THE INVADING GOTH OF LITERATURE

BY WILLIAM NORWOOD BRIGANCE

SOONER or later it was inevitable.

We have efficiency experts in industry; we have them in government. We have them in the trades; we have them in the professions. We have them in our schools; we have them in our churches. It was inevitable, sooner or later, that they should invade the fields of literature. It was equally inevitable that, arriving there, they should, as Goths in the Imperial City of Rome, find small merit in the tapestries of art which for centuries have been treasures of the literary world.

Verily, as the invading Goth of Literature comes the Efficiency Expert in Language. Raucously he laughs at those finer textures in the fabric of literature which have been variously called weave and warmth, color and beauty, shading and subtlety. He is scornful, even, of those coarser textures of language, pedagogically known as clearness, force and ease. Brevity is his shibboleth. Brevity. Brevity only. "These old writing fellows," he exclaims, "were ridiculous word wasters! But wasted words mean wasted time! And Time is Money!" And money, it seems, is everything.

It is no mere ordinary boiling down that the Efficiency Expert demands. It is a super-boiling, to use an adjective in high favor with his clan. Nor does he stop at the uttermost limits of grammatical condensation. What cares the E. E. for grammar? It is to laugh. Key words alone are needed. All others are unnecessary. As with the scripturally offending right eye, they are to be plucked out and cast from us. To illustrate, no longer would the Efficiency Expert in Language have us open a conversation with that convenient and classic bromide:

"This is nice weather we are having, is it not?"

Too many words, he growls, and our friendly inquiry is cut to: "Weather nice, eh?"

Seven words are saved, or seventy per cent. of the total. And words, remember, mean time, and time means money. Again, the word squanderer of the past might have written:

It was evening. The tropical moon filtered through the green verdage, casting speckled shadows upon the jungle floor. It was a perfect camouflage for the spotted cat crouched in the shadows, awaiting the approach of the unsuspecting prey.

But the Efficiency Expert in Language lets out a roar of disgust. Twenty-six wasted words! He slashes the copy and we have this:

Evening. Tropics. Moon shines through leaves. Speckled shadows hide tiger awaiting prey.

Thus is made a word saving of eighty-three and eight-ninths per

cent.

Ah well! We who loved the old weave and warmth, color and beauty, shading and subtlety of language as it once came from the touch of a Master, may sigh that it was in our generation when the Goths broke over the Alps and invaded the literary plains of Italy-but we bow to the yoke. Some of us, with a tortured smile, may even manage to join the Gothic ranks, since by so doing we might make the yoke easier for our weaker brethren and our children. We turn to rewriting a few of our beloved Old Masters, that they may not be wholly lost in the Literary Dark Ages which are to follow. We naturally start with Shakespeare and modestly offer herewith the revised version from the court room scene in The Merchant of Venice:

Portia (to Shylock):- Tarry. Bond gives no blood. Pound flesh only. Cut pound. But if shed one drop blood, Venetian law confiscates lands-goods. Shylock:- So?

Portia: See act. Thou urgest justice. Thou gettest justice.

Shylock:— Christian keep flesh. Take ducats.

Bassanio:- Ducats here.

Portia Hold. Jew gets flesh only. But dies if sheds blood or cuts pound

not exact.

After reading this, even the worst enemy of the Efficiency Expert in Language relents. He pardons something to Brevity. Such a Merchant of Venice could be run off in twenty minutes!

Longfellow by this standard, of course, was insufferably verbose. But since it would be unfair to deprive our children, through no fault of theirs, of such otherwise delightful reading, the words of this children's poet offer a magnificent opportunity to some enterprising Efficiency Expert in Language, working, let us say, for his doctorate in Efficient English. Here is a sample of how the trick can be done:

Shot arrow in air,

Fell, knew not where;
Faster than sight
Followed in flight.

It will be readily seen that, when all of Longfellow's works are so compressed, every child can read two poems where only one was read before.

