read books about Lady Blessington. Let us read the Confessions of St. Augustine before we read books about St. Augustine. Let us read Plato's Socratic dialogues before we read a biography of Socrates. Let us read Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson before we read Macaulay or Leslie Stephen on Dr. Johnson. In short, let us follow the advice of Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch and read masterpieces instead of frittering away our time on books written about and around masterpieces.

In the second place, in organizing our reading, let us strive to make it coherent. I mean, the reading by which we set store, not the reading in which we may engage merely in order to while away an hour or two. After we have read, say, some notable novel, let us go on to read, not just any other novel, but a novel related to it, either one by the same author or one with a similarity of theme or treatment. I do not mean necessarily a novel contemporary with it. I do not mean anything to do with "influences" or "tendencies". For instance, the early social novels of H. G. Wells-Kipps, Love and Mr. Lewisham, The History of Mr. Polly-probably have their most illuminating analogues in certain novels by Dickens-Nicholas Nickleby and David Copperfield. Again, suppose we read some famous long poem; suppose we read Byron's Don Juan, it will then be to organize our reading if after finishing the poem we go on to ascertain what opinions have been expressed concerning it, if we look into the conditions in which it came to be written, if we find out why Byron was hostile to Southey, why he took of English society and of English politics the view which is exhibited in Don Juan.

A little earlier I remarked that neither biographical information nor psychological theories about an author are of help to the enjoyment and appreciation of his work. Of course I am not now going back on that. I am now speaking of something else. Information about the conditions in which a piece of literature was produced, about its setting as we may call it, and about the public events of its time-that information may often be of value to the reader-the reader in quest of profit, that is. Sometimes this information proves to be indispensable to an understanding, and therefore to any enjoyment, of a particular piece of literature. Without it, allusions, and sometimes the whole import, will remain unintelligible. For example, those

plays of Shakespeare's which are called histories-King John, Richard II, Henry IV, Henry V, Richard III-are not really intelligible unless we know something of English history during the period they deal with. If it remains that details of the private life of Shakespeare bear in no way on the effect which a work of his is to have upon us, we may nevertheless lay down that if before we read a particular piece of literature we find out in what conditions it was produced, and what was its setting, and also that if after we have read a particular piece of literature we look up the eminent opinions of it that have been expressed, we shall help to make our reading profitable. And in doing this we shall organize our reading.

Finally, to organize our reading should mean that as early as possible we shall read-or reread-a number of works of literature of the past. I quoted just now Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch where he bids us read masterpieces instead of frittering away our time on books written about and around masterpieces. He urges us to read masterpieces, because of course they are the best reading, the reading that is most sure to be reading for profit. But we should read masterpieces also because the reading of them will assist us with something which Pope calls the formation of judgment and taste. Whenever we read some notable piece of literature of the past, we can not only notice the effect which our reading has upon us; we can go on as well to compare our own impressions with those of a variety of critical experts. The comparison will help us to understand why the work in question is a masterpiece, it will draw our attention to things we may have overlooked in it, it will help us to revise and no doubt to better our first impressions, and it will send us back to the work equipped to enjoy and to appreciate it in the rereading more deeply and thoroughly. In this way, and in this way alone, can we hope to come to understand and to feel what literature really is. And thus gradually we shall reach the stage at which we can spontaneously apply our fifth and last rule.

This is: Let us learn to distinguish bad writing from good, and not only to recognize good writing whenever we come upon it, but also to recognize writing that is better. In other words, let us learn to distinguish whatever is not literature from the real thing; let us learn to recognize the best literature. The im

portance of this rule in reading for profit cannot be overemphasized. I do not need to say that, although literature consists entirely of pieces of writing and exists only in pieces of writing, not every piece of writing is literature. And it is only by reading and rereading pieces of writing that are literature that we can safely expect that generally our reading shall be for profit. Pieces of writing which are not literature may often yield us information, and the information may be needed in our studies or profession. Pieces of writing which are not literature may influence us, when we read them merely to pass the time; as I have already said, they may influence us without our being aware of it. But it is literature alone that we may be sure of reading with profit in that sense of which I have been talking, provided, of course, we are capable of gathering this profit. It is therefore imperative that we should be able to distinguish whatever is not literature from the real thing. And the reading of notable pieces of literature of the past is what, as much as anything, will render us capable of drawing the distinction. And further, it is necessarily the best literature that will give us, with the highest pleasure, the greatest profit.

