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ENGLISH COMPOSITION
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RHETORIC.
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ALEXANDER BAIN, M.A.,

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rnol'E880B 01' LOGIO 11' TJIB UlHVZBBITY OJ' .&.DKBDEEN,

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NE"\V YORK :
D. APPLETON AND OOMPANY,

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PREFACE.

--·--ENTBBJID,

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nccordlng to Act or Congress, In the year 1866, by
D. APPLETON & CO.,

In the Clerk's Office or the District .Court of tho United Stntes for tho
Southern District of New York:
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NuMEnous attempts have been made, and are still · .,,..:_';1:
making, to methodize instruction in English Compo-;".
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sition. In these attempts, two distinct efforts are made·
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for the benefit of the pupils; to cultivate in them a co-' . . _i!
pious fund of expression, and to render more delicate,· · · -"~;
their discrimination of good and ill effects.
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As regards increasing the pupils' fund of expression,
the English teacher can do comparatively little. The
reaeon is obvious. The command of language is a grand
total, resulting from the practice of a life ; a small fraction of that total is all that can grow up within the
limits of a. Course of English Composition. . .·.. · ,:;,,
With respect to the other nim-the discrimination·
between good and bad in expression-the case is differ-· ": ·
ent. Much of the necessary instruction can be con~
densed into principles, and may be impressed by carefully chosen examples. The teacher is here a trainer,
and can impart in a short compass, what, without him,
would be acquired slowly, if at all. It is this, accordingly. that I account his urinciDal vocation.

4

PREFACE,

PREFACE.

All the principles and rules of composition that seem
to me capable of affording aid or direction in the art, I
l1ave endeavored to bring together, omitting the notice
of such technical terms as are of little practical use.
The fulfilment of this design has ended in a work more
closely allied to Ca~pbell's Phi1osophy of Rhetoric,
Blair's Lectures, and Whately's Rhetoric, than to the
majority of recent works on English Composition.
I have divided the subject of Composition into two
Parts : first, what pertains to Composition in general ;
and secondly, what _is special to each of the five leading
Kinds of Composition;-namely, Description Narration
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Exposition, Oratory, .and Poetry.
nder . Part ·First, the Figures of Speech are discussed. The leading Qualities of Style are next explained, and the conditions that they depend on stated.
Under the san.1e ~art, ·i- have laid down the principles
governing the structure of the Sentence· and the Paragraph . . r attach great importance to these principles.
· The_ Second Part comprises the Kinds of Composition. · · · · ·' · · ' · :·
· · •~ · · :
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Exposition belongs to Science, and io all information
in the guise of general principles. The methods to be
observed in rendering expository style as easy as . the
subjects will allow, are worthy of a full consideration . .·
Oratory, or Persuasion, is the original subject of the
Rhetorical art, and its rules were highly elaborated bi ancient times. It presents great difficulties to the teacher.
Besides the wide range of the matters involved in persuasive address, there is a compli~ation with the art of
Proof, or Logic, that could not be relieved, until· ~gic
itself was put on the more comprehensive basis given to
it in the system of John Stuart Mill.
Poetry demands a full share of attention, both on its
own account, and also as supplementary to the other
departments, all which cherish, as a secondary aim,
matters of interest to human feeling, while these are a
primary aim in poetry.
In conclusion, I may state what I consider the best
mode of employing such a work as the present in
tuition.
The rules and principles are accompanied with examples; the number of these is still farther increased by
the Analyzed Extracts in the Appendix. It is recom-:mended that, in the course of the pupil's reading, the
principles should be applied to point out the merits and
demerits of select passages. A reading book may bo
used for the purpose.
To obtain suitable exercises for practice in writing
English, is a prime consideration with the teacher.
Many kinds of exercises have been suggested ; and

' ' '!

The subject of Description . is perhaps' the one that
most signally attests the utility of Rhetorical precepts.
In delineating any complicated object, there is a welldefined method ; which being attended to the most ordi' nary mind may attain success, and being neglected. the
greatest genius will fail.
. · ·.Narrative includes the laws of Historical Composition, and these I have dwelt upon with some minuteness.

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PREFA.OE.

there mus~ always be a difference of opinion as to the
most suitable. The writing of Themes involves the
burden of finding matter as well as language ; and belongs rather to classes in scientific or other departments,
than to a class in English composition. The matter
should in some way or other be supplied, and the pupil
disciplined in giving it expression. I know of no better
method than to prescribe passages containing good matter, but. in some respects imperfcct1y worded, to be
amended according to the laws and the proprieties of
style. Our older writers might be extensively, although
not exclusively, drawn upon for this purpose. Another
exercise is the conversion of Poetry into Prose. Much
value is also attached to Abridging or Summarizing;
and this might be coupled with the opposite exercise of
filling up and expanding brief sketches.
rrhe sustained practice of Rhetorical parsing, or the
applying of the designations, principles, and rules of
Rhetoric, to authors studied, whether in English or in
other languages, would eventually form, in the m.ind of
the pupil, an abiding ideal of good composition.
ABERDEEN,

March, 1866.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PJ.G•

Definition and Divisions of Rhetoric .................... • •• • • • • • •

19

PART . l..T
STYLE IN GENER.AL.
CIIAPTER I.
FIGURES OF BPEEOll.

