IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 7 // ^/ M z ^ 1.0 I.I 11.25 1^128 |2.5 1^ 1^ 12.2 Miuu 1.4 11.6 R' ''^ '/ Photographic Sciences Coiporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 mm' R' CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notes techniques at bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images In the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checlced below. D D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagAe Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurte et/ou peiliculAe Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque □ Coloured maps/ Cartes gAographiques en couleur □ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bieue ou noire) D D D D Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ ReliA avec d'autres documents Tight binding may causa shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serrAe peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge IntArieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appeer within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ 11 se peut que certaines pages blenches ajoutAes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans la texte, mais. lorsque cela Atait possible, ces peges n'ont pas At* fiimAes. L'Instltut a microfilm* le mellleur exemplaire qu'll lul a M possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une Image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la methods normale de f ilmage sont indlquAs ci-dessous. □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur □ Pages damaged/ Pages endommagAes □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurAes et/ou pelliculAes D Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d«color*es, tachetAes ou piqutes r^ Pages detached/ l/^L Pages dAtachtes D Showthrough/ Transparence I — I Quality of print varies/ D QualM InAgaie de I'Impresslon Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du matAriel supplAmentaIre Only edition available/ Seule Mitlon disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to ensure the best possible Image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont AtA fllmAes A nouveau de fapon A obtenir la mellleure image possible. D Additional comments:/ Commentaires supplAmentaires: This ite^n is filmed et the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film* au taux de reduction indiquA ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X X 13X 16X 20X MX 28X 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Library of Congress Photoduplication Service L'exempiaire film* fut reproduit grAce h la gAnArosltA da: Library of Congress Photoduplication Service The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Les images suivantas ont At* reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at da la nettetA de rexomplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de fllmage. Original copies In printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est ImprlmAe sont filmAs en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la darnlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmAs en commenpant par la premiAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernlAra page qui comporte une teiie empreinte. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -^ (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaltra sur la derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN ". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre film As A dee taux de rAductlon diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, II est filmA A partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 t ^ THE STRUCTURAL PRINCIPLES OF STYLE! APPLIED. A MANUAL OF ENGLISH PROSE COMPOSITION. 1-' BY J. D. LOGAN, A. M., Ph. D. (Harvard). I'BOFBSSOH OF ENOUSH AND OF PHirX)SOPHV IN THB Statb Univehbity of South Dakota. ViaMILUOK, S. D, WIUEY * DANFORTH laoo 1 ^ f);9(>o OPYRIOHT, 1900, BY THE ArTHOH. All Rights Kesbbvbd. PiiKss OK THE Dakota Bbpublican, Vebmiluon, S. D. ^ TO V. S. L. ION, 8. D. ^ \o human empleyment is more free and calculable than the winiiinj,' of lan!,'uage. Undoubtedly there are natural aptitudes for it, as there are for farniinfj, seamanship, or being a good husband. Hut nowhere is straight work more etTective. Persistence, care, discriminatingobservation, ingenu- ity, refusal to h)se heart,— traits which in every other occupa- tion tend toward excellence,— tend toward it here with special security.— Ci. II. Palmer: SelfCtiltivation in English. ^ liable tlmn ire natural lanship, or work niorc ion, inyenu- lier occiipa- with special English. TOPICAL INDEX. fAOK vi I 4 Pkkkack • • '• • • • • iNTROlU'CriON • * • » • • • < Chaitkr I Style Defined.— The Aim and the Value of the Tr.actieal Study of Style.— The Methods, Old and New, of thus Studying Style.— The Method of this Textl)ook. Chaptbr II 3'"* The Fundamental Aspect of Prose Style: the Difference Between Speech and Written Com- position. — The Construction of n theme: Tarts and Principles.— The Abstract Construction of a Theme. — The Concrete Construction of n Theme: an Application of Principles to Origi- nal tlomposition and to Revision. Chatter III 9' Paragraphs: their Naiure and Function.— The Construction of Paragraphs: Principles and Methods.- -The Paragraph as an Independent Whole: the Principles and Methods of Inter- nally Arranging its Parts. — The Paragraph as. a Related Whole: the Principles and Methods of Interconnecting Paragraph with Paragraph. Chapter IV iS' Sentences: their Nature and Function. — The Composing of Sentences: Structural Principles. —The Punctuating of Sentences: Methods Based on the Length and the Form of Sentences. — Words as Materials of Composition: Principles of Choosing Them. ^ PRBFACE. The substauco of the treatise in Viand was delivered during the academic session of lHi)9- li»00 to the students of the State University of South Dalcota, in the form of lectures on the theory and the practice of English prose composition. I now publish these lectures in the form of a practical treatise; and I do so for purely practical reasons. First: I am too sound a psychologist not to know that every expert teacher must in the end adapt even the most excellent textbook to the needs of his pupils and to the peculiarities of his own methods of teaching; that, therefore, the text- book which meets the peculiar wants of a teacher, even if that textbook be of his own making, is the best for him. I publish my lectures solely in order to meet my own peculiar wants. Consequently I do not recom- mend my own textbook to any other teacher. Secondly: While indeed I am sincere in refus- ing to recommend my textbook in itself, I do recommend the method employed in it. The method itself is based upon an empirical study of how all good writers have become expert # I ^ and was of 1899- ilversity tures on sh prose 3tures in do so for am too at every even the s of his his own the text- nts of a his own )lish my my own )t recom- teacher. in refus- ;elf, I do it. The cal study e expert I PHKFACE. vil In composin;? and of how, even as experts, they actually do write. The method of my textbook is not an academic method: it is the actual method of good writers. Once I was con- vinced of this fact, I next went about seeking what principles (not rules) all good writers ompl«)yed in making their comi)ositions artis- tic wholes. I discovered only two princi- ple.s: namely, the principles that every piece of composition must express a single idea, and that the concrete expression of this idea must proceed in a logical order. These i)rin- ciples I have named Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. It seemed to me, then, as I made trial of my discoveries, that the results from the class-work fully verified the natural- ness and the inevitableness of my method. I do not, however, claim originality for the method: it always existed— outside of schools and colleges. I claim originality only for the basis of my method. 1 In another matter I have attempted in a small way an innovation. I have recom- mended a simple method of punctuating sen- tences. This method too is empirically based. In my studies of the history of English prose I noted that as the form and length of the literary sentence decreased, the number of ■ t:S ^ vili PRKFACK. points of punctuation decreased. (I) until in the best literature of today there appear very seldom more than three points, namely, the comma, the period, and the mark of interro- gation. If one, I say. were to write only short simple sentences, or. for the sake of variety, some complex sentences with only one subordinate clause, and some compound sentences with only two co-ordinate clauses, one would need to use in a simple way only the three points of punctuation noted above. My textbook. I am well aware, must have many blemishes, especially because the time spent in actual writing was very short, and because the ' copy ' was given from my own hands into the hands of the compositor just as he needed it. I cannot, however, regard my taking the 'pedagogical attitude' as a blemish. A critic, no doubt, will regard this attitude as unliterary. But while, for purely pedagogical purposes, I address my readers familiarly, still I use the personal pronouns ' You ' and ' I ' in a manner as consistent as possible with dignity and literary quality^ (1) "It win not be dlfflcult to llnd imputable literature, at least of the hitthest magazine (trade, renisterlntt as low as l.«0 predications per period, and as hish as sixty per cent, of simple senteiiees."-91ierman's AfwJMt(C8o/X-it«mt»re,Cliap.XX. p. 268. Cf. also Ohap. XXIU, p. 280. i. lli l *' !" 4 (I) until in the ! appear very s, namely, the rk of interro- to write only »r the sake of ces with only )me compound din ate clauses, mple way only 1 noted above, ire, must have cause the time ery short, and from my own ompositor just 3wever, regard attitude' as a vill regard this hile, for purely iss my readers ional pronouns ,s consistent as ary quality. lutable literature, ut sterlnis as low as l.«0 ty per cent, of simple e»t-e,Cliap.XX. p. 268. ■J u f.. I'RKFACK. ix For many suggestions I am indebted to the textbooks of Professor Wendell, of Professors Herrick & Damon, of Professor Carpenter, of Professor Mead, and of Dr. Baldwin. I have peculiar pleasure in acknowledging my debt to a booklet by one of my own teachers- -Pro- fessor Palmer's ' Self Cultivation in English." Valuable, indeed, as a method of composition. Professor Palmer's booklet was to me an inspiration: it made a seemingly dull business appear a delightful and noble task. I must express my thanks to Mr. E. H. Willey of the firm of Willey & Danforth, print- ers and publishers, for his very expert reading of the 'proofs' of the text; and to Mr. G. W. Williams, compositor and pressman of the same firm, for his patient and artistic work. J. D. L. Univetsity of Sout/t DakoUf, VermilWm, S.D., Oetiitier 2'th, mm. ''9,. .8 I f ^ ^ ■ INTRODUCTION. In this textbook I am concerned with solvin^r for you a problem. I am concerned with answering, in a practical way, this question: How may one become ex per f in l:ritin as possible, answer your questions, m the order in which you have asked them. ^ n CHAPTER I. STVl K I.K.-.SK1..-T.1K AIM AND THE VAl.l.E OK THK I'RAC TlCAl. STUDY OI-SIYI.E.-TIIK MKTllODS, OLD AN D NEW, OV THUS STL-DYINO STYLE—THE METHOD OK THIS TEXi'HOOK. • Style Definecl.-To detine any object, whether a 'thing,' or an 'animal,' one should do so in two ways. One should describe the external appearance of the object to be defined, and distinguish the me of the object. Suppose, for example, that you were to ask me to define the horse. I should begin by describing the external appearance —the color, size, weight, shape, gait, and speed— of the horse. But my definition would not be complete. I must tell you, further, whether the horse is a 'thing' or an ' animal ; ' and if an animal, how the horse differs from other animals in nature and in use. To make the matter all the plainer, here is my concise definition of the horse, such a definition as you would be likely to \ ^ THK. I'RAC- I AM) NEW, ) OV THIS object, le should describe (bject to e of the hat you I should pearance gait, and lefinition tell you, thing' or the horse re and in e plainer, he horse, likely to STYl.K l)i:i'INKl>. 5 find in the best dictionaries: 'The horse is a large domestic animal, usually white, 0f\- black, or brown in color; it excels other domestic animals in beauty, strength, speed, and docility; it is used chiefly for drawing or carrying heavy materials, And for con- veying persons from one place to another, whether on business or on pleasure.' Now suppose that instead of my giving you a merely verbal definition of the horse, I should, first, show you a horse actually at work in the field, or passing on the street, and then proceed to describe the nature and uses of the horse— would you not in that case all the better understand my definition. Precisely, then, in the same way as I have defined for you the horse, I shall define prose style. I shall, first, show you a piece of style; next, I shall point out its extei-nal appearance and its uses; and, finally, I shall make a concise 'working' definition of style('). a. (1) For wlmt liunifclluU-ly follows I iiin Indi-bted to IMofes- sor Barrett Wendeirs E^uMi ('"mpimUm, Clmpt»r 1. ^ PRlNCIIM.liS OK STVI.KS. The printed pajje, or the book, you are now reading' is a pieee of prose style. On first view, as you look at this printed page, what does style seem to be? Consider simply and solely what you see. As you look you see, tirst of all, little blaek marks, called letters; next, on closer view, you see groups of words, called sentences; and, finally, on closest view, you see groups of sentences, called paragraphs, and groups of paragraphs, called a book, or an essay. To the bodily eye, then, a piece of prose style appears to he simply groups of little black marks. This, however, is the outward and the most insignificant aspect of style. To know what style really is, you must un- derstand, further, how these little black marks came to exist at all, and why they are grouped together as you see them thus, for instance, on the printed page before you. The matter may be explained very shortly and simply. Before there existed any means of men's expressing their thought and STYLK nKFINF.I). , you are :yie. On ited page, Consider As you ck marks, iV, you see ices; and, groups of I groups of ;ssay. To prose style ^ittle black d and the tyle. To 1 must un- ittle black 1 why they them thus, age before ained very existed any bought and feelings by way of ' visible signs,' /. <'., by writ- ten or printed words, communication went on through 'audible signs,' /. r., by spoken words. This mode of communication, however, was necessarily very much limited in range and hampered in despatch. Ac- cordingly men invented a system of visible signs to represent the system of sounds by which men in the hrst instance s3mbolized to the outer eye the inner thoughts of the mind. Here is the matter in a nutshell : In the tirst place, our linguistic ancestors agreed overtly or tacitly that certain fixed sounds should be the signs of certain ideas; in the second place, as the need came about, our linguistic ancestors agreed that certain fixed marks should be the symbols of those fixed sounds which they had determined should represent their thoughts and feelings. Why, now, you ask, do these black marks — symbols of ideas — appear not only in groups, called words, but also in larger groups, called sentences and paragraphs ? ^ g i'Ki\ : ;;:;;r:;y ;v. -i:: ;'. -....•..t "o^ .n.,uu.t.v. .n ui>u^.m.. : ..n Irn. y to p«» m>m f.H/W/.«r. that Is. to <"'"»'""«• l"';^ ;„joy l..arMln« how to ...ak ..■at s.-ntwu-e or a tin. ly < on "TT;r;'L..a. U. »....., t.Uheyou.,KwHter te!,y. youiiK writtTH should never Itallelzo. f-i^taiMW^^a*^ V^v.i«>^* Tlir. STll'V OK STVl.K. It Ics of the ). Sin*.e moil.' or sliull put possible. ;onclucles with this ms: First, secondly, w Htuily of (In- |)liiin«-(l 111 iIk' my do Mils III a Ivtt In iiuiiikliid iip3 )r, in general, baby, that is ; by one and 'cry,' to tell it thinks at tuations. The ord to express [) matter how ;eling may be. lerstands what e child ' cries,' ad when really ies again, and t asleep when 3r the parents the child were ering from the I this happens, f'-nts are stupid, ; itself has only press different the child thus rally, is a being persons speak, a being that, despite its cries, says tiotliiuo-. You are wondering now, no doubt, wh)' I have explained in great detail what an infant really is. I have been, seemingly, over-explicit in this matter for two reasons. First, I wish you to realize vividly that from one point of view the fundamental difference between children and men is a difference in power of speech. In the second place, I wish you thus to see that men, despite their greater size and strength, would— or could — live no better life than do children, if men did not acquire full and ready power of speech. Without adequate and ready means of expressing their thoughts and feelings men would fail to live better than the beasts of the field: human life, as Hobbes said of it in another reference, would be, indeed, " solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." You may no longer doubt, I am per- suaded, the absolute value of possessing literary power. Without this power, says a great teacher, "all other human faculties ^ ^^ PRINCIPLES OF STYl.K. are maimed .... So mutually dependent are we that on our swift and full communication with one another is staked the success of every scheme we form. He who can explain himself may command what he wants. He who cannot 1 as, e.g., the /;//a;;/ cannot I is left to the poverty of individual resource; for men do what we desire only when persuaded. The persuasive and explanatory tongue is, therefore, one of the chief levers of life.'X*) For your own part, however, you may not have thought of this matter in this way. Rather, in your opinion, I dare say, the possession of literary power is merely an ^^accomplishment,' valuable and admirable in tht! same way as skill in playing the pianoforte, or in drawing and painting, or in writing poetry-an accomplishment, but not the mighty lever of li^e^^n>wopinu^ ,., G H Palmer: Sel/-CuHi.att.m (n EnaM-h. Ev^'-J y«"°« ;r;rir:Sert':Vu;:r::::u.oci o^ -m„« piai«E„«iuh prose. THK STUDY OK STYI.K. *l indent are lunication success of who can what he the infant individual lesire only isive and one of the , you may n this way. e say, the merely an admirable .laying the )ainting, or ihment, but )ur opinion, h. Every youni? sHiOuld read Pro- Its thirty piifjes iig plain English too, I believe, the chief aim of the study of English prose style is to make one expert in transforming the 'vulgar,' /. e., the com- mon, simple, idiomatic language of daily life into 'beautiful' English diction — b}- sacrificing naturalness, vigor, vivacity, and ease, to intricate or delicate phrasing, or to metaphor, poetical quotations, pedantic phraseology, and, as it is called, to word- painting. Let me tell you that this is not at all an aim of the study of prose style. Undoubtedly a proper aim of such study is to teach one to write with beauty, as well as with clearness and power. The true beauty of prose style, however, is nothing else than the beauty of ivell -ordered words, sentences, and paragraphs, whether it be in a learned treatise, a novel, a short story, an essay, a newspaper editorial, or a business letter. The chief aim, then, of the practical study of prose style is to aid one in becoming expert in expressing ade- quately one's thoughts and feelings by means of written words, rightly chosen and ';5SB(BBBISSIRlE^iSSFP15 ^ ! ^ PKlNCirLi:S OF STYLK. nature of st> le, an ^^^^ ^^ ^^ •::r:r;rLnwo,a. ..-y^^- ,„ay your fear Somepe ^ ^^^ natural aptitudes for wr tms v thepmno-forte ort ^^^„, js abso- athletic games No one^^ ^^ _^^^_^ ^^^ ,„ lutely devmd of the pow _^^^^^_.^ «"r''"''".h:?tma; be made very hard to be sure, the tasK ma> teacher, .uherhythepu^— ;;;;|;>j„^^,„^.„ :rrXp-Msas.lth..^^^^^^^^^^^ rotrhrsf^"-"---'""-^- Tin: MKTHOI) OF STUDY. (1 whole. ' Study of _ ok.