This book is DUE on tl SOUTHERN BRANCH UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES. CAL'F. Eije ^catiemg Classics HERBERT SPENCER Philosophy of Style TOGETHER WITH AN ESSAY ON STYLE By T. H. WRIGHT WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY FRED N. SCOTT, Ph.D. Professor of Rhetoeic in the TJniveesity of MicnioAN SECOND EDITION 1917 ALLYN AND BACON Boston Ncfa) gorit Cfjtcaga ^ 28192 COPTKIGHT, 1892, By FRED N. SCOTT. Ttpographt by J. S. Gushing & Co., Boston. Presswobk by Berwick & Smith, Boston. o n PKEFACE. This volume may be considered as the second of a series, — Lewes's ' Principles of Success in Literature ' being the first, — the object of which is to bring helpful discussions of the principles of literary criticism within the reach of teachers of rhetoric. As before, the plan has been followed of providing a biographical and critical introduction, an index, and a few notes, — the latter designed to provoke discussion or to furnish clues for further in- vestigation, rather than to exhibit in their totality the results of the editor's researches. To Spencer's essay, which makes iip the bulk of the pamphlet, has been added, as a commentary upon 'The Philosophy of Stj^le,' a paper by T. H. Wright, originally published in Macmillan's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII., p. 78, and afterwards reprinted in the Popular Science Monthly, Vol. XII., p. 340. In the appendices will be found a note from Gurney's 'Power of Sound,' criticising Spencer's theory of the effect of rhythmical structure, and a long extract from Spencer's 'First Principles,' touching the evolution of literature. These will prove helpful where the originals cannot be readily consulted. In the belief that 'The Philosophy of Style' can be understood' only in its proper connection with the Spencerian philosophy as a whole, the Introduction has been made largely bibliographical. The references to Spencer's articles in magazines will in some cases supply the lack of books. Articles upon Spencer's life and ill iv Preface. personality are not very numerous. The best biographical sketch is that in the Popular Science Monthly, Vol. VIII., p. 620. Briefer accounts will be found in ' Men of the Time,' Brockhaus' ' Conver- sations-Lexikon,' and the recent article by Mr. W. H. Hudson, in the Arena for February, 1892. Discussions and criticisms of Spencer's philosophical views, are, on the other hand, exceedingly numerous. A favorable estimate, giving a brief summary of Spencer's more important writings down to 1874, is available in the article by E. L. Youmans, entitled ' Herbert Spencer and the Doctrine of Evolution,' Popular Science Monthly, Vol. VI., p. 20. A careful outline of the Spencerian philosophy, from a decidedly different point of view, is given by Dr. W. T. Harris in the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 6. T. H. Green's criticisms in the Contemporary Magazine, Vol. XXXI., pp. 25 and 745, Vol. XXXII., p. 82, are well known. The best induction to the subject, barring the original works, is, of course, John Fiske's 'Cosmic Philosophy.' FRED N. SCOTT. Ann Arbor, February 9, 1892. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. A SECOND edition gives opportunity for correcting a few typo- graphical errors, and for inserting a few references that have recently come to my attention. I take advantage of this preface to add to the list of critical works and essays the recent volume by Professor W. H. Hudson, ' Introduction to the Philosophy of Herbert Spencer' (N. Y. : 1894). FRED N. SCOTT. CONTENTS. PAGK Introduction vii SPENCER'S PHILOSOPHY OF STYLE. Part I. — Causes of Force in Language which Depend UPON Economy of the Mental Energies. i. The Principle of Economy 1 ii. Economy in the Use of Words 5 iii. The Principle of Economy applied to Sentences 9 iv. The Principle of Economy applied to Figures 21 V. Suggestion as a Means of Economy 28 vi. The Effect of Poetry explained 30 Part II. — Causes of Force in Language which Depend UPON Economy of the Mental Sensibilities. i. The Law of Mental Exhaustion and Repair 36 ii. Explanation of Climax, Antithesis, and Anticlimax 38 iii. Need of Variety 40 iv. The Ideal Writer 42 WRIGHT'S ESSAY ON STYLE. i. R6sum6 of Spencer's Essay 45 ii. Style the Imperfect Expression of the Writer's Personality. . . 49 Appendix A. — The Sound-Element in Verse 61 Appendix B. — The Evolution of Literature 64 V INTRODUCTION. -o-oXXoo- LLFE AND WRITINGS. Herbert Spencer's life may be divided into three periods: his boyhood and schooling, his experience as a practical engineer, the years that he has spent in develop- ing his system of philosophy. The first period comprises seventeen years. He was born in Derby, England, April 27, 1820. His father was a school-teacher, a man of con- siderable learning and much force of character, a liberal in both politics and religion, in matters of education inclined to throw emphasis upon the value of observation and the study of the sciences. From such a father, and later from an uncle who held similar views, Herbert's early education, in so far as he got it from others, was mainly received. Reputed inattentive, idle, and disobedient, he was by no means a model scholar. In fact he did not learn to read until seven years of age. It is noteworthy, however, that he rebelled only against learning by rote; for tasks requir- ing originality and independent investigation his mind showed itself umisually capable. During these early years he studied drawing and mechanics, made collections of insects, read a little ancient history, and absorbed a good deal of science and politics from the conversations of his father's friends at meetings of the Derby Philosophical Society. From 1833 to 1836 he was with his uncle, the Rev. Thomas Spencer of Hinton, nominally preparing for one of the universities, Init in reality neglecting Greek and Latin for mathematics and mechanics. At his own wish, vii viii Introduction. the idea of a iiiiiversity career, which his uncle had enter- tained for him, was abandoned. He returned home, spent a year in study, and seven months, not unsuccessfully, in teaching. To this period belongs his first literary work — a discussion of a geometrical theorem published in the Civil Engineer's and Architects Journal. The second portion of Spencer's life begins with an invi- tation, given him in the fall of 1837, to go to London as a railroad surveyor and draughtsman. For the following ten years his time was divided between practical work — testing machinery, designing, and constructing — and miscellaneous reading and study. While secretary to the chief engineer of the Birmingham and Gloucester Railroad he devised a velocimeter for recording the speed of locomotives. In 1841, refusing a proffered engagement as engineer, he re- turned home to spend two years in scientific studies. An overflow of the river at Derby led to his preparing for the town council a detailed report upon the causes of the overflow, with proposals for a remedy. A second visit to London was undertaken with a view to securing a position with some literary or scientific journal, but an engineering job was taken up instead. A third visit was made in 1844 with like results. Then came a depression in railroad enterprises and a consequent falling-off in the demand for young engineers. In 1846 Spencer returned home, and although some time for the next two years was devoted to invention and problems in mechanics, engineering as a pro- fession was, in 1848, definitely abandoned. During these ten years Spencer's studies had laid the foundation for the development of his philosophical system. Among other scientific works he had taken up Lyell's 'Principles of Geology,' and after reading the author's attack upon what was then known as Lamarck's 'Development-theory,' had ranged himself upon the side of the French naturalist. From this year, 1839, may be dated the beginning of Spencer's Life and Writings. ix prolonged effort to interpret all the facts of nature in the light of the central principle, evolution. Other studies occupying his leisure hours were drawing, botany, social science, and, for a brief space, phrenology. His writings during this period embrace technical articles in the Civil Engineer's Journal; a series of letters, published in the Nonconformist in 1842, on 'The Proper Sphere of Govern- ment,' tending to show that the government's sole function should be the protection of life, of property -tenure, and of social order; and miscellaneous contributions to the P7ii7o- sojyhical Magazine and the Zooist. A third period may be said to begin either in 1846 when he conceived, or in 1848 when he began writing, what is properly the earliest