1 The Figure of Speech defined, .•••••..•....••...••••••••••• • 20
Figures having reference to the Opet'ations of the Human Under. standing, ............. · · · • · · · · · • · · • • • · · · · • • • • • • · · • • ~ • • · 20

2:

FIGURES FOUNDED ON SIMILARITY.

3. The intellectual power of Similarity explained, ••••••••••••• , • •

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or SIHJLITUDEll GBNERALLT.
4. The tracing of Resemblances an avocation. of the human mind, •••
ti. Comparisons addressed to the U.nderstn?dtn~, ••••••••••.•••• • •
6. The tliings compared must be different m kmd, .•.. , .......... .
'1. Comparisons addressed to the Feelings, ..••.••..••.••••••••••
8. Comparisons with a mixed effect, ••••• , ..................... .
9. Picturesque Compal'isone, •••..••.••.• , .................... .
10. Comparisons causing agreeable Surprise, •••••.• : •••••• ·•··.··
11. Requisites of Comparisons to aid the Understandmg, ........ • ..
12. Requisites of those addressed to the Feelings, ••••••••••••••• • •
13. Necessity of Novelty, •• ·,.·•• ·••• ·. ·. ·. ,' ........................ .
· · Necessity of Hnrmoriy, ••••••••..•••.••••••••.•.••.••••••
14. Figures of Similarity having no effect, ................. • • .• • • •
ll'i. Figures of Resemblance co-extensive with human knowledge, ••••
snnu:, on COllPARISON.
16. Simile <lefined nnd exemplified, ..... . ............ ·"••"••..

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MRTArnon.

1'1. Metaphor <lcflnc•l nn<l cx01npllfiml, •• ; ............... • • .. • • .. • 80
18. Personifying Metnpbors, ....... , .............. • •" • • .. • •" • 81
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OONTENTS.
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PAGB

PA.GI

21. Metaphors ?Day lose their figurative character,................. 32
22. Faults special to Metaphor :-(1) The mixed Metaphor· (2) The
Straining of a Metaphor; (8) Excess of Metaphors, •• '........ 82

INTERROGATION.
ISO. Interrogation defined and exemplified, ••••••••••••• , ••••••• •. : · IS9
EXOLAMATION.

PERSONIFICATION.

28. Hif?h~st degree of Personification, .......................... .
24. ~afertor deg~ee, . . ~ ...... .• .. ............................. :
21S. .Advantages of our language in Personification, ••••••.••••••.••
26. Interest attaching to Personification, •••••••••• , ••• , •••••••••

84.
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APOSTROPHE.
IS2. Forms of the Apostrophe,. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • ..
ISS. Vision, • •••........••..............•..•.•.•••.•••••• ~ .~. • •

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ALLBG'ORY-F A BLB-P ARABLE,

2'1. .AUegory defined and exemplified, •••••••..•.•..••••.••..•••
28. The Fable, ••••••••••..•.••.••.••.•.......•...•••..•••..•
29. The fictitious Example, ...••••••••••.....••••••••.•..••.•••
80. The Parables of the Bible, ....•.•....• ••...•.•••..•...•..••

tsl. Use of Exclamation, •••........ ..•.....•..•••••..••. ~ .•• •.• . 60

INNUENDO, OR INSINUATION..

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IS(. Meaning of Innuendo, . .......•...... ·. . . • . . . • • • • • • • • • • • • • . •

Exercise on Figures of Similarity, ....................... .

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IRONY. ·
ISIS. Expresses the contrary of what is ineant.~arcasm defined,, ; ... · .'

REMAINING FIGURES OF SIMILARITY.

81. Certain kinds of Synecdoche, ............................. .

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IS6. Other Figures of the old Rhetoricians :-Ellipsis, Asyndeton, Hy· ·
perbaton,~ ........•.....•.•.........••••.. • ..• .• • .•.... · 68
Exercise on Figures .................. ·• ••••••••••• • •~ ; •.• · 64

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FIGURES OF CONT IO UITY.

82. ~esolvable principally into Metonymy and Synecdoche, ••••..•••
33. etonymies classified, .•.•••.••..••••...••..•••.•...••.••••
84. Forms of Synecdoche,. ......................... ·.......... .

..,.-- SIS. The Transferred Epithet, •..•.•...•.••... ••••.•••.....•• ••••

CHAPTER II.

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EXERCISE ON FIGURES.-NUMBER OF WORDS.
IS~.

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3'1. The .Antithesis proper, ...............................·•• ; , 46
88. Secondary forms of Antithesis, ............... , •.••..••••••••• 4'7
89. Proper employment of Antithesis, ••..••••••.•••••••••.•••. , • 49
. . Exercise on Figures of Contiguity and Contrast,. ........... . 49
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61. Violations of Brevity.-!. Tautology,. ............. : • • • • • . • • • . 68
.62. II. Redundancy; .................................... ~.. ... 'TO
63. III. Circumlocution.-The Paraphrase,. ; .•••• • '. ~ _. , •• ~ ; ••• ·••• • • . ,?1

CHAPTER III.
.ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS.

EPIGRAM.

