many subjects which had previously been taboo, the question of morality in art and letters flared up with much the same intensity that marked the more justifiable controversy during the late Restoration period. Nineteenth century Realists like Balzac and Zola (especially the latter), writing side by side with the Romanticists Wilkie Collins, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Mrs. Humphrey Ward, found such feverish delight in depicting the ugliness of man's baser nature that the smug respectability of many eminent Victorians received a decided shock. The result is that the moralists still look askance at the later phase of Realism, finding much of it if not pernicious at least lacking in inspiration and purpose.

What these modern Realists claim to be doing is stripping the tinsel from our

false idealisms and finding in the nakedness of truth a terrible beauty that is sometimes passionate, sometimes restrained, but always fearless. This search. for beauty wherever it may be found raises the Realist from the rôle of psychologist to that of artist. When Lulu Bett, in Zona Gale's famous novel, disillusioned by her first marriage, accepts the love of Cornish, the uninspired dispenser of cheap music, it is not the conventional fulfillment of happiest hopes, as some would have us think, but the realization (to quote the Pfarrer in Sudermann's Heimat) that there comes to nearly all of us an hour when we must gather the fragments of our shattered ambitions and piece them together the best we may; and in that brave adjustment to reality lies a true beauty.

In England the novel attained a rank that challenged the best efforts of the other nations. In Germany, the novelette, or Novelle, was brought to perfection by the Romanticists of the nineteenth century. It remained for America to win supremacy in the field of the short story. Mr. Edward J. O'Brien, instituting in 1915 an annual volume of the best American short stories, remarked, "The American short story has been developed as an art form to a point where it may fairly claim a sustained superiority, as different in kind as in quality from the tale or conte of other literatures."

If one inquires into the reason for this superiority, he will not discover it in the great bulk of the material which floods our periodicals, for though quantity of production expresses a live interest in the form it does not necessarily spell quality. He will find it rather in the adroit adaptation to material of a flexible form which still cherishes the fundamental principles of the genre; and in the recognition by our best writers that the surest means of creating a permanent literature is to reflect in it the various phases of our national life.

The short story as a literary form is a comparatively recent development dating back little earlier than the middle of the nineteenth century. There were of course ancient fables and tales in which usually a single episode was given special significance, or a string of episodes tied together with only the frailest of unifying devices.

The Egyptian, Indian, and Persian tales of the marvelous, the Hebrew lyrical narratives, the Greek and Roman animal fables, and later the sagas of the Norsemen and the lays of the Normans, to say nothing of the early narratives of many less vigorous races, show us at a glance the delight our ancient ancestors took in the fiction then in vogue.

With this popularity as an urgent force, it is strange that the form was so inert. The drama was brought to an early perfection among the Greeks and later under different skies burst forth with renewed vigor during the Renaissance; the essay rose to sudden favor, and declined; and the novel, which still holds a noble place in prose literature, suddenly eclipsed all its rivals. The tale, however, was almost static, although the practice

example, analysis of character in Stevenson's "Markheim" and analysis of situation in A. Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories) and the purely adventurous, the horrible and the humorous. There are stories that develop from an introductory expository paragraph; those that present the situation by means of dialogue; and those that jump immediately in medias res for the purpose of riveting the reader's attention by a bit of vivid action. There are stories whose inevitable conclusion one anticipates, watching with a sort of hypnotism the trend of Fate; and those in which he is purposely led astray so that the surprise ending may furnish the thrill of the unexpected, a literary device which O. Henry delights in.

The list is almost endless. It will be advisable, however, to emphasize the standard classification which is based on permanent elements of the Short Story. Every story has action (or plot), characters who participate in the action, and background for the action and the characters (or setting). In the compound of these three factors, one usually predominates. Either the author has an unusual situation whose resolution he wishes to make the chief interest, manipulating people and setting best to achieve this, as does De Maupassant in "The Necklace"; or a character, like "Will o' the Mill" or Boaz Negro ("Footfalls") whom he places in that environment and situation which will illuminate a particular trait; or (more seldom) an atmosphere whose influence on the characters and their action is intended to be the central point of the story. If this atmosphere depends purely on locality, the result is the "local color" story, in which dialectic peculiarities, strange quirks of character, and unusual ethical and moral codes play a great part. Poe's "Fall of the House of Usher" is an almost incredible achievement in pure atmosphere, while Anzia Yezierska's "Fat of the Land" gives an accurate picture of the New York ghetto.

There is sometimes a fourth type to add to this classification: the thesis story.

When an author subordinates the artistic purpose to the didactic, and arbitrarily arranges plot, characters, and setting in the pattern best adapted to the presentation of an idea, he is dropping the rôle of artist for that of propagandist. And yet some writers possessing extraordinary imaginative and creative powers have used this form effectively. Nathaniel Hawthorne had so much of the moralist in his nature that his characters often appear rather as symbols of vices or virtues than as human beings, and even external objects like the "minister's black veil" bear an inner meaning.