Rudyard Kipling offers a problem apart, for I am told upon high authority that he sells his poetry by the word and that the price of every word comes high. Quite reasonably Mr. Kipling will resent the attempt of Efficiency Experts in Language to throw away any of his high priced words. But perhaps he can insist upon being paid for the verbose version. Anyhow that is Mr. Kipling's problem. Here we cannot officially recognize it. The reader will recognize below the fourth stanza of the Recessional from which seventeen words, or 40.5 per cent., have been saved: If drunken power makes loose

Wild tongues without Godly awe-
Boasts like Gentiles use,

Or others outside Law-
Stay God yet,

Lest we forget.

Of course this still has a few surplus words slopping over, left there to preserve the rhyme. But if, in this new age, blank verse should wholly supplant this uselessly verbose poetry of rhyme, another six words might easily be cut from this stanza, or even

more.

But this great principle of Efficiency in Language has much closer, and more practical, applications. Indeed it may prove in two directions a new era in social progress, a veritable boon to mankind. I refer to the relief that will be afforded from the

verbose, leather lunged political orator and to the profound advantages opened to users of the long distance telephone. Verily when the Efficiency Expert in Language comes to his own, never again must a bored audience suffer, as in the past, over a peroration of this species:

A-a-a-h-h, my fellow countrymen, ours is a glorious land, abounding in opportunity and flowing in milk and honey. The American eagle is the symbol of our high achievement. The gr-e-a-t dome of our national capitol is reared upon the altar of a democratic government. The Statue of Liberty is the Magna Charta of a f-r-e-e people. The wind-tossed S-t-a-r-s and Stripes are the color bearers of our spotless character-the red for bravery, the blue for sincerity, and the white for purity. May we, by supporting this, our glorious party, give these insignia of our fathers into the hands of our children as unsullied as they were given into ours.

Blessed relief would be afforded by a curtailment to something after this fashion:

Countrymen, ours glorious land-opportunity, milk, honey, American eagle, symbol of achievement. Capitol dome, altar of democracy. Statue of Liberty, Magna Charta of freedom. Flag, color bearer of character. Keep unsullied. Support party.

Already we have been saved from seventy and three-elevenths per cent. of the words. More cannot be asked, even by the Efficiency Expert in Language, from any leather lunged political aspirant. But the reporting newspaper can easily shrink it another twenty-seven per cent. flat, and, after announcing that the Honorable Candidate Leather Lunger addressed the citizens of the city, report the speech as follows:

Content, political hokum.

Thus is the speech cut to two and eight-elevenths per cent. and readers of the morning paper are allowed to dispose of coffee and toast still warm! But only with the long distance telephone will the potentialities of this new era be attained. Business conversations of this new era we shall quickly pass over, since the efficient age in business is already upon us. The machine gun staccato of the business man's written language is so well known that it requires no imaginative stretch whatever to hear a high voltage conversation of this amplitude flashed across the wires:

Bennett speaking-Bennett-Bennett Wholesale. Regarding order tenth instant change to twelve gross cans high grade peas, eight ounce.

And back snaps the answer:

Change noted.

The receivers click. A hundred words are saved.

But it is another class of persons to be most benefitted. I once knew a near-penniless but ardent young suitor who spent $16.35 of borrowed money to listen for a few minutes by telephone to the voice of the one girl in all the world, separated from him by half a continent. To this tribe will the Efficiency Expert in Language become the patron saint of courtship. Telephone companies will doubtless offer half-minute express service at proportionately reduced rates. Then, in this new age, when any young suitor feels that anguished urge to hear the voice of the one girl in all the world, to whisper the eternal question which is to make his future either a dismal abyss or a glorious light "that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," at such a time he need neither trust his emotions to the cold and lifeless written page nor yet squander his borrowed substance in a prolonged, old-fashioned telephone call. The half-minute express service and the Efficiency Method in Language are at his service. Trained to skip that useless preliminary known as small talk, he can jump at once to the heart-burning issue. Over the telephone wires will go a message after this fashion:

Mary, love you forever. Marry me-conquer world. Refuse die broken heart. Answer quick.

And back will come this soft spoken, and we doubt not, blushing

answer:

S-S-Sudden, but love you too. Go conquer world.

Thus not only are two lives made happy, but the case for the Efficiency Expert in Language is given irrefutable proof. Waste of words is waste of time. And Time is Money. A $16.75 telephone bill is cut to $2.15!