of his philosophical works — the 'Social Statics. ' Published in 1850, this work is an attempt to account for the social organism as a growing adaptation of men to their environment. Together with the 'Theory of Population, ' published in the Westminster Review in 1832, and 'The Development Hypothesis' which appeared in the Leader the same year, it forms a remarkable anticipation of the theory which Darwin put forth nine years later. Prom 1848 to 1852 Spencer was connected as editorial writer with the Economist, a London journal. The essay on 'The Philosophy of Style' came out in the Westminster Review for October of the latter year. In the same magazine appeared, the following year, articles on ' Over-Legislation, ' uphold- ing the theory first broached in the Nonconformist; and 'The Universal Postulate,' an examination of Mill. Three essays came from Spencer's pen in 1854: 'The Genesis of Science,' British Quarterly Revieio for July, in which Comte's classification of the sciences is attacked; 'The Art of Education,' North British Review for May; and 'Man- ners and Fashion,' Westminster for April. In August he^ began his 'Principles of Psychology.' The next year saw the completion of this book, but over-work brought on a X Introduction. nervous break-down, which left the author a semi-invalid for the rest of his life. Nevertheless the stream of his in- cessant activity was barely interrupted. Four articles by him are to be found in the reviews for 1857. In 'Progress, its Law and Cause, ' in the Westminster Review, the idea oi evolution in its broad application to all physical, biological, and social phenomena, which had first come to him while writing the 'Principles of Psychology,' was set forth at considerable length. 'The Origin and Function of Music,' appearing in Fraser's Magazine for October, aimed to ex' plain the nature of musical expression as an idealization of the cadences of emotional speech. Other essays were 'Representative Government, What is it good for?' West- minster for October, and 'Transcendental Physiology,' National Review for October. During the next three years magazine articles appeared at intervals of a few months. 'State Tamperings with Money and Banks' came out in January, 1858, 'Moral Education' in the British Quarterly Review for April, 'The Nebular Hypothesis,' a defence of the theory, in the Westminster for July, and a review of Pro- fessor Owen's 'Archetype and Homologies of the Vertebrate Skeleton ' in the Medico-chirurgical Review for October. For 1859 may be found, 'The Laws of Organic Form' in the Medico-chirurgical Review for January, 'Physical Educa- tion,' a continuation of 'Moral Education,' in i\\Q British Q?, force will generally be gained by placing the simile before-ii the object to which it is applied. That this arrangement is the best, may be seen in the following passage from the ' Lady of the Lake ' : «' As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from, the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, ' And at the monarch's feet she lay."^ Inverting these couplets will be found to diminish the effect considerably. There are cases, however, even where the simile is a simple one, in which it may with advantage be 1 Properly the term "simile" is applicable only to the entire figure, inclusive of the two things compared and the comparison drawn between them. But as there exists no name for the illustrative member of the fig- ure, there seems no alternative but to employ "simile" to express this also. This context will in each case show in which sense the word is used. — H. S. 2 But compare the arrangement in the following from ' Othello ' : " Of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to Ibe melting mood Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum." 24 The Philosophy of Style. placed last, as in these lines from Alexander Smith's ' Life Drama ' : " I see the future stretch All dark and barren as a rainy sea." The reason for this seems to be, that so abstract an idea as that attaching to the word " future," does not present itself to the mind in any definite form, and hence the subsequent arrival at the simile entails no reconstruction of the thought. 39. Such, however, are not the only cases in which this order is the most forcible. As the advantage of putting the simile before the object depends on its being carried forward in the mind to assist in forming an image of the ob- ject, it must happen that if, from length or complexity, it can- jiotjbe so carried forward, the advantage is not gained. Tlie annexed sonnet, by Coleridge, is defective from this cause : " As when a child, on some long winter's night, Affrighted, clinging to its grandam's knees, With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees, Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell ; Or of those hags who at the witching time Of murky midnight, ride the air sublime, And mingle foul embrace with fiends of hell ; Cold horror drinks its blood ! Anon the tear More gentle starts, to hear the beldame tell Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear, Murder'd by cruel uncle's mandate fell : Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart, Ev'n so, thou, Siddons, meltest my sad heart." 40. Here, from the lapse^ of time a-nd accumulation^ jof. circumstances, the first part of the comparison is forgotten before its application is reached, and requires re-reading. Had the main idea been first mentioned, less effort would Jiaye been required to retain it, and to modify the concep- tion of it into harmony with the comparison, than to remem- ber the comparison, and refer back to its successive features for help in forming the final image. Causes of Force in Language. 26 41. The ^superiority of the Metaphor to the Simile is as- cribed by Dr. Whately ^ to the fact that " all men are more gratified at catching the resemblance for themselves, than in having it pointed out to them." But after what has been said, the great economy it achieves will seem the more probable cause. Lear's exclamation — " Ingratitude ! thou marble- hearted fiend," would lose part of its effect were it changed into — " Ingratitude ! thou fiend with heart like marble ; " and the loss~ would result partly from the position of the simile and partly from the extra number of words required. When the comparison is an involved one, the greater force - of the metaphor, consequent on its greater brevity, becomes much more conspicuous. If, drawing an analogy between mental and physical phenomena, we say, ''As, in passing through the crystal, beams of white light are decomposed into the colours of the rainbow ; so, in traversing the soul of the poet, the colourless rays of truth are transformed into brightly tinted poetry " ; it is clear that in receiving the double set of words expressing the two halves of the com- parison, and in carrying the one half to the other, consider- able attention is absorbed. Most of this is saved, however, by putting the comparison in a metaphorical form, thus : "The white light of truth, in traversing the many sided transparent soul of the poet, is refracted into iris-hued poetry." 42. How much is conveyed in a few words by the help of the Metaphor, and how vivid the effect consequently pro- duced, may be abundantly exemplified. From 'A Life Drama' may be quoted the phrase, - " I spear'd him with a jest," as a fine instance among the many which that poem con- 1 'Rhetoric,' Ft. III., Chap. 2, § 3. 26 The Philosophy of Style. tains. A passage in the ' Prometheus Unbound/ of Shelley, displays the power of the metaphor to great advantage : " Methought among the lawns together We -wandered, underneath the young gray dawn, And multitudes of dense white fleecy clouds Were wandering, in thick flocks along the mountains Shepherded by the slow unwilling wind." This last expression is remarkable for the distinctness with which it realizes the features of the scene : bringing the mind, as it were, by a bound to the desired conception. 43. But a limit is put to the advantageous use of the / Metaphor, by the condition that it must be sufficiently ^ simple to be understood from a hint. Evidently, if there. be any obscurity in the meaning or application of it, no economy of attention will be gained ; but rather the reverse. l_ Hence, when the comparison is complex, it is usual to have .recourse to the Simile. There is, however, a species of figure, sometimes classed under Allegory, but which might, perhaps, be better called Compound Metaphor, that enables us to retain the brevity of the metaphorical form even where the analogy is intricate. This J^-jdone by. indicating, the application of the figure at the outset, and then leaving the mind to continue the parallel.