40. l>efincd as', in most instances, Apparent Contradiction, .••
4i. Epigram of the Identical Assertion, ........................ .
42. The Seeming Irrelevance, ••••.•••........•.•...•••••••••..•
43. A familiar saying turned into a new form, ...•..••.•.•.•.•...•
44. The arrestive conjunctions are epigrammatic, •••.•.• ; ..•...•••
41S. The Pun, ................................................ .

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M. The ~rammatlcal order frequently departed from, ••• ,••• ....... :. '78

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65. Qualifying words should precede the object qualified,.......... 'llS
66. Words nearly related ln thought should be placed together,. • • • • '16
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CHAPTER IV.

IS4

THE QUALITIES OF STYLE.
IlYPERBOLE.

46. Origin of the tendency to Exaggeration, ..................... .

47. Limits of Hyperbole, ..................... .'~ .............. .

48. The Extreme Case in exposition, •••• ~ ••••••• , • • • • ..••••••••

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87. Enumeration of the leading qualities, ••••.••••••••••••••••• ~. ' '78

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IS6

SIMPLICITY.

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68. Simplicity defined,. ............·• • • . • • • • • • • • .. • • .. • • • • • • .. • '19
69. Simplicity in Terms :-Names of common things, •• ,., ••••••••• · 79
. Names of things palpable and conceivable,. . • • • • • • • • • • . • • . . 80
The Individual and Concrete, a.a opposed to the General and ·

CLIMAX,

49. Climax defined and exemplified, .................... , ....... .

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IS9. Sources of Brevity,. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • . • . • . • • . • • • • • . • • • • 66
60. Effects gained by dilfuseness,. .................. ; • • .. • .. • • • • . 67

FIGURES OF CONTRAST.

36. Contrast a Fundamental Law of the Mind,. • : •••••. ; .•.•••••••

Figures of Speech,. ..................................... ,.

58. Brevity a virtue of langiJagc, .•.•.•••••• ; • • • • • • • • . . . • • • • . . • •

IS'1

Abstract, ••••............•.•.••••..•.......•.••.• • ~ •· 80

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74.

The .Abstract Noun,......................................
.A series of .Abstract Terms difficult,........................
Exceptions,.............................................
Simplicity of Structure,...................................
The avoiding of o. complication of Ncgntivcs,................

112. Wit defined, ............................ • •• • ·.... ~- • .. • • • • • 108
113. Wit combined with the Ludicrous, ................... '.' .... 109

81
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MELODY.

114.
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117.
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
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125.

CLEARNESS.

75 Opposed to Obscurity and V ngucncss, •••••••••••.•.••• , • • • . • •
76. Management of ambiguous words,..........................
· '1'1. The same word not to recur in two senses,...................
78. Parallelism in drawing comparisons, ..... ,.......... • • • . • • • .
79. Use of words in their well-understood meanings,, • • .. . . . .. . . . •

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STRENGTII.

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102.

Strc11gth the quality that gives the clntion of Power, ...
Essential pleasure of Power, a rebound from Weakness,
Sympathy with Power in others,, ••..•.•..•••••••.••••.••.•
Anger or Indignation allied to the Sublime, •••...•.•••••_•.•..
Terror in its relations to Strength, or the Sublime, ...•...•.•..
Contemplation of Power in Nature, ....................... ;,
Vocabulary of Strength, •..............•..• . .. , ..••.•..•. ,
Conditions of Strength in Composition :-Originality,, .•••...••
Harmony or Keepin~, ••••.••........• , ••• , • , •••.•••.• , ...
Variety, or Altcrnatwn of Effects ........•.••••....••••.•. ,
Variety in Composition gcncmlly, .•••....••••.••.•...••••••
Avoidin~ the repetition of the same word, .................. .
Variety m the length and structure of Sentences,, •••••...•...
Variety in a long composition, .•.•.••..... • .••••....••...••
Contrast the extreme case of Variety,., •..•••.•.• , ..••..•..•
Exciting effects should be relieved, •.......••.••••••••••...•
The Specific and Concrete a means of Strength, .•••.••.•....•
Strength from Objectivity, ............................... .
Importance of being ea!.<ily understood, •.•..•.•.....••...••..
Soaring, or taking a flight, .........•. , ••••...••...•••..•.. ·
Strength in Scientific Composition, .•••.•...•...•••.•.•••...
Resources for causing strength, ........................... .
The sublime of Nature extended by the Poet, ............... .

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An exnmple of the general Law. of Harmony, ...... • · .. • • •• • • • . 116
Imitation of Sounds, ................... • ... •••·•••••••••· 116
Imitation of Movements, ....................... • .. • • .. • • ; • 117
Bulk expressed by slO'l~ness of rhy~hm, ................. • • ·.• 119
Expression of the Feelings or Passions, •••••••••.•••• ~ • • ~ • • • 119
TASTE-ELEGANCE-POLISH-REFINEMENT.

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181. Meanings of Taste, .......................... · • .. • • .. : • "• 120
The Permanent and the Variable in Taste, ••••••••••• •••••• 120
CHAPTER V.
TUE SENTENCE AND TIIE PARAGRAPII.
THE SENTENCE.

