According to them physical world has an appearance of phenomenal existence. The perfect triangle or circle exists in our mind in idea and not only on the board or on the paper. While Realism asserts that there is a true reality outside the mind for responding to our conception and perception.
The complete and particular is not real than the abstract and the universal. Thus, for realism reality is objective rather than subjective. Realism regards the world of physical reality as truely fundamental thing is experience. The physical world is objective and factual. The relism reagards the personal wants as subjective, subordinate and secondary.
Realism is not prepared to accept the existence of an infinite or absolute mind as the idealism does. According to realists mind has been in the course of evolution and is also a part of the universe. Realism is a philosophy of common sense and also the philosophy of science. Realists do not believe in idealists, unreal theory, which has no relation to present life.
They opine the truth of life and aim of life is the development, from the present systematic life. Just as naturalism came on the educational scene as a protest against systems of training that have become artificial, so realism tends to appear as a reaction against curricula consisting of studies that have become bookish, sophisticated and abstruse.
In education realism is responsible for movement towards an education that concentrates on realities of life. Their clientele was enormous; yet the attitude of Maupassant towards that clientele gives the impression, constantly, of being that of a lawyer; his interest and sympathy are detached, cold, objectively directed; the impression is often that, in spite of his energy and carefully simulated interest, he is really wondering if there is not something he can get out of it.
Is the woman frail? Has the man money? It is not uncommon for Maupassant to laugh at his people, or to give the impression of despising them, both effects being slightly repellent. I only present them as they are. His is by no means the attitude of the lawyer, but of the doctor—very naturally, since his first profession was medicine—holding the patient's hand by the bedside.
His receptivity, his capacity for compassion, are both enormous. But how did they come to this, how did it happen? There may be some trivial thing that will explain. In Maupassant's case the importance of that key would have been inexorably driven home; but as we turn to ask of Tchehov if we have caught his meaning aright it is to discover that we must answer that question for ourselves—for Tchehov has gone. Inquisitiveness, the tireless exercise of a sublime curiosity about human affairs, is one of the foremost essentials of the writer.
It is a gift which both Maupassant and Tchehov possessed in abundance. But both possessed, in a very fine degree, a second dominant quality, a sort of corrective, which may be defined as a refined sense of impatience. One of the directest results of inquisitiveness is garrulity; perhaps the worst of society's minor parasites are not nosey-parkers, but those who will not stop talking.
We are all gossips by nature; it is an excellent gift to know when to hold the tongue. Too few writers have a sense of personal impatience with their own voice, but it was a sixth sense to Maupassant and Tchehov, as it is in some degree to every short-story writer of importance at all. Both knew to perfection when they had said enough; an acute instinct continually reminded them of the fatal tedium of explanation, of going on a second too long. In Tchehov this sense of impatience, almost a fear, caused him frequently to stop speaking, as it were, in mid-air.
It was this which gave his stories an air of remaining unfinished, of leaving the reader to his own explanations, of imposing on each story's end a note of suspense so abrupt and yet refined that it produced on the reader an effect of delayed shock. It is very unlikely, of course, that Tchehov was wholly unaware of this gift, or that he did not use it consciously. Yet if writers are only partly conscious of the means by which they create their effects, as it seems fairly obvious they are, then what appears to be one of Tchehov's supreme technical gifts may only be the natural manifestation of something in the man.
From his letters you get the impression that Tchehov was a man of the highest intelligence, personal charm, and sensibility, a man who was extremely wise and patient with the failings of others, but who above all hated the thought of boring others by the imposition of his own personality.
Most of his life he was a sick man, deprived for long intervals of the intellectual stimulus and gaiety he loved so much, yet he never gives an impression of self-pity but rather of self-effacement. Tchehov's charm, the light balance of his mind, and his natural gift of corrective impatience were bound to be reflected in the style he used, and it is impossible to imagine Tchehov writing in that heavy, indigestible, cold-pork fashion so characteristic of much English fiction of his own day.