-You J ibout the ; absolute )rose style, .ether you )me expert feeling by may be, jryou. Put indeed have prose style, for playing louses, or for :ver, is abso- learn how to 1 this matter, .de ver,y hard y the teacher, ning how to i learning how earty resolve , careful heed- ing the instruction given one, perseverance, and systematic endeavor are soon effective in making one a master of plain prose style. In nothing else indeed is "straight work" more effective. Straight work, however, does not mean brute labor. If, therefore, you doubt your own aptitude for learning to write plain English prose, and thus fear a necessity of an immense amount of toil on your part before you gain a mastery of prose style, you may put aside your doubts and fears. The gaining of a mastery of simple, idiomatic English prose style, let me assure you, is a matter neither of apti- tude nor of brute labor. You must indeed have common intelligence and you must perform at least an average amount of straight work. This granted, the acquiring of literary power is almost wholly a matter of method. As to methods of gaining a mastery of plain English prose style, there are but two that can be at all effective and in my opin- ion, only one of these two that can be really ^^pi.flflPSJM^!f*«««»'^ tW MI» < « » Jt^fc ' .W.W^'J '»i' -r'J ''V -v^^M^^^i^' /^ PK1NCIP1.KS OF STYLK. or easily eWective. Let me first, explain each of these methods, and, then, state which one 1 shall employ in this textbook. The two methods of which I shall here treat I shall name-the method of Im.tafon and the method of Original Compos,- tion. Both of these, no doubt, for the sake of efficacy demand on the part of the tdent original writing. The firs,, how- ever, can demand only that the ' substance of what is written be original; the 'form must be a direct imitation of the manner of another's writing. The second method demands that both the substance and the form of what one writes be strictly ongma, absolutely one's own. ' ha™, therefa. , named the latter the method of Ongmal Composition. It is not hard to •.ndej.tar.d the nature of these two methods, or to rate their practical worthC). Samuel Johns™, Sclf-CuIMwi«(on in Bnc'toh. PP. ^^ ^ THE MKTHOl) OF STUDY. '9 , explain :n, state extbook. lall here [mitation Composi- r the sake t of the irst, how- ubstance ' tie 'form' e manner id method :e and the y original, therefore, f Original understand i, or to rate el Johnson, mie and Bnottoh e Part» of BnflWh . I, and Palmer'* himself a great writer of English prose style, explicitly recommends the method of Imitation. "Whoever wishes," he says in closing his Life of Addison— " whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not osten- tatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison." Thus, too, Ben- jamin Franklin, a great American stylist, by his own example as well as by his suc- cess in attaining an excellent English style, recommends the method of Imitation. "About this time," says he in his Autobi- ography, " I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished if possible to imitate it. With that view I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment ^ r" 20 TRINCIPLKS OF STYLE. at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should occur to me. I then compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them." Skill, then, in writing prose style— ac- cording to the advocates of the method of Imitation— is to be attained by a constant reading of the works of reputable writers and by a patient and careful reproducmg of the form of their prose style. In this way the would-be stylist will, in due time, acquire the knack or the habit of expressing naturally his own thoughts and feeling m the diction, idiom, syntax, sentential struc- ture and rhythm, or what not, of some master of prose style. While this method may be thought to be excellent and effective enough, it cannot be with any success a universal method, if indeed it can be a method at all. It demands from the student of style a too high degree of intelligence and a too great amount of labor, both in reading and m ""v-jIW ^ THE MKTHOl) OF STUOY, •t had been vords that pared my liscovered them." style — ac- method of fi eonstant (le writers ;producing e. In this due time, expressing i feeHng in ;ntial struc- it, of some [jught to be , it cannot al method, at all. It style a too a too great ling and in writing. That the method of Imitation by these very demands cannot be the universal method is a fatal objection to it. Let me, however, summarize some general objections. Because, as a matter of fact, we do, in the first instance, acquire our diction, grammar, and idiom by imitat- ing others, and because imitation of anoth- er's prose style has been recommended by great authorities as an excellent and effective method of learning to write prose style, and, seemingly, has actually been found to be such, the advocates of the method of imita- tion virtually conclude that another method cannot be more excellent or effective. This is bad logic. Again: Those who recom- mend imitation as the surest way of ac- quiring a mastery of style ask us —at least the most of us— to move along the line of the greatest intellectual resistance. This is bad psychology. Finally, the advocates of the method of imitation practically assert not only that there is no royal road to learn- ing how to write good style, but also that, iiiittiiliin»Wft»''*' ^ H' aa PKINC'IIM.KS OF STYLK. * at least with themselves, there eternally shall not he one. This is had pedagogy. It is the duty of the teacher of English prose composition to discover and apply the least difficult method consistent with general effectiveness. That there is a much less difficult or cumbersome method and at the same time a much more effective one than that of Imitation cannot, in view of the experience of many teachers and of all writers, be doubted. The method of Original Composition has nothing to recommend it except its highly practical character. First, let psy- chology show that Original Composition is naturally fitted to be the /////r-rrw/ method. Demanding for its success, as it does, only common intelligence and no more than an average degree of straight work, it is a method that so far as plain prose style is concerned can in the hands of a sympathetic and competent teacher be as effective with children as with adults.(') T his method, ( I • See Ell/.^)^i^m^l«il>^K^T»i« ProWem ../ rXtmtyAatv Com- i« t j iri i trft/- THE METHOD OF STUDY. n ternally >Ky- It h prose he least general uch less d at the >ne than r of the 1 of all (position :cept its :, let psy- :)sition is method. [)es, only : than an :, it is a e style is ipathetic tive with i method, tmentatv Com- however, could not be such as it is if it did not have a sound basis in the nature of the human mind. Those who adopt and apply the method of Original Composition do not suppose that there is in the universe only mt/t(/. Rather, they know that there are minds: and that these minds differ in all sorts of ways. They know, too, that these minds are not by nature mere receptacles of wood and stone, but that, from the very beginning of their existence, are unceasingly active powers, early showing a tendency to create or construct. Even the infant's 'ba,' 'ba,' and other 'cries' are creative acts. Still more, human minds take delight in their own activity, in creating or construct- ing. In many things, no doubt, they must at first imitate others; but they would not imitate at all, if they did not have naturally VDtiUim, whtch aloiiK with Professor Piiluier's atlf-Cuitivaiion in EnoXith should he In the hands of every younK teacher of En>f- llshroinposltloii. Both little books are an Inspiration: they make a seemluKly dull business appear a delightful and noble task. ^ PKlNriPlKS OF STYLK. a tendency to be active -creative, or con- structive.(') The method of Oripnal Composition is based on those simple but fundamental facts of psychology which I have just stated above. If imitation, the advocates of this method say, is not really so much pure imitation as it is a mode of oripnal crea- tion, if we all must by repeated efforts learn to do well what we attempt to do at all, and, if even from childhood, we take delight in creating and constructing— then the natural method of gaining a mastery of prose style must be as far as possible one of original composition. The method, in short, of attaining a clear and vigorous, if plain, prose style is one which works "/e,v\ by imitation than by repeated and Tvell -directed e forts to 'vrite down on paper precisely the ihou^rhts thai are in our minds. (1) ThB teachiT should ri-iid .Iukk-h rniiehnlivii: Briefer Ci»in>e, num. XXIIt. pp. 470-471. iind Chitp. XXVI. pp. 415-»1«. In order to iH' iililu to o.xpliiln mori- fully tht> pHyfliolojry of thi" mctliodof ()rl«lmil (•ompositlon and to lllustriite the psycho- loKloul fu t. Till. MKTIIOU i)F STUDY. »i ive, or con- nposition is iindamental c just stated ■ates of this much pure iginal crea- efforts learn oat all, and, ake delight — then the a mastery as possible rhe method, nd vigorous, ^hich works epeated and wn Oft paper 'n our minds. For It is not expression that should govern our thou<,'hts, but thou^'ht expression, and // is h\ constantly conipariiio our ideas •L'itli our expression of them and sliiftiniy the form of our expression until it fits the tmly of our thought that we shall ^roiv most surely, even if not most rapidly( ? ), /■// the art which we are studyinii.'\ ' ) Ap'iin: Since the slightest psychology, as we have seen, has shown that the method of Original Composition naturall}' is fitted to be the universal method of acquiring a mastery of prose style, let now the experi- ence of all writers show that this method actually is the only universal one. To put the matter simply and convinc- ingly I shall begin with speech. The very first more or less articulate utterance of a child is an effort in original composition. I am not here in the least straining a point 1^ "mirhoUmu: liilefer XVI. pp.415-ttll.ln ■ pHjrL'liolovty of th<' sti'iitc till- psycho- it) G. K. Carpcntt'r: ExerrUes in Hhetorte and VompogitUm, Chap. I. Tlif ItallCH and the ok study. m- ntil by luth it Note, liction, y;es of iccord- imposi- g liter- stages: repeat- until a ot here ite fact. s is the /hether 1st. In le mind nd and oittline and the at they ey have p into a more or less rough whole; and finally, they revise or reconstruct, according to the prin- ciples and usages of style, the form and length of their sentences and paragraphs, and the details of their diction, grammar, and idiom, in order to make the total of what they have written a perfect or finished ■whole. (^) You may remember my saying above (p. 2i) that the method of Imitation would have one who seeks to acquire a mastery of style to proceed along the line of greatest intellectual resistance. You may now see that my statement is true. The method of Imitation would have a writer perform at one and the same time the outlining, the developing, and the revising of what one is writing. Trained or expert writers, to be sure, seemingly at one and the same time do at least outline and develop what ,1) see Wendell-s K«(/K*h 0»mp<.8«f..... pp. US. IKUM: Herrtck & n, mon's0.mp<.«Ht....«ml Rh^loric. Chap. H . P"!"";';; ^'f" Bmmu PP. T-8; Ha.nerton's T/.« ^"'f"^*,'" „^f ' ^'''^ "' ^' and XI, aud Balnton's Arl of Axithwmp. Chap. I. i:.fl;f-rii"Ti¥r"-^'°^- ^ 30 CKIN'CIPLF.S OF STYI.K. they have to say. Certainly, too, after due traininj^, these can be thus more or less read- ily done. But the jijenius, as well as the tyro, must go to infinite pains in the matter of revision, before what either of the two has written becomes a perfect or finished whole. The method of Imitation, therefore, if it be not wholly an impossible or abortive method, is at least highly cumbersome and unpractical. The true method of acquir- ing a mastery of prose style must be identical with the natural method — /. e., with the method universally used by writers in actually composing. As the method of Original Composition is the only one really used in the actual writing of prose, so must it be also the only natural or true method of teaching one how to write. To aid you in becoming expert— or at least much more expert than you are at present— in writing plain English prose style, I shall in this textbook employ the method of Original Composition. I shall employ this method somewhat as follows: te y< ar le m y O! e' h it it n /. / > ^ CiUaSi^s er due IS read- e tyro, matter he two inished ;refore, bortive me and acquir- ust be — /. e., writers thod of e really ;o must method — or at are at 1 prose )loy the I shall follows: THE METHOD OF STUDY. s» I shall have you write Whole Compositions, technically called Themes. I shall have you write, that is to say, short essays on any subject of which you have a more or less ready knowledge; chiefly on such matters of daily life as you talk about to your fellows on the street, in your home, or in the schoolroom. This will give you every chance to write readily. After you have written your theme, I shall criticize it in as human and happy a way as possible, in order to convince you that your theme may be improved by revision. My first task, then, is to show you Ji07V to outline or phvi the general substance and form of a theme. My second task is to show you, after you have expanded or developed, your outline into a Whole Composition, what are the principles of style according to -which you must revise your themes, so as to perfect the quantity and quality of your paragraphs and sentences, and to make as correct and expressive as possible your irrammar, idiom, and diction. Your first i i i 1iir il 'Tit«1itifl i]\fmr , M r /^ ;:a>;a:fe^Vi^v■iiii ^a , i:^^^^ . i^ . ^ui't . «»v? ii ??^V i ff^ r 32 PUIXCIPLKS OF STVLK. task is to express — more or less pell-mell — your thought and feeling in an original theme. Your second task is to apply siiiiply and solely in revision your know- ledge of the principles and rules of writing prose style to making your original com- position a perfect and finished whole.(') I have dwelt at length on these matters of the nature and use of style and the method of acquiring a mastery of it, that you may be induced to pursue it willingly and eagerly, and in the same way as those who actually possess a mastery of prose style, and that you may know your success is .assured, if you are brave, heedful, and (1) This Indeed Is the method of piOKreMS in any art: a more or less rouKh and ready creatliiK of a whole, and then— not till then— a perfecting of this roujih whole, accordInK to principles of tcchni(|iie. For verlHctttion, or Illustration of the fact, wit- ness the painter's 'sketches' and 'studies' made In the field or studio, the poefsor novelist's first • drifts.' or the musician's 'experiments' In moti/«. In 'developments' of themes, and In harmonies. The teacherof English ConuKwItlon must not be led astray In this matter by the fact that, e. p., an apprentice to a housebuUder does not learn his trade by first building a whole house, and then reconstructing It. In theory he should so learn his trade; but he Is prevented from doing so by the heavy materials he deals with, the cost of these, the large size of his structure, and the demand for quick construction. ^ iit>ii^.'*c:'^sm mell — iriginal app/y know- ivriting ;1 com- e-C) natters nd the it, that ilHngly IS those f prose success ul, and irt: a more 5n— not tin principles e fact, wit- the field or niuslclan'H les, and in t not be led ■entice to u tng aichole lid 80 learn the heavy size of his TIIK MKTHOl) OK STUDY. 33 persistent. If your own heart is right, and the method by which you arc instructed is sane and practical, no human employment is more free and calculable than the win- ning of full and ready literary power. /^ m ■ ^ te i w H WiiiMwJi ffli i .-.^,-^„^f-.-»-r^-^i»g»«r«'?4W»>l,fe'-^aa:; < CHAPTER II. THIC KITNDAMENTAI, ASPECT OF I'ROSE STYLE: THE DIFFEK- EXCES HETWEEN SPEECH AM> WRITTEN COMPOSITION. —THE CONSTRUCTION OF A THEME: PARTS AND PRIN- CIPLES.— THE ABSTRACT CONSTRUCTION OF A THEME.— THE CONCREIE CONSTRUCTION OF A THEME: AN APPLI- CATION OF PRINCIPLES TO ORIGINAL COMPOSITION AND ro REVISION. The Fundamental Aspect of Prose Style; Substance and Form.— In your opinion, I have no doubt, the acquiring of a mastery of prose style is altogether a matter of acquiring soiiiefhiuir to write. In your opinion, he is a good stylist who can write rapidly and readily on any subject. You are deceiving yourself: a study of the prin- ciples of style will not in the least help you to say — or to write — anything more than you can naturally express in speech. If the question of what, or how much, to write were the problem of prose style, would not a great stylist be one who could write a great deal on any subject ? Judged by such : ^ DIFFKK- OSITION. ND l-RIN- HEME. — N AIM'LI- ■lON AND ; Style; nion, I lastery tter of 1 your 1 write You le prin- elp you 'e than If the o write »uld not write a by such r -< .ii« l »l , ■ mMlf i lH ii . ' i » Y<^ ■"^" ." II - ' , i ^^ ii < M i !| i . i ) II H I f ii ' L 'f^ SUBSTANCE AND FORM. »> a standard, the only great stylists would be our 'newspaper reporters.' Consider the question from another, but allied, point of view— say, from the point of view of house-building. Why, e. jr., do we call one house-builder simply a 'carpen- ter ' or a ' joiner,' while we call another an ' architect,' as if the latter term were more dignified ? In suhstonce there is really no difference between a 'hut,' a 'log-cabin,' a ' dwelling-house,' and a ' palace.' There is, however, a great difference in struditre, or, as all artists call it, in /o/'w. An 'arch- itect,' therefore, as distinguished from a mere house-builder— from a 'carpenter' or a I joiner'— is one who in building anything, cares immensely for the form or structure of it as sucli : who aims at constructing what shall be not only serviceable, but also excellent or beautiful in its very structure.^) (1) The teacher of Etittllsh Composition should fully explain and illustrate this n.attepof structure. One may do so simply, as is n.y own custom In the classroon.. by showinR how structure Is a matter of the relcUioiu, of parts In a whole, and by using for Illustration Latin prose, music, and drawing. Since Latin Is an ^ :-y.f ■'■-^-■■:-'^-^^-»>-«i -"' -*' ' ' * * ' ' t " 1^i*>J*' ' 'w> - sportings, way their I dominant unity also enough has ;d together or penned en we have frail ties of ; compelled ph, a single Each part id the total er is to be 1 employer, ler, see that and an end. ithout these the great is in mind, iposition by first, what Kh, pp. 21-2;j. Let SUBSTANCE AND FOKM. 41 Structure, then, is the fundamental aspect of prose style. Structure itself is but order amongst the parts of a ivholc. Note the italicized words in the preceding sentence. Every organic whole must have parts ; every whole is made organic by a definite or h.ved order amongst itsi parts; the order in the parts and in the whole — so far as it is a human invention — is first preconceived in the mind, and then actually expressed in the materials forming the whole. The problem, therefore, of the practical study of prose style is: How may one gain a mastery of iriving order or fine structure to ivhat one is writing f What follows is, as the mathematicians say, a solution of this problem. The Gnistruction of a Theme: Parts and Principles. — Every organic whole, as I have said, has parts and a definite order me iiKain recorninend Professor Palmer's booklet. I know notliin); else that will so soon put one, student or teacher, In the rlKht attitude to English prose composition, or so soon make prose composition appear a worthy and dellKhtful task. Luminous throughout. Professor Palmer's book is also abso- lutely con vincinK. ^ 44 PRINCn'LKS Of STYLK. amoncjst its parts. Since we are concerned here only with a human invention, the supreme question is: Hoiv is an organic whole of prose — an essay or a book — made orderfiiU The answer is: By having its parts constructed according to principles. - Let me explain this matter familiarly. In constructing, say, a dwelling-house, the architect must apply certain rules, laws, or principles to the arramring of the materials into parts, and of the parts into an organic whole. Consciously, or unconsciously, an architect in building a dwelling-house em- ploys certain 'principles' of arithmetic and of geometry: say, e.g., the principle that twice two are four, or the principle that two straight lines cannot inclose a space, or the principle that parallel lines if projected infinitely will never meet. Consciously, or unconsciously, an architect in building a dwelling-house employs, also, certain prin- ciples of physics: say, e. g., the principle that all bodies gravitate to the center of the earth (tend to fall), or the principle ^ .:i' i1 i i'i^i"f''S"'^"'^".^'^' ■^i^i i ftfii■^ | ■VTf l l l J'- i i i -i i i r ii r. i n. | erned , the oranic made tig its iples. /. In !, the ws, or terials ■g a trie ;ly, an se em- ;ic anil e that e that ace, or )jected isly, or ding a n prin- inciple nter of ■inciple /'" SUHSTANCK AND FORM. 43 that Hght travels in straight lines; and so on. As an architect must have his principles — /. e., fixed rules by which, so far as structure is concerned, a house must be built, so a prose stylist must have his prin- ciples of structure, according to which words are to be composed into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and all these again into a well-ordered or finished whole. Now an organic whole of prose, as we saw (p. 40), must have a be.lnning, a middle, and an end; each one of ■ - large parts must be just itself, and ' dly so well- ordered that what should be written first is first, what should be written second is second, and what should be written last is last. Let me, then, show you how to construct (abstractly) a theme, according to its general parts and principles. The Abstract Construction of a Prose Theme.