II. THE APPROACHES OF PROSE TO POETRY.

It has been pointed out that in the endeavor to maintain a properly elevated tone of discourse prose will better bear poetic touches than poetry will bear prosaism. We may carry this a step farther and say that prose itself, as it becomes more artistic, is continually trying to escape from prosaism, to take on elements of lightness, buoyancy, life, interest, to be more than mere sermo pedestris, discourse plodding along on foot. There is evident in it, in all but the most commonplace duties, a longing for something of the winged grace which is the native movement of poetry.

This is not a mere instinct of workmanship, or idle desire to make diction. No genuine distinction of style rises in this way. Its roots are deeper, in the intense identification of the soul with the subject. As soon as men are concerned with a subject beyond mere reportage or scientific information they become excited, a new glow and warmth enters their speech; and as this excitement rises from the same causes that give vitality and technic to poetry - namely, fervid emotion and realizing imagination — the effects are analogous in the diction; that is, according to its exciting occasion, the diction of prose approaches to the diction of poetry.2

Three general types of prose diction may thus be distinguished, according to their progressive relation to poetry; to some one of which types any literary work in prose is to be more or less predominantly referred. These three types, it will be seen, approach poetry by the way of the three fundamental qualities of style, clearness, force, and beauty; arising

1 See above, p. 137. Distinguish between prose and prosaism.

2 "Poetry is the greatest of all sources for inspiring prose with new vitality. Prose is born of conversation, but it is enlivened and invigorated by poetry. Only then the nutritive elements, which prose draws from poetry, must for the most part be digested and assimilated, they must not remain in their elemental state of manifest poetry, they must be transformed into prose."- EARLE, English Prose, p. 161.

indeed from much the same impulse that makes each of these in turn the controlling quality of the diction.

I.

The Intellectual Type. So we may name the first type, as addressing itself supremely to the understanding, with its dominant requirements of clear thinking and ordered presentation, and holding the language of emotion or imagination secondary. It is the fundamental type of prose; given here not so much to illustrate in itself the approach of prose to poetry as to define the neutral matter-of-fact plane of expression from which such approach is made, and to complete the classification of types.

In the following passage, from Southey's Life of Nelson, the task of the writer is simply to give information, in the plainest language, of an event. No effort is made to excite interest, or to vivify by poetic devices; the interest is taken for granted, and the author need not display his feelings in order to prove the importance or beauty of the scene.

"It had been part of Nelson's prayer that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her great guns were silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizzen-top, which in the then situation of the two vessels was not more than fifteen yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary's blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up. They have done for me at last, Hardy!' said he. 'I hope not!' cried Hardy. 'Yes,' he replied, 'my back-bone is shot through.'

"Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed as they were carrying him down the ladder that the tiller-ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately. Then, that he might not be seen by the

crew, he took out his handkerchief and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honor from the enemy, England perhaps would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back and the gush of blood he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; 'for,' said he, 'you can do nothing for me.' "All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurraed, and at every hurra a visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and marked the countenance of the dying hero. . . .

...

"Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said: 'I wish I had not left the deck, for I shall soon be gone.' Death was indeed rapidly approaching.. His articulation now became difficult, but he was distinctly heard to say: Thank God, I have done my duty!' These words he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.”1

In all this passage there is no touch either of poetic mood or poetic diction. The only figure is one mild metonymy in "From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death,” a figure as appropriate to prose as to poetry. The prose vocabulary, and the fulness of the symbolic and connective element may be felt from the sentence, "Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller-ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately." The only sentence which approaches a sentiment adapted to poetry still keeps the prose movement: "Had he but concealed these badges of honor from the enemy, England perhaps would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar."

1 SOUTHEY, Life of Nelson, Chap. ix.

II.

The Impassioned Type. This type of prose, which, as the name indicates, is the outcome of strong and exalted emotion, is most purely represented in oratory; we might call it oratorical prose. The kind of verse that approaches most nearly to it is dramatic blank verse.

The subject-matter that most naturally evolves this type of diction is that which deals with experience, character, conduct; the unchanging yet always vital truths with which are connected the joys and sorrows, the hopes and fears, the affections and interests, the ideals and duties, of universal human life.

The approach which this type of prose makes to poetic diction is shown first of all in the concentrative elements: in the tendency to shun labored connections and relations, and in the use of weighty words which say much in little space. Secondly, there is a general heightening of language: in the use of words which, while not exclusively poetical, are equally at home in poetry and prose; in the tendency to impressive imagery; and in the spontaneous use of the emotional figures of speech. Thirdly, the setting is distinctly rhythmical: manifest in the use of sonorous words, in the balancing of phrases and clauses, and in the stately roll of the sentence.

The following, from Daniel Webster's Oration on the Bunker Hill Monument, will exemplify the general elevated tone of impassioned discourse:

"VENERABLE MEN! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold, how altered! The same heavens are indeed over your heads; the same ocean rolls at your feet; but all else how changed! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying; the impetuous charge; the steady

and successful repulse; the loud call to repeated assault; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resistance; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and all these you have witnessed, but you witness them no more.

death; All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means of distinction and defence. All is peace; and God has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the reward of your patriotic toils; and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the name of the present generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, to thank you!

"But ah! Him! the first great martyr in this great cause! Him! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart! Him! the head of our civil councils, and the destined leader of our military bands, whom nothing brought hither but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit! Him! cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom; falling ere he saw the star of his country rise; pouring out his generous blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage! - how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name! Our poor work may perish; but thine shall endure! This monument may moulder away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea; but thy memory shall not fail! Wheresoever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy spirit!"-Webster's Great Speeches, p. 127.

Of the means of general heightening above mentioned we may here point out a few:

1. Words not exclusively poetical, but from the more exalted vocabulary: venerable, bounteously, behold, witness, yonder metropolis, unutterable, issue, combat, ere, slumber, martyr, gloom, stifle, utterance, endure, kindred. The list might be greatly increased.

2. Emotional figures. — Exclamation: Behold, how altered! and often; the whole tissue of the second paragraph is exclamatory. Interrogation: how shall I struggle with the emotions, etc. Apostrophe: the latter half of the second paragraph.