Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 29 so that everyone may hope to do as well, but shall strive much and labor in vain, should he attempt the work.” George Eliot’s “ Mill on the Floss ” is a story of common- place life in England, yet it would be hard to find its equal. What author appears more simple than genial Irving? No one, however, seems able to produce a second “ Sketch Book.” The imitators of Scott in the historical novel have met equal disappointment; they are represented today by a legion of sickly romances, not worth a moment’s notice. This is only one of the poet’s observations that holds true at the present time. Much could be said of many other pre- cepts given by the old Augustan poet. The lines in which he comments on the necessity of speaking or writing with con- victions, have an added meaning in connection with some of the present literature. “ If you wish me to weep,” says the “ Ars Poetica,” “ you must first be sad yourself.” This advice at first appears superfluous, but it is really needed in this age of artificial and extravagant novels. There is one line of the “ Ars Poetica,” that ought to be carefully studied by many writers of the day. When our fiction contains heroes and heroines, who resolve the great issues of life into Japanese puzzles, and take a distorted view of humanity, it is time to consider these words of Horace: “ Good sense is the principle and fountain-head of correct writing.” Allied to good sense is the “ multa lectio ” which the poet advises. Nothing is of so much value in developing an author’s taste and broadening his mind, as extensive reading of the best literature. Horace advocates the standard works of his time, for he says, “ Pore over the pages of the Greek writers by night and day.” His reproach to the earlier Roman authors for the little care and time which they devoted to their work, brings up another fundamental principle of good writing. The poet never

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28 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL them in the latest novels, in the magazines and journals, but nowhere are they so sure to be found as in the columns of a newspaper. The writers who are hired to amuse the populace by handing out line after line of commonplaces, think it neces- sary to bait their articles with some of these same “ purple patches.” The modern novelist as well feels at times a sort of moral obligation to suspend his “ thrilling interest,” as the advertise- ments call it, in order to indulge in an elaborate description, which he fancies would be envied by Sir Walter Scott. Truly do these aspirants bring in “ the grove and altar of Diana, the river Rhine and the rainbow,” when “ it is not the place for these things.” This is by no means the only example in Horace that can be directly applied to present literature. In fact we can hardly glance over a few lines of the “ Ars Poetica ” without finding some striking truth applicable to the modern profession of letters. In Horace’s words, “ Public material will become peculiarly your own, if you do not delay in the cheap and beaten path, or scrupulously render word for word as a faith- ful translator.” What a legion of modern novels follow the “ cheap and beaten path,” tread and retread upon the well-known road, until it is necessary to reach the public by another way! A good book is merely the progenitor of a long line of imitations, each one possessed of less merit than the one before. If it happens to be a detective story, the press is soon crowded with books of this type. The novel of the social problem repeats itself, and issues anew from the hands of every writer, just as the so-called moral question continually fills the pages of fiction in a slightly different form, and is all the fashion in the world of reading. Horace recognized one of the qualities of a great book, when he said : “ I shall write my song from well-known lore.

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30 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL loses an opportunity of insisting upon “ plurima exercitatio ” — continuous exercise in composition. He warns authors not to publish a production, until they have made it as perfect as possible, like the statues over which the sculptor could run his finger-nail and not find an inequality. Many present writers might find this rule disagreeable, writers who dash off novel after novel with no thought of anything but their pecuni- ary value. They should remember these words of the com- panion of Virgil : “ When once the soul is rusted by the sordid greed of money, can we hope for the production of a book Vv ' orth preserving any length of time? ” A reflection of this kind leads to the thought of how few novels of the day enjoy anything more than a transient popu- larity. Whether such a short sway is due to their author’s “ rust of money ” or to other causes, it is certain that if Horace were alive today, he would not be content with saying, “ Mor- talia facta peribunt ” — “ All mortal deeds shall perish,” but would immediately add, ‘‘ and the six best sellers have the shortest life of all.” Perhaps our modern writers are chiefly at fault in making themselves slaves of the public, and catering to every whim of their readers. Of course, the book which gives the multitude the most pleasure with the least trouble to the mind, is likely to be the greatest success from a financial point of view ; but if an author wishes to perpetuate his work, he ought to think with Horace that a money-making spirit can never help him in this worthy endeavor. The Roman poet is not alone in this opinion, for Robert Louis Stevenson, of our own times, ex- presses the same truth. He refers to a writer who debates his profession only as a mercenary one, and says that if authors are taught to follow profit only, “ we must expect a slovenly, base, untrue, and empty literature.” It would be easy to fill a large volume by applying all of Horace’s precepts to modern literature, but our purpose has