103. Tender Feeling allied to inactivity or repose, ............... .. 99
104. Modes of awakening Tender }'ccling, ....••••.•••••.•••••.•• 99
Vocabulary of Tenderness, ............................. . 101
105. Conditions similar to those of Strength, .•.•..••...•.•••••••• 101
106. Natural objects sometimes suggest Tenderness, ••••..••..••••• 102
107. Examples of Pathos, •••••••. ,, ••••.•.•••••.••..•.••••••.• 10~
TilE LUDlCROUS-IlUMOR-WIT.

The Ludicrous defined, .••.•...••••......... -. ...•.....•••• 104
Based on the degradation of some object possessing dignity, •.• 104
Laughter has two extremes :-Derision,. ·•.•••••...•.••.•.••. · 106
The genial extreme is Humor, .••••• , ,, .... , ........ ,', .... . 1011

Involves the voice and the ear, ............................. 110
Letters of tho alphabet in tho order of ensy pronunciation, •••• • 1 1~
Abrupt consonants should alternate with vowels, •••••••••••••
A slll\rp l\nd n flat muto difficult to combine, ••••••• , ••••••• • • .111
Cumulation of consonants hnrsh,. ..... • • •• • .. • • .. • • .. • • • • • • n~
Alternation of vowel and consonant in successive words,• • • • • • • _1
Clash of vowels should be avoided, ........ • • .. · • .. • • .. • • .. 12
Long vowels out of accent, ......................... ·•••·• 112
Varying the letters, .•••.•.••••••••.•••••••••••.• • • • • • • • • • ~ ~:
The succession of syllables, •••.•••••• ; ••...•••••••.•••• • • •
The closing syllables of a sentence, ......................... 114
Variety of sound in composition generally, ....... ; .. ; •• • • ; •'• • . 115
Examples of the rules of melody,: ................. • .. ~ ... 115
HARMONY OF SOUND AND BENSE.

FEELING-PATHOS.

108.
109.
110.
111.

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CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

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182. Grammatical laws of the Sentence, •.•••••• : • · • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
133. Rhetorical division of Sentences.-The Period and the Loose
Sentence, ......................... •• •••• ··•·····•·•··•
134. The Participial construction in the Period, •••••.••••••••• ••·
135. The periodic form favorable to Unity,.·•······•· ... •••••••••
136. Short and Long Sentences, •.•••••••••.••••••• ···•·•··••••·
137. The Balanced Sentence,. .••••.••....•• • •••• • ... • • .. • • • • • •
138. Balance a!ds the Memorby,. s· ••• ••• • • • · ·• • • • • ••• • • • • • • • • • • • • •
139. Balance gives an ngreca 1c urprise, • · · • · • • • • • · • · • · • • • • · • • ·'
l40. Extreme form of the Ba1ance, ... · • • • · • · • · • · • · · • • · · · · · ''' • •
141. Balance combined with Antithesis, ..... •••· .. •· .. •••··• .. ••
142. Balance with Obverse Iteration, ... •• .. •• ... ··"··"··"···•
143. Balance with Epigram, .. · .. ·· .. •• .. ··"···· .. ··"'' .. •• ..
144. Pointed expression of difference,.·· .. •• .. •• .. •• .. ··"•·"··
145. Keeping up the same leading term,.···•··•·····•···"···•~••
146. The Condensed Sentence, ..... •· .. •• .. •·•····· : · ~.r. ~_:; • :.!,' •

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The Condensed Sentence used for Comic etl'ect, •••• : .......... 130
The Pointed Style, ..... .. ...... .. ........................ 130
Requisites of the Sentence generally, ....................... 130
A c~nsl?icuous place to the Principal Subject :-(1.) In the be. ginning, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 131
(2.) After an adverbial phrase or clause, .......... ~ .......... 132
(3.) At the .end,. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • . . . . . . . . • . • . • . . • • • . • . 133
The Predicate. is alflo a principal part,...................... 133
.The places of emphasis for important words, .••••••••••••••• . l:J3
Unity of the Sentence, ............. ~ ..................... . 185
Clauses .unitedfo .a Sentence .without breach of unity, , .... ~ ... 136
It is often .requisite . to include in a Sentence several distinct
. facts.-Examination of a Narrative Extract, •••••••••••••••• 186

IS. Some objecl.ci may be viewed as bra!1ching from ~ Ce~tre, ••• , •• • 11S4
6. .Any feature may be chosen suggestmg a comprenensive aspect..
Examples of the general rule, .••.•••..•••.•••••••••••• • • • 155
'1. Second.-The Description may be panoramic, ..••••••..•• •.•.•• Hi6
8. Third.-Description aided by Individuality, .• , ............... •· 15'7
9. Fourth.-Description by Associated Circumstances, ........... • 158
10. Associated human Feelings in Description, ...... • • ; ••. : • .-.. • • 1119
11. The particulars of a Description may be mutually suppo~tmg,; ••• 159
12 Description of Mind.-First the proper vocabulary of Mmd, •• • 1 • 160
13: Intellectual Processes.-Ex~mples of subjective description,. • • • • 160
14. Second.-Feelings may be suggested by their As8~c!ations, •• .' • •• 162
15. Description involved in all other kinds of Composition, .••••• • • . 163
l6. In Exposition ·or Science, ............... ·. ; . • . ; .·• ;. ~ ; ! .. ; .. • 163
l '7. Jn Poetry• . · What Descriptions. may be Undcr~keti by' the poet,. l64

• .· •.