^ Emerson has employed it with great effect in the first of his 'Lectures on the Times': — "The main interest which any aspects of the Times can have for us, is the great spirit which gazes through them, the light which they can shed on the wonderful ques- tions. What are we, and Whither we tend? We do not wish to be deceived. Here we drift, like white sail across the wild ocean, now bright on the wave, now darkling in the trough of the sea ; but from what port did we sail ? Who 1 Kot uncommon in Shakespeare, as, for example, the followiug from ' Hamlet,' IV., 2 : — " But siich officers do the king best service in the end: he keeps them, as an ape doth nuts, in the corner of his jaw ; first mouth'd to be last swallowed." Causes of Force in Language. 27 knows ? Or to what port are we bound ? Who knows ? There is no one to tell us but such poor weather-tossed mariners as ourselves, whom we speak as we pass, or who have hoisted some signal, or floated to us some letter in a bottle from far. But what know they more than we ? They also found themselves on this wondrous sea. No ; from the older sailors nothing. Over all their speaking trumpets the gray sea and the loud winds answer, Kot in us ; not in Time." 44. The division of the Simile from the Metaphor is by no means a definite one. Between the one extreme in which the two elements of the comparison are detailed at full length and the analogy pointed out, and the other extreme in which the comparison is implied instead of stated, come intermediate forms, in which the comparison is partly stated and partly implied. For instance : — " " Astonished at the performances of the English plow, the Hindoos paint it, set it up, and worship it; thus turning a tool into an idol: linguists do the same with language." There is an evident advantage in leaving the reader or hearer to complete the figure. And generally these inter- mediate forms are good in proportion as they do this; provided the mode of completing it be obvious. 45. Passing over much that may be said of like purport upon Hyperbole, Personification, Apostrophe, &c., let us close our remarks upon construction by a typical example. The general principle which has been enunciated is, that other things equal, the force of all verbal forms and 4 ;iii:iiiL,^enients is great, in proportion as the time and mental ; clVort they demaiid from tlie recipient is small. The corol- laries fi-om this general principle have been severally illus- ' jtrated; and it has been shown that the relative goodness oi - any two modes of expressing an idea, may be determined by observing which requires the shortest process of thought for its compr ehension. But though conformity in particu- ^ 28 The Philosophy of Style. lar points has been exemplified, no cases of complete con- formity have yet been quoted. It is indeed difficult to find them ; for the English idiom does not commonly permit the order which theory dictates. A few, however, occur in Ossian. Here is one : — "As autumn's dark storms pour from two echoing hills, so towards each other approached the heroes. As two dark streams from high rocks meet and mix, and roar on the plain : loud, rough, and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inisfail. ... As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high ; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven ; such is noise of the battle." 46. Except in the position of the verb in the first two similes, the theoretically best arrangement is fully carried out in each of these sentences. The simile comes before the qualified image, the adjectives before the substantives, the predicate and copula before the subject, and their respective complements before them. That the passage is open to the charge of being bombastic proves nothing ; or rather, proves our case. Eor what is bombast but a force of expression too great for the magnitude of the ideas embodied ? All that may rightly be inferred is, that only in very rare cases, and then only to produce a climax, should all the conditions of effective expression be fulfilled. V. Suggestion as a Means of Economy. 47. Passing on to a more complex application of the doctrine with which we set out, it must now be remarked, that not only in the structure of sentences, and the use of figures of speech, may economy of the recipient's mental energy be assigned as the cause of force; but-ihat in the choice, and arrangement of the minor images, out of which some large thought is to be built up, we may trace the same conditi on to eff ect. To select from the sentiment, scene, or event, described^ those typical elements which carry many othersa]^ng_jwJth_thenij and so, by saying a few things Causes of Force in Language. 29 but suggesting manj[^Jo abridge the description; is the _secret of producing a vivid impression.^ An extract from Tennyson's ' Mariana ' will well illustrate this : ' ' All day -within the dreamy house, The door upon the hinges creaked, The blue fly sung i' the pane ; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked, Or from the crevice peered about." 48. The several circumstances here specified bring with them many appropriate associations. Our attention is rarely drawn- by the buzzing of a fly in the window, save when everything is still. While the inmates are moving about the house, mice usually keep silence ; and it is only when extreme quietness reigns that they peep from their retreats.- Hence each of the facts mentioned, presupposing numerous others, calls up these with more or less distinct- ness ; and revives the feeling of dull solitude with which they are connected in our experience. We re all the _se.. facts _detailed instead of suggested^ the attention would be so frittered away that little impression of dreariness would be produced. Similarly in other cases. Whatever the nature of' the thought to be conveyed, this skilful selection of a few particulars which imply the rest, is the key to success. In the choice of component ideas, as in the choice of ex- pressions, the aim must be to convey the greatest quantity y_ of_tliQughts with the smallest quantity of words. 49. The same principle may in some cases be advanta-^ geously carried yet further, by indirectly suggesting some entirely distinct thought in addition to the one expressed. Thus, if we say, " The head of a good classic is as full of ancient myths, as that of a servant-girl of ghost stories " ; 1 The following sentence occurs at this point in the Westminster Review text: — " Thus if we say, Real nobility is ' not transferable ' ; besides the one idea expressed several arc; implied, and as these can be thought much sooner than they can be put in words, there is gain in omitting them." 30 The Philosophy of Style. it is manifest that besides the fact asserted, there is an im- plied opinion respecting the small value of classical knowl- edge: and as this implied opinion is recognized much sooner than it can be put into words, there is gain in omitting it. jii dtlici- cases, again, great effect_is ^produced by an overt omission ; .provided the nature of the idea left out is ob- „yiaus. A good instance of this occurs in ' Heroes and Hero- worship.' After describing the way in which Burns was sacrificed to the idle curiosity of Lion-hunters — people who came not out of sympathy, but merely to see him — people who sought a little amusement, and who got their amuse- ment while " the Hero's life went for it ! " Carlyle suggests a parallel thus: '^Kichter says, in the Island of Sumatra there is a kind of ' Light-chafers,' large Fire-flies, which j^eople stick upon spits, and illuminate the ways with at night. Persons of condition can thus travel with a pleasant radiance, which they much admire. Great honour to the Fire-flies! But — ! — " vi. The Effect of Poetry explained. 50. Before inquiring whether the law of effect, thus far traced, explains the superiority of poetry to prose, it will be needful to notice some supplementary causes of force in expression, that have not yet been mentioned. These are not, properly speaking, additional causes \ but rather sec- ondary ones, originating from those already specified — reflex results of them. In the first place, then, we may Temark that mentel_excit£iaenLspontaReDusly prompts, t^ use of those forms o f speech which hav e bee n pointed oiit. u as the most e ffective., "Out with him!"^ "Away with him ! " are the natural utterances of angry citizens at a dis- turbed meeting. A voyager, describing a terrible storm he had witnessed, would rise to some such climax as — "Crack 1 " Put him out ! " is the form most commonly heard iu this country. Causes of Force in Language. 