To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine, Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood XXXV. ATTITUDE OF THE MAN. Wordsworth Hamlet, BUT, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again! I'll cross it, though it blast me. —Stay, illusion! Shakespeare. How different is Hamlet's manner when he speaks to his companions and when he addresses the ghost? Such a change may possibly be considered by some as identical with point of view, but it is essentially different, and at any rate a specific application of the principle already explained. Richard III. GIVE me another horse! bind up my wounds! Shakespeare. Note the changes in Richard's exclamation on awaking from his dream. The first two clauses are parts of his dream, the third is a prayer, in the fourth he wakes to a realization that it was all a dream, and in the last line he condemns himself. The greater the definiteness with which the process of the mind in passing from idea to idea can be revealed, the more effective will be the expression; but the attitude of the man is just as important. It sometimes reveals more salient changes of feeling than the idea itself. "OH! may we all for death prepare Verses on his own death. Swift. This change of mental attitude, or direction, is very common and very important in some forms of comedy. Dean Swift used it with most telling effect in his poem on his own death. What sharp contrasts he portrays in the mental attitudes of his card-playing female friends: My female friends, whose tender hearts "The Dean is dead (pray, what is trumps ?)." If he should fail her at quadrille. He loved the Dean (I lead a heart); But dearest friends, they say, must part. Verses on his own death. Swift. In Hood has two poems which afford very ludicrous contrasts. the "Ode to my Infant Son" (see Classics page 415), he gives the differences between a professional attitude, such as the writer of poetry assumes, and which can be easily applied to the delivery of the preacher, the lawyer, the lecturer, or the actor when he has a general or vague relation to truth, and when he has a definite attitude to each specific idea in its turn. In one is shown vague general emotion, which, of course, tends to make the voice monotonous, and in the other emotion is created by the successive specific conceptions. So in "Domestic Asides " we have the conventional society attitude of mind, while in the parentheses we have the genuine attitude, which is usually concealed. The proper practice of these two poems will be helpful in breaking up mannerisms. The "ministerial tone," as it is called, results chiefly from the effect of a professional attitude of mind; so of staginess. Mannerisms arise from the want of specific ideas and a definite attitude toward each successive conception. DOMESTIC ASIDES. I REALLY take it very kind - this visit, Mrs. Skinner I have not seen you such an age (the wretch has come to dinner!) Your charming boys I see are home from Reverend Mr. Russell's 'T was very kind to bring them both — (what boots for my new Brussels !) What little Clara left at home? well, now, I call that shabby! And Mr. S., I hope he's well? but, though he lives so handy, Come, take a seat- I long to hear about Matilda's marriage; You've come, of course, to spend the day (thank Heaven! I hear the carriage !) -- What! must you go? — next time I hope you'll give me longer measure. Hood. One of the best illustrations of point of view and attitude of the reader's mind is Scott's account of the battle of Flodden Field in "Marmion." The poet so arranges his narrative as to give us a definite point of view from which our imagination can create and observe the battle. We stand on a little hill at the rear of the English right wing. He has made Marmion a participant in the battle, but he has done more; he brings Lady Clare, a delicate and tender maiden, in whose fate he has already enlisted a deep interest, to this same hill, and in direct contact with the fierceness of war. Thus he gives us not only a point of view, but an attitude of imaginative sympathy and interest. To heighten the effect she is finally left entirely alone amidst the noise and confusion of the fight. According to history, the whole battle turns upon the fact that the English reserve was brought up to aid the wing of the English army, which was at first defeated. Who sent the word or gave the key to this situation is unknown; but Scott, with that consummate art which enabled him to unite fiction and history, makes this deed the last act in the life of his imaginary Marmion. He brings us thus into a sympathetic attitude with the turning-point of the battle. By these means events which in other hands would have been a dry record of facts, are given a living and dramatic sequence. These, however, are general points. Take the last stanza of the description, in which Marmion dies. The reader must identify himself now with the attitude and bearing of Clare, now with that of