THE PARAORAPII.

158. Paraqraph defined, .............. , ........ . .... . ... . .....
159. Requisites in composition gencmlly, . . ............. , • .. • • • • •
First requisite, Explicit Reference, ....•••••• . •••.••••••••
160. Use of the proper Conjunctions,. . . .. • • .. • • • .. • • • • • • .. • • .. •
161. Cumulative Conjunctions, ........ .. ............ ' ! . . . . . . . . .
162. ·.Adversative Conjunctions, ••••.....•.•...••••••• .- .........
163. ·IUatlve Conjunctions,; : ... : " . : : .. , , , ; , , ....... . • .........
164. Phrases of reference, ••••. ; .. • . • .•••...••••••• ·• • • • . • • • • • •
165. Subordinating Conjunctions ..... . .........................
166-170. Cases in which connecting words are unnecessary, ••••••••
l '71. Demonstrative Phrases of reference, . . ......................
l '72. Repetition in substance of what has been said, ...............
l '13. Inversion with a view to reference,. . . .. • . • .. • • • • • • •• • • .. • •
l '14. De Quincey remarkable for explicit reference,. • • • • • •.. • .. • • • •
1'15. Second Requisite of the Paragraph.-The rule of Parallel Construction,. • • • . . • • . . • • . . . • . . • . . • . • . . . • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
l '16. Third Requisite.-The opening sentence to indicate the subject
of the Paragraph, •• • •. • •. • ..•...••.••••••• . •••••••• •••
1'1'1. Fourth Requisite.-Freedom from dislocation, ............... •
1'18. Fifth Requisite.-Unity of the Paragraph, ...................
l '79. Sixth Requisite.-A due proportion between Principal and Sub. ordinate statements, •••••• • ••••• • ; ••••••••• , •••• •. , • ; ~.

'

142
142
142
142
142
143
143
144
144
145
146
14'7
14'7
148
148
150
151
151

11S2

PART II.
.. . ~ : ~· :iti$DS ~ OF . OOJIPOS/T ION.

. .- • • • ,, • t • • ; • • • . • • • . • • • • • • . . • . • • • • • • • • • •... • : • ·~ : ; ~ ; , ,. .... :~: l ~

CH.APTER

II. ,

' , •

:

•,I'

. . . NARRATIVE ; ·

18. Narrative implies sequence or shifting of the scene:1. Conditions
to be observed, . .••.•.................. · ... · · · .... · · • · •
19. First rule.-To follow the Order of Events,.; ••.•••••••••••• ·•
20. Importance of Chronology, ......... ~ ... .• ............ ~" • '. ~ ~ •
21. A backward reference may be necessary, ........... •· ;• ••••••
22. Sometimes what is recent is best to start from, .......... •·;:. ; . •
23. Second.-The narrative of concurring streams of events•...:..A principal action and subordina~es,•: ..... ·: ...... ....... '. •• •. •
24. A comprehensive scheme possible m narrative,. • • • • • • . • • • • • • • •
25. Concurring stre~ms of equal importance, •••. ... : .••.•••• • •••• •
26. Contending parties.-Danger of stealthy transition, , ........ •.• •
2'7. Plurality of departments, .•••••••••• •·: ............ _. ... . • .. •
28. Third.-Rclieving the detail by Summ1mes, ••••.•. •... •• •. • • • •
29. Art of Abrid!!ment, • ; .... . .......................... • • • • ..
SO. Fourth.-Th~ Explanatory Narrative, •..• ; •.•••.. • . : . ..... •••
in. Fifth.-The emls of Historical Composition.-Instruct10n, .•••• •
82. Interest, or the gratification of the Feelings, ••• •• •••••• • • • • • •
33. Sixth.-History based on Geograp~y, ••••••• : • •: ••••.• : •. • • • •
84. Seventb.-History a series of delmcations with mtermediate nar-

. ratlvc, . •...... . ...... • • • . • • • • • • • • · • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
SIS. A nation's exh!tence analyzed into dcpnrtments, •••••••• • •••• • •
86. History involves the arts of Exposition and of Poetry, ••••••• •.
8'7. Much of what bn.s been Sl\id on History applies to Biography,... •
88. The Environment should be delineated, ••••••••••••• • •. • • • • • •
89. The form of Narrative in Science, and in Poetry, •••••• ••• •• •••

168
16'1

16 7
168
169
169
1'70
170
1 '11
l '11
1'12
l '73
1 '14
l '14
l '76
l '78
l '1
8
l '19
183
184
184
184

CITAP7'ER I.
DESCRIPTION.

en.APTER III.

1. Complication demands lin Art of Description,. . • • . • . • . • • • • • • . 11)3
· 2. First.~To combine with the Enumeration of the parts a Plan of
· · the . whole, ~. ·•• ~ ·...... ... ·. ·.. .- .. •... •.. . ..••.... • ; •••• ~ . 154
, o 'A.~ -s;;"~ n;. Ont.liri<> m!l.v ht> t.h<> f'nmnrP.hP.nRiVP. nlan._. _ .• · - - . 154

EXPOSITION.

40. Applies to knowlcdg~ in the form ?f Science, ••••••••• • •• ••••• 185
A 1 flhi•·f A.t.t.rihnt.n of Rmencc. Generality, , , . •••••••••••••.•• • • • • • 185

' .