31 went the ropes and clowu came the mast." Astonishment may be heard expressed in the phrase — " Never was there such a sight ! " All of which sentences are, it will be ob-" served, constructed after the direct type. Again, every one knows that excited persons are given to figures of"' speec h. The vituperation of the^vulgar abouiids with them : -i often, indeed, consists of little else. "Beast," "brute," "gallows rogue," "cut-throat villain," these, and other like metaphors and metaphorical epithets, at once call to mind a street quarrel. Further, it may be noticed that extreme _- i brevity is a nother characteristic .of passionate language^*- The s entences are generally inc ompletej the particles are omitted ;* and frequently important words are left to be gathered from the context. Great admiration does not vent '* itself in a precise jDroposition, as — "It is beautiful"; but in the simple exclamation, — " Beautiful ! " He who, when reading a lawyer's letter, should say, " Vile rascal! " would ^e_ thought angry; while, "He is a vile rascal ! " Avould im- ply comparative coolness. Thus we see that alike in the order of the words, in the frequent use of figures, and in extreme conciseness, the natural utterances of excitement conform to the theoretical conditions of forcible expres- sion. 51. Hence, then, the higher forms of speech acquire a*-""' secondary strength from association. Having, in actual ^ life, habitually heard them in connection with vivid mental impressions, and having been accustomed to meet with them in the most powerful writing, they come to have in them- selves a species of force. The emotions that have from time to time been produced by the strong thoughts wrapped up in these forms, are partially aroused by the forms them- selves. They create a certain degree of animation; they ^ induce a preparatory sympathy, and when the striking ideas looked for are reached, they are the more vividly , realized. 32 The Philosophy of Style. 52. The continuous use of these modes of expressic that are alike forcible in themselves and forcible from their associations, produces tlie peculiarly impressive species of composition which we call poetry. Poetry, we shall find, habitually adopts those symbols of thought, and those methods of using them, which instinct and analysis agree in choosing as most effective, and becomes poetry by virtue of doing this. On turning back to the various specimens that have been quoted, it will be seen that the direct or inverted form of sentence predominates in them ; and that to a degree quite inadmissible in prose. And not only in the frequency, but in what is termed the violence of the inversions, will this distinction be remarked. In the abun- dant use of figures, again, we may recognize the same truth. Metaphors, similes, hyperboles, and personifications, are the poet's colours, which he has liberty to employ almost with- out limit. We characterize as "poetical" the prose which uses these appliances of language with any frequency, and condemn it as " over florid " or " affected " long before they occur with the profusion allowed in verse. Further, let it be remarked that in brevity — the other requisite of forci- ble expression which theory points out, and emotion spon- taneously fulfils — poetical phraseology similarly differs from ordinary phraseology. Imperfect periods are fre- quent; elisions are perpetual; and many of the minor words, which would be deemed essential in prose, are dis- pensed with. 53. Thus poetry, regarded as a vehicle of thought, is especially impressive partly because it obeys all the laws of effective speech, and partly because in so doing it imitates the natural utterances of excitement. While the matter embodied is idealized emotion, the vehicle is the idealized language of emotion. As the musical composer catches the cadences in which our feelings of joy and sympathy, grief and despair, vent themselves, and out of these germs evolves €auses of Force in Language. 33 4tielodies suggesting higher phases of these feelings ; * so, the poet develops from the typical expressions in which men utter passion and sentiment, those choice forms of verbal combination in which concentrated passion and senti- ment may be fitly presented. ^^ 54. There is one peculiarity of poetry conducing much to its effect — the peculiarity which is indeed usually thought its characteristic one — still remaining to be considered : we mean its rhythmical structure. This, improbable though it seems, will be found to come under the same generaliza- tion with the others. Like each of them, it is an idealiza- tion of the natural language of strong emotion, which is "^ known to be more or less metrical if the emotion be not too violent; and like each of them it is an economy of the reader's or hearer's attention. In the peculiar tone and -^ manner we adopt in uttering versified language, may be discerned its relationship to the feelings ; and the pleasure ■which its measured movement gives us, is ascribable to the -, comparative ease with which words metrically arranged can be recognized. 55. This last position will scarcely be at once admitted ; but a little explanation will show its reasonableness. For if, as we have seen, there is an expenditure of mental energy in the mere act of listening to verbal articulations, • or in that silent repetition of them which goes on in reading ^ — if the perceptive faculties must be in active exercise to identify every syllable — then, any mode of so combining -\ words as to present a regular recurrence of certain traits 1 For Spencer's views on tlie relation of music to speech-tunes, see his essay on the ' Origin and Function of Music ' in ' Essays, Scientific, Politi- cal, and Speculative ' ; his recent paper on the ' Origin of Music ' in Mind for October, ISJK); tlie discussion by R. Wallaschek and J. McK. Cattell in Mind for July, 1891 ; and Cliap. 21 of Gurney's ' Power of Sound.' 2 There has been much discussion over this point. See Bain, ' Senses and Intellei't,'pp. .'^45,353; Strieker, ' StudieniibcrdieSprachvorstellungen'; Revue Pkilosvijltique, \'ol. l(j, p. 405; Vol. 18, p. (i85; and Vol. 19, p. 118. 34 The Philosophy of Style. which the mind can anticipate, will dinnnisli that strain upon the attention required by the total irregularity of prose. ^ Just as the body, in receiving a series of varying concussions, must keep the muscles ready to meet the most violent of them, as not knowing when such may come ; so, the mind in receiving unarranged articulations, must keep its perceptives active enough to recognize the least easily caught sounds. And as, if the concussions recur in a deli» nite order, the body may husband its forces by adjusting the resistance needful for each concussion ; so, if the syllables be rhythmically arranged, the mind may economize its energies by anticipating the attention required for each syllable.^ 56. Far-fetched though this idea will perhaps be thought, a little introspection will countenance it. That we do take advantage of metrical language to adjust our perceptive faculties to the force of the expected articulations, is clear from the fact that we are balked by halting versification. Much as at the bottom of a flight of stairs, a step more or less than we counted upon gives us a shock ; so, too, does a misplaced, accent or a supernumerary syllable. In the one case, we knoio that there is an erroneous preadjustment ; and we can scarcely doubt that there is one in the other. But if we habitually preadjust our perceptions to the meas- ured movement of verse, the physical analogy above given renders it probable that by so doing we economize atten- 1 Good prose is far from being totally irregular. It has a large rhythm peculiar to itself which is difficult to define, but even with an untrained ear, easy to perceive. The day-laborer making his way through a news- paper article will often complain that "the writing doesn't run smooth." He means that the prose-rhythm is defective. Consult on this point, Saintsbury's 'Specimens of English Prose Style,' Introduction; Steven- son's essay on ' Style in Literature,' Contemporary Review, Vol. 47, p. 548; Ellis's ' On the Physical Constituents of Accent and Emphasis ' in Transac- tions of the English Philological Society for 1873-4, pp. 113-164. 2 See Appendix A. Causes of Force in Language. 35 tioii ; and hence that metrical language is more effective than prose, because it enables us to do this.^ 57. Were there space, it might be worth while to inquire whether the pleasure we take in rhyme, and also that which we take in euphony, are not partly ascribable to the same general cause. 