Chapter III: Introduction: I

OUR NATIONAL READING

Is there anyone who has not read a short story? Is there anyone who has not stopped at a news-stand to buy a short-story magazine? Is there anyone who has not drawn a volume of short stories from the library, or bought one at the book-store? Short stories are everywhere. There are bed-time stories and fairy stories for little children; athletic stories, adventure stories, and cheerful good-time stories for boys and girls; humorous stories for those who like to laugh, and serious stories for those who like to think. The World and his Wife still say, “Tell me a story,” just as they did a thousand years ago. Our printing presses have fairly roared an answer, and, at this moment, are busy printing short stories. Even the newspapers, hardly able to find room for news and for advertisements, often give space to re-printing short stories. Our people are so fond of soda water that some one has laughingly called it our national drink. Our people of every class, young and old, are so fond of short stories that, with an equal degree of truth, we may call the short story our national reading.

II

THE DEFINITION

The short story and the railroad are about equally old,—or, rather, equally new, for both were perfected in distinctly recent times. The railroad is the modern development of older ways of moving people and goods from one place to another,—of litters, carts, and wagons. The short story is the modern development of older ways of telling what actually had happened, or might happen, or what might be imagined to happen,—of tales, fables, anecdotes, and character studies. A great number of men led the way to the locomotive, but it remained for the nineteenth century, in the person of George Stephenson, to perfect it. In like manner, many authors led the way to the short story of to-day, but it remained for the nineteenth century, and particularly for Edgar Allan Poe, to perfect it, and give it definition.

Before Poe’s time the short story had sometimes been written well, and sometimes poorly. It had often been of too great length, wandering, and without point. Poe wrote stories that are different from many earlier stories in that they are all comparatively short. Another difference is that Poe’s stories do not wander, producing now one effect, and now another. Like a Roman road, every one goes straight to the point that the maker had in mind at the beginning, and produces one single effect. In the older stories the writers often turned from the principal subject to introduce other matter. Poe excluded everything,—no matter how interesting,—that did not lead directly to the effect he wished to produce. The earlier stories often ended inconclusively. The reader felt that more might be said, or that some other ending might be possible. Poe tried to write so that the story should be absolutely complete, and its ending the one necessary ending, with no other ending even to be thought of. With it all, he tried to write so that,—no matter how improbable the story really might be,—it should, at least, seem entirely probable,—as real as though it had actually happened.

In general, Poe’s definition of the short story still holds true. There are many kinds of stories to-day,—just as there are many kinds of engines,—but the great fundamental principles hold true in both. We may still define the modern short story as:

1. A narrative that is short enough to be read easily at a single
sitting;

2. That is written to produce a single impression on the mind of the
reader;

3. That excludes everything that does not lead to that single
impression;

4. That is complete and final in itself;

5. That has every indication of reality.

III

THE FAMILY TREE OF THE SHORT STORY

Everyone knows his father and mother. Very few, except those of noble
descent, know even the names of their great-great grandparents. As if
of the noblest, even of royal descent, the short story knows its
family tree. Its ancestry, like that of the American people, goes back
to Europe; draws strength from many races, and finally loses itself
somewhere in the prehistoric East,—in ancient Greece, India, or Egypt.

In the royal galleries kings look at pictures of their great
ancestors, and somewhat realize remote the past. Many of the ancestors
of the short story still live. They drank of the fountain of youth,
and are as strong and full of life as ever. Such immortal ancestors of
the short story of to-day are _The Story of Polyphemus_ (ninth
century, B.C.), _The Story of Pandora and her Box_ (ninth century,
B.C.), _The Book of Esther_ (second century, B.C.), _The City Mouse
and the Country Mouse_ (first century, B.C.), and _The Fables of Æsop_
(third century, A. D.). There are still existing many Egyptian short
stories, some of which are of the most remote antiquity, the _Tales of
the Magicians_ going back to 4000 B.C.