V

There, then, are our five rough and ready rules or guiding principles to be observed in order to read for profit. I will repeat them. First, in order to acquire some acquaintance with the literature of the past, let us go, not to histories of literature, nor to anthologies, nor to biographies of authors, not to psychological theories concerning authors, but to actual pieces of writing-to a selection of the pieces of writing that together make up literature. Secondly, let us go to these actual pieces of writing in an appropriate spirit of humility, with an appropriate receptiveness, in simplicity of heart. Thirdly, let us never persist in reading anything that bores us. Fourthly, let us organize our reading; this means, in part, let us observe some order in our reading, and, in part, let us read masterpieces. Fifthly and lastly, let us learn to distinguish whatever is not literature from the real thing.

Among these rules the reading of masterpieces and the learning to distinguish whatever is not literature from the real thing

may be described as the capital investment required of us in order that we shall read for profit. It is in the making of that capital investment that I think people are most likely to need guidance, and in that direction guidance is what perhaps this book can offer.

In the next chapter I shall consider novels, and at the same time I shall list a wide range of novels by dead authors from which to choose the ones which we may care to read or to read again, I shall dwell on three novels in particular in order that we may see how they fail or how they succeed in displaying what I may be allowed to call the symptoms of literature. That is to say, we shall be specially concerned with the business of distinguishing what is not literature from the real thing. In a further chapter I shall in the same way discuss bad and good biography. And so I shall review in turn all the main kinds of literature. But I shall not invariably oppose literature and nonliterature. It would not be practical to attempt to do so. Regarding history, for example, I shall content myself with mentioning that, although there are various kinds of history, only one kind can really suit the general reader. I shall say something of the limitations of present-day scientific writing for popular consumption-scientific popularization, as it is called-but on coming to political writings, to folklore, and to religious writings, I shall confine myself to speaking of certain works that demand to be read. I shall devote one chapter to the subject of prose style, and then I shall next consider how plays in prose may be literature. Having thus begun on the drama, I shall go on to plays in verse. I shall try to show wherein the greatness of poetic drama lies. From this, I shall pass to poetry in general, and at that point I shall aim at making clear the essence of poetry. Finally, I shall have a shot at removing the difficulties which numbers of people seem to meet with when they wish to read the "new" poetry.

Such, very briefly, is our program. My aim throughout will be, I repeat, to help us to equip ourselves to read for profit-on the one hand, by recommending masterpieces and other important books for us to read; on the other hand, by pointing out wherever appropriate how we may recognize both literature and its counterfeit.

2

NOVELS

We can be CONFIDENT THAT A PIECE OF WRITING WHICH IS INdisputably literature will give us the opportunity of reading for profit. That pieces of writing which are not literature offer this opportunity is less certain. They can offer it only negatively. So if we want to have profit from reading, it is desirable, as I said in my first chapter, that we should be able to distinguish whatever is not literature from the real thing. The ability is hardly one to be taught. But I think there is something that can be pointed out. I would not go so far as to speak of a method, of a form of procedure, or even of a recipe. But there are what may be called the symptoms of literature. How does literature manifest itself? To answer, or to sketch an answer to, that question is what I now attempt.

Much can be said for taking our first examples from novels. The novel has become the most popular form of general reading. I may refer to novels in the secure knowledge that everybody will understand what I am talking about. Moreover, if the symptoms of literature, as I call them, are discernible anywhere, novels should display both their presence and their absence conspicuously. For some of the finest pieces of literature in English are novels, and yet most novels-above all, most new novels are not literature.

Now one way in which we might learn to recognize the symptoms of literature in novels would be for us to read a number of novels whose title to be literature has been put beyond dis