1 " What the rhythm of the dance is to our muscular energies, the rhythm of poetry and music is to tlie ear. Its main constituent as a pleasure is the regularity of its occurrence and the consequent possibility of relaxing our attention to the accentuation or the arrangement of chords. While sylla- bles irregularly thrown together require a certain amount of jvimping from point to point 4n the auditory perception, syllables placed in a regular order of short and long allow us to withdraw the attention from their accent and to expect a continuance of the same harmonious and easily followed suc- cession. !Many familiar facts concur to justify this explanation. In attempting for the first time to read a perfectly new metre, it is sometimes a few minutes before we fall into the swing of it, as we phrase it; that is, before our auditory apparatus accommodates itself to the new mode of recurrence." — Grant Allen, 'Physiological iEsthetics,' p. 11.5. " The members or clauses and the periods themselves should be neither truncated nor too long. If they are too short, they often make a hearer stumble ; for if, while he is hurrying on to the completion of the measure or rhythm, of which he has a definite notion in his mind, he is suddenly pulled up by a pause on the part of the speaker, there will necessarily follow a sort of stumble in consequence of the sudden check." — Aristotle, ' Rhetoric,' III. 9, Welldon's Trans. PART II. CAUSES OF FORCE IN LANGUAGE WHICH DEPEND UPON ECONOMY OF THE MENTAL SENSIBILlTIEs/ i. The Law of Mental Exhaustion and Repair. 58. A few paragraphs only, can be devoted to a second division of our subject that here presents itself. To pursue in detail the laws of effect, as applying to the larger features of composition, would carry us beyond our limits. But we may briefly indicate a further aspect of the general principle hitherto traced out, and hint a few of its wider applications. 59. Thus far, then, we have considered only those causes of force in language which depend upon economy of the mental energies : we have now to glance at those which depend upon economy of the mental sensibilities. Question- able though this division may be as a psychological one, it will yet serve roughly to indicate the remaining field of r investigation. It will suggest that besides considering the extent to which any faculty or group of faculties is tasked in receiving a form of words and realizing its contained idea, we have to consider the state in which this faculty or group of faculties is left ; and how the reception of subse- ^ quent sentences and images will be influenced by that state. Without going at length into so wide a topic as the exercise of faculties and its reactive effects, it will be sufficient here to call to mind that every faculty (when in a state of nor- mal activity) is most capable at the outset ; and tha% the change in its condition, which ends in what we term 36 Causes of Force in Language. 37 exhaustion, begins simultaneously witli its exercise. This generalization, with which we are all familiar in our bodily experiences, and which our daily language recognizes as true of the mind as a whole, is equally true of each mental power, from the simplest of the senses to the most complex of the sentiments. If we hold a flower to the nose for long, we become insensible to its scent. We say of a very brilliant flash of lightning that it blinds us ; which means that our eyes have for a time lost their ability to appreciate light. After eating a quantity of honey, we are apt to think our tea is without sugar. The phrase "a deafening roar," implies that men find a very loud sound temporarily incapacitates them for hearing faint ones. To a hand which has for some time carried a heavy body, small bodies afterwards lifted seem to have lost their weight. Now, the truth at once recognized in these, its extreme manifestations, may be traced throughout. It may be shown that alike in the reflective faculties, in the imagina- tion, in the perceptions of the beautiful, the ludicrous, the sublime, in the sentiments, the instincts, in all the mental powers, however we may classify them — action exhausts ; i and that in proportion as the action is violent, the subse- quent prostration is great. 60. Equally, throughout the whole nature, may be traced the law that exercised faculties are ever tending to resume K ~\ their original state. Not only after continued rest, do they . regain their full power — not only do brief cessations par- tially reinvigorate them ; but even while they are in action, the resulting exhaustion is ever being neutralized. The two processes of waste and repair go on together. Hence with faculties habitually exercised — as the senses of all persons, or the muscles of any one who is strong — it hap- pens that, during moderate activity, the repair is so nearly equal to the waste, that the diminution of power is scarcely appreciable ; and it is only when the activity has been long 38 The Philosophy of Style. continued, or has been very violent, that the repair becomes so far in arrear of the waste as to produce a perceptible prostration. In all cases, however, when, by the action of a faculty, waste has been incurred, some lapse of time must take place before full efficiency can be reacquired; and this time must be long in proportion as the waste has been great.^ « ii. Explanation of Climax, Antithesis, and Anticlimax. 61. Keeping in mind these general truths, we shall be in a condition to imderstand certain causes of effect in compo- sition now to be considered. Every perception received, and every conception realized, entailing some amount of wa^te — or, as Liebig would say, some change of matter in the brain ; and the efficiency of the faculties subject to this waste-being thereby temporarily, though often but momentarily, dimin- ished ; the resulting partial inability must affect the acts of perception and conception that immediately succeed. And hence we may expect that the vividaess with which images are realized will, in many cases, depend on the order of their presentation : even when one order is as convenient to the understanding as the other. 62. There are sundry facts 'which alike illustrate this, and are explained by it. Climax is one of them. The marked effect obtained by placing last thfrdnost striking of any series of images, and the weakness — often the ludicrous weakness — produced by reversing this arrangement, de- pends on the general law indicated. As immediately after looking at the sun we cannot perceive the light of a fire, while by looking at the fire first and the sun afterwards we can perceive both ; so, after receiving a brilliant, or weighty, or terrible thought, we cannot appreciate a less brilliant, 1 For an expansion of these ideas, with many examples, see Grant Allen's 'Physiological Esthetics,' Chaps. 1, 2. Causes of Force in Language. 39 less weighty, or less terrible one, while, by reversing the order, we can appreciate each. In Antithesis, again, we may recognize the same general truth. The opposition of two thoughts that are the reverse of each other in some promi-'«c nent trait, insures an impressive effect; and does this by giving a momentary relaxation to the faculties addressed. -^ If, after a series of images of an ordinary character, appeal- ing in a moderate degree to the sentiment of reverence, or approbation, or beauty, the mind has presented to it a very insignificant, a very unworthy, or a very ugly image ; the faculty of reverence, or approbation, or beauty, as the case may be, having for the time nothing to do, tends to resume its full power ; and will immediately afterwards appreciate a vast, admirable, or beautiful image better than it would otherwise do. Conversely, where the idea of absurdity duel to extreme insignificance is to be produced, -it maybe greatly intensified by placing it after something highly impressive :, especially if the form of phrase implies that something still more impressive is coming. A good illustration of the effect gained by thus presenting a petty idea to a consciousness that has not yet recovered from the shock of an exciting one, occurs in a sketch by Balzac. His hero writes to a mistress who has cooled towards him the following letter : ".Madame, — Votre conduite m'etonne autant qu'elle m'afl&ige. Non contente de me dechirer le coeur par vos dedains, vous avez I'indelicatesse de me retenir une brosse a dents, que mes moyens ne me permettent pas de remplacer, mes proprietes etant grevees d'hypotheques. "Adieu, trop belle et trop ingrate amis ! Puissions-nous nous revoir dans un monde meilleur ! " Charles-Edouard." 