— Every prose theme, be it long or short, be it a book or an invitation to din- ner, must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the technical language of i ^ /^ i I 44 PRINCIPLKS OF STYLK. Rhetoric, every theme must have an Intro- duction, a Discussion, and a Conclusion. Your first business in constructing a prose theme is to plan or outline its general sub- stance and form: that is, to determine in general jv/iai you mean to write, and how you mean to introduce, discuss, and conclude whatever you may write. Keep well in mind our definition of prose style (Chap. I, pp. 4-9). To the bodily eye, I said, prose style appears to be simply groups of little, irregular, black marks, called words, sentences, and paragraphs: while to the mental eye prose style is the expression of men's thoughts and feelings — of related ideas — by means of written words composed, /. e., grouped together, into a well-ordered and finished whole. Mastery of prose style, literary power, means, then, mastery of composition — that is, of grouping together related ideas in their proper places and in their proper contiections. Keep well in mind, too, what this means. In any given piece of good ^ itro- iion. rose sub- \e in how lude •rose )dily nply irks, phs: 5 the lings itten ther, hole, wer, -that r.v /u oper ivhat »ood J ■ KSiJW i g-ffimy ^ I SUBSTANCE AND FORM. m prose style, I said (Chap. II, pp. 37-40), every sentence must be made to express a single idea; every paragraph, a single idea; every group of paragraphs or of chapters, a single idea: and so on. Each of these parts, small or large, must be in substance and form a preliminary whole, but so com- posed under a single or leading thought that the great total is a well-ordered and finished whole. The way, therefore, to a mastery of artistic composition is seemingly a mechanical matter. One must determine in view of what one means to say in all, what one should say first, what second, and what third or last in each of the preliminary wholes, be they sentences, paragraphs, chapters, or still larger parts. This is to say that always one must con- struct or compose what one is writing with an eye to unity of Substance and to unity of Form. These are the only fundamental and general principles of prose composi- tion.(') Now let me apply them, in order (1) since tlie ucqutriflg of a mastery of prose style is much ""■ ■!— ■ ^ 46 PRINCIPLES OF STYLE. to show you how to use them in construct- ing a theme in general. Suppose that you are ready to write a theme on, say, 'What Prose Style Really Is,' or on 'A Student's Room in Harvard College.' You are to make, as it is called, an abstract of your theme. In doing this you must employ the principles of Unity of Substance and of Unity of Form. You cannot employ these principles, until, first, you fix upon the point of view from which you will treat your theme. According to the title of the first theme your aim is to tell what prose style really is. From that point of view you would proceed somewhat as I have done in Chapter I of this text- book. You would, that is, aim to show, first, what prose style is in external appear- ance; and, next, what prose style is in more a matter of practice In writinK than of theory, the teacher of Enttllsh Composltfon should burden the minds of the studente of prose style with the fewest principles consistent with general effectiveness. For my own part, I And that two are sufficient: Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. In general meaning my own terminology corresponds to the more rHiiitliar termln- olosiy— Unity (of Substance). Mass. and Coherence (Unity of Form). ■ , ) teacher students I general ifflcient: meaning • tormln- Un\ty of SUBSTANCE ANO FORM, 47 real nature or in use. What you would write about these matters would be funda- mental. But you should in some way, proportionately to the main matters, intro- duce and conclude what is of fundamental importance. Your 'abstract' of the gen- eral substance and form of your theme on the real nature of prose style would then appear somewhat as follows: — WHAT PROSE STYLE REALLY IS. Introduction: ( i) The need of a sound definition of prose style. (2) Prose style must be defined in the same way as any other object, namely, from the point of view of (a) its external appearance, and (*) its use. Discussion: (i) The external appearance of prose style. («) As one looks one sets on a printed page only little, irregular, black marks, (*) appearing in groups, some small, some large. (2) The real nature of prose style: (n) The origin of these little black marks: (*) The meaning of the groups. Conclusion: A full definition of what prose style really is. Before I shall instruct you further in the matter of planning a theme, it is worth while to have another 'abstract' of a theme. Let the subject of the theme be— 'A Stu- ssam ■ vm^m' /^ 48 PKrNClPLES OF STYLK. dent's Room in Harvard College.' I may here make to you the same remarks as in the case of your first 'abstract.' You are to plan the general substance and form of your theme. In doing so you must employ the principles of Unity of Substance and of Unity of Form. As an aid to the employ- ing of these principles you should, first, select your point of view. Let me indicate your point of view by italicized words. In your theme you mean to describe^ not the room of any student you please, but the room of a student in Harvard College, and you mean to describe its appearances and its use. Every room has, as we say, an outside and an inside. The outside usually is of no significance; the inside alone is of real value. Every room, too, has its uses; sometimes it is a 'study,' sometimes both a study and, as they call it, a ' living-room.' The uses much more than the appearances of a room are of real value. In general, then, your theme would be constructed with these facts in your ^ SUBSTANCF, AND KOKM. 49 mind. You must, too, as before, introduce and conclude your theme, proportionately to the matter of the main discussion. You would, then, plan your theme somewhat as follows : A student's room in harvard COLLEGE. Introduction: (1) Accepled an invitation to a Harvard CoiiimcntemeiU. (2) Went a day earlier than necessary and spent the time in examining; the collesje l)uildings. (3) Struck by the uni(|ue appearance and varied uses of the students' rooms, and of one in particular. Discussion: (1) External appearance; door, transom, letter-box, name of the occupant in brass or card. (2) Internal appearance; general architecture, general furnishings, specific descriptions of these, and of their arrange- ments, decorations on the mantel and the walls. (3) Uses; the study, the living-room, the sleeping-room, method of transforming the whole into a reception-room for friends and relatives on Commencement day. Conclusion: A lesson learned: beauty and use should be valued ecpially ni the making of our dwelling-places. If now, on the basis of the instruction so far given, you were to expand or develop the topics outlined in the 'abstract ' of your theme, you would not, except by accident, I i >t ^ ig^ ''WJtSjHffyiTHBI mumm 50 I'KINCIl'LKS OK STYI.K. ♦^ ; , 1: have a well-ordered and finished whole. Your expanded theme would lack unity of Substance and unity of Form. Your theme would indeed have more or less unity of Substance, according' as you adhered more or less strictly to the topics of your abstract: all the ideas contained in your expanded theme would be aspects of one large idea. Your theme would have, too, more or less unity of Form, according as you adhered more or less strictly to the precise order of the topics outlined in your abstract: all the ideas contained in your expanded theme would follow one another in a more or less logical (natural) order. Unity of Substance and Unity of Form, however, are much //r)re than mere connection or order amongst a number of related ideas, or amongst the groups of ideas, called the principal parts of the whole. Let me, then, explain further the general nature or meaning of Unity of Substance and Unity of Form, and the general nature and relations of the principal parts— Introduction, Discus- i: C s I /^ SUBSTANCK AND K()IlonKs. under my Chapters on I'aniKraphs and Sen- tences. /^ s» I'RlMill'LKS OV STYLi:. and if a theme, secondly, as a thing of pcir/s, contain only ideas proper to the special point of view of each part— then a theme has a unity of Substance. Let your theme, e. ;'•., be 'A Student's Room in Harvard Collejre.' It shall have unity of Substance when, in general, the ideas expressed in it are not ideas about ony student's room, but about the room of a stu'h'ut in liarvai'ii College; and when, in particular, the ideas that naturally belong to the Introduction are placed there and nowhere else; and so on, as regards the ideas belonging to the Discussion, and to the Conclusion.(') Again: When it is said that ev ery prose (II Ooiiot lliltik tliiit be.MiUHi' till' priiiclpiil puitsof ii thfiiu- .•ontiilinini.nil)cr.)fri-luU.dl(i™H,M..anlio«(a»iMw pints; th.it. thoiffon-. unity of SulwMituM. Is .1 ..mtttT not (.Illy of u»/mt l.lf.is.. tht-ii..' hh a whole Hhull ooiitHln. but also of holt' rru.ni/ of tin- totiil iiuinber shall iH- pl.i.-f(l in WW prinolpiil |mrt«. The Introdu.-tlon. tlu> I)l»- .■ussloii. 1111(1 thii I'oncliislon art- /.rrmal parts. Tin- prliiL-lplf of Unity of Koini (In that aspKCtof Itcallefl Mussor Piopoitlon) must d.'ternilnv. aocordliiK to the ,elatlv.!/oim,.l value of each part, the rtXaUvt ivUue. and thus the rtXaliw pn.p'oiion of Ideas to be placed In each part. In artlsdc composition the pr nc p e of Unity of Substance Is (often) subordinate to the principle of Unity of Form. — w»v»w m Miiw ^ — to /^ "K of () the then a tlent's I have il, the lit any II of a len, in belong re and ds the and to f prose )f II thfiiie )Im('iis.sIoii. '. unity of iiM a whole iil)er Nhull I, till' Dls- prliiL'lpU' 'foimrtloiii Inc of oacli in of UltMis I' prliiiMpli' .' principle SlMtSTANli: AND FORM. || theme should have unity of Form, this also means two things. It means, tirst, that the ideas proper to a given general point of view should /^VAn:- one another from the beginning, through the middle, to the end of the theme in a looical order, /. fcr/.vof the whole should be proportionate to the importance of the parts, and thus appear respectively and unmistak- ably as the Introduction, the Discussion, and the Conclusion. If a theme, first, as a iL^hoh, have the ideas it may rightly contain arranged in a logical order, /. g., in an order natural to a given point of view, and if a theme, secondly, as a thing of parts^ have the parts themselves proportionate to their importance and thus clearly indicate their nature and use, their relations to the whole — then a theme has unity of Form. Let your theme, e. jr., be, as before, 'A Student's Room in Harvard College.' It I .1 ipjwmwiyw i wwi . * .— '■ '• — "-• ^ 54 PRINCIPLES OF STYLE. shall have unity of F.nm when, in general, it has a logical or natural order in the ideas it contains. The natural or logical order is a proceeding from what first appears or from what is of least importance to what last appears and is of greatest importance. The external appearance of a student's room is necessarily (logically) the first object you see, and it is also the least im- portant. The internal appearance is log- ically the second object you see, and it is also somewhat important. The uses of the room are logically the last object to appear, and they are of fundamental importance. The order in time and the order in value indicate the natural or logical order of expressing your ideas. Again: Your theme shall have unity of Form when, in partic- ular, its principal parts are logically related, and thus appear as respective parts, having respective functions. The parts are logi- cally related when they are constructed proportionately to the importance of the ideas they should contain as respectively %iiy icKunnifiifiiiii-iiiii'r iwiiO* nfitiililH wWm in general, in the ideas ffical order appears or ice to what importance, a student's •) the first he least im- ance is log- ee, and it is e uses of the ct to appear, importance, der in value al order of Your theme en, in partic- :ally related, 5arts, having irts are logi- constructed tance of the respectively -? .t.^^^-^j.-i.-r^y^v'ifiiair-M.iirfni HmfmtmmiMmmsi fci t SUBSTANCE AND FORM SS miiitmtiittm the Introduction, the Discussion, and the Conclusion. How you came at all to write ahout the room of a student at Harvard College is logically or naturally of less importance than the description of the room itself; and the external appearance, of less importance than the internal appearance; and the internal appearance, of less im- portance than the use of the room. The nature and relations of the parts, then, are made plain by the order and substance of the parts. In a well -constructed theme, unmistakably one can distinguish the Intro duction from the Discussion, and the Con- clusion from both. The relative -propor- tioning of the parts much more than the mere order of the i d eas indicates that a theme has or has not artistic composition.(^) In view of all I have just said, you cannot (1) The most IuiiiIiiouh Koiei'iil treatment of the principles of Unity of Substance and of Unity of Form Is to be found In WendeU's KnuUsh Compontffon, Chap. 1 and V. Any other Rood textbook on Rhetoric and Composition, such as HIU's, Mead's, Carpenter's, OenunK's. Herrick & Damon's, Hale's. Newcomer's, or Cairns', will furnish the student of style with more detailed knowledge and with Illustrative material. ■ ■^rwwsKT's^rast^^rv '-r:.?.V'.'j^vi'-.i*''ViJ"'*.' ^ If- 56 PRINCIPLES OF STYLK. fail to understand the nature and relations, in general, of the principal parts of a prose theme— the nature and relations of the Introduction, of the Discussion, and of the Conclusion.(') The Discussion is the funda- mental or chief part of a prose theme; the Introduction and the Conclusion are mmor parts. It all depends upon your pomt of view and your purpose in writing how you shall construct the parts of a theme, whether it be a great book or treatise, an essay, an editorial, or a business-letter. In general it may be said that an Intro- duction should be, proportionately to the main matters (Discussion), simple, direct, pertinent, and short; that the Conclusion should be, as the Introduction, simple, direct, short, and summary; and that the ,n The Introduction, tho Discussion, and the Conclusion of doesnot nmke a part tbe Intro^^^^^^ , ^^^^ ,u„ctlon of the conclusion. On the contr^^^^ ^^^ ^ on.det^rmlnes riS^rri'ar^".tlon in «pace Of the Ideas tohe expressed In any part. Cf. note 1, P- !«• ^ EXPANSION AND REVISION. 57 elations, : a prose of the id of the le funda- ;me; the re minor point of ing how a theme, iatise, an ;ss-letter. an Intro- ly to the le, direct, onclusion I, simple, . that the s Conclusion of arts, of course, (1 thus occupy isltlon In space Discussion, or nd function of on,clet«rmlne8 the Ideas to be Discussion should be elaborated propor- tionately to the point of view and relatively to the occasion and value of what is written, and to the general physical and mental characteristics of the writer's readers or hearers. Nothing more specific on these matters can be said here. If you thoroughly understand the general nature and meaning of the principles of Unity of Substance and of Unity of Form and the general nature and relations of the Introduction, the Discussion, and the Conclusion of a theme, only per- sistent practice — and failure — in writing prose can teach you, as it taught all others, how to use your principles in composing the materials of style, the ideas symbolized by written words, into parts and the parts into an artistic — well-ordered and finished — whole of prose. Always, then, if you would write artistically, at least in a plain sense, make an 'abstract' of the general Substance and Form of your theme; keep it either mentally, or, better, on paper, always before you; and while expanding '. -^■Vv%-'****Ai.'*u>i«l8fe ■ i^t^ii;^mr'Wgia» it f Mif M m/ ^e mKvm.i^m ' *»\i im^m' vnmm^ ^ 58 PRINCIPLES OK STYLE. the topics outlined in your abstract never forget that your theme must contain only such ideas as are proper to a given point of view, and that the ideas themselves must be grouped or composed into parts arranged in logical order, and made pro- portionate to the importance of the ideas.(') It remains for me to show you, in a concrete way, how to construct and revise in general an original composition, accord- ing to the principles of the Unity of Substance and of Unity of Form. The Concrete Construction of a Prose Theme: Expansion and Revision.— In order, to give you full insight into the actual method of writing prose, I shall now, as it were, show you yourself at work expanding the abstract of a theme, and then revising your expanded theme, according to the principles of Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. Suppose, then, that you expand the topics outlined in your abstract of your ,H An ex^^it^echanlcal device for making a f uU ab- straJlotathBmol.tobe found ,n Wendeir« B..aH-h Comporttton pp. 164-166. ^ ■i>wai >i irmi *i n[ i m»«i i r;' i »i i »x ii i i i i r i W i Hij ) ir,iiii | . KXPANSION AND REVISION. 59 theme, entitled 'A Student's Room in Harvard College': — The Original Composition: Exactly one month from the present moment of writing I received an invitation from an old school- mate, who was about to graduate from Harvard, to attend the Commencement exercises on June 27th of the present j'ear. [My old schoolmate is a aplendid fellow in every way, and I shall always remember the happy days we two used to spend in the woods hunting birds and squirrels, and swimming in the lakes. His father who is a rich man, was able to send him to college^, but my father, who is unfortunately a poor man, could not send me. And so we two had not seen one another for four years. But when a day or two before Commencement at Harvard we did meet, we spent the evening in recalling the old happy times.] I accepted readily my old schoolmate's invita- tion. Following his advice I went a day or two earlier than absolutely necessary. [My ride both on train and on coach through the country— my own home is in Georgia— was exceedingly enjoj'able. I should like to tell all about my experiences on the way. Some of them were startling. Here are a few of them. On the evening of the first day of my leaving home ]. The day of my arriving at Cambridge I spent in examining the Harvard buildings, especially the dormitories. [You would have smiled if you had 5een me walking every- where about Harvard, seriously and in wonder- ment, while all the students about me wore a look n skwmmmmi f-' ^ 6o PRINCIPLKS OK STYLK. f r 4 \ 5 1 of absolute indifference a^ to whetlier Harvard or they the.n«elve.. existed. This attitude. I believe, im called 'the HarvaVd indifference"! I strolled through the halls of one of the donnitones, and was struck by the unique appearance and varied uses of the students' rooms. By accident I ran into my old schoolmate and soon was sittmj? down by his side in hisown room. chatting about old times. His room -or, rather, rooms -I shall now describe briefly. , [As I said, the father of my colleRe-friend was a wealthy man, and, therefore, able to supply his son with all the money needed for luxurious living. It was quite apparent to me that my old schoolmate had put his 'allowances' to the best use Everywhere about him were signs of a large expenditure of money My old school- mate's room, or rooms, were interesting from outside to inside] Before entering his room I w 3 struck by the elegance of its mere exterior. The doors and panellings were of the heaviest dark oak. They were carved and turned so as to bring out the natural beauties of dark oak. Above the door stood the transom, half open. It was of stained glass and reflected on the floor of the hall the name of the dormitory. At the left of the door, attached to the wall, wasa pecuhar-looking device, which my schoolmate explained was the latest invention in the way of a letter-box and a call-bell Underneath the call-bell, in a rectangular opening protected by brass, appeared in card the name of the occupant of the room. [I have otten wondered why such a 8ystem-letter-box,call-bell, and the name of the owner was not long ago mm ^ EXPANSION AND REVISION. 6t a rd or evo, if* trolled e», and varied I ran i^ittin;; f about I Bhall nd was iply his curious mj' old he beat IS of a school- g from room I xterior. leaviest go as to . Above t was of the hall t of the ■looking was the ax and a tangular card the ive otten call-bell, ong ago invented for dwelling houses. I suppose, however, that such a thing could hardly be thought of before the invention of electrical api)liances]. As I entered my friend's room, I met a flood of light dimly crimson in color. The 'effect' was due to the crimson-stained walls and the crimson flags which hung everywhere around the room, indicating that my friend was a student of Har- vard College. [If I had been visiting a comrade at Yale, I suppose that the light of his rooms would have appeared in a dim flood of blue. Crimson and blue are respectively the Harvard and the Yale 'colors.' One of the Harvard publi- cations—a daily— is called The Crimson.] Once seated I noted the general furnishings of my friend's room. In the center of the room was a large square oak desk. [Beside the desk was a peculiar invention forming a sitting-chair, a lounging chair, and, in case of light sickness, a small writing-table.] [On the desk ..ere a row of school books, a student-lamp, a jar of ' Yale Mix- ture' (tobacco), three bull-dog smoking pipes, and an enoi-mous 'stein ' (or beer-mug).] In one corner of the room stood a small escritoire; and beside it a beautiful oak book-case with glass doors, containing finely bound volumes of the French poets, the English novelists, and the Greek and the German philosophers. In another corner stood a beautiful grand-concert piano. [I requested my friend to play something on the piano for me. I had always been fond of Chopin and Brahms, and he, too, had the same preferences. He sat down at the piano and played with excellent exe- cution and much feeling.] 