EXERCISE
Notice the pictures on page 253. Can you determine from the picture anything about the character of the person? Just what feature in each helps you in this?
+Theme LXVIII.+—Describe some person known to most of the class.
(Do not name the person, but combine description and character sketching so that the class may be able to tell whom you mean.)
[Illustrations]
+135. Impression of a Description.+—Often the effectiveness of a description is determined more by the impression which it makes upon our feelings than by the vividness of the picture which it presents. Read the following description of the Battery in New York by Howells. Notice how the details which have been selected emphasize the "impression of forlornness." The sickly trees, the decrepit shade, the mangy grass plots, hungry-eyed and hollow children, the jaded women, silent and hopeless, the shameless houses, the hard-looking men, unite to give the one impression. Even the fresh blue water of the bay, which laughs and dances beyond, by its very contrast gives greater emphasis to the melancholy and forlorn appearance of the Battery.
All places that fashion has once loved and abandoned are very melancholy; but of all such places, I think the Battery is the most forlorn. Are there some sickly locust trees there that cast a tremulous and decrepit shade upon the mangy grass plots? I believe so, but I do not make sure; I am certain only of the mangy grass plots, or rather the spaces between the paths, thinly overgrown with some kind of refuse and opprobrious weed, a stunted and pauper vegetation proper solely to the New York Battery. At that hour of the summer morning when our friends, with the aimlessness of strangers who are waiting to do something else, saw the ancient promenade, a few scant and hungry-eyed little boys and girls were wandering over this weedy growth, not playing, but moving listlessly to and fro, fantastic in the wild inaptness of their costumes. One of these little creatures wore, with an odd, involuntary jauntiness, the cast-off best dress of some happier child, a gay little garment cut low in the neck and short in the sleeves, which gave her the grotesque effect of having been at a party the night before. Presently came two jaded women, a mother and a grandmother, that appeared, when they crawled out of their beds, to have put on only so much clothing as the law compelled. They abandoned themselves upon the green stuff, whatever it was, and, with their lean hands clasped outside their knees, sat and stared, silent and hopeless, at the eastern sky, at the heart of the terrible furnace, into which in those days the world seemed cast to be burnt up, while the child which the younger woman had brought with her feebly wailed unheeded at her side. On one side of the women were the shameless houses out of which they might have crept, and which somehow suggested riotous maritime dissipation; on the other side were those houses in which had once dwelt rich and famous folk, but which were now dropping down to the boarding-house scale through various unhomelike occupations to final dishonor and despair. Down nearer the water, and not far from the castle that was once a playhouse and is now the depot of emigration, stood certain express wagons, and about these lounged a few hard-looking men. Beyond laughed and danced the fresh blue water of the bay, dotted with sails and smokestacks.
—Howells: Their Wedding Journey.
The successive images of the preceding selection are clear enough, but they are bound together by a common purpose, which is the creation of a single impression. Often, however, a description may present, not a single impression, but a series of such impressions, to which a unity is given by the fact that they are all connected with one event, or occur at the same time, or in the same place. Such a series of impressions is illustrated in the following:—
It is a phenomenon whose commonness alone prevents it from being most impressive, that departure of the night-express. The two hundred miles it is to travel stretch before it, traced by those slender clews, to lose which is ruin, and about which hang so many dangers. The drawbridges that gape upon the way, the trains that stand smoking and steaming on the track, the rail that has borne the wear so long that it must soon snap under it, the deep cut where the overhanging mass of rocks trembles to its fall, the obstruction that a pitiless malice may have placed in your path, you think of these after the journey is done, but they seldom haunt your fancy while it lasts. The knowledge of your helplessness in any circumstances is so perfect that it begets a sense of irresponsibility, almost of security; and as you drowse upon the pallet of the sleeping car and feel yourself hurled forward through the obscurity, you are almost thankful that you can do nothing, for it is upon this condition only that you can endure it; and some such condition as this, I suppose, accounts for many heroic acts in the world. To the fantastic mood which possesses you equally, sleeping or waking, the stoppages of the train have a weird character, and Worcester, Springfield, New Haven, and Stamford are rather points in dreamland than well-known towns of New England. As the train stops you drowse if you have been waking, and wake if you have been in a doze; but in any case you are aware of the locomotive hissing and coughing beyond the station, of flaring gas-jets, of clattering feet of passengers getting on and off; then of some one, conductor or station master, walking the whole length of the train; and then you are aware of an insane satisfaction in renewed flight through the darkness. You think hazily of the folk in their beds in the town left behind, who stir uneasily at the sound of your train's departing whistle; and so all is blank vigil or a blank slumber.
—Howells: Their Wedding Journey.
+136. Impression as the Purpose of Description.+—The impression that it gives may become the central purpose of a description. It is evident in Howells's description of the Battery that the purpose was the creating of an impression of forlornness, and that the author kept this purpose in mind when choosing the details. If his aim had been to enable us to form a clear picture of the Battery in its physical outlines, he would have chosen different details and would have presented them in different language.