63. Thus we see that the phenomena of Climax, Antithe- "? sis, and Anticlimax, alike result from this general principle. _i 40 The Philosophy of Style. Improbable as these momentary variations in susceptibility- may seem, we cannot doubt their occurrence when we con- template the analogous variations in the susceptibility of the senses, Eeferring once more to phenomena of vision, every one knows that a patch of black on a white ground looks blacker, and a patch of white on a black ground looks whiter, than elsewhere. As the blackness and the whiteness must really be the same, the only assignable cause for this is a difference in their actions upon us, dependent upon the different states of our faculties. It is simply a visual an- tithesis.^ iii. Need of Variety. 64. But this extension of the general principle of economy — this further condition to effective composition, that the sensitiveness of the faculties must be continuously hus- banded — includes much more than has been yet hinted. It implies not only that certain arrangements and certain juxtapositions of connected ideas are best; but that some modes of dividing and presenting a subject will be more striking than others ; and that, too, irrespective of its logical cohesion. It shows why we must progress from the less interesting to the more interesting ; and why not only the composition as a whole, but each of its successive portions, should tend towards a climax. At the same time, it forbids long continuity of the same kind of thought, or repeated production of like effects. It warns us against the error committed both by Pope in his poems and by Bacon in his essays — the error, namely, of constantly employing forcible forms of expression : and it points out that as the easiest posture by and by becomes fatiguing, and is with pleasure exchanged for one less easy, so, the most perfectly-con- 1 On this point see Mr. E. B. Delabarre's paper on 'The Law of Con- trast,' printed in James's ' Psychology,' II., pp. 13-27. Causes of Force in Language. 41 structed sentences will soon weary, and relief will be given by using those of an inferior kind.^ %o. Further, we may infer from it not only that we should avoid generally combining our words in one manner, however good, or working out our figures and illustrations in one way, however telling ; but that we should avoid anything like uniform adherence, even to the wider conditions of effect. We should not make every section of our subject progress in interest ; we should not always rise to a climax. As we saw that, in single sentences, it is but rarely alloAv- able to fulfil all the conditions to strength ; so, in the larger sections of a composition we must not often conform entirely to the law indicated. We must subordinate the component effect to the total effect. 66. In deciding how practically to carry out the principles of artistic composition, we may derive help by bearing in mind a fact already pointed out — the fitness of certain verbal arrangements for certain kinds of thought. That constant variety in the mode of presenting ideas which the theory demands, will in a great degree result from a skilful adaptation of the form to the matter. We saw how the direct <. or inverted sentence is spontaneously used by excited people ; and how their language is also characterized by figures of speech and by extreme brevity. Hence these may with advantage predominate in emotional passages ; and may increase as the emotion rises. On the other hand, for com- -^ -, plex ideas, the indirect sentence seems the best vehicle. In conversation, the excitement produced by the near approach to a desired conclusion, will often show itself in a series of short, sharp sentences ; Avhile, in impressing a view already enunciated, we generally make our periods voluminous by 1 But why, if they accomplish their purpose, should they be looked upon as 'iuferior'? Surely, tlio 'perfectly constructed' sentence is the one which fulfils its purpose on a particular occasion and in a particular connection. '42) The Philosophy of Style. piling thought upon thought. These natural modes of pro- cedure may serve as guides in writing. Keen observation and skilful analysis would, in like manner, detect further peculiarities of expression produced by other attitudes of mind ; and by paying due attention to all such traits, a writer possessed of sufficient versatility might make some approach to a completely -organized work. iv. The Ideal Writer. 67. This species of composition which the law of effect points out as the perfect one, is the one which high genius tends naturally to produce. As we found that the kinds of sentences which are theoretically best, are those generally employed by superior minds, and by inferior minds when excitement has raised them ; so, we shall find that the ideal form for a poem, essay, 'or fiction, is that which the ideal writer would evolve spontaneously. One in whom the powers of expression fully responded to the state of feeling, would unconsciously use that variety in the mode of presenting'his thoughts, which Art demands. This constant employment of one species of phraseology, which all have now to strive against, implies an undeveloped faculty of language. To have a specific style is to be poor in speech. If we remember that, in the far past, men had only nouns and verbs to convey their ideas with, and that from then to now the growth has been towards a greater nunaber of implements of thought, and consequently towards a greater complexity and variety in their combinations ; we may infer that we are now, in our use of sentences, much what the primitive man was in his use of words ; and that a continuance of the process that has hitherto gone on, must produce increasing heterogeneity in our modes of expression. As now, in a fine nature, the play of the features, the tones of the voice and its cadences, vary in harmony with every thought uttered; so, in one Causes of Force in Language. 43 possessed of a fully-developed power of speech, the mould in which each combination of words is cast will similarly vary with, and be appropriate to the sentiment. 68. That a perfectly-endowed man must unconsciously ~1 write in all styles, we may infer from considering how styles originate. Why is Johnson pompous, Goldsmith -i simple? Why is one author abrupt, another rhythmical, another concise ? Evidently in each case the habitual mode of utterance must depend upon the habitual balance of the nature. The predominant feelings have by use trained the intellect to_represent them. But while long, though un- conscious, discipline has made it do this efficiently, it re- mains from lack of practice, incapable of doing the same for the less active feelings ; and when these are excited, the usual verbal forms undergo but slight modifications. Let the powers of speech be fully developed, however — let the ability of the intellect to utter the einotions be complete ; and this fixity of style will disappear. The perfect writer will -^ express himself as Junius, when in the Junius frame of mind; when he feels as Lamb felt, will use a like familiar speech ; and will fall into the ruggedness of Carlyle when in a Carlylean mood. Now he will be rhythmical and now ' irregular ; here his language will be plain and there ornate ; sometimes his sentences will be balanced and at other times unsyrametrical ; for a while there will be considerable same- ness, and then again great variety. His mode of expression naturally responding to his state of feeling, there will flow from his pen a composition changing to the same degree that the aspects of his subject change. He will thus with- out effort conform to what we have seen to be the laws of effect. And while his work presents to the reader that variety needful to prevent continuous exertion of the same faculties, it will also answer to the description of all highly- organized products, both of man and of nature : it will be not a series of like parts simply placed in juxtaposition, but 44 The Philosophy of Style. one whole made up of unlike parts that are mutually de- pendent.^ 1 This is the fundamental principle with which, in the opinion of the editor, Mr. Spencer would have done well to open his essay. He would thus have brought his various exceptions, opposing rules, supplementary principles, and so forth, under one universal all-pervading law. STYLE. \ By T. H. Wright. i. Risum^ of Spencer's Essay. 1. A recent historian of Rome, towards tlie close of his famous attempt to undeceive the world at large with respect to the genius of Cicero, sums up his argument in the following words : — " Ciceronianism is a problem which, in fact, cannot be properly solved, but can only be resolved into that greater mystery of human nature — language, and the effect of language on the mind." ^ 2. These words are suggestive — suggestive, too, of a wider question than at first sight appears. That men are influenced by language at least as much as by ideas ; that power of expression is intimately associated with mental grasp generally; even that a fascination is exercised by style to which nothing equivalent is found in the accom- panying thought — these are acknowledged truths, readily granted. But it is a most singular thing that they are so readily granted: it is singular that the question is not oftener asked — Why is this so ? 