6a PRINCIPLKS OF STYLK. Thewiillrtof the room, iis* ' said, were wtained In criiuHon; and on them htinj? three oil paintinjfa (a Millet, a Honhenr, and a WluHtler), besides two replicas by Sargent, and by Abbey, and several etchings and drawings. (There were, too, on the left-hand corner of the piano several photographs of the great composers; and on the book case several photographs of Hritish and of American authors.] On the wall, over the mantel-piece, were ' pictures' of the Harvard football team, and of the Mott-Haven track team, as well as of the Pierian Sodality, and the Glee Club. The mantelpiece, on the east aide of the room, was decorated (V) with a few photographs of friends, classmates, and rela- tives, a bronze cast (in miniature) of French's statue of John Harvard, flanked on each side by plaster casts (in miniature) of Herkomer's Lion and Tiger. The fireplace underneath the mantel presented a unique appearance. Instead of hav- ing on the hearth the customary short 'logs' of wood ready for burning, and the customarj- andirons, the space was decorated with a pair of fine moose-antlers. Against one of the large forks of the antlers rested a pair of snow-shoes, and against the other, a fine Winchester rifle. Drawing aside two beautiful Turkish portieres, which I had not before noted, my friend said— • Here is my sleeping-room.' iMy lack of observa- tion in this case reminds me that I have forgotten to describe the windows of the study and their furnishings. The windows of the study or living room were all draped with curtains, crimson in color and 'worked 'with the Harvard 'Sigillum - a heart-shaped shield containing, as it were, at iiilii ii i tW IliiiiHii' ^ EXPANSION AND RKVISION. 63 each of the three corners* of a V the representa- tion of an open book; on the first of which appeared the letters VK; on the second, the letters Ki; and on the third, the letters TAS. 1. c, V'KR- ITAS. The shield was surronnded by three words: Cliristu et Kvclvsiuc. rnderneath the two west windows was a seat plumb with the wainscottinjf, built in the form of a crescent, and covered with cushions of crimson, 'worked ' with a larjre H.] The sleepinjj-room of my schoolmate, contrary to my anticipations, was plainly fur- nished. It contained nothing but one ordinary iron bedstead, a plain oak 'clothes-press' and a low 'dresaiuK-table' also of plain oak, with an oval French-plate mirror. Kxcept for a bearskin at the side of the bed, the floor was bare, but highly polished. The uses to which my friend's room and its compartments were put. were various. (At the time of my visit I regret now that I was so impolite as to express surprise at the elegance of the fur- nishingsof the study in contrast with the plainness of the furnishings of the sleeping-room. I should have manifested a certain amount of the so- called Harvard indifference; but since I was away from home for the first time, I suppose that I ] The compartment which I first entered ■ and examined was used simply as a study and as a living room. In it, too, male friends, students and others, were frequently entertained in an " informal way. [I am now reminded that in my description of the general furnishings of the study or living-room. I forgot to note that on a small table near the fire-place stood a chafing ^ «4 I'klNCIPLKS OF STYLE. dlrtli, inula heiiiitifnl cut->flaH« piincli howl, rtur- rounded in hixiirrv arran^jeinent with drinkinjf- jrliiHrtfrt of the rtaine fine materials.) The rtecond coinpartnient was used niiiohmore Hrt n dreMsin^-nionj than as a slecpinK^-rooin. It existed really, as I saw on the day after n»y visit, for the purpose of l>ein>{ readily transformed alonn with the study into a reception-room for friends and relatives a. [I have not strive ; of Harv- ed ' in the dter Haut- have been ' room ' in oms there rtome sort lin^**; ""tl entertain- iit this, as Your orifjfinal composition or expanded theme, despite your seeming adherence to the topics outlined in the abstract of your theme, violates the principles of Unity of of Substance and of Unity of Form. Once I have criticized your orij^'inal composition from the point of view of these principles, you shall apply my criticisms in makinfj; a revised or final composition. Here is my criticism. In your original composition there is nothing that is not somehow related. Yet from the point of view of your theme, your Introduction lacks Unity of wSubstance. Your Introduction is embraced within the first two para«ijraphs (pp. 59-60). Examine these. On doing so you will find that the matters or sentences which I have inclosed in brackets are really a digression and have nothing to do with the main matters. If they had, then you might have gone on just as relevantly to describe the differences between your own home and the home of your friend, between your clothes and his, /^ r? j . 1 I. ft6 PRINCIIM.KS (W STYI.K. and what not. Your tirst two paragraphs hwk Ihiity of Substance because ui them you have a ^reat deal more to say about yourself and your old schoolmate than you have about the invitation to a Harvard Commencement and about the fact of your thus undertakinji to describe the room of a student in Harvard College. You should have said simply that ycm had received an invitation to be present at the Commencement exercises of Harvard, in June, 1900: that you readily accepted the invitation, went a day earlier than necessary, and spent the day of your arnv- in^' at Cambridge in examining the Harvard buildings, especially the dormitories. To be sure, you do say all these things; but you throw into your Introduction all sorts of things about old times, about your ride from Georgia to Massachusetts, about the contrast between your own attitude of wonderment and the so-called Harvard indifference. Certainly all these matters were connected with your visit, but they BtV HCl in ro< br ^ about an you if your )m of a KXPANSION AM) KKVISION. ('• are not relevant to your point of view, namely, how youeanie to write at all about a student's room in Harvard College. Really, instead of composing with an eye to makini; a well-ordered and finished whole, you have been ' talkin*;,' or, better, ' babbling?/ Your Introduetion is at fault not so much in form, as it is in substanee. It will be a better piece of composition if you eliminate the matter I have bracketed. Your Introduction will then read as follows: Kxactly one month from the prenent moment of writin>{ I received an invitation from an ohi Hchool- niate, who was about to graduate from Harvard, to attenil the Commencement exerciHes on June 27th of the prenent year. I accepted readily my old achoolmate'a invitation. Followinji his advice I went a day or two earlier than abHolutely necea- sary. The day of my arriving? at Cambridge I spent in examining- the Harvard buildinjfs, especially the dormitories. I strolled through the halls of one of the dormitories, and was struck by the unitjue ajipearance and varied uses of the students' rooms. By accident I ran into my old schoolmate and soon was sittinjjfdown by his side in his own room, chatting about old times. His room— or, rather, rooms— I shall now describe briefly. Let me now criticize ^our Discussion. ^ PRINCIPLES OF STYLE. I wish to show you that it lacks Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. Note, tlien, that, in general, you are describing- something, not ex pouinii no- or explaining it. You should, therefore, follow strictly the method of description — the orderly state- ment of fact. You do not do so. You have closed the Introduction of your theme with the words: 'His room I shall now describe briefly.' Really, however, you open the first paragraph of your Discussion (p. 60) with, as it were, another Introduction, with, namely, a bit of explanation; and you close the first paragraph of your Discussion with, as it is called, a private reflection. The fundamental matter of your first pa /agraph of the Discussion you have literally buried between your explanations and your reflec- tions. You have made, as it might be called, a prose ' sandwich.' In order that the first paragraph of your Discussion may have Unity of Substance and Unity of Form you must write strictly from the point of vieiv of the first para- BH EXPANSION AND REVISION. 69 s Unity of n. Note, describing plaining it. strictly the lerly state- You have :heme with )w describe u open the sion (p. 60) iction, with, id you close ussion with, :tion. The t paragraph rally buried your reflec- it might be raph of your »f Substance ^rrite strictly e tirst para- graph uf your Discussion — namely, the external appearance of your old school- mate's room. In your original composition I have indicated the point of view by inclos- ing in brackets the irrelevant matter of the first paragraph of your Discussion, and by leaving unbracketed the relevant matter. Once you eliminate the irrelevant matter (bracketed), the first paragragh of your Discussion will read as follows: Before entering my old classmate's room I was struck by the elegance of its mere exterior. The doors and panellins=' were of the heaviest dark oak. They were carved and turned so as to bring out the natural beauties of dark oak. Above the door stood the transom, half open. It was of stained glass, and reflected on the floor of the hall the name of the dormitory. At the left of the door, attached to the wall, was a peculiar-looking device, which my schoolmate explained was the latest invention in the way of a letter-box and a call-bell. Underneath the call-bell, in a rectangu- lar opening protected by brass, appeared in card the name of the occupant of the room. Again: Your second paragraph (p. 61) of your Discussion lacks Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. It lacks Unity of Substance because it contains ideas other ^ 70 PRINCIPLES OF STYLE. than what are consistent with its point of view, with, namely, the point of view of what you saw just as you were entering your old schoolmate's room. Why should you put into this paragraph your private reflections about the Yale ' colors ' or the Harvard students' 'daily,' called The Crim- son? These, no doubt, were naturally enough suggested to your mind by the flood of crimson light which met you on entering your friend's room. But all sorts of things might have been suggested: and if one suggestion was relevant from the logical point of view, then any suggested idea also would have been relevant. In that case— following such a method of description, explanation, and reflection— you would not have an essay on the appear- ance or uses of a student's room, but, surely, a 'hodge-podge' of thought and feelings. Literary form, however, demands that you deal only with a single S^^Q., lim- ited strictly by a peculiar point of vieiv. The second paragraph of your Discussion, tin tla in( va D ^ tof : of •ing )uld ate the ■iin- ally the on ;orts and the isted In d of on — pear- but, and lands lini- vteiv. ssion, EXPANSION AND KKVISION. 7" therefore, lacks Unity of Form because it follows neither the general order of your whole point of view, nor the particular order of the special point of view of the second paragraph of your Discussion. Your whole point of view is a description of a particular student's room; your special point of view is a description of what you saw just on entering^ this room. Revised from these points of view by eliminating what is bracketed in your original compo- sition, the second paragraph of your Discus- sion will read as follows: As I entered tny friendV room, I met a flood of light dimly crimson in color. This ' effect ' waa due to the crimson-stained walls and the crimson flags which hung everywhere around the room, indicating that my friend was a student of Har- vard College.{l) With the third paragraph (p. 6i ) of your Discussion your point of view has again (1) Strictly viewed, this piurHKruph should end with the word Toorii" in the sfcond sentence; what follows, though not Itself descriptive, anticipates soiuothinx that will be inferred from later descriptive details. So that really there is in it a violation of Unity of Substance. I shall treat the matter again under my chapters on Paragraphs and Houtences. ^ 72 PRINCIPLES OF STYLK. changed. You are within the room: con- sequently you must concern yourself only with describing its internal appearance. This paragraph in contrast with the first two of your Discussion lacks in a new way Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. It has Unity of Substance, until you close your description of the position of the piano. At that point you put into your paragraph a statement that your musical preferences were identical with those of your old schoolmate, that you asked him to play for you, and that he did so with excellent execution and much feeling. These are irrelevant details. In order to give this paragraph Unity of Substance you have simply to revise it by eliminating these irrelevant details, inclosed in brackets in your original composition. The third paragraph of your Discussion, however, lacks Unity of Form because you have not followed the natural or logical order in arranging the second, third, and fourth sentences. You would have been »«i1 ^ EXPANSION AND REVISION. 73 at least more lo<,ncal if, after mentioning the position of the writinji-desk, you had then described what was on the desk (as you do in the fourth sentence), and, next, what was beside or near the desk (as you do in the third sentence)-! ' ) Logically, you first see the desk if self: then, what is on it; and, finally, what is beside it or near it. In youi own presentation of the facts you invert the natural order. Revised, then, from the point of view of the logical order of describing the facts, your third paragraph will have Unity of Form. Thus revised, both for Unity of Substance and for Unity of Form, the third paragraph of yonr Discussion will read as follows: Once seated I noted the j;enerfil fiirninhings of my friend's room. In the center of the room was a large .stniare oak deak. On the desk were a row of school books, a student-lamp, a jar of 'Yale Mixture' (tobacco), three bull-dog smoking pipes, and an enormous ' stein ' (or beer-mug). Beside the desk was a peculiar invention, forming a sitting-chair, a lounging-chair. and, in case of (t) The pi-iiu-lplc of Coherence (an aspect of the principle ofl'nlty of Fornil will he explained fully and iUustrateU under my i hapters on I'uragraphs and Sentences. /^ 74 PRINCIPLKS OK STYLE. light Hickneas, a siimll writinjf-table. In one corner of the room stood a small escritoire; and beside it a beautiful oak book-case with j^lass doors, containinjr finely bound volumes of the French poets, the Knylish novelists, and the Greek and the German philosophers. In another corner stood a beautiful ffrand-concert piano. The fourth paragraph (p. 62) of your Discussion lacks unity of Substance and of Form. You have opened this paragraph with a description of the color of the walls of the room, and of the paintings, etchings, and drawings, hanging on the walls. When you begin your description of the paintings, naturally you have suggested to you other kinds of art works, such as photographs or pictures; and you remember that you have forgotten to mention those you saw on the piano and on the book-case. The piano and book-case were more or less described in your third paragraph. But since you have forgotten to describe in that paragraph the photographs or pictures resting on the piano or book-case, you slip your descrip- tion of these into the fourth paragraph. A part, then, of what should naturally or /^ one and )or8, snch ithe tood our dof aph alls hen ther IS or lave the and d in lave I the the crip- i. A / or EXPANSION AND kK\MSION. 7S logically be in the third paragraph is included in the fourth. Here again, there- fore, you have made a prose sandwich. To gain unity of Substance and of Form in your fourth paragraph you must eliminate the matter dealing with the photographs resting on the piano or on the book-case. If you care to use the matter thus elimin- ated, you must place it in the paragraph where it naturally belongs. Revised, then from the point of view of my criticism, your fourth paragraph will read as follows: The walls of the room, as I aaid, were stained in crimson; and on them himg three oil paintings (a Millet, a Bonhenr, and a Whistler), besides two replicas by Sargent, and b y/ bbey. and several etchings and drawings. On the wall, over the mantel-piece, were ' pictures' of the Harvard foot- ball team, and of the Mott-Haven track team, as well as of the Pierian Sodality, and the Glee Club. The mantelpiece, on the east side of the room, was decorated (V) with a few photographs of friends, classmates, and relatives, a bronze cast (in miniature) of French's statue of John Hpi vard, flanked on each side by plaster casts (in minia- < ture) of Herkomer's Lion and Tiger. The fire- place underneath the mantel presented a unique appearance. Instead of having on the hearth the customary short ' logs ' of wood ready for burning, ^ 76 PRINCII'LI.S OK STVLK. and the cnrttomaiy andirons, thv space was deco- rated with a pair of fine moose-antlers. Aj^iiinst one of the hirjfe forks of the antlers rested a pair of snow-shoes, and against the other, a fine Win- clie.ster rifle. In the fifth para RKVISION. 77 room and of their furnishings. Vou are writing; down in the same parai;;raph ideas ineonsistent with its point of view. In the same way, therefore, as in the fourth paraijraph you violate in this hfth para- tjraph the principles of Unity of Substance and of Form, by introducing there matter which, while relevant from the point of view of the whole composition, is not written in its proper place, or according; to logical order. It must in any case be eliminated, and if to be used at all must be placed in its proper place (the fourth para- graph). With this matter eliminated your fifth paragraph will read as follows: Drawinyartute two benntif ill Turkirtli porth'ri's, which I had not before noted, 1113 friend said— ' Here is my HleepinK-room.' Tlie .sleepin}4;-rooni of niy 8chooliiiate, contraiy to my anticipations*, was phiinly furnished. It contained notliinjf but one ordinary iron bedstead, a ph«in oak 'clothes- press' and a h)w ' dressinf>-tai)le' also of plain oak, with an oval French-plate mirror. Kxcept for a bearskin at the side of the bed, the floor was bare, but highly iiolished. Having now done with the description of the internal appearance of your old ^ f§ PKIXCIPM:s OK STYM-.. schoolmate's room, in the sixth and seventh para<;raphs of your Discussion you explain the uses of your friend's room, bcfjinnin^ with the study or Hrst compartment (sixth paragraph) and ending with the sleeping- room or second compartment (seventh paragraph). The sixth paragraph, in the same way as the other paragraphs of your Discussion, lacks Unity of Substance and of Form. You begin well enough. No sooner, however, have you begun than you insert in the second and third sentences of this paragraph a statement of your private feelings about the contrast between the luxuriousness of the study and the plainness of the sleeping-room— descriptive details belonging elsewhere. No sooner, too, have you again concerned yourself with explaining the uses of your old school- mate's room than on learning how your old schoolmate there entertains his friends and relatives, you are reminded that you have forgotten to describe in the proper paragraph the chafing dish and the punch bo> the log frit yoi of pre ter yoi of I yoi 1 con par ii8e it, 1 fie< Dii Fo in exit for silo fri« Th oCt^iiM ^ ■i m i ^ JBdv^ V ^^ h . KXI'ANSION AND Kr.VISKiN. 70 bowl and <;!asses. You, therefore, heed the reminder and put into a paragraph h)^ically dealing with the uses of your friend's room some details helonjjinjif to your description f)f the internal appearance of the room. You ha\e made another prose sandwich. By eliminating? this mat- ter, bracketed in your original composition, you will give your sixth paragraph Unity of Substance and of Form. Thus revised your sixth paragraph will read as follows: The UHCH tn which my friendV room and itH compartments were put, were viiriouH. The com- partment which I firrtt entered and examineil was tirted winjply as a wtndy an(! n8 a living room. In it, too, male friendw, students and others, were frequently entertained in an infornuil way. The seventh or last paragraph of your Discussion has Unity of Substance and of Form. It appears immediately below as in the original composition: The second compartmeni was used much more a » a dressing-room than as u sleeping-room. It existed really, as I saw on the day after my visit, for the purpose of being readily transformed along with the study into a reception-room for friends and relatives on Commencement days. This was done by removing the desk and other w a;H.ir; i u.WKjiJ,iiih»J!yW'--WW*^''^iW'«'»'-^vTi „ ' i;. (»K STVl.r.. imonv.'n:'ni pamplu-rnaliii ..f tlio >*tn.l.v, aiul tlu" tu-(l ihitf.T..r..in.l ""» i>n.u-h-l...wl, and o( i(u- piano Tlir/>(>r^/our reflection or the value of your visit to your old schooln..'i<>'s room. You have been tauj(ht, you s.iy, to see that utility and beauty are equa:!y valuable in man's dwelling-pl'i^"^^ Just as you have- thus hiiically concluded, you reflect on your own misfortune that you did not have the same advantages of education and social li life as your old schoolmate had: and you add to this some further reflections on how you would have lived if you had been a student at Harvard. You might have . i^^m^m^M^m, J IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I \&n» 12.5 u U4 us 2.2 >^iii L25 %\A 11.6 y] <^ -^z Photographic Sciences Corporation ^.> 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) 872-4503 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques ^ 1 EXPANSION 'AND REVISION. 