In describing the countryside, the scenery, the weather, for example, Tchehov again exhibits a natural impatience with the obvious prevailing mode of scenic description; in his letters he shows this to be a conscious impatience, and condemns what he calls anthropomorphism: In that sense, perhaps more than any other, Maupassant and Tchehov are much alike. Both are masters in what might be called the art of distillation, of compressing into the fewest, clearest possible syllables the spirit and essence of a scene.
Both were capable in a very fine degree of a highly sensuous reaction to place. Both, more important still, were capable of transmitting it to the page:. The tall grass, among which the yellow dandelions rose up like streaks of yellow light, was of a vivid fresh spring green. Beyond the poplar stretches of wheat extended like a bright yellow carpet from the road to the top of the hills.
Of these two descriptions, so simple and yet so vivid pictorially and atmospherically, each creating its effect in the same number of words, it would be hard to say at random which was Tchehov and which Maupassant: The words are like clear, warm, delicate paint.
Contrast their effect with what Mr. It was a spot which returned upon the memory of those who loved it with an aspect of peculiar and kindly congruity. Smiling champaigns of flowers and fruit hardly do this, for they are permanently harmonious only with the existence of better reputation as to its issues than the present. What are we listening to? Hardy is not painting a picture, but is talking about what he sincerely believes to be a description of a picture.
His failure is highly pompous, entirely uninstructive, and unconsciously amusing. It is not even the failure of a man trying to paint a small canvas with a whitewash brush; it is the failure of a man trying to paint a picture with a dictionary. Neither Maupassant nor Tchehov was ever guilty of this mistake; neither was a dictionary man. From both one gets the impression that they might never have kept such a thing as a dictionary in the house.
The style of both conforms consistently to a beautiful standard of simplicity—direct, apparently artless, sometimes almost child-like, but never superficial. In Maupassant it is a simplicity that is brittle, swift, logical, brilliant, and hard as a gem; in Tchehov it is clear, casual, conversational, sketchy, and delicate as lace.
Both, however, were capable of genuine elaboration, as and when the theme demanded it, so that both are masters in a wide range not only of subjects, moods, and pictures, but of forms also.
It is indisputable that both were great writers, but if we look for a common and insistent characteristic, or lack of one, which sets them apart from English writers of their own time, we are faced with the fact that they were not gentlemen.
In further discussing Scott, Mr. To the English novel a certain moral attitude, or at very least the recognition of the governing force of morality, has always seemed indispensable. One of its most luscious crops is that of the bitter fruits of sin.
Not until Samuel Butler turned up, with The Way of All Flesh, had any writer of the nineteenth century the courage to suggest that the fruits of sin are more often than not quite pleasant enough. Neither Maupassant nor Tchehov had much truck with sin; both declined to entangle themselves or their characters in the coils of an artificial and contemporary morality; both set down life and people as nearly as possible as they saw them, pure or sinful, pleasant or revolting, admirable or vicious, feeling that that process needed neither explanation nor apology.
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The following entry presents criticism on the representation of realism in world short fiction literature. Viewed as a reaction to romanticism, literary realism is written from an objective.
Free Realism papers, essays, and research papers. The Transition between Romantic Era to Realism Movement - In the late eighteenth century, a movement spread throughout the world that was known as the Romantic Era.
Here is your essay on Realism: Aristotle is recognised as the Father of Realism. To understand the philosophy of realism, it is necessary to examine the conditions prevalent in the middle Ages. In the middle Ages the bookish and unreal knowledge was the order of the day in Europe. Consequently there was a wide gap [ ]. Keywords: realism essay, realism literature, realism theory literature In general, realism can be defined as the aspect of tending to lean towards being factual and practical on matters of life by representing things, actions, or social circumstances in point of fact, without presenting them in their conceptual form and neither without the influence of feelings or other artistic ideas.
Unlike most editing & proofreading services, we edit for everything: grammar, spelling, punctuation, idea flow, sentence structure, & more. Get started now! This essay will seek to discuss how realism and its main principles can be useful in understanding current events in international relations. According to online source, donnievales9rdq.cf, realism is the way how we perceive things in life, accepting them for what they are.