The same scene or object may present a different appearance to two different observers because each may discover a different set of likenesses or resemblances and so select different essential characteristics. An artist will paint a picture that centers around some one feature. Each added detail seems but to set forth and increase the effect of this central element of the picture. Similarly the observer will in his description lay emphasis on the central point and will select details that bear a helpful relation to it. If he wishes to present the picture of a valley, he will lay emphasis on its fundamental image and essential details with reference to its appearance; but if his desire is to present the impression of fertility or of rural simplicity and quiet, the elements that are important for the producing of the desired impression may not be at all the ones essential to his former picture.
When the presentation of a picture is our central purpose, we attempt to present it as it appears to us, and select details that will enable others to form the desired image; but if we desire to set forth how a scene affected us, we must choose details that will make our reader feel as we felt.
+137. Necessity of Observing our Impressions.+—In order to write a description which shall give our impression of an object or scene, we must know definitely what that impression is. Just as clear seeing is necessary for the reproduction of definite images, so is the clear perception of our impressions necessary to their reproduction. Furthermore, we may know what our impressions are without being able to select those elements in a scene that have produced them; but in order to write a description that shall affect others as the scene itself affected us, we must know what these elements are and emphasize them in the description. Thus it becomes necessary to pay attention both to our impression and to the selection of those details which create that impression. One glance at a room may cause us to believe that the housekeeper is untidy. If we wish to convey this impression to our reader, our description must include the details that give that impression of untidiness to us.
Nor are we limited to sight alone, for our impressions may be made stronger by the aid of the other senses. Sound and smell and taste may supplement the sight, and though they add little to the clearness, yet they add much to the impression which we get.
Within the cabin, through which Basil and Isabel now slowly moved, there were numbers of people lounging about on the sofas, in various attitudes of talk or vacancy; and at the tables there were others reading Lothair, a new book in the remote epoch of which I write, and a very fashionable book indeed. There was in the air that odor of paint and carpet which prevails on steamboats; the glass drops of the chandeliers ticked softly against each other, as the vessel shook with her respiration, like a comfortable sleeper, and imparted a delicious feeling of coziness and security to our travelers.
—Howells: Their Wedding Journey.
+138. Impression Limited to Experience.+—If we attempt to write a description for the sake of giving an impression, it must be an impression that we have ourselves experienced. If the sight of the gorge of Niagara has filled us with a feeling of sublimity and awe, we shall find it hard to write a humorous account of it. If we see the humorous elements of a situation, we cannot easily make our description give the impression of grief. Neither can we successfully imitate the impressions of others. No two persons are affected in the same way by the same thing. Our age, our temperament, our emotional attitude, and all of our past experiences affect our way of looking at things and modify the impressions which we get. The successful presentation of our impression will depend largely upon the definite perception of our feelings.
+139. Impression Affected by Mood.+—Not only is our impression affected by details in the scene observed, but it is even more largely influenced by our mood at the time of the observation. The same landscape may cheer at one time and dishearten at another. To-day we see the ridiculous; to-morrow, the sad and sorrowful. A thousand things may change our mood, but under certain general conditions, certain impressions are likely to arise. There is something in the air of spring, or the heat of summer, which affects us all. The weather, too, has its effect. Sunshine and shadow find answering attitudes in our feelings, and the skillful writer takes advantage of these emotional tendencies.
Not far we fared—
The river left behind—when, looking back,
I saw the mountain in the searching light
Of the low sun. Surcharged with youthful pride
In my adventure, I can ne'er forget
The disappointment and chagrin which fell
Upon me; for a change had passed. The steep
Which in the morning sprang to kiss the sun,
Had left the scene; and in its place I saw
A shrunken pile, whose paths my steps had climbed,
Whose proudest height my humble feet had trod.
Its grand impossibilities and all
Its store of marvels and of mysteries
Were flown away, and would not be recalled.
—Holland: Katrina.
+140. Union of Image and Impression.+—Because we have discussed image making and impression giving separately, it must not be judged that they necessarily occur separately. They are in fact always united. No image, however clear, can fail to make some impression, and no description, however strong the impression it gives, fails to create some image. It is rather the placing of the emphasis that counts. Some descriptions have for their purpose the giving of an image, and the impression is of little moment. Other descriptions aim at producing impressions, and the images are of less importance. In the description of the Battery (page 254) the images are clear enough, but they are subordinate to the impression. This subordination may even go farther. Often the impression is made prominent and we are led by suggestion to form images which fit it, while in reality few definite images have been set. Notice in the following selection that the impression of desolation is given without attempting to picture exactly what was seen:—
The country at the foot of Vesuvius is the most fertile and best cultivated of the kingdom, most favored by Heaven in all Europe. The celebrated Lacrymæ Christi vine flourishes beside land totally devastated by lava, as if nature here made a last effort, and resolved to perish in her richest array. As you ascend, you turn to gaze on Naples, and on the fair laud around it—the sea sparkles in the sun as if strewn with jewels; but all the splendors of creation are extinguished by degrees, as you enter the region of ashes and smoke, that announces your approach to the volcano. The iron waves of other years have traced their large black furrows in the soil. At a certain height birds are no longer seen; further on, plants become very scarce; then even insects find no nourishment. At last all life disappears. You enter the realm of death and the slain earth's dust alone sleeps beneath your unassured feet.
—Madame De Staël: Corinne: Italy.