8i gone on in this way forever. Clearly, then, your last paragraph (Conclusion) lacks Unity of Substance and of Form. With your irrelevant reflections eliminated, your Conclusion will read as follows: How chaniiint; my visit to my old schoolmate's room was to me. is evidenced by the fact that on the day aftei Commencement I left for home fully convinced that utility and beauty should always be equally valued in our dwelling-places. Although I have now criticized paragraph by paragraph your original composition, and you yourself, on the basis of my criti- cisms, have reconstructed it paragraph by paragraph, I have not yet done with criti- cism. The reason is plain. I have so far criticized your theme as a simple whole containing a series or a number of related ideas. I must now criticize your theme as a whole containing groups of related ideas, /. e., as a thing of parts. Before you can appreciate my criticism or apply it you must understand clearly what a part really is in artistic composition. In any artistic whole there are two kinds % I ! HJWU*HJ I UM'.U.U. I I1IW ^ 8a PKINCIPI.KS OF STYLK. of parts: substantive or material parts and formal or logical parts. A brick dwellinj?- house, e. 4'., is a thini; of parts, in two senses. Every brick in the house, as well as every atom of each brick, is a part of the house. Substantively or materially viewed, a brick dwellinji^-house is a thing occupying so much space. A brick dwell- ing-house, however, is known to us as a house^ not by its materials, and not merely by its uses, but by its form. ' Mere, e. «-.,' I say, 'is a brick dwelling-house. This part is the body of the house: it contains the chief rooms — the dining-room, the living-room, the drawing-room, and the library. Yonder are the sleeping-rooms. Here is the kitchen. And yonder is the conservatory.' How, you ask, do I thus more or less readily distinguish the {formal) parts of a brick dwelling-house.^ By nothing else than by the order and propor- tion in the grouping oi the substantive or material parts (bricks). Failing fully to understand me, you say: arts and Iwellinj?" in two , as well I part of aterially a thing .•k dwell- us as a t merely re, e. «".,' ;. This contains om, the and the ig-rooms. er is the lo I thus [ formal^ se? By 1 propor- antive or you say: KXPANSION AND REVISION. !^.? ' Here is a brick dwelling-house. It is, as it were, all one piece. The only way to distinguish its parts is by their uses. This part is the living-room; this part contains the sleeping-room; and this part is the kitchen, or what not. But the uses of the parts could easily have been interchanged, and what is used as the kitchen could have been used as the living-room, and so on.' You are here, let me tell you, confounding a dwelling-place as a whole artistically composed with a whole as a thing occu- pying so much space. At that rate a ' dug-out' in the side of a hill, a ' log-cabin,' a ' stable,' or an Indian ' wigwam,' would just as well be a house. All these, to be sure, ha^•e ' form ' in the sense of occupying space, and of having, therefore, 'shape.' They have not, however, form, in the artistic sense — namely, such order and proportion in the grouping of their mater- ials that the whole can be thus distinguished from the parts and each part appear, unmis- takably, as this or that part. This is just ^ j -I MBWJMWtf^giS W fc^j W i W B BWJ 84 PRINClPLliS OF STVLK. what, in the languajjje of the arts is meant by ' form ' — ^order and proportion in the grouping of materials into an organic whole. I would have you now clearly under- stand that the principal parts of a prose theme — namely, the Introduction, the Dis- cussion, and the Conclusion — ^are formal parts. When I say that they are formal parts, I mean that the order and the pro- portion in t\\Go-roHping of the substantive parts — words, /. >" I received an invitation from an old school- mate, who wart about to graduate from Harvard, to attend the Commencement exercises on June 27th of the present year. I accepted readily my old schoolmate's invitation. Followinfr his advice I went a day or two earlier than absolutely neces- sary. The day of my arriving at Cambridge I spent in examining the Harvard buildings, especially the dormitories. 1 strolled through the halls of oneof thedormitories, and was struck by the unique appearance and varied uses of the students' rooms. By accident I ran into my old schoolmate and soon was sitting down by his side (It " The truth Is that in rhetoric, us dlstliisiulshed from gruniiiiar, by far the greater part of the questions that arise concern not right or wrong, but better or worse."— VVendeU'» EntHW* Cnmposition, Chap. I, p. 2. of Form, criticisms, jare your eel theme. ; one with or feel for le is, as a :h betfeii^) composi" t moment of loldrtcliool- m Harvard, 3es on June readilj- \\\y jr his advice Intely necea- ambridjre I buildinjjs, ed through 1 waa struck ] uae« of the into 111 J' old n l)y his side lii^uishod from itioti.-s that arise ■SI'." — Wt'iiduU's • • EXI'ANSION AND R?:VISION. 87 in his own room, diattinjj about old times. His room -or, rather, rooms I sliall now descrilie brietly. Before enterinjf my old classmate's room I was striu'k l)y the ele^jance of it mere exterior. The doors and panellings were of the heaviest ilark oak. They were carved and turned so as to briny out the natural Iteautiesof dark oak. Above the door stood tlie transom, fiaJf open. It was of stained glass, and reflected on the floorof thehall the name of the dormitory. At the left of the door, atlachetl to the wall, was a peculiar-looking device, which my schoolmate explained was the latest inventi«)n in the way of a letter-box and a call-bell. Underneath the call-bell, in a rectangu- lar opening jirotected by brass, appeared in card the name of the occupant of the mom. As I entered my friend's room, I met a flood of light dimly crimson in color. This 'effect' was due to the crimson-stained walls and the crimson flags which hung everywhere around the room, indicating that my friend was a student of Har- vard College. Once seate,iiii(l tlu'ClrffU iiiulthe (iL-rmim pliilosopla-iv. In iiiiotluT roriuT j^tood ii hi'iiiitifiil ^niiKl-conci'il j>iiin(). riu' wiillr* of llie room.iis I siiid. wen- ntniiu'd in iTiiiir*on; and on tlu-in liuny tliriM- oil paintinjit* (h Millet, ii Honlieur. and a Wliistk-r). l)ft*it^ wall, over the nianti'l-piei'i', wi-iv ' i)irtnri'f<' of the Harvard foot- ball team, and of the Motl-Maven traek team, as well art of the I'ierian Sodnlitj', and the (dee Clnb. The niantelpieee, on the eaut wide of the room, wart decoratefl (Vi with a few photouraphrt of friendrt, elartrtniatert, an«l relativert, a bronxe eartt (in miniature) of Freneh'rt rttatue of John Harvard, flanked on each rtide by piaster carttH (in minia- ture) of Herkomer'rt Lion and Ti^er. The fire- place underneath the mantel presented a uni(|ne appearance. Instead of havin^r on the hearth the curttomary short ' lofjfs ' of wood ready for b\jrnin>;, and the customary andirons, the space wart deco- rated with a pair of tine moorte-antlerrt. .Ajjainst one of the lar;;e forks of the antlers rested a pair of snow-shoes, and ajjfainst the other, a fine Win- chester rifle. Drawinfjaside two beautiful TurKirth/Jor^/cre.s, which I had not before noted, my friend said— ' Here is my sleeping-room." The sle.'ping-room of my schoolmate, contrary to my anticipations, \vn!-> plainly furnished. It contained tiothinj? but one ordinary iron bedstead, a plain oik 'clothes- press' and a low 'dreasinj^-table' al^o of plain oak, with an oval French-plate niinor. Except ihv Krt'iicli ■fi'U iiiul the )rm'r f^tooil vrv Mtniiu'd 1 paintinurt •r), l)ft«ie irviird foot- ek team, as ■(Mee C'liil). tlie room, )y;ra|)li!< of bronze east m Harvard, 4 (in minia- . The fi re- ed a iini(|iie 13 liearth the for burning, •e wart deeo- •rt. Ajjainst ertted a pair , a fine Win- ili portieres, riend rtaid— !'.'pinj>"-room itioipations, tiothinjy btit );ik ' clothea- Ijo f)f phun jor. Kxcept t i KXI'AN'SION .\\l> KKVISION. «9 for a Ix-arnkin at the r^ide of the lied, tlie thx.r wax liare, t)iit hi;;ld\ polished. Tlie iirte?* to whieh \\\y friendV room and itr* oomparlmentrt were put, were various. Theeom- jiartment whieh I first entered and examined was use- transformed ahmy with the study into a reeepti«)n-room for friends and relatives on Comrneneement da\s. This was done 1>.\' removing the desk and other inconvenient paraphernalia of the study, and the l)ed,cliitTonier,and dressinj; tahleof the sleepiny- room; and hy making a new arrangement of chairs, chafinjjf dish and punch-howl, and of the I)iano. The por: I'K I NCI PIKS AN1> MKIIInlls. — I'MK l-AKAiiKAI'll AS AN I M>KI'KM>E \ f WIKU.K; IIIK I'KINCII-l.KS AND MKTMDDS i>K INTKKNALt.V AKKANOINU ITS I'AKTS.— TIIK PARACKAril AS A RKI.ATKD \\ IIDIK : THK I'RINCII'I.KS AND MK.TlloDS i)K I NTKRCDNN EC TINr. PARAC.RAl'H WITH I'ARAHRArll. Paragraphs: Nature and Function. — In dealing with the general substance and form of a prose theme I distinguished for you its principal parts, naming them respectively the Introduction, the Discus- sion, and the Conclusion. These parts, I explained, are in nature formal, not sub- stantive; and their function or business is to introduce, discuss, and conclude the total number of ideas a writer may v\ ish to express regarding any topic of discourse Now every prose theme contains also sub- ordinate parts, called paragraphs, sentences, and words. These are the snbsfantive parts of a prose theme — of the theme as a ^ 9a PKINCIPLKS OK STYLK. whole and of each of its principal parts: each principal part must contain a number of ideas expressed in a number of para- graphs, sentences, and words. In ^i^eneral it is the business or function of tlie sub- ordinate or substantive parts of a prose theme to develop the ideas of the principal or formal parts. Each subordinate part, however, has its own special nature and function. In treatinu^ these I begin with the more complex, with, namely, para- graphs.(') In explaininii: to you the nature and func- tion of paragraphs I might follow the method most textbooks of Rhetoric: I might simply give you a lexicographer's definition of a paragraph. You have but to read a few I (1) The iiiOMtseiLslliliMiiid luminous trt'iitiiu'titi)f tlio imturi- iiiiil tum-tionof piii'iiuriiphs, iiiidof the pi'inciples of iirtlstlciilly composing pani^'rtiphs Is to he found In Wendell's KnglMi fiimpoi'ition, Chiip. IV. !«iM)tt & Denney's Pftragiaph-IViUiiw Is on the whole too elahorate and refined In Its analyses to he of general practical value In composition. It Pontalns. however, many valuahle Ideas, and a short chaptBr, excellent in suh- stance. on the Theory of the I'aniKraph. Lewis' The. Ht»ti>rii of tlu: Knulifh Parf a prose ■t principal tiate part, lature and )egin with ely, para- 3 and func- he method jfht simply /Y/of? of a -ead a few iitoftliy nature i of ai-tlstlciilly ndt'll's KngU»h iraph-H'iffrni; Is iialysi's to l>o of tains, however, ct'lleiit in siil)- ' The HUtorii of It of the orljrln PARAGRAPHS. 93 of such definitions to see for yourself that they really explain nothini?, or, at any rate, mean very little to any one who would understand what the definitions in rhetorics and in dictionaries say. What, e. o:, do the followinte simply ^all: You of 'print' ite paper. upon the jvS by what unprinted lar spaces You see n parallel lumber of lich begin the gutter inner mar- ee, as they id there in well com- Y does not )f parallel nd strictly utter and PARAGRAPHS. 95 ending always and strictly at the opposite inner margin of the gutter. Mere and there, at considerable distances apart, the rectan- gle of parallel lines is broken by a line which does not begin 'flush' with the inner margin of the gutter, but which is followed by a number of lines beginning and ending flush. These indentations thus mark off or differ- entiate a written or printed page into considerable masses or groups of words or sentences. In this way one may recognize the external appearatice of paragraphs. Unfortunately such indentations of a printed page, which should mean the begin- ning of a paragraph, are not always the beginning of paragraphs. The reason is that the writer (or printer) does not under- stand what a paragraph really is. With many writers the indentations in a written (or printed) page — the paragraphings so- called — are based on mere caprice, or on mere utility, or on vague aesthetic feeling, and not, as they should be, on the way the human mind works when it thinks logically. i ^ 96 I'RINCIPLlilS OF STYLE. It is important, then, to understand how parajjfraphs came to exist at all,(') To the bodily eye, I said (pp. 6-9), a piece of prose style appears as smaller and larger tiroups of little black marks. The existence of the groups — at least of the larger groups, called paragraphs — is explained, as I said, on the ground that men's thoughts are very seldom, if at all, simple ideas, but usually a coiiiplex of relaleii ideas. Words, no doubt, are suffic- ient to express simple ideas; and sentences, to express related ideas. So then, you ask, why should paragraphs exist at all. The answer is that, first on the physical side, a sentence is not a number of words connected in space as one ' couples ' railroad cars; or that, secondly on the psychological side, thought (or consecutive thinking) is (II Tliotlu'oiy of iwiHutnplilii).', or tlie .Uisttflcation of Its cxlisti'nci', Is based on tlic psychology of Ihf nature of thought In Bcnoral. and of voluntary thinking In particular. The most luminous and readable treatment of these matters is to be found In .lames' P» /Ticiples of Pn|/ch<)l(i(;i/. Vol. I. Chaps. IX, XI, XIII. XIV, and Vol. II, Chap. XXVI; or In his Psyehologv: Hrlefa (Dtirxe, Chaps. XI. XIII. XV, XVI, and XXVI. 1 • ^ rAKAC.KArHS. 97 and how ) p. 6-9), a ; smaller k marks. i least of raphs — is lund that if at all, iiipJex of are sutfic- >entences, hen, you ist at all. I physical of words ' railroad :hological inking) is tflcation of Its ire of tliouKlit lur. The most Iters is to t)t! :'hBp8. IX, XI, 1m Psyehology: XVI. ' not a number of simple ideas connected by one's arbitrarily taking a number of them and somehow ' coupling ' them by thinki)io- info them certain relations. The truth is that in thinking about any object one simply keeps one's mind on the object — attends — and without any effort or orig- inality on one's part the object appears to have aspects^ or one's thought, as they say, simply develops '\x\ groups oi related ideas. Let me put the matter concretely. Suppose that, e. o., you see a ' speck ' off on the hori/on. You say: 'What is that — a bird, or a man.''' You keep watching it: the longer you attend to the object, the sooner it appears as a definite object. ' That looks like a man,' you say: 'I see \\\'t, heaii . No, I don't believe it is. Yes, it is: for I see his arms swaying and his legs a-going. I must, however, be wrong: for now I can't see anything more than a black mass. Oh, yes, it is a man: he is sitting down, and I can distinguish his head, body, arms, and legs.' "i /^ n 9S PHIXCIPLKS OF STYLK, Now just as the speck on the horizon eventually appeared to be something of ih'finife parts, because you had simply kept on looking at it, until its parts defined themselves, so in pure thinking about an object simple attention to the object of thought will compel it to appear in parts, or one's thoughts about it to appear \x\ groups of related ideas, corresponding to the aspects of the object. Suppose that, e. g., you have been asked to write a theme on 'A Student's Room in Harvard College.' You have not, as you say, thought about the matter; but having seen a student's room you will attempt it. So you begin to think about a student's room. At first your thought is vague or nebulous: you have not, it seems to you, a single idea on the matter. You, however, keep on thinking about a student's room: and soon enough you have a 'picture' of the external appear- ance of the room (a group of related ideas), then a 'picture' of the internal appearance of the room (a group of related ideas), and '^.T'irW'Sw wwfc CT ^ J^WiiS^KS^l'J.ic^iM^i^'a^ ' H»»U l l f !ff; a-; ggjl ? ^ le horizon lething of mply kept s defined about an object of 1 parts, or he aspects ?. i,'-., you me on 'A ;ge.' You about the :nt's room in to think first your you have ea on the 1 thinking )n enough lal appear- ted ideas), ppearance deas), and ' \ m»ii»ni.w f x».^ ' vKl i . ^ ji P t f fj e dii ''^ PARAGRAPHS. 9Q finally, a 'menior}' of the uses to which the room was put (a group of related ideas). These are natural divisions of your thought: the}' are, too, exclusive divisions. All men think as you do: they attend to an object of thought; and, as they attend, the object appears in aspects, or one's thought naturally forms itself into groups of related ideas, corresponding to these aspects. I need not add anything more to what I have said, in order to show forth the /^s(;.v of paragraphs. Paragraphs e.xist not merely because the indentations in the printed page make what is written easier to read, or merely because the indentations make the page look prettier; but really because paragraphs represent to the eye steps or phases in one's thinking about any object, and thus enable a reader to distin- guish the order and logic in a writer's statement of his ideas. In other words: paragraphs exist in order to help a reader re-think a writer's thoughts. Do not forget, then, that if your own thought about any LofC. ^ «r- 100 I'KIN'CIIM.KS OK STVI.I'. ' i i subject of discourse has lotjical order, it must have parts, and that in artistic com- position these parts must be made to appear in jj^roups of ideas, called para*;raphs. The G)nstruction of Paragraphs: Prin- ciples and Methods. -Now that I ha\e shown you somethinyof the ijeneral nature and function of paraijraphs, I must show you, further, what principles and methods you must employ in artistically construct- injj paragraphs. These principles are Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. Paragraphs are substantive parts exist- ing within the principal or formal parts of a prose theme. As substantive parts paragraphs must contain a number of related ideas, limited strictly by a special point of view; must have, that is, unity of Substance. Although in the case of paragraphs unity of Substance thus means precisely what it means in the case of a whole composition, I shall here explain the nature of Unity of Substance more speci- fically, and fully illustrate it. t f ■'L iiajn iK M . ^ , ' ■&... ' ttwt !T awafm ' mijai i g * w w I'AKAC.kAl'llS, lot 1 order, it tistic com- s to appt'iir •aphs. phs: Prin- at I have i'ral nature nust show d methods construct- > are Unity n. larts exist- lal parts of itive parts lumber of y a special t is, unity he case of thus means ; case of a explain the nore speci- T Revert to your oriijinal composition on 'A Student's Room in Harvard Colle«;e/ You remember that I criticized it, and instructed you how to revise it. The revision consisted for the most part in simply dim- inatinjj; from each p.irajxraph ideas which were naturally s//o<>es/iu/ to your mind in writin«j; 3'our orijjinal composition, but which were irrelevant to your limited or special point ofvieu\ as, e. o\, the point of view of the external appearance of j-our student's room, or of its internal appear- ance, or of its nses. When you were, supposedly, or logically, dealin*i[ with a description of, say, the external appearance of the room of a student in Harvard Col- lege, what could be more natural, as the psychology of Association will explain to you, than that you should have suggested to you the external appearance of your own room or of the room of a student in Yale College: and what more natural than that you should insert in your piece of description the suggestions that came to I02 PKINCIPLKS OF STVLK you?(') You did insert the sii<;ii;estions that came to you; and instead of describing strictly the vxfcrn(il appearance of the room of a student in Harvard Colle*je, and thus expressing a single idea in the paragraph logically devoted to a single topic, you, as it were, ' dumped ' into the paragraph the ideas of all sorts that hap- pened at the moment to be in your mind. Your original composition thus contained, certainly, a number of related ideas; it was, however, on fair way to containing any number of related ideas; and strictly viewed this meant a lioifo-e- podge rather than a luiify of ideas. You will the better understand the difference between these two, if I illustrate it by a couple of para- (II I ciiniiot lii'i't' piiiiMC to explain tin* psyclioloKy i)f Suji- (ffstloii (AssiM-lutionl. I limy Hiiy, however, that the teacher of KiiKllNh ('uiiiposiltloii will never succeed in hIiowWik the student of prose style what ITnlty fur us Umicnl of tlif liuiiiiin I pheiioiiit'iion, •hiildtfl/; Uriefer mid reiidul>K< ustrutioiis. rAKAJiKAl'IIS. •03 j^raphs which contain ideas merely siii^- grsfed, not ideas /oo/en/ly f lion oh f on I. Here is the first para<;raph: Not liavint; any fiike. through not hi-inv;' fort-- wariifd iis to tlu> tiiiii- of iirrivnl tlioiiu;li it ir* tiot ofti'ii I iiiii takt'ti by r^urpriMc I'xrcpl a.