14

15

OONTENTB.

CONTENTS.
PAOll

Whenever truth is expressed gencrnlly, we ha"°e Science,. • • • • • • 18'1
Clearness of statement presupposed,. . . • . . . • . • . • • • • • • • • . • • • . 18'1
Individual facts, by themselves, not peculiar to science, •.. .••••• 188
First generalized element, the NOTION, ....................... 188
4'1. DEFINITION,... . • • . . • • • . . . • . . . . . . ... • • • • . • • . • • • • • • • • • . . • • • 188
48. Defining by Particulars,. . . . • . . . . . . . • • . . • . • • . • • • . . . • . . • . • . • 188
49. Defining by Antithesis or Contrast, .•......•..•••.•...•...••• 189'
50. The two methods combined, ..•.....••••.••••............•• 190
51. The Complex Notion Defined by Analysis.-The Verbal Definition, 190
u2. The scholastic definition a form of Analysis,. • . • . • . . • • • • • • . . . . 192
53. The other methods superadded to Analysis,. . • . . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 192
04. The PROPOSITION, or Principle,. • • . . • . • . • . . • . . • . . • . . . . . • . • • • • 193
!SIS. Methods of expounding the Proposition.-Iteration, .....•..•••• 193
56. There should al ways be one chief statement,. • • .. • . . . . . . . • . . . • 194
5'1. Obverse Iteration,. • • . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . . . . . • • • • • • . . • • • • . . . . . • 194
58. Advantages of the Obrnrse St.'ttemcnt,. . • . . . • . • . • . . • • • • • • • • . . 195
59. The principal medium of Exposition is Examples,. ............ 196
60. Choice of Examples,. • • • . . . • • . • • • . • • • • • • • • . • . • . • • . • • • . • • • • 19'1
61. The particulars may precede the generality,. .................. 19'1
62. The Example in the form of the Extreme Case,. • • •. • • . • • • • . . • 19'1
63. Principles embodied in Examples,. . . . . . . • . . . . • • • .. • . • • • • • • • • 198
64. Unscientific generalitics.-The popular Essay, ................. 198
65. Delineation of Character, and Criticism,. . . . • • • • . • . . • • • • . . . . • • 199
66. Illustrations as distinguished from Examples,. . • . • . • • . • • • . • • • • 199
6'1. The imparting of extended human interest to Scicnce.-Plato, ..• 201
68. The choice of Examples and Illustrations with this view,. • • .. . • • 202
69. The conditions of the employment of Illustrations for expository
ends, ••••.•.••• . ••. .•.•..••.•...•.•••••.•.• . •••••• ..• 203
'70. Calling attention to Difficulties, ............................. 205
'71. The Proof of a principle contributes to its expo::ition,. • . . • . . . . • 205
'72. Inferences and Applications serve to elucidate principles, ••..••• 20'1
'73. The Expository Paragraph, ................................ .• 208
'74. Various forms of the Pamgraph, ............................ 210
'75. Management of novel terms,. . • • . • • . • • • • . . . . . . • . • • • • • . . • . • •. 211
'16. Maxim of proceeding from the known to the unknown, .......... 211

PA.GB

8B. Examples of the failure of great efforts ·o f genius from unsuitability to the minds addressed-History of the abolition of
the Censorship of the press in England,. • • • • • • . • • • . • . • • • 220
8/. MEANS OF PERSUASION,. . • .. • • .. • • .. . . .. . . . . • • ... • . . • • .. . . • 223
88. A thorough knowledge of the subject a chief requisite.-Re- .
sources of language and illustration lilso requisite, ......... 224
89. Different aspects of Persuasion,. . . .. . . .. • . . • . . .. . • . . • . .. . . • 225
9(). Persuasion as based on Description, N nrration, or Exposition,. • 226
91. Persuasion aided by all the arts that impress ideas,. . • . • • • • • • . 228
92. Persuasion by Argument, or Proof, .•••.•.••.••• ~ ..• , • • • • . • • 228
93. An Argument defined, .................................... 229
9-1. l<'irst requisite in Argument, ccrtnin admitted p1fociples, ..••..• 229
95. Second requisite, an admitted similarity between the principles
and the point to be established, , •••••• , • ; .••
229
96. Deductive Arguments,. . • • . . • • • • • • • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 230
9'7. Inductive Arguments, .....•.••...•...•••..••• , •••••. • •••• 231
98. Arguments from Analogy,. . . ..• • . • . • . . • • • • . . • .. . . . . • . • • • • • • 233
99. Probable Arguments ••••••.•••••....•.••......•• ·• • . . • • • • • 234
100. Devices for stifling Arguments, . • . • . . . . . • • • . . . . . • . • • . . . . • . • • 236
101. How to arrange a l'lurality of Arguments.-Stating them separately, .•...•..•••• , ••..••..•••...•....••.....•• , . . • 236
102. Number and Order of Arguments, • .•..••.•.... ....••. , ••.•• 23'1
103. REFUTATION or REPLY,. ........................... . .... , •• 23'1
104. Setting forth all that is admitted on the other side,. • . . . . . . • • . 23'1
105. Separating the arguments on the other side, .•••••...•• , . • • • . 238
106. Refutation follows all the methods of Proof, ••.•••••........• 238
10'1. Kind of Refutation called Argumentum ad lwminem, .......••• 240
108. Exposure of defective Arguments from Analogy, ... ........... 241
109. Debate often turns on opposing Prob1\bilities,. . • • • . . . . . • • • • • . 242
110. Throwing the Durden of Proof on the other side, ....•...••• , • 242
111. Tactics of Debate, •.••.•••...•.•••..•...•.••••••• , •• , • • • • 24!1
112. Oratory of the FEELINGS.-Classes of human motives,. • • •. . . • . . 244
113. Address to the Feelings considered under three heads :-First,
our own Pleasures and Pains considered as remote,. • . • • . • • 24/S
114. Secondly, Sympathy with the Pleasures and Pains of others, .••• 248
115. Thirdly, the Emotions and Passions :-Fear, Love, Vanity, and
Pride, Anger, Ridicule, Fine Art Emotion, the Moral Sentiment, ................................•..•..........• 249
116. Management of the Feelings generally,. • • • • • • • • • • . • • • • • • • • • • 255
ll'T. The Demeanor of the Speaker, .•••••••••• , •.•.•.••• , •• , , , • 256

