CHAPTER V

THE AGENT OF THE ACTION: CHARACTER

WHEN one reads a complete narrative, the first interest usually centres in the significance of the details that constitute the action. For example, in Bret Harte's The Outcasts of Poker Flat the first concern will be with the fortunes of the little band snowbound amid the mountains between Poker Flat and Sandy Bar. But after curiosity as to their fate has been satisfied, the appeal that induces one to read the narrative a second time is something deeper than mere curiosity. This residuum of interest in many cases proceeds from beauty of setting, from effective portrayal of nature. But in The Outcasts of Poker Flat, although setting plays considerable part in the narrative, it can hardly be called the ultimate source of charm. That is to be found in the portraiture of human personalities, revolting perhaps at first acquaintance, but, amid peril and starvation, rising to the level of the heroic. The ultimate power of the narrative will probably centre in the delineation of the actors rather than in the action or in the background; that is, not so much in plot or setting as in character.

DEFINITION OF "CHARACTER "

In discussing this personal element in narrative writing, it is necessary at the outset to note two senses in which the word "character” is used. It may have reference to the actors externally, objectively, as mere personages; or it may convey the deeper internal significance of

personality. For instance, in The Outcasts of Poker Flat Uncle Billy is introduced as "a suspected sluice-robber and confirmed drunkard." This identifies him as one of the dramatis persona; it classifies him externally. But it cannot be said to individualize him, to distinguish him from others of his type, any more than Dickens's epithets individualize some of his creations, for example, “the stranger," "the scientific gentleman," "the man with the horrible face." Later in the story, however, on the morning after Tom's and Piney's arrival, when Oakhurst awakes benumbed with the cold and is appalled to find snow falling, we read:

He started to his feet with the intention of awakening the sleepers, for there was no time to lose. But, turning to where Uncle Billy had been lying, he found him gone. A suspicion leaped to his brain and a curse to his lips. He ran to the spot where the mules had been tethered; they were no longer there. The tracks were already rapidly disappearing in the snow.

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These sentences characterize Uncle Billy more deeply, individualize him far more accurately, than do the terms 'suspected sluice-robber and confirmed drunkard." As a robber and drunkard he is a mere personage, distinguished indeed from the other personages of the narrative; but, as an individual, essentially himself, he is a man who not only will desert his companions, but, in order to elude pursuit and preserve his own skin, will deprive them of every chance of securing their own escape from peril. Uncle Billy, in this sense, is a personality, a character despicable and cowardly.

The following passages, selected from George Eliot's Adam Bede, present good illustration of the two methods of character presentation. In the first, the reader sees Adam Bede, a muscular, broad-chested young carpen

ter, working at his bench; he is simply one of five workingmen who occupy the stage at the beginning of the narrative. Of his personality, of the individual traits that differentiate him from his companions, we know nothing save what we may infer from the general intelliand manliness evidenced in his appearance as he gence stands in the workshop of Mr. Jonathan Burge one June morning.

(a) The afternoon sun was warm on the five workmen there, busy upon doors and window-frames and wainscoting. A scent of pine-wood from a tent-like pile of planks outside the open door mingled itself with the scent of the elder-bushes which were spreading their summer snow close to the open window opposite; the slanting sunbeams shone through the transparent shavings that flew before the steady plane, and lit up the fine grain of the oak panelling which stood propped against the wall. On a heap of those soft shavings a rough gray shepherd-dog had made himself a pleasant bed, and was lying with his nose between his fore-paws, occasionally wrinkling his brows to cast a glance at the tallest of the five workmen, who was carving a shield in the centre of a wooden mantel-piece. It was to this workman that the strong barytone voice belonged which was heard above the sound of plane and hammer singing

“Awake my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run;

Shake off dull sloth.

Here some measurement was to be taken which required more concentrated attention, and the sonorous voice subsided into a low whistle; but it presently broke out again with renewed vigor

"Let all thy converse be sincere,

Thy conscience as the noonday clear."

Such a voice could only come from a broad chest, and the broad chest belonged to a large-boned muscular man nearly six feet

high, with a back so flat and a head so well poised that when he drew himself up to take a more distant survey of his work, he had the air of a soldier standing at ease. The sleeve rolled up above the elbow showed an arm that was likely to win the prize for feats of strength; yet the long supple hand, with its broad finger-tips, looked ready for works of skill. In his tall stalwartness Adam Bede was a Saxon, and justified the name; but the jet-black hair, made the more noticeable by its contrast with the light paper cap, and the keen glance of the dark eyes that shone from under strongly marked, prominent and mobile eyebrows, indicated a mixture of Celtic blood. The face was large and roughly hewn, and when in repose had no other -beauty than such as belongs to an expression of good-humored honest intelligence.1

In the second passage. (b) we have no longer the objective picture of the stalwart young workingman; rather we penetrate the veil of Adam's personality, and see him as he is deferential to his superiors in rank, but ever thoroughly self-respecting, and ready, if need be, to abide by his own judgment. We have internal portraiture, the exposition of an individuality.

(b) Adam, I confess, was very susceptible to the influence of rank, and quite ready to give an extra amount of respect to every one who had more advantages than himself, not being a philosopher, or a proletaire with democratic ideas, but simply a stout-limbed carpenter with a large fund of reverence in his nature, which inclined him to admit all established claims unless he saw very clear grounds for questioning them. He had no theories about setting the world to rights, but he saw there was a great deal of damage done by building with ill-seasoned timber by ignorant men in fine clothes making plans for outhouses and workshops and the like, without knowing the bearings of things by slovenly joiners' work, and by hasty contracts that could never be fulfilled without ruining somebody;

1 Chap. I.

and he resolved, for his part, to set his face against such doings. On these points he would have maintained his opinion against the largest landed proprietor in Loamshire or Stonyshire either; but he felt that beyond these it would be better for him to defer to people who were more knowing than himself. He saw as plainly as possible how ill the woods on the estate were managed, and the shameful state of the farm-buildings; and if old Squire Donnithorne had asked him the effect of this mismanagement, he would have spoken his opinion without flinching, but the influence to a respectful demeanor towards a "gentleman" would have been strong within him all the while. The word "gentleman" had a spell for Adam, and, as he often said, he "could n't abide a fellow who thought he made himself fine by being coxy to his betters." I must remind you again that Adam had the blood of the peasant in his veins, and that since he was in his prime half a century ago, you must expect some of his characteristics to be obsolete.1

It is evident, then, that in the sense of "personage the word "character" in narrative writing is more superficial and external than when used in the sense of "personality." As mere personages, the actors serve much the same purpose as does setting, in that they are auxiliary to the action, and do not arouse interest in and of themselves. This becomes clear if one examines an extreme case of objective narration like Robinson Crusoe. If from this story of adventure we could subtract everything that elucidates Crusoe's individuality, everything that differentiates him as an emotional, thinking unit from the rest of humankind, the volume of the book would not be essentially diminished. Our main interest lies in his escape from the Moors, in the salvage of necessaries from the wreck, in the construction of the" castle," in the rescue of Friday from the cannibals, etc. We are

1 Chap. XVI.