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The Ruling Passion [0]

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The Ruling Passion



by Henry van Dyke






A WRITER'S REQUEST OF HIS MASTER





Let me never tag a moral to a story, nor tell a story without a

meaning. Make me respect my material so much that I dare not slight

my work. Help me to deal very honestly with words and with people

because they are both alive. Show me that as in a river, so in a

writing, clearness is the best quality, and a little that is pure is

worth more than much that is mixed. Teach me to see the local

colour without being blind to the inner light. Give me an ideal

that will stand the strain of weaving into human stuff on the loom

of the real. Keep me from caring more for books than for folks, for

art than for life. Steady me to do my full stint of work as well as

I can: and when that is done, stop me, pay what wages Thou wilt, and

help me to say, from a quiet heart, a grateful AMEN.







PREFACE





In every life worth writing about there is a ruling passion,--"the

very pulse of the machine." Unless you touch that, you are groping

around outside of reality.



Sometimes it is romantic love: Natures masterpiece of interested

benevolence. In almost all lives this passion has its season of

empire. Therefore, and rightly, it is the favourite theme of the

storyteller. Romantic love interests almost everybody, because

almost everybody knows something about it, or would like to know.



But there are other passions, no less real, which also have their

place and power in human life. Some of them come earlier, and

sometimes they last longer, than romantic love. They play alongside

of it and are mixed up with it, now checking it, now advancing its

flow and tingeing it with their own colour.



Just because love is so universal, it is often to one of the other

passions that we must look for the distinctive hue, the individual

quality of a life-story. Granted, if you will, that everybody must

fall in love, or ought to fall in love, How will he do it? And what

will he do afterwards? These are questions not without interest to

one who watches the human drama as a friend. The answers depend

upon those hidden and durable desires, affections, and impulses to

which men and women give themselves up for rule and guidance.



Music, nature, children, honour, strife, revenge, money, pride,

friendship, loyalty, duty,--to these objects and others like them

the secret power of personal passion often turns, and the life

unconsciously follows it, as the tides in the sea follow the moon in

the sky.



When circumstances cross the ruling passion, when rocks lie in the

way and winds are contrary, then things happen, characters emerge,

slight events are significant, mere adventures are transformed into

a real plot. What care I how many "hair-breadth 'scapes" and

"moving accidents" your hero may pass through, unless I know him for

a man? He is but a puppet strung on wires. His kisses are wooden

and his wounds bleed sawdust. There is nothing about him to

remember except his name, and perhaps a bit of dialect. Kill him or

crown him,--what difference does it make?



But go the other way about your work:



"Take the least man of all mankind, as I;

Look at his head and heart, find how and why

He differs from his fellows utterly,"--



and now there is something to tell, with a meaning.



If you tell it at length, it is a novel,--a painting. If you tell

it in brief, it is a short story,--an etching. But the subject is

always the same: the unseen, mysterious, ruling passion weaving the

stuff of human nature into patterns wherein the soul is imaged and

revealed.



To tell about some of these ruling passions, simply, clearly, and

concretely, is what I want to do in this book. The characters are

chosen, for the most part, among plain people, because their

feelings are expressed
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