Marmion, then with that of the Monk, and must constantly return to his own as a living spectator of the whole scene. He must be dominated by the whole situation and by the attitude of each character, and his imagination and emotion must respond to the spirit of every event. When Marmion begins to revive he is first bewildered, looks around for his squires, discovers them, shows antagonism, realizes the inevitable; then suddenly comprehends the crisis of the battle, sends Blount and Fitz Eustace on their errands, and sinks down in despair with his last few words. With all these, the reader must successively identify himself. In the last stanza, in speaking of the acts of Clare, the reader's feeling is unconsciously hers; in speaking of the Monk it changes to his; and then to that of Marmion. The indirect quotation, the description of his actions, must be just as dramatic as the direct personations or quotations. When we come to the words of the Monk, we find a change in the very midst of the words of the speaker. He first addresses the Fiend, then tenderly addresses the sinner, then turns aside and speaks to himself. How different are his expressions in these three attitudes of his mind! The reader must not only feel the character and point of view of the priest in general, but must think and feel with him specifically these transitions in the attitude of his mind. Suddenly the attention changes to the battle, Marmion thrills with a realization that the victory will be gained. Then the reader must change suddenly from dramatic identification with Marmion to his own lyric feeling, and give with the greatest intensity, but with the utmost simplicity, the six simple words which suggest his death. WITH that, straight up the hill there rode two horsemen drenched with gore, and in their arms, a helpless load, a wounded knight they bore. His hand still strained the broken brand; his arms were smeared with blood and sand. Dragged from among the horses' feet, with dinted shield, and helmet beat, the falcon-crest and plumage gone, can that be haughty Marmion! Young Blount his armor did unlace, and, gazing on his ghastly face, said, "By Saint George, he's gone! that spear-wound has our master sped, and see the deep cut on his head! good-night to Marmion.". "Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease; he opes his eyes," said Eustace; "peace!" When, doffed his casque, he felt free air, around 'gan Marmion wildly stare: "Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where? linger ye here, ye hearts of hare! redeem my pennon, — charge again! cry-Marmion to the rescue!'- Vain! last of my race on battle-plain that shout shall ne'er be heard again! yet my last thought is England's -fly, to Dacre bear my signet ring: tell him his squadrons up to bring. Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie; Tunstall lies dead upon the field, his life-blood stains the spotless shield: Edmund is down : - my life is reft; the admiral alone is left. Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, — with Chester charge, and Lancashire, full upon Scotland's central host, or victory and England's lost. Must I bid twice? hence, varlets! fly! leave Marmion here alone to die." They parted, and alone he lay; Clare drew her from the sight away, till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, and half he murmured, "Is there none, of all my halls have nurst, page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring of blessed water from the spring, to slake my dying thirst?" O woman! in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and variable as the shade by the light, quivering aspen made; when pain and anguish wring the brow, a ministering angel thou! - Scarce were the piteous accents said, when, with the baron's casque, the maid to the nigh streamlet ran forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears; the plaintive voice alone she hears, sees but the dying man. She stooped her by the runnel's side, but in abhorrence backward drew; for, oozing from the mountain's side, where raged the war, a dark red tide was curdling in the streamlet blue. Where shall she turn! behold her mark a little fountain cell, where water, clear as diamondspark, in a stone basin fell. Above, some half-worn letters say, DRINK, WEARY PILGRIM, DRINK AND PRAY, FOR THE KIND SOUL OF SYBIL GRAY, WHO BUILT THIS CROSS AND WELL. She filled the helm, and back she hied, and with surprise and joy espied a monk supporting Marmion's head; a pious whom duty brought to dubious verge of battle fought, to shrive the dying, bless the dead. man, -- Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, and, as she stooped his brow to lave, — “ Is it the hand of Clare,” he said, “or injured Constance, bathes my head" then as remembrance rose, "Speak not to me of shrift or prayer ! I must redress her woes. Short space, few words, are mine to spare; forgive and listen, gentle Clare!" "Alas!" she said, "the while, O, think of |