- to lit'ad- aflie, wliich, of couixf, is accidental to every jierHon — I have not >jot anytliinjf Imt bread and l)ntfer, the liaker and ^locer l)einu- all that conid he denireil, except in the way of worryinjj; fortheii money, which they think that nince I keep my hank in the hoiir>e. like AlladinV cave, a» I have read about the Arabian Nijfht;*, I myself having gained it an a prize for Knjflisli in my early girlhood, beiny then considered a scholar anti industrious (1) Let this parajjjraph, which has neither a beginning, a middle, or an end, teach you both what lack of unity of Substance really is, and what is its psychological cause. A paragraph lacks unity of Substance when it contains not only ideas which are strictly (ll Mrs. Siimpsoii in IAthhs ihinif's The MuKtern of a Haii- gifin ('all. I liiivc rcviHi'd Mrs. Siiinpson'H • t'ofijiify ' RnKliNli. iin it iippcars ill till' oriKliiitl. ffuriii); that the liidici'diis .spt-lliiiK would iiiukt! til*- piiriiKraph Itsi-lf appeHr 'coiiiic' mid thu.s diwtroy its real value as u case of the lat'it of Unity of Siih- Ntmii'e. For another excellent example read Miss flate^' •speeches' In Jane Austen's ' Eniiiia,' one of which is (|Uoted in James' Pgychnlogn: Briffer ('onrnn. (;hap, XVI. p. 2fll. ^ I04 I'l^Hw'*^K~ or sjiccial :h happen, ition, to be iter by the ;il topic of sod, taken ■ni to you reated by 1 tlie para- his clever- I'ou may, much less ter-skelter that ' su«j- ;hly potent paraji^raph aph meant , the p/eas- of South on: have ween lint oitieH in 1 tlie north- njy, linntinjif r.\K A(;ka('||><. m and cxiMirrtionr* will tind \ tiinillinii >ine one »kota. Those as its substance coiiipositlun. 1 of Form. PAKAC.KAl'HS. 109 who enjoj' boating?, Iinntiny, and excursions will find Vermillion and vicinity well adapted for such sports. Those who enjoy skatiny will find in winter an excellent body of ice on the Vermil- lion river. Those who care for picnicking;- will find well woode \) tfi v 'ftri ' ;as of your r abstract, ;cure strict I showed, evoted to a LS really not le reason of w down on le to you, then, you ice in each , you should neral topics zcial topics lile treating ! only such ach. \ to secure agraphs of on 'A Stu- ege.' The in are, first, , the uses of bout. You PARAGRAPHS. til must, as does almost every one who writes, first make an abstract of the main topics of your Discussion, and then of the special topics under each of the main ones. These special topics are your paragraphs. Here is a 'picture' of the main topics of your Discussion of 'A Student's Room in Har- vard College,' and of the paragraph-topics of this theme: A student's room in harvard COLLEGE. The Discission: ( 1 ) The external appearance of the room : (a) The door and transom. (b) The letter-box and card-plate. (2) The internal appearance of the room: (a) The general architecture. (b) The general furnishings. (c) The arrangement of the furnishings. (d) The decorations on walls and mantel-piere. (3) The uses of the room: (a) As a study. (b) As a living-room. (c) As a reception-room. The main topics of the Discussion I have above distinguished by the numerals, (i ), (2), and (3); the paragraph-topics under the main ones I have distinguished by the I I i ita PKINClI'l.KS OK STYLK. letters of the alphabet, (a), (b), (c), (d). To secure, then, unity of Substance in your Discussion of the appearances and uses of 'A Student's Room in Harvard Col- lege,' you must follow strictly the substance of your ideas as outlined in your abstract. That is to say: While dealing with the main topic concerned with the external appearance of the student's room you are writing about, in your first paragraph nothing must appear except what is concern- ed strictly with the door and transom, and in your second paragraph nothing must appear except what is concerned strictly with the letter-box and card-plate; while dealing with the internal appearance of your student's room, in your first para- graph nothing must appear except what is concerned strictly with the general archi- tecture of the room, and in your second paragraph nothing must appear except what is concerned strictly with its general furnishings, and so on, for each of the remaining paragraphs; and while dealing '), (c), (d). nee in your ,v and «.s-^.s- rvard Col- e substanee ir abstraet. ij with the e external )m you are paragraph : is eoneern- Einsom, and hing must ed strictly late; while earance of first para- ept what is eral archi- :)ur second jar except its general ich of the ile dealing r> PAKAUKAl'HS. 113 with the uses of your student's room, in your first paragraph nothing must appear except what is concerned ^'.Ictly with the room as a study, in your second paragraph nothing must appear except what is con- cerned strictly with the room as a living- room, and so on. Mechanical, no doubt, this method is: it is, however, only an aid to clear and logical thinking. According as you think clearly and logically, so will your expression of your thoughts be clear and logical. The device I have explained to you, while used in one form or in another by almost all careful and expert writers,(') is recom- mended to you, a tyro in the art of writing prose style, chiefly as a method to be used much more in revising than in prevising your original compositions. In this way, if you do not gain ready power of clear (II Hi'<.' Wi-ndell's Knyllnh CompoxttUin. pp. lai, and I(i4-1/'o/>o/'/;'o«umi unity of I have I been fail to iinder- self, the bet- in. Ff>r this jraphs which nd the higher :er criticizing II reconstruct the contrast I composition. :h lacks, as I Form; which )rder in the res): cluidodorp this |ioor s^tancl and y Dundonald'a jroceed beyond of the country. are very few.] today aa far as ^s I'AKAdKAl'IIS. •>7 Klandsfontein, from wlik-li lie turned tlie enemy out without niueh (Unieulty. [liullerV eaHualtie»« were 27 killed; wounded. Heveral <)t1k'er8 and ,■)() men.] The paragraph which I have just cited contains five sentences. The arrangement, or sequence, of the third and fifth sentences, which I have bracketed fails in unity of Form, because the idea contained in these sentences is partly given in the third and partly in the fifth, but the immediate con- nection of these sentences is broken by the fourth sentence, which contains an altogether different idea. The third sen- tence, you note, states that the casualties to the troops of the British leader, Buller, were very few. This is a general state- ment, followed in the fifth sentence by a specific statement of the casualties to Buller's troops. This specific statement, which the merest common sense would tell one should follow immediately the general statement, is separated from its natural concomitant by the fourth sentence, which is concerned with a wholly different matter. ::t ■^MMriMMMliiii ^ lis I'KI.NClI'l.KS OK srVLK. To «;ive this paragraph, then, simple unity of Form, the first, second, third, and fifth scntL'nccs must folh»w one another in the order of first, seeond, third, and fourlii, while the original fourth sentence, if used at all, must take the place of the tifth sentence of the ori^^inal composition. Thus revised the paragraph cited will read as follows; Hiilk-rV iKlvam-*' (UHMipiod MiU-liiiilodDrp lliia iiftoniDon. Tlif etu'iny miido ii poor wtand and retired northward, follo\vfIHl )f the I'oiuitry. are very few. wounded, !*e\- eontiniied hi?* rtfotitein, from witlioiit much iraph which ipound unity ;ach sentence ilso the same who have Heen easant cities in < in the north- ' I i'.\K.\(.kAriis. 119 eaHtern part. IThnxe wlin i'tiji>> lioalinu;, luintlnH' and fxciirHiotif* will tind VCrmiUion iiiid vicinity wi'll adapted for rtucli !.e :.t of the State University, i« admitted by all who have seen the place to be one of the most plear^ant cities in Sonth Dakota. Those who enjoy boatin^^ hnnting, and excur-onB wU find Vermillion and vicinity well adapted for such sports. Those who enjoy skating will find Zl^^^r an excellent body of ice on the Verm. - lion river. Those who care for picntckinR will find well wooded grounds adapted to «"ch pas- time on the Nebraska bluffs, which he across the Missouri river, about four miles from Vermdhon. Despite all my explanation of the nature and application of the principle of Unity of Form you will have somewhat misunder- stood me: you will have confounded mere likeness or similarity of external structure with uniformity of structure. Let me explain the difference between mere simi- larity and uniformity in the structure of the sentences of a paragraph. /^ PARAGRAPHS. Itt IS and had to future tence not t in strict strict uni- in appears liveraity, ifl ce to be one kota. Those ursiona will adapted for tij{ will find the Verniil- nickinjs will to auch pas- ie across the 1 Vermillion. the nature of Unity of misunder- mded mere il structure Let me mere simi- jtructure of The Beatitudes in Christ's Sermon on the Mount (St. Matthew's Gospel, Chap. V) have both similarity and uniformity of sen- tential structure. I choose a number of them, and make a simple paragraph of them, as follows: Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Ble.-*sed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hnnjrer and thirst after rijrhteonsness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are tlie merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peace- makers: for they shall be called the children of God. The sentences which I have just quoted have similarity of external structure, because each of them begins and ends with the same material form; begins, that is, with the words, ' Blessed are the—,' and ends with the word . ' For they shall be—.' While, no doubt, in the case of the Beati- tudes the similarity of external structure has a unique effect, both artistically and otherwise; yet, strictly viewed as a method of composition, it would be wholly impossi- -J ^ 124 PRINCIPLKS OK STYLK. n ble always so to construct the sentences of a paragraph: it would be too artificial and would too soon create monotony. The Beatitudes, however, have also uniformity of sentential structure, because each sen- tence in the paragraph containing the Beatitudes keeps, as far as possible,^ ^//^ sawe form of subject and predicate. The subject, as you note, in each sentence is a personal subject--' They that mourn,' 'the meek,' 'they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness,' Hhe merciful,' 'the pure in heart,' 'the peacemakers;' while the predi- cate (verb and modifiers) in the first clause of each sentence keeps the same person, tense, mood, and voice, and in the second clause of each sentence keeps the same person, tense, mood, and, practically, the same voice-' Blessed are they-: for they shall—,' and so on. Unity of Form, then, means the mam- taining, as far as possible artistically, in each sentence of a paragraph the same ^ structuraV prm of subject and predicate. ^ PARAGRAPHS. 125 ntences of iticial and ny. The iniformity each sen- lining the ssible, the •ate. The ntence is a ourn,' 'the thirst after the pure in ; the predi- first clause me person, the second ; the same tically, the — : for they 5 the main- istically, in ti the same id predicate. The following paragraph is an excellent instance of it: Her companion laughed and sang n »tave of a cavalier love Hong. He was a slender, well-made man, dressed in the extreme of the mode of the year of grace, sixteen hundred and sixty-three, in a richly laced suit of camlet writh points of blue ribbon, and the great scented periwig then newly come into fashion. The close curled rings of hair descending far over his cravat of finest Holland framed a handsome, lazily insolent face, with large steel-blue eyes and beautifully cut, mocking lips. A rapier with a jeweled hilt hung at his side. Unity of Form in paragraphs is so subtle and refined a matter, so dependent on clear and logical thinking en the part of a writer, that it cannot be secured by mere mechan- ical devices. Still in iny next topic I shall give you some help in the way of mechan- ical devices. In the meantime let me remind you that in revising your original composi- tions with an eye to strict unity of Form in your paragraphs, see, first, that the sequence of the sentences in a paragraph is coherent (logical in order) and, secondly, that the subject and predicate of' all the sentences contained in a paragraph have ,j6 FKI.MCIPLKS OK STYLK. not simihinty. hut uniformity of structure. Principles' and Methods of Internally Arranging the Parts of a Paragraph. - From the point of view of writing prose style there are two ways of regarding para- graphs. First: One may regard a paragraph as an independent whole. In that case a writer is concerned solely with the principles and methods of internally arranging the parts (sentences) of a paragraph. Again. One may regard a paragraph as a related whole, as a component part of a larger whole. In that case a writer is concerned with the principles and methods of inter- connecting in a logical way paragraph with paragraph. I shall now deal with the principles and methods of internally arrang- ing the parts of a paragraph. It is of some consequence to understand why a paragraph should have its parts internally arranged in a coherent wa)-. Any paragraph may have unity of bub- stance, and yet by the mere arrangement and connection of its parts fail to be at once i^im •mm tnictui'C. internally igraph. — ng prose ling para- >aragraph lat case a principles nging the , Again: 5 a related f a larger concerned Is of inter- graph with 1 with the allyarrang- understand e its parts erent way. ity of Sub- rrangement be at once I'AKAdKAI'llS. Mf intelligible and clear to a reader. The reason is that a slovenly or incoherent arrangement of the parts of a paragraph forces upon the mind of the reader the task not only of simply rethinking a writer's thought, but also of so reconstructing the parts of a paragraph as to make the rethinking itself possible. Revert, e.g., to the paragraph reading as follows: Verinillion ia ndinitted l)y all who have seen the place to be one of the most pleasant cities in South Dakota. [The University is in the north- eastern part.] Those who enjoy rmatinjr, hunting, and excursions will tind Vermillion and vicinity well adapted for such sports. Rowing and skat- ing on the river are among the many enjoyable recreations of students. [Kvery year excursion parties visit the Nebraska bluffs for geological specimens, since the heavy timber along the Mis- souri furnishes delightful places for picnics.] The last sentence of the paragraph just quoted is, on the face of it, absolute non- sense. Yet to the author of it this sentence was anything but nonsense: in the mind of the writer a connection existed between this sentence and the other sentences of the paragraph. The reader, therefore, is /^ '*ii 128 PRINCIPLES OF STYLK. forced not simply to read and understand, but also to think out the connection of the last sentence with its comrades in the same paragraph. In the following way, it may be imagined, the reader's rethinking goes on. The topic of the paragraph is the pleasantness of the situation of the Univer- sity of South Dakota. The problem of the reader is to discover the connection between the tirst, or the topic-sentence, and the last sentence. In the third sentence of the paragraph the reader notes that a student of the University of South Dakota will hnd a great many opportunities for sports and pastimes in the city of Vermillion, the seat of the University, and also in the vtamty of this town. The reference to the Nebraska bluffs will have, the reader opines, a proper connection with the other sentences, if these bluffs are in the vicinity of Vermil- lion, and if they thus easily afford some means of sport and pastime. No sooner, however, has the reader come to this conclusion than the fifth sentence itself pre- i H i r i i M fP i ii i i iiii n ii nMrni i -r'- ^ iderstand, rjection of des in the ig way, it rethinking raph is the he Univer- )lem of the on between e, and the ence of the t a student )ta will find sports and on, the seat the vicinity e Nebraska es, a proper entences, if of Vermil- ifford some No sooner, me to this ce itself pre- IWkAdKAl'IIS. IS9 sents in another way new difficulties. There is the problem of makinj^ sense out of the two clauses of this sentence. What connec- tion, the reader asks, can there be between searchint; for jjeological specimens— which assuredly in the reader's experience is not a sport or a pastime — and picnicking on the well wooded Nebraska bluffs.^ By carefully rethinking the matter ti;e reader discovers that since the Nebraska bluffs are near Vermillion, contain geological specimens, and are well wooded, students of the University of South Dakota can make the searching for geological speci- mens not a hard task, but a delightful recreation, by combining investigation with picnicking. Thus rethought, and expressed on paper as reconstructed in the mind of the reader, the paragraph appears luminous throughout, as you yourself can see by the revised form which appears immediately below: Vermillion, the seat of the State University, ia admitted by all who have seen the place to be one of the moat pleasant cities in South Dakota. Those ^ !.■ i 130. PRINCIPLKS OF STYLK who enjoy boiitinn, huntinir, and exonr>*iont* will find V'erniillion and vicinity well adapted for HHih rtportrt. Those who enjoy rtkatin^j will find in winter an excellent body of ice on the Vermil- lion river. Those who care for picnicking; will find well wooded n;rounf the principle of ell's Bntflinh C(>m- kVondell explains lerence: (Dcoher- !nces forming the ■ of sliiillurlty of y of connectives. 111! structure (see iMitton, pp. 1:17-140) Ither of art or of !tly a method nethods of nee. jthod of I it order. I connected in thought are in juxtaposition on the written pai^e. By this arrangement of the order of sentences in a paragraph a reader naturally feels or perceives the connection of sentence with sentence and with the whole. The following paragraph (quoted above, pp. 116-117) is a good example of the lack of implicit coherence. I have bracketed the parts (sentences) which are related in thought, and which, therefore, should be placed in juxtaposition on the written page: [Biiller's adviince occupied Mucluulod«>rp this afternoon. The enemy made a poor t^tand and retired northward, followed bj- Diindonald't* mounted troopa, who could not proceed beyond Helvetin on account of the nature of the country.] [It appears Buller's casualties were ver}- few.] French continued his movement today as far as Klandsfontein, from which he turned the enemy out without much difficulty. [Buller'a casualties were 27 killed; wounded, several ofticers and fiO men.] The writer of this paragraph just quoted had in mind the military movements of two British generals. In the first, second, and third sentences of this paragraph he writes ^ i ]> I ! ,3j PKINCIIM.KS OK STVI.K about one ^a-neral. In the fourth sentence, beeuuse, no doubt, the thou^MU ^^\^out the movements of the other ^^eneral /nrppe.s to come into mind, the writer immechately yields to the presence c^f a new and different thou^d^t, and places it on the written page. In the r.fth sentence the writer returns to complete the subject-matter of the move- ments of the first ,a-neral. You see or feel for yourself, surely, that this hfth sentence, since it is actually connected in thou.dU with the tnrst, second, and third sentenees shou d be placed immediately side by side with its logical eomrades. In that way the paragraph has not only strict logical struct- ure, but also better artistic structure: the ease in reading and in understanding the connection of thought appeals immensel) to a reader's sense of nicety of adjustment (construction), to a reader's sense of beauty To appreciate the value of coherence re-read the paragraph cited as it appears immedi- atelv below in its revised form: Boiler', advance occupied Machadodorp th.« ^ I'AKAdUArils. >33 1 sentence, about the il //(ippfiis nmcdiately ricUlifferent ritten pajic. returns to [ the move- u see or feel th sentence, liouj^ht with ;nces, should y siile with at way the )irical struct- ructure: the standing the s immensely if adjustment nse of beauty. jrence re-read ears immedi- •n: chadodorp thia Hftornooii. Till- om-iiiy iikkU' n poor Hfnml iind rt'liffil Mortliwiinl. fnllowt'd l>y niitidoiialdV iiioiintfd troopf*. wlu) oonld not proret'd heyotid llidvi'liii on iioi-oiuit of till- natiiiv of tlif fniintry. It iipprarrt HiilltT'r* »-iir«uiiltii'n wiTf vory few - kilk'd, 2H; woiiiidi-d, rtovfrid onU-ern imil ."lO iiu'ii. Fri'Mch I'otitinufd his movfiiH'tit lodiiy ii« fur iit* Klilt)d^«f(ll)t(Ml1, from wliiili In- tnrtu'd tlu' ciuiny out without miicli ditlU-idty. You arc anxious now, no doubt, to know by what mechanical devices a writer may ' secure coherence in the parts of a paragraph. There is none. Adroit management of the order of the sentences within a paragraph is solely a matter of careful and clear thinking. In revisinij; your ori^^inai com- positions, then, with an eye to the coherence of the parts of a paraji^raph, see that sen- tences closely connected in thoujjht are as tnuch as possible in juxtaposition on the written paj?e. Secondly: The parts of a paragraph are explicitly coherent iv/ien the sentences of a paragraph overtly refer to the thouoht contained in each other by rvay of internal or initial connectives. An internal con- nective is a word, phrase, or clause which ^ '^■l li \ \i ri li !