All the stories just named,—and many others equally familiar, drawn
from every ancient land,—affected the short story in English.

In the earliest days in England, in the fifth and in a few succeeding
centuries, the priests made collections of short stories from which
they could select illustrative material for the instruction of their
hearers. They drew many such stories from Latin, which, in turn, had
drawn them from still more ancient sources. Then, or a little later,
came folk stories, romantic stories of adventure, and other stories
for mere amusement.

In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the Italians became very
skilful in telling short stories, or “novelle.” Their “new” tales had
a lasting effect on short story telling in English.

Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_, in the fourteenth century, although in
verse, told in a most delightfully realistic way all kinds of stories
from all kinds of sources, particularly from the literatures of Italy
and of France. Chaucer told his stories so remarkably well, with such
humor and reality, that he is one of the great forces in the history
of the short story in English.

In the sixteenth century stories from France, Spain, and other lands,
also gave new incentives to the development of the short story in
English.

In the eighteenth century Addison’s _Spectator_ published very short
realistic narratives that often presented closely drawn character
studies. These are hardly to be called short stories, but they
influenced the short story form.

About the beginning of the nineteenth century, partly because of
German influence, it became the fashion to write stories of mystery
and horror, such as many of those by Irving, Hawthorne, and Poe.
Irving softened such stories by the touch of realistic humor;
Hawthorne gave them artistic form and nobility; Poe developed the full
value of the short story as a literary type, and pointed out the five
principles named above. The genius of these men led the way to the
modern short story.

Since their time the short story has moved on in its development,
including every kind of subject, tending to speak more and more
realistically of persons and places, but not losing its romantic
nature. Popular short stories of to-day are closely localized, and are
frequently quick, incisive, and emphatic.

to-day there are all kinds of short stories,—folk-lore tales, local
color stories, animal stories, humorous stories, stories of society,
of satire, of science, of character, of atmosphere, and scores of
other types, all virile, interesting, and profitable.

However well-dressed the modern short story may be in form and style,
it is worth little, unless, like its immortal ancestors, it has the
soul of goodness, truth, and beauty, and does something to reveal
nobility in the life of man.

IV

A GOOD STORY

With houses and stories it is much the same. As any one may build a
hut, so any one may compose a short story. In both cases the materials
may be common and cheap, and the construction careless. The one may
give shelter from the storm, and the other may hold attention for a
moment. Neither may be worth much. Somewhat better are the ordinary
house, and the ordinary story. Both are good, and fairly well
constructed, but the material is frequently commonplace, and the
general characteristics ordinary. To lift either a house or a story
out of the ordinary there must be fine material, artistic workmanship,
close and tender association with life,—something beautiful, or good,
or true. For the highest beauty there is need of something other than
obedience to rule in construction. Any architect can tell how to build
a beautiful house, but there is a fine beauty no mere architect can
give, a beauty that comes with years, or the close touch of human joys
and sorrows. It is the same with stories. We can not analyze the finer
quality, but we can, at least, tell some of the characteristics that
make short stories good.

As Poe said, the best short story is short enough to be read at a
sitting, so that it produces a single effect. It includes nothing that
does not lead to that effect, and it produces the effect as inevitably
as an arrow flies to its mark. The ending is necessary, the one
solution to which everything has moved from the beginning. In some way
the story is close to life, and is so realistically told that the
reader is drawn into its magic, and half believes it real.

It has a combination of plot and characters,—the nature of the
characters making the action, and the action affecting the persons
involved.

Without action of some sort there would, of course, be no story, but
the action,—usually built up of two opposing forces,—must be woven
into plot, that is, into a combination of events that lead to a
definite result, perhaps not known at first by the reader, but known
from the beginning by the author. The plot is somewhat simple, for the
story is too short to allow of much complexity. The action and the
characters are based on some experience, imaginary or otherwise, and
are honestly presented. In the best short story there is no pronounced
artificiality or posing.