3. How is it that language, which is but the vehicle of thought, comes to have a force which is not the mere weight of that which it carries ? Even where this is not the case, where there is an equivalence of value in both style and ideas, great conceptions being nobly expressed, how is it that the matter and the form seem to have inde- pendent claims upon the attention ? In a word, what is 1 Mommsen, History of Rome, Book V., Chap. 12. 45 46 The Fluloisopliy of tStyle. that in language Avhicli is not mere expressiveness of the obvious intentions of the writer, but is yet a merit ? 4. At first sight there appears to be a simple answer to the question. Any of the numerous treatises on style or rhetoric abound Avith rules for the embellishment of dis- course : the reader learns the importance of a choice of fitting words, of the judicious use of figures of speech, of the effect of melodious sentences and suitable cadences : he is instructed in the manipulation of complex constructions, and discovers the force of the gradation, the antithesis, and the climax : in short, he is easily led to the conclusion that, besides expressiveness, language may have the merit of beauty. 5. That this distinction is a superficial one has been shown with great ability in an article by Mr. Herbert Spencer on the ' Philosophy of Style.' He there traces all excellence of composition to two principles — Economy of the Atten- tion, and Economy of the Sensibility of the recipient. Ass;iming that a reader can have at his command only a definite amount of power of attention, it is clear that what- ever part of this is employed on the form of a composition must be subtracted, and leave so much the less to be occu- pied in the matter. In its popular aspect this is a truth familiar to all. If any author is said to have an obscure style, it is meant that his form obstructs his matter — that it absorbs an inordinate amount of the reader's attention. If he is tedious, it is because his language, by its monotony or redundancy, exhausts our energies, and leaves us corre- spondingly deficient in the mental vigour to be devoted to what he has to say. 6. But Mr. Spencer pushes his theory yet further. He shows, with great ingenuity, how various ornaments of style, at first sight most remote from mere utility, are in reality but devices of language which subserve the same purpose of economizing attention. Thus the canon which Style. 47 prefers words of Saxon to words of Latin origin is justified by the greater familiarity of the former, recalling the asso- ciations of childhood, and their comparative brevity, which adds to their force what it diminishes from the effort required to recognize them. On the other hand, the occa- sional effect of polysyllabic words is attributed to their associated significance : for the effort involved in decipher- ing or using them, by hinting at a corresponding weighti- ness in the things implied, gives a force to an epithet which may do for a sentence. The same principle which explains the rules for choice of words is also found adequate to the solutidh of the reasons why some one order of words is more effective than another ; why certain sequences of sentences are better than others ; what are the respective merits of the direct and indirect style ; and so forth. Then follows an analysis of the various figures of speech — Meta- phor, Simile, and the like — in which their amenableness to the same law is established : and, finally, the applicability of the theory, even to the complex imagery of the poet, is exhibited in a passage which it would be an injustice to the writer not to quote at length : 7. "Passing on to a more complex application of the doctrine with which we set out, it must now be remarked that not only in the structure of sentences, and the use of figures of speech, may economy of the recipient's mental energy be assigned as the cause of force ; but that in the choice and arrangement of the minor images, out of which some large thought is to be built up, we may trace the same condition to effect. To select from the sentiment, scene, or event described, those, typical elements which carry many others along with them ; and so, by saying a few things, but suggesting many, to- abridge the descrip- tion ; is the secret of producing a vivid impression. An extract from Tennyson's ' Mariana ' will well illustrate this : 48 The Philosophy of Style. " ' All day within the dreamy house The door upon the hinges creaked, The blue-fly sung i' the pane, the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked, Or from the crevice peered about. ' The several circumstances liere specified bring with, them many appropriate associations. Our attention is rarely drawn by the buzzing of a fly in the window, save when everything is still. While the inmates are moving about the house, mice usually keep silence ; and it is only when extreme quietness reigns that they peep from their retreats. Hence each of the facts mentioned, presupposing nuinerous others, calls up these with more or less distinctness ; and revives the feeling of dull solitude with which they are connected in our experience. Were all these facts detailed, instead of suggested, the attention woiild be so frittered away that little impression of dreariness would be produced. Similarly in other cases. Whatever the nature of the thought to be conveyed, this skilful selection of a few particulars which imply the rest is the key to success. In the choice of competent ideas, as in the choice of expres- sions, the aim must be to convey the greatest quantity of thoughts with the smallest quantity of words." 8. But Mr. Spencer does not rest content with deducing what may be called the adventitious charms of poetry from this principle ; he even thinks that its distinctive character- istic — the restrictions of metre — may be explained by the same law. " The pleasure," he says, " which its measured movement gives us is ascribable to the comparative ease with which words metrically arranged can be recognized." Most people will be startled at the first sight of this bold dictum, but Mr. Spencer is not the man to shrink from the logical consequences of his principles, and they lead to more than this. 9. Any one who has attentively read the article, or even Style. 49 the brief resum6 of it just given, will liave seen that the theory furnishes a canon for determining, with some degree of certainty, which of two styles is the better. To quote again : — '' The relative goodness of any two modes of express- ing an idea may be determined by observing which requires / the shortest process of thought for its comprehension." 10. Clearly, then, there must, in every case, be some form of expression which is absolutely the best; in other words, there is such a thing as an ideal style. Mr. Spencer accepts the conclusion, but at the same time reminds us that style -must vary with its subject-matter. 11. '' The perfect writer will express himself as Junius, when in the Junius frame of mind ; when he feels as Lamb . felt, will use a like familiar speech ; and will fall into the ruggedness of Carlyle when in a Carlylean mood." 12. The reservation is a proper one, and with it the argument seems unimpeachable. Yet when Mr. Spencer throws the conclusion into the form of an epigram, and tells us that ''to have a specific style is to be poor in speech," he makes the utmost possible demand upon our loyalty to exact reasoning. Like Adeimantus in the ' Re- public,' we are " confounded by this novel kind of draughts- playing, played with words for counters." ii. Style the Imperfect Expression of the Writer's Personality. 13. But if the foregoing theory be carefully reviewed, it will be seen that throughout it the treatment is what may be described as objective rather than subjective. Or, to avoid words in which there is a degree of ambiguity, the definite product language is more or less isolated from the agency using it, and viewed more in relation to the reader's than the writer's mind.^ But there is another aspect of 1 The last two paragraphs of Spencer's essay deal vrith the subjective aspect of the theory. 