■ 1 .,, ' PKINCIPLK^ OF STYLK, ■34 exists in the body of each sentence of a paragraph, and which repeats or as the> say, 'echoes' the leading word, phrase or clause of a preceding sentence, or which distinctly refers to the topic of a succeeding sentence, or hints at its contents. An iniia connective does not differ in general nature and function from an internal connective: it exists at the very beginning of each sen- tence of a paragraph; but from its very position it is a viere connective, and, the. e- fore, a weaker method of coherence than an internal connective. Here :. a good example of both kinds of connectives: ' The Abb. Ca^^rain is a writable prod,K.o Hi. race, ^^^ .r^'^^^^^TTi^^^nX ,he French. »n. ;v ,n, of the Celtic, of the French race. There can be no doubt in the mind of the reader that the phrase ' this chosen people'' are the French Canadians who live along the lower St. Lawrence and Cape Diamond. The phrase— 'o/ this chosen people'— \s^ as I said, an internal connective. The paragraph which I quoted above illustrates internal and initial connectives which refer to the content or topic of a pre- ^ U8 PKINCIPI.KS OK STYI.K c^^/V/i,'- sentence. Here, on the other hand, are three paragraphs which ilhistrate the use of initial and internal connectives that refer to the contents or topic of the sen- tences which f'oUoiv the sentence containing the connectives.(*) Let me repent what I have often said of the characteristics wliicli mark the Kn>;:lish spirit, the KtiKlish jienins. This spirit, this <. judged, to he sure, rather from a friend's than an enemy's point of view, yet jndj^ed on the whole fairly, is characterised, I have repeatedly said, by energy with honesty. Take away some of the energy which comes to us, as I believe, in part from Celtic and Roman soiirces; instead of energy, say rather steadiness; and yon have the Oermanic genius: steadiness with honesty. It is evident how nearly the characterisations approach one another; and yet they leave, us we shall see, a great deal of room for ditference.('2) The first sentence of the paragraph just quoted contains an internal connective that refers to the contents of following sentences, namely, the word 'repeat' To be sure, (1) As before the connectives are Indicated hy Italicized words. (2) Matthew Arnold: The Studj/ »/ C^tic LtUratuie. v^^geiatt»i3(siitifcjiakiBKfl»«j her hand, strate the tives that f the sen- :ontaining ^aifl of the flish spirit, liB jjeniurt, id's than an I the whole dly said, bj' onie of the sve, in part dof enerjjy, e Germanic is evident preach one shall see, a graph just active that sentences, 3 be sure, d by Italicized leratwe. •jaxasf^w!^^. PARAGRAPHS. «39 this word refers to the contents of preceding sentences, but at the same time it is used to mark out what the reader must expect to find in the following sentences. The fourth sentence of this paragraph contains another internal connectix e that refers to the content of following sentences, namely, the phrase ''as ive shall see^ (perhaps, also, the word 'je/'). The reader is prepared by this phrase to look for certain thoughts in the sentences which follow the one con- taining this phrase: the reader knows dis- tinctly what in general shall be the content of the sentences to follow. The two sen- tences which contain the connectives just appreciated are noteworthy in another way : they show that a connective which refers to the future, to what a reader must expect to find on the written page, may appear some- Inhere near the beginning of a sentence, or someivhere near the end. The word ^repeaf appears near the beginning of the first sen- tence: the phrase ^as ive shall see,'' near the close of the fourth or last sentence. /^ 140 PKINCIl'LKS OK STYLK Expert writers, of course, place their con- nectives in cither position, according to the special needs of the art of tine composition. I submit examples from two different writers: I placed before you in a few words, some little time aK'o, a rttatoiiieiit of the Hum and Mubrttance of MiltonV hypothesis. Lot tite iion- try iostnto, us hriL'tly, iltc effect of tbv cinnnistuntial evi- dence heariiiii upon the pnst history of the earth which is furnished, without the possibility of mistake, with no chance of error as to its chief features, by the stratified rocks. What we tind is, that the i^reat series of formations represents a period of time of which our human chronologies hardly afford us a unit of measure.(l) The second sentence of the paragraph just quoted begins a new topic of discourse, with a distinct statement of what that topic will be. The phrase ' Lef me noiv try to state ' is a connective which refers to the future, but which appears in the beginning of the sentence containing the connective. • Connectives which refer to the future may, however, be placed in the end of a sentence, as in the following paragraph: ri) T. H. Huxley. Three Lectures on Evolution: Lecture I. ;heir con- ing to the [Kisition. I it writers: Home little . !4nbrttancc rr iostnto, uiitial eri- ory of the possibility to its chief It we find is, epresents a ironolog;ie8 paragraph discourse, that topic 1W7V try to :ers to the beginning ;onnective. uture may, a sentence, in: Leetwe I. PAkAGKAPHS. 141 A reco^rnition of the heatity of wt'll -ordered words, a stroiij^ desire, patience under discourage- ments, and promptness in counting: every occasion as of consequence, -these are the simple i»jj;encies which sweep one on to power. Watch j-our speech, then. That is all which is needed. Only it is desirable to know what qualities of speech to watch for. I find three of them, -accuracy.audac- ity.and range,— «/J riter may sarts of a se of con- re: There )f internal ntences of of careful d skill. In ions, then, • clause of he leading sentence, a succeed- tents. I'AKAdKAPIIS. •43 Principles and Methods of Interconnect- ing a Series of Paragraphs. — Since a whole composition contains a series of paragraphs that develop a single idea, the series of paragraphs must be made coherent. Strict logical order in the sequence of the series of paragraphs secures coherence amongst the paragraphs. But since coherence by way of order is but implicit connection, the relations of paragraph to paragraph cannot appear to the mind of a reader until the reader thinks out their relations. But while implicit coherence is indeed an abso- lute necessity in all artistic composition, explicit coherence b)- way of connectives, initial and internal, retrospective and pros- pective, is of immense value in making a series of paragraphs appear as an interde- pendent series, as parts of a great whole. The connectives of a series of paragraphs should appear in Xhtjirst sentence or sen- tences of each paragraph, or in the last sentence or sentences. If a connective appears in the first sentence of a paragraph, m- ¥ i r» ,^ PKINCIPI.KS OF STYI.K. it is called a retrospective connective; because it refers to the content or topic of the immediately preceding paragraph. If a connective appears in the last sentence (,r sentences of a para^^raph, it is called a prospective connective; because it refers to the content or topic of the immediately suc- ceeding parajrraph. Let me illustratethe use of the two kinds of paragraph-connectives. Here are two paragraphs which are inter- connected by a retrospective connective: Whoever Koe^ to hi^ ^rave with bml KtiRlish in hi nouth ha. no one to hhnue hut '-.-'*;- thedi.a^.reeahle ta«te; for ^' '^^^^ ;^^'''XZ^Z inherited it can he exterminated too. I hopi to poin o ' on.e of the n.ethod. of .nh.titut.n^^ lood Kn^fliBh for had. And .ince my .pace .« S and I wi.h to be remen>hered. I throw what a;j to .ay into the form of four «'-;/^'- /J-j cents which, if pertinaciously obeyed w.U I beUevcgive anybody effective n.a.tery of Kn^,h.h an a tool. „ ,. . F,r«<, then. "Look well to your .peech. I i. commo;iy .nppo.ed that when V^:;^^^^^ arv newer he Roe. to hin room and plan, an article or the pTe««. But thi« i« to begin literary cultt.re aUhe wronK end. We .peak a hundred time, for eler^ once we write. The t,uBie.t wrUer produce, mtle u>ore than a volume a year, not bo much a« 'H^-Jt..--^- Ji :onnective; or topic of igraph. If St sentence is called a ; it refers to diately sue- tratetheuse •onnectives. •h are inter- innective: bud Kn^-lirth lit liiiii>*elf for rtpeecli ciin he oo. I lioiH- to t^nbrttitiitinjjf ; my rtpnce is , I throw whsit r simple prv- beyed, will, I eryof KnKlish tipeecb." 1< if* iiiin aeekH litor- )liinH an article iterary culture idred tinie>< for writer producet* lot so much as PAKAdKAlMIS. 145 his* talk would auionnt to in a week. C <)nne«|iu«ntly tlirouuli speech it in Uf«ually decided whether a man ir* to have ctunmand of bin lan^ua^e or not.(l> The topic or content of the second of the para},'raphs quoted above is connected with the preceding; one by the word ' First.' A reader perceives at once that this word ' First ' refers to the first of the \fimr sim- ple precepts,'' obedience to which, as the author says, will <;ive anybody effective mastery of English as a tool. This word ' First,' appearing as it does in the very bej^inning of the second paragraph, and referring distinctly to a definite statement in the preceding paragraph, is an initial retrospective paragraph-connective. Here, again, are two paragraphs, the second of which contains an internal retro- spective connective, in the form of a phrase: The Rood man, then, according to the hero(,. iittnininent of t?nt of will, irt hilt tluH, and L- of fet'lin^, irt n\ 156 PRINCIPLES OK STYLK. The G)mposing of Sentences: Structural Principles.— Now that I have tauj?ht jou romethin^ about the j^eneral nature and function of sentences, I must teach you, further, what principles you must employ in artistically composing sentences. These principles are Unity of Substance and Unity of Form. A sentence is a substantive part of a paragraph. Now a paragragh, as I said, contains a number of sentences, each of which presents an aspect of the topic of a paragraph, and in this way develops or elaborates the thought of a paragraph. As the topic of a paragraph is a thought liwited by a special point of view, so the topic of a sentence is a thought limited by a special point of view, namely, by one of the aspects of the topic of the paragraph that contains a given sentence. The principle of Unity of Substance demands that every sentence shall contain one and only one idea {aspect of a larger idea). To admit into a sentence limited to presenting a particular aspect of ;: Structural tauj^ht }'ou nature and teach you, nust employ noes. These 2e and Unity e part of a h, as I said, ces, each of he topic of a develops or ragraph. As mg'/ii Uvtited the topic of i by a special 3f the aspects that contains iple of Unity ery sentence ; idea {aspect ito a sentence ular aspect of -T— ^ SKNTKNCKS. '57 a topic any idea which happens to be sug- gested, but which is irrelevant to the aspect under presentation, is to cause a sentence not to say a single thing, but two or more things logically unconnected, and thus to violate the principle of Unity of Substance. The following paragraph contains a sen- tence that lacks unity of Substance: VeriniUion in adiiiitled by all wlio have seen the place to he one of the most pleasant cities in South Dakota. The University is in the north- eastern part. Those who enjoy tioatinjf, hunting, and excursions will find Vermillion and vicinity well adapted for such sports. Rowinj^: and sUat- in>? on the river are amonjf the nuiny enjoyable recreations of thestudents. [Kvery year excursion parties visit the Nebraska bluffs for geological specimens, since the heavy timber alonj? the Min- souri furnishes delightful places for picnics] The first sentence of the paragraph quoted above announces the topic of the paragraph. The topic, as you note, is the pleasant 'loca- tion' of the city of Vermillion, and, there- fore, of the University of South Dakota, which stands in the northeastern part of that city. Every sentence in this paragraph must make a sensible statement about some HwUfciliiniTililiiB H0 PRINCIPLKS Of STVLK. I ' I ' f ^1 aspecf of the />M/.sY//// situation of the Uni- versit)- of South Dakota; and each sentence must make a sensible statement about a different aspect. The fifth or last sen- tence (bracketed) does not make a sensible statement at all; for while it does contain an idea connected with the topic of the paragraph, it contains also a sugjjested idea not at all thus connected, the idea, namely, of excursion parties visiting the Nebraska bluffs for theological specimens. On first view, it is ahs»)4ute nonsense to assert: ' Excursion parties visit the Nebraska bluffs for iteological specimens^ since (because),' as the author says, 'the heavy timber along the bluffs furnishes delightful places for picnics.'' If, as is true, these bluffs, which are near Vermillion, do afford delightful places for picnicking, it is plain that this idea has logical connection with the topic of the paragraph, namely, the pleasantness of the seat of the University of South Dakota. But it is wholly impossible to connect geological investigation with the of the ITni- rtch sentcncL* ment about or last sen- ke a sensible LJoes contain topic of the guested idea dea, namely, ie Nebraska s. On first i to assert : braska bluffs e (because),' timber along 1 places for bluffs, which rd delightful ain that this 'ith the topic pleasantness ty of South mpossible to ion with the SEMtNChS. •59 topic of the paragraph, imless the author means that the students of the University of South Dakota can make life happier by pre/('f/(////i>- to search for geological speci- mens on the well wooded bluffs of Nebraska, while reu//]' making life happier by picnick- ing there. To give the last sentence of the paragraph quoted above unity of Substance, the irrelevant idea or statement regarding geological specimens must be eliminated. You will better appreciate my criticism, if I revise the whole paragraph of which the last sentence is an integral part : V'eriiiillion, the seat of the State I'niveraity. iw admitted by all who have seen the place to be one of the mortt pleananlcitiert in South Dakota. Those who enjoj boating, hunting!:, and excurHions will find Vermillion antl vicinity well adapted for such sports. Tluwe who enjoy skating will find in winter an excellent body of ice on the Vermil- lion river. Those who care for picnicking will find well wooded grounds adapted to such pas- time on the Nebraska bluffs, which lie across the Missouri river, about fcur miles from Vermillion. The sentence which I have just criticised and reconstructed lacks unity of Substance merely because the thought of the author of ifio PklVriPI.KS OF STYLK. this sentent'f is not explicitly coherent. The two different ideas in the two chiuses of that sentence were, no doubt, in the mind of the author somehow hi^'ically connected. The author, however, failed to make explicit the connection of tlie two ideas with the topic of the paragraph in which the sentence existed. Let me, now, show you a sentence that lacks unity of Sub' stance, not because the thought of the author of the sentence is not explicitly coherent, but because the author writes down on paper every idea that happens, naturally, to be suggested by a previous idea. The central idea of the sentence is modified again and again by ideas (expressed in relative clauses) which each preceding idea suggests. This kind of sentence has been well named the ' I louse- that-Jack-built' sentence. Here is a very good case of a sentence that lacks unity of Substance by way of irrelevant moditiers: In this uneasy state Cicero was oppressed by H new and cruel aftlictio»i,the dtath of his daugh- ter Tullia. [which happened soon after her divorce ^ •MtnwtM (herent. The '() clauses of in the mind ly connected, d to make le two ideas ph in which e, now, show inity of Sub- )U^ht of the lot exphcitly lUthor writes hat happens, y a previous the sentence in by ideas ) which each This kind of i the ' Mouse- ere is a very lacks unity of nt moditiers: IS opprearted by thof liirt daugh- jfter her divorce SKNTKNCKS. i6i from DkIiiIhUii. wlione miitintTM iind humoiirx wert' i-ntiroly dlrtiiKri-eiibli' to Iut|.(I) The sentence which I have just quoted is an excellent case of a most univn- 1 vice in authors, especially in youn^ wi .^i-rs, the vice, namely, of yielding' to su^'^estion. Let me put the matter concretely. The last two clauses of the sentence quoted above, as it were, 'danj^le' on the end of the first or principle clause. The principal chuise makes sense in itself, and presents really a single and exclusive idea. 'In this uneasy state,' the clause reads, ' C/Wn; 7vas oppressed by a nerv and cruel affliction, the death of his daughter TuUia^ The thouj^ht of this clause, you note, is that of the catise of the heightened uneasy state (1) Quoted In Baldwin; T»ie Kxv»'^Uvrv Pttmornph and Sen- • -nee, p. 30. In treatlnn of thlH matter of Unity of SubHtiincf T. Baldwin does not conimlt the fallacy Mt common In almost all textbooks of Ulietorlc. the fallacy, namely, of Inverting cause and effect. A lonK sentence, say, a sentence contalnlnn a number of relative clauses, as. «. (/.. the sentence (lUoteil alKJve, does not violate unity of Substance, because the sen- tence happens to be lonR. Bather, Iwcaust ihe thought of the author of a (flven sentence lacks unity of Substance, the sentence containing the expression of that thouRht Inevitably becomes long. t63 PRINCIPLKS OF STYLE. of Cicero's mind. This cause is tlie death of his daughter, TulHa. No sooner, how- ever, has the author of the whole sentence finished the pru;ciple clause than the thought about Tullia suggests the iiine of Tullia's death, namely, shortly after her divorce from her husband Dolabella; and no sooner has the author finished writing down the clause that contains this idea than the thought about Dolabella suggests the reason "why Tullia secured a divorce from her husband Dolabella, namely, the fact that he was a disagreeable husband. The author of the whole sentence, however, might have still kept on writing, if only other suggestions had come to him. He might have yielded to the very natural suggestion as to what kind of manners and tastes Tullia would prefe' in the man she would have chosen for s husband; and thus might have added another clause to the rest. In this way the author might have gone on writing forever. The sentence which I have just criticized iaiiHP:1^tfWgfc.*<-Jg3tota^>i^ajKi^iai^ £^«i£ JS-Uffiiats ^ SKNTENCES. 163 ; IS tlie death sooner, how- lole sentence ie than the s the time of :ly after her )labella; and shed writing ins this idea lella suggests ;d a divorce , namely, the ble husband, ice, however, f, if only other I, He might al suggestion I tastes TuUia : would have IS might have •est. In this ne on writing just criticized iMixUt^s^^^^'^^^^'ifS^^'^i^^s^^^iUiali^'':^. is torn from its context. It is barely pos- sible, therefore, that the ideas expressed in the relative clauses of this sentence may have had in the mind of the author logical connection with the topic of the paragraph in which this sentence exists. If so, the relative clauses, expressing as they do ideas (liferent in kind from the ideas of the princi- ple clause, should appear as whole sentences. But if the ideas contained in the relative clauses of this sentence had in the mind of the author no logical connection with the topic of the paragraph in which the sentence exists, then the relative clauses should be eliminated. In revising your own original compositions, then, keep well in mind the logical function of sentences. That func- tion, as I have said, is to express an aspect of a relatively large thought. In a well composed book or essay each one of a series of sentences elaborating the topic of a par- agraph must present not only an aspect of that topic, but also a different aspect. My next task i.-i to explain the principle 1 64 PRINCIPLES OF STYLE. of Unity of Form as employed in the com- posing of sentences. Fully to appreciate the application of this principle to the constructing of sentences you must under- stand that 'form' is a matter of order amongst the relations of the parts of a sentence. Now the parts of a sentence are words, phrases, and clauses. A sentence has unity of Form, first, when the parts of a sentence have the same form of structure, and, secondly, when the parts of a sentence are logically coherent. Strictly viewed, only compound and complex sentences can have uniformity of structure. But a com- pound sentence must have uniformity of structure in a double way, while a complex sentence can have it only in one way. Simple sentences, on the other hand, can ha\ e unity of Form only by way of logical coherence. What these distinctions mean can be made plain, most easily and effect- ively I judge, through illustration. In the case of compound sentences uni- formity of structure has a double meaning; ) > /' in the corn- appreciate pie to the lust under- ir of order parts of a a sentence A sentence the parts of }f structure, f a sentence tly viewed, intences can But a com- liformity of e a complex n one way. r hand, can ay of logical ictions mean '' and effect- ion. mtences uni- )le meaning; SENTKNCKS. i6S ■■i it has, that is, a logical and a gramvmticaJ meaning. Logically viewed, a compound sentence must have at least two co-ordinate clauses; each of these must express co-equal parts of one idea. Grammatically viewed, the co-ordinate clauses of a compound sen- tence must, as far as possible, keep the same form of subject and the same form of predicate. Nothing illustrates so well these two phases or kinds of uniformity of struc- ture as the kind of compound sentence known rhetorically as the balanced sen- tence. Here is an excellent illustration: The power of French literatijre is in its prose writers; the power oi Kn^Hsh literature is in its poet8.