There is always a certain harmony of content, so that plot and
characters work together naturally, every detail strictly in keeping
with the nature of the story.

The best story has an underlying idea,—not necessarily a moral,—a
thought or theme, very often concerned with ideals of conduct, that
can be expressed in a sentence.

Closely associated with everything is an indefinable something, that
rises from the story somewhat as the odor of sandalwood rises from an
oriental box, a sort of fragrance, or charm, a deeply appealing
characteristic that we call “atmosphere.”

Some stories may emphasize one point, and others another,—the plot,
the characters, the setting, the theme, or the atmosphere. As they
vary thus they reveal new lights, colors, and effects.

Still more do they vary in the charm that comes from apt choice of
words, and originality or beauty of phrasing.

Altogether, the best short story is truly an artistic product. The old
violins made in Cremona by Antonius Stradivarius have such perfect
harmony of material and form, and were made with such loving skill,
that they are vibrant with tenderly beautiful over-tones. So the best
short story is perfectly harmonious in every part, is made from chosen
material, is put together with sympathetic care, and is rich with the
over-tones of love, and laughter, and sorrow.

V

WHAT SHALL I DO WITH THIS BOOK?

Here is a book of more than twenty excellent short stories, not one of
which was written with the slightest thought that any one would ever
wish to study it as part of school work. Every story was written (1)
because its author had a story to tell, (2) because he had a definite
aim in telling the story, (3) because he felt that by certain methods
of form and style he could interest and delight his readers. The
magician opens his box, and holds the ring of spectators enthralled.
Here is no place for study. One must simply stand in the circle, and
look, and wonder, enjoy to his utmost, and applaud the entertainer
when he makes his final bow. But the spectator is always privileged to
look, not only idly but also as sharply as he pleases. So the reader
is entitled to notice in every case the three reasons for writing the
story.

The best way, then, to study this book is not to “study” it. It is not
a geography, nor a book of rules, nor any kind of book to be
memorized. It is a book to be read with an appreciative mind and a
sympathetic heart. Read the stories one by one in the order in which
they are printed. Read with the expectation of having a good
time,—that is what every author intended you to have. But keep your
eyes open. Make sure you really know the story the author is telling.
One way of testing your understanding is to tell the story in a very
few words, either orally or in writing, so that some friend, who has
not read it, may know the bare story, and know it clearly. If you find
yourself confused, or if you lose yourself in details and can not tell
the story briefly, you have not found the story the author has to
tell.

A second test is to tell in one sentence, or in one very short
paragraph, exactly what purpose the writer had in telling the story.
This will be more difficult but it will need little thought if you
really have understood and appreciated the story. Do not make the
mistake of thinking that a purpose must be a moral. A man who makes a
chair, a clown in a circus, an artist, a violinist, a boy playing a
game,—all have purposes in what they do, but the purpose is not
primarily moral. If you are puzzled in finding the purpose of the
story you should look the story over until its purpose flashes upon
you.

Thirdly, you should see if you can put into four or five unconnected
sentences, either oral or written, the methods of form and style by
which the author has interested you, and pleased you. These methods
will include means of awakening interest, means of presenting the
action, preparation for the climax, way of telling the climax, and way
of ending the story. They will also include choice of words, use of
language effects, and the means of producing atmosphere in the story.

If it happens that there are words that are not familiar, look them up
in the dictionary. You can not hope to understand a story until you
understand its language.

A good way to test your appreciation of story telling as an art,—and
to help you to appreciate even more keenly,—is to write short stories
of your own. Try, in every case, to imitate some method employed in a
particular story by a well-known author. Do not imitate too much. Be
original. Be yourself. If some of our best short story writers had
done nothing but imitate they would never have succeeded. Make your
short stories different from those by anyone else in your class. Write
your story in such a way that no one will draw pictures, or look out
of the window, or whisper to his neighbor, when it comes your turn to
read. There are three ways to bring that about:

1. Write about something that you, and your class, know about, and
like to hear about.

2. Think of a good, emphatic, or surprising climax, and then make a
plot that will lead to the climax with absolute certainty.