43.
44.
45.
46.

4

;"
~'

CHAPTER IV.
PEUSUASION.

'1'1.
'78.
'7!l.
80.
· s1.
82.
83.
84.
85.

Persuasion defined, ...•...............•.•.. , ••••••••••••••
The ENDS of Oratory, .................................... ..
Oratory of the Law Courts, ••••..••.•.•••.••.••.•..•••••.••
Politico! Oratory.-Argument aml Exhortation,. •. ·......•••••••
Pulpit Oratory.-Cultivation of the Heligious Feelings, •••••...•
Moral Suasion, .•.•••••••.•.......•.•••..•.•...•. • ..•.••..
KNOWLEDGE OF TllE PERSONS .Annl'.ES~En.-Sources nnd extent of
the knowledge required.-Consideration of men's ordinary maxims and received opinions, ..•.......•.....••.•.. ..• •..•.
An orator has to overbear men's special views by menus of larger
principles of action, •......•.•.•...•..••.•••.•.•.••.••.•
Knowledge of a class or assemblage, ....................... ,

212
212
213
213

215
215

;

•

•

•

CHAPTER V.
'i
1,

r

f

215
219
219

•••••••

.

....

POETRY.
118. Previous references lo Poetry, ....••. . •••.•...•••••••.••••• . 2Ci'T
119. Poetry a !<'inc Art, working by Langunge.-Pleasures of Fine
Art generally,.. . • . • • • . . . . . . • . • • • . • . . . . . . . . . . • • • .. • . • • 25'1
120. Subjects and l<'orm peeuli111· to Poctry.-Pure and mixed kinds,. 259
121. External Nature furnishes materials for Poetry, .......... , • , • • 260
122. Our interest i.n Humanity enters into Poetry, ......... ·••• ;. ; , ·;·. 1!62
123. Concreteness and Combination are characteristic of Poetry,'. , , • 263

-

I
16

..........................~.....;..--=--=~· ~·---- ~

-- =17

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.
PAU,1

l'AGB

Poetry, • • • • • • • • . • • • • • • . • • • • . • • • • • . • • • • • • . . . • • • • . • . • • 21' i
125. The Ideal is sought after, ... .. ... . .. ~ ...................... 26'i

J80. Examples of the different Measures,, ••••••• .. ••••••• ,·••• , ••• 286
Dissyllabic Measures (Trochaic, Iambic), ........ . .•.••••• 286
Trisyllabic Me:isures {bactylic, Amphibrachic, A.nupncstic), • • 28'1

124. Harmony is an essential of every work of Art.-Harmonies In

126. The Imitation of Nature imposes limitations on Poetry,. .......
12'1. Plot Interesi, ••••••• .,•••.•.........••.....•••..•......•.
128. Painful effects should be redeemed.-Tragc<ly,.,........... •.
129. Metre-,-its uses, •• .• • • • • .• • . .• • . . • • • • • • • • . • . • . • • • . • • • . • • • • . .

269
270
271
272

Alliteration~

i40. Alliteration is of the natu~e of Metre, ........ .. ............. · 288
Alliteration in later English poetry,. • • • • • • • • . . • • • • • • • • • • • 289

SPECIES OF POETRY.

Rhyme.

180. Species classl.fied, .• ·~ . ·................... ; •• , ............... 274
LYRIC POETRY.

131. Lyric poetry an effusion of some strong feeling, ........•...• ,
132. Lyric poems classified:-••••..•............ . ...•......•.•
(1.) The Song, .................................... ·. • ·•·.
I. The Second Song, ..•...•.•.•••..•..••.... ·.•••..
II. The Secular Song-its varieties, .................
The Ode,......... • • . . . • • • • . • . • • • . . • . . •..•••••••
(8. The Elegy, .......................................
· · · (4. The Sonnet, • •..•. ; ... ; ............. . •.. . ••••....•
· (IS. The Simple or nondescript Lyric, ..........•.••.•••..

· ·(2.l

2'14
274
275
275

275
276

2'1'1
27'1
27'1

EPIC POETRY.