(l) Each clause of the sentence ]ust quoted is, as you note, uniform in logical structure; each clause, that is, expresses co-ordinate or co-equal aspects of one main idea, the idea, namely, of the contrast between tlie source of the power of French literature and (It Arnold: The LUerary Infinenee of Academlea. The ital- icized words In the text are mine; they note the uniformity In grammatical structure-In subject a nd predicate (verb). :ss^^?a%'^'Hi^^^"^^'^'*^=nw?^ ^ W J iwi tmi g WuW i'^ ^ t66 PRINCIPLES OF STYLK. the source of the power of EngHsh litera- ture. Again: Each clause of the sentence quoted above is uniform in grammatical structure; each clause, that is, keeps the same form of subject and the same form of predicate (verb) as does its fellow. Now that I have shown you a compound sentence that nicely possesses uniformity of structure (logical and grammatical), let me show you a compound sentence that lacks uniformity of structure. You may thus the better appreciate the meaning and value of unity of Form. I'ne predicate. If it is logically demanded, and grammatically possible, a complex sentence should be thus constructed. But if it is not logically demanded, /. e., if from the point of view of sense it is not possible, a complex sentence should, so/ar as gram- matically possible from the point of view of sense, keep in each clause the same form of subject and of predicate. This is the real meaning of unity of Form in a com- plex sentence.O Here is a senten ce which (1) lauiheredealiut; with Rhetoric, not with Grainmiir. Con- ^ ibordinate e, and per- • lood, with ipal clause, tructure is ibove have List prevent mplex sen- acture only ot sentence :t and the demanded, a complex icted. But /. g., if from lot possible, ir as gram- lint of view : the same . This is the 1 in a com- tence which ,h Grainmiir. Con- SKNTKNCKS. »7' very nicely keeps the same form of subject and of predicate in each clause. When at U'ii«th ihv numivtit [of death |, dreaded throiijfh f>() iiiany years, cittiiv chwe, ihv ilitrk ilotid piissL'd tmnr from Johnson's mind. Though the principal clause of the sen- tence just quoted above has a subject and a predicate different materially from the subject and predicate of the subordinate clause, yet each clause has the same /or/// of subject and of predicate. That is to say, the subject of each clause is adapted to the same form of predicate in each clause — to a predicate in the same voice, mood, tense, and person. Briefly, in each of the clauses there is no needless or senseless soquontly ( must not Ij« undorstix)tl to usHert that unity of Form 111 a i-oiiiplex sontenco Is ti mutter of ki'H'iii>i"<". What I m«an Is that a complex sentence has unity of Koriii when Its c/i(e/ part* keep, so far us possible from the point of view of sense, the sume/ormofurammatlcal structure. Asa matter of Brammar "a complex sentence must have only one main purt. and thut part must be expressed as the main clause." Now, as I submit, it Is not the business of the rhetorician to teach a writer how to construct grammattiMllii or syntacticaUu a complex sentence ; It Is the business of the rhetorician to teach u writer how to secure, in the wny of arttnttc struehire, unity of Substance and unity of Form In a aiwn complex sentence. A complex sen- tence as amatterof grammar may be acomplexsentence; but, us a matter of ytiie compinrftton, It may lack unity of Substance, or of Form. v ^ Irti'iiiWW'' ,72 PKINCIIM.KS OK STVLK. chan^nn- oi the -omler, nu.uber, and person c.f tlu ^ubject, or of the voice, mo.,d, tense, and person ',)f the predicate. Under many conditions a change in the subject and predicate, or in the form of the subject and predicate, of a complex sentence is necessary in order to make log- ical (not factual) sense. Only K"od sense and tine taste can determine when such a change is logically demanded. So that my ultimatum in this matter is: In revismg your original compositions see that your sentences, when complex, keep m each clause, so far as grannnatirally possible from the point of view of sense, the same ^ form' of subject ami of predicate. ■ Now" that I have explained the meauing of unity of Form as applied to the con- structing of compound and of complex sen- tences, I must explain its meaning as applied to simple sentences. What 1 shall say regarding this matter is, however, applicable to all kinds of sentences, whether compound, complex, or simple. ^ [intl person ood, tense, nue in the le form of ;i complex make lo^- iTood sense hen such a So that my In revising i that your ep in each //)' possible yg, the same ate. the meaning to the eon- complex sen- meaning as i. What I r is, however, ices, w hether lie. SKNTKNl lis. '7.? Sinte a simple sentence does not contain clauses, co-ordinate, or subordinate, but only words, or words and plu-ases, a simple sentence has unity of Form when its parts ha\e loo-/ccil coherence. A simple sentence has logical coherence when the spatial order of its parts unmistakal)1y presents {or., rather, represents) the order of thoui^ht ; or, in other words, when the syntactical order amongst the parts of a simple sentence makes strictly a unity ^ not an anil)io-titty, in meaning. Logical coherence, or if you like, syntactical coherence, is of two kinds, namely, implicit and explicit coherence.(') I shall immediately define both kinds of coherence, and illustrate them. The parts of a sentence are implicitly coherent luhen words that are closely related in thought are, so far as idiomatic- ally possible, in Juxtaposition on the written (1) TlioiuoMi luiiiinou!! treutiiientof tlu' niutliodsof obtain- IriK colit'i'i'iifi' ill siMitt'nci'H Is to b« found In Professor WeiiclfU's EnglitihComposUUm. Chap. Ill, pp. 104-110. My own troatnifntof coherence In sentencesdiffers from that of Professor Wendell. How my treatment differs may be learned by consultlnK the note to my text p. lao above, and the te.xt Itself pp. 130-187 above. ii-iliililiiriiliaiaili i«Mrds of a sentence unmistak- ably represents a sin^'le meaning, the sen- tence has unity of Form b) way of impHcit coherence; if the syntactical order does not unmiiuakably yi-ld one meanings the sentence is incohemvi. and therefore has ambijruity of Form. Here is a sentence thai lacks imphcit coherence (unity of Fort", by way of syntactical order): At Jorutno [yeaiH of ajje) the President aiipo'»>temU>n and Bhfiori, ftyr Seluwls, p. »1S. ,K. I order of the Lloes or does t syntactical . ice unniistak- lin^, the sen- ly of inipHcit I order does meaning, the therefore has is a sentence ce (unity of order): the Pi-crtident >ry.(») ,' intelligible: President was ippointed him jretary;' or — •-two years of him his private the sentence double way) iIxwlMiin ana RhelorU- \ -:z iXsms s XiS! ^:T s ' .-iv. v ^:v:Mij,: IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) z 1.0 I.! Iii|2£ |2.S 2.2 1^1 u 2.0 1.8 1.25 1 1.4 |||||L6 ^ 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 '^ '^m^i^smn^ % CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques "*^.;- i^^m'm^s^'^"t^i: I SENTKNCES. «7S perfectly intelligible to a reader; yet what that sentence really means is not at all char. A reader must stop to think out whether the phrase 'Af fhrfy-hvo {years of agey\s connected in thou^^ht with the word ' Pres- ident ' or with the word 'him ' (Mr. A. B.). The syntactical order or the 'form' of the sen- tence does not uiiwistahably tell a reader the precise relation of the phrase '■At foriy-tivo {years of agej to the other words in the sentence: only a knowledge of the facts can tell whether or not the syntactical order expresses the logical order. Logical syntactical order (implicit cohe- rence) is not always a mere matter of correct thinking; it is often, for various morphological and psychological reasons, a matter of tine sense of adjustment. The following incoherent sentence nicely illus- trates how difficult a matter it is always to secure the finest adjustment in the parts of a sentence: A glance at any printed page will show that the points [places] in paragraphs which most readily catch the eye are— even more notably ^ .*» 176 PRlNCiri.KS OF STYl-K. Implicit coherence, I have sa.c , ex.^ts m , sentence when words (ideas) closely con- nected in thought are in i«xtapos,t,on on .he written page; when the words ma sentence, that is, bythe.r very syntactical X-by their • form ' -unmistakably Express one meaning. The sentence I hav^ ■ust quoted above not only does not express lUtaUably one meaning, but dso,sawU. ward in syntactical order. The sentence 7have just quoted above does not unm s^ takably' express one meaning because - syntactical order the word '-.h.ch s con nected with the word ^paragmpk, when Tn reality the antecedent of the word ,.Arf !thewL'^»fc.'Thesyntact,calorder hat is, does not express the true order o thought. In an artistic p.ece of prose Composition, however, the structure every sentence must be such as to express unmistakablyajingle^idea; and the end.(l) said, exists in s) closely con- , ctaposition on le words in a iry syntactical -unmistakably sentence I have oes not express but also is awk- The sentence oes not unmis- ling because in 'wA/'c/t' is con- -agraph,' when \\QVf or A' ivhkh'' yntactical order, he true order of piece of prose \e structure of ich as to express 1. Ci)m,v<>eitUm,9.V^- Pro- o explain what Implicit ny own criticism of this ressorWendelVscrltlclsm. SKNTKNCKS. I?7 Afj;ain: In the sentence under criticism the parenthetical clause — ' even more nota- bly than in sentences' — is at fault much more by way of awkwardness of position than by way of bad syntactical order. Just because this clause is parenthetical a reader has merely to stop and to join the clause with its proper fellow in idea; and this a reader can do unmistakably. But to say that this clause is in an awkward position is to say that by dint of recasting the whole sentence the clause may be made to fall into its proper place, and thus to appear as an artistically composed clause. Now this clause not only is separated from its logical (or true syntactical) comrade, namely the phrase ' in paragraphs^ but also separates words, namely '■are'' and ''beginning ,' that in thought belong together. In sum, then, the word ' ivhicK' is connected in thought with the word ' points^ and the qualifying parenthetical clause '■even more notably than in sentences'' is connected in thought with the phrase '/« paragraphs^ 0^ I7S PRINCIPI.KS OK STYLK To make the sentence just criticized an artistic whole, words, phrases, and clauses closely connected in thought must appear, as closely as idiomatically possible, in jux- taposition on the written page. Thus revised the sentence I have criticized will read as follows: A glance at any printed page will show that in paragraphs*, even more notably than in sen- tences, the points which most readily catch the eye are the beginning and the end. If the words— or phrases, and clauses— of a sentence, whether the sentence be sim- ple, compound, or complex, are syntactically in their proper places, then a sentence has implicit logical coherence. In revising your sentences with a view to Unity of Form by way of implicit logical coherence, see that words closely connected together in thought are, so far as possible, in juxtapo- sition on the written page. Secondly: The parts of a sentence are explicitly coherent -v/ien the grammatical form of any ivord in a sentence unmistak- ably shows its own relation to every other .Titicized an , and clauses nust appear, isible, in jux- Thus revised will read as will show tlint y than in aen- idily catch the ind clauses — itence be sim- : syntactically sentence has In revising to Unity of :al coherence, :ted together )le, in juxtapo- sentence are trramwatical nee until i$t ah' to every other SKNTKNCKS. :m: ivonf. In e\er}' sentence there is some word (or words) that knits together all the other words in a sentence by knitting them to itself. Such a word (or words) is called a connective. A connective may be either initial or internal; may exist, that is, either in the beginning, or in the body of a sen- tence. Here is a paragraph, the second sentenceofwhich contains a bad connective: Mr. Richard Harding Davis tella a story of the SantiajjfO campaign to illustrate how men love cleanlineaa. [A comrade found /i/'s saddle-ba^, and, findinjf him the next da}', returned pocket- book, letters, and medicine to him.] In the second sentence just quoted above the syntactical connective is the word ' his.'' The clause ''A comrade found his saddle- bag'' is ambiguous in form: a reader is compelled to think out whether the com- rade of Mr. Davis found his own saddlebag, or the saddlebag of Mr. Davis. Only indeed by dint of thinking does a reader discover that the word ' his ' refers to Mr. Davis. In order, therefore, to make this sentence have unmistakably one meaning, ^ If^ 1>RINCIPLI:S OK STYLK. the word ' his ' must be made to indicate upmistakably to whom it refers. This can best be done by substituting for the word '//A' some words that expHcitly refer to Mr. Davis. In order that you may feel the value of the revision I recast the para- graph in which the sentence criticized above occurs : Mr. Kichurd Harding Davis tells a story of the Santiago campaign to illustrate how "-;'-- . cleanliness. During this campaign Mr. Dav.s lost hi? saddlebag, which contained « 1-^^^ -^-^*^/ some letters, and some medicme. A comrade ot Mr Davis found this saddlebag; and. on meeting Mr. Davis, returned the bag to him. You have noted the great amount of labor to which I have been put in order to make the sentence I have criticized yield unmis- takably one meaning. What I have written down on paper represents what, as a reader, I had to do, first of all, in the way of think- ina My own labor in the way of thmking is\o vever, only an instance of what any reader must do in order to get sense out of an inartistic piece of prose style. In revising your original compositions, then, rstK SKNTKNCES. lit to indicate ^. This can »r the word tly refer to m may feel ist the para- ici/ed above I a atory of the low men love Mr. Davis U)»*t I pocket-book, A comrade of id, on meeting lount of labor rder to make yield unmis- have written t, as a reader, way of think- ly of thinking of what any get sense out se style. In ositions, then, with a view to logical coherence, see that every word in your sentences is explicitly connected with every other word, even if, as often happens, you are compelled to recast your sentences and to repeat words you have used before.(') The Punctuating of Sentences: A Simple Method. — Punctuation, as treated in text- books of Rhetoric, is, rightly I judge, a bugbear to the young writer. What I have to recommend in this matter is based on a fact which all text books of Rhetoric ignore, on the fact namely, that the form and the length of sentences determine the nature and the number of points of punctu* ation needed for expressing unmistakably the meaning of any sentence. In any case (1) "I learned from Macaulay never to be afraid of using the same word or name over and over again, if by that means anything could be added to clearness or force. Macaulay never goes on lil"*«'•"'«?";•' *™^, ,; theTnevltahle result of the evolu- Ho:; of 11 Jrary English Awards the form of spoken English. i/iteroture Chaps. XIX-XXIII. SKNTKNCKS. lis \ two points more tlian Mther com- n quantity lort. Now ; history or ce, the habit s seen, e.^:, ) is to write or complex inate clause, inly two CO- ictice on the s a practical ntences. My Limmarily. lentences. In lete, is at uny rate of the changes Ui , II writer need use Hod (or, In the case irrogatlon) and the •esult of the evolu- of spoken EnRllsh. rman's AnalytUx of that case, you will need only one point of punctuation, namely, either a period, or the point of interrogation. You will be com- pelled, however, to use also commas, if your simple sentences contain words or phrases in apposition. Secondly: Apiece of prose style containing nothing but sim- ple sentences would undoubtedly become monotonous. For the sake of variety, there- fore, write some complex sentences with only one subordinate clause, and some com- pound sentences with only two co-ordinate clauses. If you write a complex sentence with only one subordinate clause, you will need a period to mark the close, and a comma to separate the clauses. If you write a compound sentence with only two co-ordinate clauses you will need a period to make the close, and a comma to separate the clauses. Here is a paragraph illustrat- ing the whole matter: Mj' friends, in these two errors, I thinli, I find the causea of a decaying church and a wasting; unbelief. And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of worship? Then all vj^}::.^ti^:^xi^ir , ^ i ^i.'^'.vf^m-m-4v-M'^^^^^ w^ r ,H4 l-KlNriPLKS or STYl.K. In this passage, as you note, hmerson uses only short simple, complex, and com- pound sentences, and only three points of punctuation. If, then, you too wnte only short simple, complex, or compound sen- tences, you will tind .that the elahorate difficulties of the old systems of punctuation have resolved themselves into a simple use ^ of three points, namely, the comma, the period, and the mark of interrogation^ Words as Materials of P'^^.Stylc; Principles of Choosing Them.-Not al combinations of letters used as means of communication-except where ' realism is demanded-are 'words' in the sense o materials of prose style. For purposes of fine composition a writer of to-day may use only such words i^s^reusedhyjepjUable mvinity ctiUtu*- \._. < the tfiiipU' to •t. I.iti'rtitiirt' I. Tlie «'ye of other \vorl«l>*. • liven to tritlen, ion them.(l) »te, Emerson ex, and com- jree points of o write only impound sen- the elaborate if punctuation o a simple use i comma, the rrogation. Prose Style: lem.— Not all d as means of ere 'realism' is \ the sense of 'or purposes of to-day may use i by reputable ,eforetheSenU)raa»»in SKNTKNtMS. ISS fonfeinporary writers. Let me explain this matter in detail. I shall put what I have to say in short simple maxims. First: Use only such words as arc war- ranted by the style of coiifi'inporary writers. On the whole this means: Use only such words as are warranted by the style of writers contemporary with your century. Sometimes, however, in view of the fact that a few words used by writers in the early part of this century are either obso- lete or obsolescent, this means: Use only such words as are warranted by the style of writers contemporary with yourself. Secondly: Use only such words as arc warranted by the style of reputable writers contemporary with the present century (or with your own time). Reputable writers are those " who have literary distinction, and who know and regard the structure and history of literary English words." Thirdly: Use only such words as are war- ranted by the style of the reputable writers of your 07VN country. On the whole there mitii ^ ,..'.ii,ii''i"r"rit jlUUi. Ill onWIBKIdlPW ,86 PRINCIPLES OF STYLK are very few differences between reputable contemporary Brithh English and reputa- ble /I ///e/vV.?// English. If you are yourself an American, use always good American English; if a Briton, use always good British English. Always, in short, use such words as are employed by the reputa- ble writers of your own time (day or cen- tury) and of your own country. My task is now finished. In my own weak way I have told you how one may secure a mastery of the art of writing plam, idiomatic English prose style. Let me summarize the processes. First: Every piece of prose style must be constructed according to the principles of Unity of Substance and Unity of Form; must be so composed, that is, as to express a single idea, and to express the contents of this idea in a logical order. Secondly: For the surest application of these principles, every piece of prose style must be constructed tsiiSsss. ^ i STYLK between reputable nglish and reputa- If you are yourself •s good American use always good lys, in short, use yed by the reputa- time (day or cen- country. ihed. In my own you how one may art of writing plain, se style. Let me ses. First: Every ust be constructed iciples of Unity of f Form; must be so to express a single . he contents of this Secondly: For the ese principles, every oust be constructed SENTENCKS. 187 according to the actual method of com- position employed by all good writers. In constructing a piece of style with a view to its having unity of Substance and unity of Form, all expert writers proceed in gen- eral somewhat as follows: First, they previse the general substance and form of what they mean to write down on paper; next, they expaiidwhtxt they have prevised; and, finally, they revise what they have expanded into a whole composition. Since, however, the process of expansion is a material or psychological matter, and the processes of prevision and revision, a struc- tural or logical matter, all expert writers aim primarily to previse and revise their compositions with a view to fine structure or logical order. To previse finely they take care that every special topic of discourse in the outline of their themes is related strictly to the limited general topic of their themes, and that every special topic is treated in a logical order, in an order nat- ural to a given point of view. To revise ^ sgaja:i?J- ' 'i. ' !ft. ' -^ ' '--"J-''^'*"*^ '' * t8l PRINCIPLES OF STYLK. finely they take care, again, that the con- tents of each special topic are related strictly to their proper topic, and that these contents are put in a logical order, in an order natural to a given point of view. For gaining a mastery of fine writing there i#>ai*' illl ''"1 ■ "' V ^ V at the con- ire related d that these rder, in an f view, ine writing mechanical no mechan- irst, of clear it work. eabMMmiiMMW"* Jan - 17 1901 /^