3. Tell your story in a way that will be different from the way
employed by any of your classmates.

In general, the stories in this book are to be read and enjoyed,
worked over, and talked about, in a simple manner, as one might
discuss stories at a reading club. To treat the stories in any other
way would be to make displeasing work out of what should be pure
pleasure.

In the back of the book is a small amount of biographical and
explanatory material, such as a friendly teacher might tell to his
class. There are also a few questions that will help you to
appreciate and enjoy the best effects in every story. The notes have
been given merely for reference, as if they were contained in a sort
of handy encyclopedia. They are not for hard, systematic study.

A class studying this book should forget that it is a class in
school, and resolve itself into a reading club, whose
object,—written in its constitution, in capital letters,—is pure
enjoyment of all that is best in short stories, and in short story
telling.

VI

WHERE TO FIND SOME GOOD SHORT STORIES

Baldwin, Charles American Short
Sears Stories

Cody, Sherwin The World’s Best
Short Stories

Dawson, W. J. and C. Great English Short
W. Story Writers

Esenwein, Joseph Short Story
Berg Masterpieces

Firkins, I. T. E. Index to Short
Stories

Hawthorne, Julian Library of the
World’s Best
Mystery and
Detective Stories

Jessup, Alexander Little French
Masterpieces

Jessup, A. and The Book of the
Canby, H. S. Short Story

Matthews, Brander The Short Story

Patten, William Great Short Stories

Patten, William Short Story Classics

Charles Scribner’s Stories by American
Sons Authors

Charles Scribner’s Stories by English
Sons Authors

Charles Scribner’s Stories by Foreign
Sons Authors

VII

SOME INTERESTING SHORT STORIES

R. H. Davis: The Bar Sinister; Washington Irving: The Rose of the
Alhambra; The Legend of Sleepy Hollow; Rip Van Winkle; The Three
Beautiful Princesses; Rudyard Kipling: Garm, A Hostage; The Arabian
Nights: Aladdin; Ali Baba; Annie Trumbull Slosson: Butterneggs; Ruth
McEnery Stuart: Sonny’s Diploma; Frederick Remington: How Order No.
6 Went Through; Mark Twain: The Jumping Frog; Henry Van Dyke: The
First Christmas Tree.

H. C. Andersen: The Ugly Duckling; Grimm Brothers: Little Briar
Rose; Rudyard Kipling: Mowgli’s Brothers; Toomai of the Elephants;
Her Majesty’s Servants; Æsop: The Country Mouse and the City Mouse;
Joel Chandler Harris: The Wonderful Tar Baby Story; How Black Snake
Caught the Wolf; Brother Mud Turtle’s Trickery; A French Tar Baby;
George Ade: The Preacher Who Flew His Kite.

Henry Van Dyke: The Other Wise Man; Nathaniel Hawthorne: Rapaccini’s
Daughter; David Swan; The Snow Image; The Great Stone Face; Lady
Eleanor’s Mantle; The Minister’s Black Veil; The Birth Mark; E. A.
Poe: William Wilson; Rudyard Kipling: The Ship that Found Herself;
Henry James: The Madonna of the Future; R. L. Stevenson: Will o’ the
Mill; Joseph Addison: The Vision of Mirza.

Howard Pyle: The Ruby of Kishmore; Rudyard Kipling: The Man Who
Would Be King; Drums of the Fore and Aft; Tiger, Tiger; Kaa’s
Hunting; R. H. Davis: Gallegher; Van Bibber’s Burglar; R. L.
Stevenson: The Sire de Maletroit’s Door; Joseph Conrad: Youth; E. A.
Poe: The Pit and the Pendulum; F. R. Stockton: My Terminal Moraine;
Jesse Lynch Williams: The Stolen Story.

