronged me, 284.
The armaments which thunderstrike, 108.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 189, 231.
The empire of Blefuscu, 134.
The father came on deck, 175.
The Lord reigneth, 111.
The name and memory of Washington, 28.
Then he departed with them o’er the sea, 210.
Then it was that Jo, 151.
Then methought I heard a mellow sound, 25.
Then sing, ye birds, 241.
There’s a rogue at play in my sunlit room, 123.
The trumpet, the gallop, the charge, 164.
This too, thou know’st, 163.
Three quarters round your partners swing, 157.
Thou kingly Spirit, 111.
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State, 86.
To be, or not to be, 52.
To whom replied King Arthur, 243.
Up from the meadows rich with corn, 71.
Venerable men! you have come down to us, 89.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! 161.
Whatever Lionel had said to his wife, 37.
What lesson shall those lips teach us, 89.
When a wind from the lands, 222.
Wherefore rejoice? What conquest, 26, 213.
Where sweeps round the mountains, 49.
While the Union lasts, 78.
Wrapped in a maze of thought, 22.
Yet his means are in supposition, 30.
Ye, who sometimes, in your rambles, 132.
You Heavens, give me patience, 96.
You think me a fanatic to-night, 22.
LIST OF POEMS AND SELECTIONS ANALYZED
Barbara Frietchie _Whittier_ 71
Charge of the Light Brigade _Tennyson_ 236
Horatius (The Lays of Ancient Rome) _Macaulay_ 266
How They Brought the Good News From
Ghent to Aix _Robert Browning_ 212
The Fight of Paso del Mar _Bayard Taylor_ 193
The Peace-Pipe (Hiawatha) _Longfellow_ 256
The Quarrel Scene (Julius Caesar) _Shakespeare_ 284
The Revenge _Tennyson_ 244
Young Lochinvar _Scott_ 254
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
Pg 78: ‘throughout the earht’ replaced by ‘throughout the earth’.
Pg 86: ‘_Hamlet_,’ replaced by ‘--_Hamlet_,’.
Pg 112: ‘_Ps._ xcvi.,’ replaced by ‘--_Ps._ xcvi.,’.
Pg 186: ‘Idyls of the King’ replaced by ‘Idylls of the King’.
Pg 246: The poetry line number ‘55’ is repeated, and subsequent line
numbering is off by one line; this has been left unchanged.