50 The PhllosopJiy of jStt/le. the relation, which cannot be left out without producing a result which must be onesided and may be inaccurate. The following pages will be an attempt to supply this omission by a consideration of the nature of the various devices of language, regarded as the outcome of the mind that employs them. 14. That " to have a specific style is to be poor in speech " has not been implied in the judgments which the world has from time to time passed upon its greatest writers. Per- haps it would be nearer the truth to say that much in pro- portion as an author has reached a high eminence in his art there has been found in his productions a corresponding ten- dency to an individuality of expression. Is it not a com- mon complaint against inferior artists, whether in prose or verse, in painting or music, that their compositions lack character and originality? Uniformity is the distinguish- ing feature of mediocrity, while the work of genius is at once recognized and attributed to the origin whose impress it bears. And a little reflection will show that this is exactly what is meant by " style." Various tricks of voice, gesture, and dress are associated by every one with his friends, glimpses of the hidden self being granted in such half-unnoticed revelations. The chief value, indeed, of such peculiarities rests in the fact that they are commonly un- known to the man himself. For all of us, even the most sincere, are to a certain extent actors in our intercourse with others, and play a part that has been self-assigned, often without due pondering of the player's power. Nature, however, peeps out in countless little traits of character, which find their expression in language, habit, and even in movements. By what subtle union such tricks of manner are linked with what Dr. Johnson has called " the anfrac- tuosities of the human mind " is a curious and intricate question, but no one will doubt the fact of the connection. "That's father!" cries the child as she hears the well- Style. "' 61 known footfall in the hall ; '' How like the man ! " we ex- claim when some characteristic remark is reported to us.^ Spite of the progress in complexity from a sound to a sen- timent, each obeys the same law ; and the connection be- tween the footfall and the foot, between the speech and the mind that conceived it, is one and the same. 15. Let us follow out the thought a little further. Not only, to , put the fact in its popular aspect, has eveiy one his peculiarities ; but there are degrees of peculiarity ac- companying degrees of individuality ; as a man deviates in character from the type ordinarily met with, so are his habits singular to himself, till a point is reached where the personality is remarkable, and the behaviour eccentric. Where such manners are perfectly unaffected they are a reflection of a self that stands alone among many, so that the common dictum, that genius is eccentric, has a philo- sophical foundation.^ There is no need to linger on the numerous and tolerably obvious reservations which make it impossible to convert the proposition, in other words, to infer unusual power from singularity ; the broad fact re- mains that where there is that marked origing,lity called genius, it is an originality not of thought, emotion, or pur- suits, but of the man. 16. The application of this to literary style is easy, and will be found to lead to some interesting results. 17. In its powers of direct expression, language is toler- ably efficient, and were there nothing but facts, considered 1 See the remarks of Theodore Watts (Enrycl. Brit. !»th ed., Vol. 19, p. 265) on the word ' wrought,' which Shakespeare puts into Othello's mouth. 2 " A muddle-headed person is a genius spoiled in the making. I think it will he admitted tJiat all euiinentlij muddle-headed persons have the temperament of genius. They are constantly breaking away from the usual consecutions of troncretes. A common associator by contiguity is too closely tied to routine to get muddle-headed." — James, ' Psychology,' II., p. 352. 52 The Philosophy of Style. objectively, to be conveyed, even a simpler vehicle would suflSce. Swift, in one of the most humorous passages of * Gulliver's Travels ' describes a set of philosophers, who, dis- daining language as the ordinary means of expressing their thoughts, preferred to carry with them a pack of the things most commonly referred to in every day parlance, by the dexterous manipulation of which they contrived to carry on long conversations. JSTow this represents, with the necessary freedom of caricature, a real truth with regard to a certain class of discourse. In any written composition, the less the author's personality is involved in the matter treated the simpler the language which suffices. The extreme form of this truth is found in the case of algebra, where the discourse is, so to speak, perfectly dispassionate, and the symbolism perfectly adequate. Similarly, the language em- ployed in mathematical proof is found adequate in propor- tion as the statements are purely objective. As we ascend in the scale of literary composition the author's personality creeps in, and brings with it a corresponding complexity of language, not merely the complexity of structure of sen- tences, but of choice of words, use of figures of speech, and all the refinements of elaborate writing. It is true that much more than this has to be taken into consideration ; the sub- jects themselves are infinitely more complex as the scale is ascended, the distinctions are more delicate, the contrasts present more sides to view, the gradations are subtler. But is not this a corollary from the main principle ? Is it not because we are then dealing either with facts of our own or the general consciousness ; with ideas, emotions, desires, and so forth ; or at any rate with external facts looked at from the point of view of an interested and questioning observer, that there is this increase in complexity, or, in other words, decrease in adequacy of language? 18. But this idea admits of yet further development. The facts perfectly expressed in algebraical symbols receive a Style. 53 nearly perfect expression in mathematical language. The terminology of science is found very tolerably sufficient, if strictly adhered to, and mostly where expository and descriptive. In history and biography what we may call the subjective element is strong, and there we find all the refinements of composition. These express, not only facts and aspects of facts, not only are there delicate implications of expression, embodied in all the recognized figures of rhetoric, the trope, the simile, and the metaphor ; but there are the glimpses at the very self of the author which lurks in unconscious tricks of diction and turns of thought, and emerges in epithets, in repetitions, and in phrases. In poetry the author reigns supreme, and there too the imper- fection of language is most manifest. In a very fine pas- sage every word is charged with meaning and riveted to its place, in fact the vehicle is strained to its utmost to bear the load imposed upon it. Hence Coleridge's well-known definition * of poetry as " the best words in the best order." Meanwhile the personality of the Poet pervades every line of every poem, a hardly recognized biit unfailing presence. He colours each picture, and is a spectator at every scene ; he is beside Ulysses in the island of Calypso; with him he witnesses the death of Argus and the insolence of the suitors ; he shares the recognition of Penelope and the welcome to home; and when dire retribution seizes the usurpers he looks upon their fall. 19. Not that this personality is directly obtruded upon the hearer's notice ; in the instance of Homer, it is markedly withdrawn, the characters speak of themselves, the descrip- tions are meant to serve no moral end. But what is never brought before us as an avowed element in the composition is everywhere present in the form of the narrative, — we 1 'Table Talk,' July 12, 1827. "I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry ; that is, prose = words in their best order; poetry = the bast words in the best order." 64 The Philosophy of Style. never hear the accents of the voice, thoiigh we are always listening to its tones. Take as an illustration of this a passage of pure description from the 'Odyssey' ^: — TTvp [xep in ecr)(ap6^Lv [xiya Katero, TyfKoOi o' ooprj KcSpov T eu/cearoto 9vov t di^a vrjcrov oSwSet haioixevoiv • rj S' evSou dototaoucr ottl KaXrj, IcTTW eTTOi^oixevq -y^pvcreirj KepKio xx^aivev. vkr) 8e aneo<; d/x(^l 7T€(f)VKei rrjXeOococra, KXtjOpr] T alyeip6<; re /cat euajS?^? KvirapLcrcro^. evOa 8e r' 6ppi9e<; TapvaiTrrepoL evvdlpvTo, (jKO)TTe<; T ip-qKe-s re Tavvy\oicr(Toi re Kopcovat et^'dXtat, rfjcrw re Oakdcra-ia epya piefxrjXev. 7] 8' avTov reTavvcTTO nepl cnreLov? yXa(f)vpoLO rifjiepls r)/3a)(o