Henry Van Dyke: Messengers at the Window; M. R. S. Andrews: A
Messenger; Bulwer Lytton: The Haunted and the Haunters; FitzJames
O’Brien: The Diamond Lens; What Was It?; M. E. Wilkins Freeman:
Shadows on the Wall; R. W. Chambers: The Tree of Heaven; Marion
Crawford: The Upper Berth; H. W. Jacobs: The Monkey’s Paw; Rudyard
Kipling: At the End of the Passage; The Brushwood Boy; They; Prosper
Merimee: The Venus of Ille.

E. A. Poe: The Gold Bug; The Purloined Letter; Conan Doyle: The
Dancing Men; the Speckled Band; Henry Van Dyke: The Night Call;
FitzJames O’Brien: The Golden Ingot; Anton Chekhoff: The Safety
Match; R. L. Stevenson: The Pavillion on the Links; Egerton Castle:
The Baron’s Quarry; Wilkie Collins: The Dream Woman; Rudyard
Kipling: The Sending of Dana Da.

G. B. McCutcheon: The Day of the Dog; H. C. Bunner: The Love Letters
of Smith; A Sisterly Scheme; O. Henry: The Ransom of Red Chief;
While the Auto Waits; Samuel Minturn Peck: The Trouble at St. James;
T. B. Aldrich: Goliath; R. M. S. Andrews: A Good Samaritan; The
Grandfathers of Bob; E. P. Butler: Pigs is Pigs; Josephine Dodge
Daskam: Edgar, the Choir Boy Uncelestial; T. A. Janvier: The Passing
of Thomas; Myra Kelly: A Christmas Present for a Lady; Ruth McEnery
Stuart: The Woman’s Exchange of Simpkinsville.

F. Hopkinson Smith: The Veiled Lady of Stamboul; Stuart Edward
White: The Life of the Winds of Heaven; T. B. Aldrich: Père
Antoine’s Date Palm; Booth Tarkington: Monsieur Beaucaire; R. H.
Davis: The Princess Aline; Alice Brown: A Map of the Country; M. R.
S. Andrews: The Bishop’s Silence; Honoré de Balzac: A Passion in the
Desert; Nathaniel Hawthorne: The White Old Maid.

Irvin Cobb: Up Clay Street; M. E. Wilkins Freeman: The Revolt of
Mother; A Humble Romance; Prosper Merimee: Mateo Falcone; Alphonse
Daudet: The Last Class; G. W. Cable: Belles Demoiselles Plantation;
Bret Harte: The Luck of Roaring Camp; Ruth McEnery Stuart: The
Widder Johnsing; Owen Wister: Specimen Jones; T. A. Janvier: The
Sage Brush Hen.

T. B. Aldrich: Marjory Daw; Mademoiselle Olimpe Zabriskie; Miss
Mehetabel’s Son; O. Henry: The Gift of the Magi; The Cop and the
Anthem; The Whirligig of Life; Guy de Maupassant: The Diamond
Necklace; F. R. Stockton: The Lady or the Tiger; John Fox, Jr.: The
Purple Rhododendron; R. W. Chambers: A Young Man in a Hurry; E. A.
Poe: Three Sundays in a Week; Ambrose Bierce: The Man and the Snake;
FitzJames O’Brien: The Bohemian; Frank Norris: A Deal in Wheat.

Mark Twain: A Dog’s Tale; W. D. Howells: Editha; E. T. Seton: The
Biography of a Grizzly; Brander Matthews: The Story of a Story;
Björnstjerne Björnson: The Father; Nathaniel Hawthorne: The
Ambitious Guest; Jacob A. Riis: The Burgomaster’s Christmas; Charles
Dickens: A Christmas Carol; Henry Van Dyke: The Mansion; E. E. Hale:
The Man Without a Country.