If one compares a number of recent short stories with an equal number of the period before the 1890 mark, he will notice several important changes. Of late there has been a tendency to allow the Short Story a greater length than either Poe or De Maupassant would accede to. Stories by Irvin S. Cobb, Fannie Hurst, and others often reach ten thousand words, approaching in length but not in composition the novelette. Then, too, the dialogue approximates more closely the language of speech, avoiding the opposite extremes of "fine writing" and of burlesque. The increase in amount of this dialogue as compared with the practice of the pioneers is also significant, for it means that the modern short story writer is borrowing more and more the dramatic method, and instead of relating laboriously each incident, is laying on the characters the burden of carrying much of the action through their conversation. But all this is incidental to the great changes that are due to the winning of new fields for the Short Story-fields which modern science, psychology, and education have opened, and for the expression of whose spirit and content old forms must give place to new.

Definitions and classifications are usually inadequate. They represent what the critic has learned from the artist, not what the critic, drawing from some fund of a priori knowledge, is going to teach the artist. It is indeed fortunate that often the writer, the painter, the musi

cian refuses to be confined within those circles with which self-appointed arbiters have circumscribed his art. By his defiant violation of principles founded on past performance he opens a door through which his art can advance from old victories to new defeats, gaining strength like Antæus with each overthrow; for this is the eternal law of change.

And so the Short Story rising above its formula, like a genie from a bottle, appears momently in new and varied

forms. Else how shall we account for and classify the work of Sherwood Anderson, Waldo Frank, Anzia Yezierska, and Anton Chekhov? Either we must allow a bulge in some of our critical definitions, or invent other terms to denote new genres. Whichever we do, the sincere artist will continue in the path of his natural genius, whether it be toward Romanticism or Realism, conventional form or experimentation, and be not at all abashed.

Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah the son of Amittai, saying, "Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me." But Jonah rose up to flee unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord, and went down to Joppa; and he found a ship going to Tarshish: so he paid the fare thereof and went down into it, to go with them unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord.

But the Lord sent out a great wind into the sea, and there was a mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship was like to be broken. Then the mariners were afraid, and cried every man unto his god, and cast forth the wares that were in the ship into the sea, to lighten it of them. But Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship; and he lay, and was fast asleep.

So the shipmaster came to him, and said unto him, "What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish not."

And they said every one to his fellow, "Come, and let us cast lots, that we may

know for whose cause this evil is upon

us. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Jonah. Then said they unto him, "Tell us, we pray thee, for whose cause this evil is upon us. What is thine occupation? and whence comest thou? What is thy country? and of what people art thou?"

And he said unto them, "I am an Hebrew; and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, which hath made the sea and the dry land."

Then were the men exceedingly afraid, and said unto him, "Why hast thou done this?" For the men knew that he fled from the presence of the Lord, because he had told them. Then said they unto him, "What shall we do unto thee, that the sea may be calm unto us?" for the sea wrought, and was temptestuous.

And he said unto them, "Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be calm unto you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you."

Nevertheless the men rowed hard to bring it to the land; but they could not: for the sea wrought, and was tempestuous against them. Wherefore they cried

unto the Lord, and said, "We beseech thee, O Lord, we beseech thee, let us not perish for this man's life, and lay not upon us innocent blood: for thou, O Lord, hast done as it pleased thee."

So they took up Jonah, and cast him forth into the sea: and the sea ceased from her raging. Then the men feared the Lord exceedingly, and offered a sacrifice unto the Lord, and made vows.

Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.

Then Jonah prayed unto the Lord his God out of the fish's belly, and said:

"I cried by reason of mine affliction unto the Lord, and he heard me;

Jonah the second time, saying, "Arise, go unto Nineveh, that great city, and preach unto it the preaching that I bid thee."

So Jonah arose, and went unto Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days' journey. And Jonah began to enter into the city a day's journey, and he cried, and said, "Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown."

So the people of Nineveh believed God, and proclaimed a fast, and put on sackcloth, from the greatest of them even to the least of them. For word came unto the king of Nineveh, and he arose from his throne, and lay his robe from him, and covered him with sackcloth, and sat in ashes. And he caused it to be proclaimed and published through Nineveh by the

For thou hadst cast me into the deep, in the midst of the seas;

And the floods compassed me about: all thy billows and thy waves passed over

me.

Then I said, 'I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.'

The waters compassed me about, even to the soul:

The depth closed me round about, the

weeds were wrapped about my head.

I went down to the bottoms of the mountains; the earth with her bars was about me forever:

Yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O Lord my God. When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord:

And my prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple.

They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy.

But I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving;

I will pay that that I have vowed.
Salvation of the Lord!"

And the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land. And the word of the Lord came unto

"Let neither man nor beast, herd nor flock, taste any thing. Let them not feed, nor drink water: but let man and beast be covered with sackcloth, and cry mightily unto God. Yea, let them turn every one from his evil way, and from the violence that is in their hands. Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, that we perish not?"

And God saw their works that they turned from their evil way, and God repented of the evil that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did it not.

But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry. And he prayed unto the Lord, and said, "I pray thee, O Lord, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto Tarshish: for I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil. Therefore, now, O Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me: for it is better for me to die than to live."

Then said the Lord, "Doest thou well to be angry?"

So Jonah went out of the city, and sat on the east side of the city, and there made him a booth, and sat under it in the shadow, till he might see what would