183. The peculiarities of the Epic, ••...•••••••...•••.•••••••••••
184. Epic .poems classified:-. . ............................... .
. (1. The great Epic.-Examples, ....................... .
(2. The Romance, ............................. : . • • • ••
( 3. The Tale, .•••••••......•.••....••......•.•....•••
(4. The Ballad, ..................................... .
(IS. The .Metrical History, .....•• •....•..•••••••..•••••
(6. The .Mixed Epic1••••••••••• • ••••• • •••••••••••••••
('1. The Pastoral Ictyll, &c., ................ . .......... ,
( 8. The Prolie Fiction, •••.•••• • ..••..•.••• • •••••••••••

2'1'1
2'18

278
279
279
279

281
282
282

282

288
284

18'7. The metrical features of English poetry, ..................... 285
METRE.

138. English metre depends upon accent, •• ; • . • . • . • • . . • • . . • . • • • • • 285
---!.&.!--

_r

.&.L- _

----il

-!--- _:,.._

iL ....

n ....... _... ... _,.. ____ ...

It.INDS OJ' VERSE.

142. The Elements that make up the kinds of Verse,. . . . • • . . • • . • • •
Blank or Unrhymed Verse, .............................
143. Rhymed Verse, .•.•••••••.••.•••...•.••••. ; •. . ... . .•••••.
Iambic Octosyllabics,. • • • • •.. . • • • . • • .. . . . • • . .. • • • • . . ..
Heroic Couplet, •......•.• ; .•••.••••.•••.•.... '. . • • • . . .
Elt!giac Metre,. . • . • • • • . . . . • • • • • . • . • • . • . . . . • . • . . . • . • • • •
Rhyme Royal,.. • • . . • . . . • • • • • • • • • • . • • . • • •. • • • . . • • • . • • •
OUava Ryma,. . • . • • • • . . . . • . . . • • • • • . . • • • • • • . . . . • • • • • • •
Sonnet, •• : • . • . . • • • • • • • • • • . . . . • • • • • • • • • • • • • . . . . • • • • • •
Spenserian Stanza, ....................................
Dallad, Metre, .. .•..................•......•.........•
Trochaic Combination,. • • • • , • • • • • . • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

291
291
292
292
292
292
292
298
293
293
2D4
294

280

VERSIFICATION.

mL-

141. Rhyme is also metrical in the wide sense, .•••••••••••••••••• 289
The three Conditions of perfect Rhyme,, • • • • • . . • • • • • • • . . • 200
Assonance, • ....•.........•.•• •. . . . . . . • . . . • . . . . . . . . . . 290

280
280
281

DRAMATIC POETRY,

135. The Drama constructed for acting on the stage, ........••••••
Na tu re of the dramatic interest,. . . . . . • . . . . . • • . • . . • . • •
136. Division of the Drama, •..•....••.................•...•..•
(1.) Tragedy, . • .•.. • •...•.......•....•....•..••••••••
(2.) Comedy.-lt..'I various forms ...•....•••..•..•...••••
Didactic Poetry.-Satirio l'oetry, •....•••..••...••••••

·· · · · ·

no1t

APPENDIX.
EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

I. Forbes on the Glacicr.-Allcgory, Comparisons, Strength,
Climax Le.we of the Sentence and the Paragraph,. • • • • • • •
II. Locke on' Memory.-Figures of Similitude, Exposition relieved by appeal to Feeling, the Sentence,. • • . . . . • • • • • • • •
III. Dr. Ce.mpbell'11 allegorical comparison of Probability and
Plausibility.-Laws of the Sentence and the Pare.graph, •..
IV. Cowley on Cromwell.-Intcrrogntion, Strength, &c., ••••••..•
V. Addison on the Pleasures of the Imagine.tion.-Melody, the
Sentence and the Paragraph, Climax, &c., ••.••••••.•••••
VI. Robert Hall's Reflections on War.-The Sentence, Pathos,
Strength, Climax, &c., ..•••.•..••••..•.••.......•••.•
VII. Gibbon's Description of Arnbin.-Scntcncc, Paragraph, Description, ....•...... ............... • • •. • .. • • • • • • • • •
VIII. Examples of Description from Sir Walter Scott,. • • .. • • • .. . • •
IX. Carlyle's Description of Silesia,. • . • • • . . . • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • •
'-T .

- • ' -- -

T.t _ .. _ _ - A.

I:.'- - -

n-1...--.a. ............. , .... nl..n ...lne1

v

295
29'7
299
303
804
808
818
816
819
R91

I

18

CONTENTS.
PAOB

XI.
XII.

XIII.
XIV.

xv.

XVI.

XVII.
XVIII.
XIX;

xx.

XXL
XXII.

Hobbes on Lnughtcr.-Sentence, Parngraph, Exposition,. • • .
Dryden's criticisms on Ben Jonson and Slmkespeare.-Sentence Paragraph, Exposition,. • • • • • . . . . . • . • • • . . • • • • . •
Exposito~y Extract from Mr. Samuel Ilailey.-.Application of
Principles,. • • • • • • • • . • • • . . • . • • • • • • • • . . • . . • • • • • . • • • •
Expository and moralizing passage from Macaulay,. • • . • • • . •
Confused chain of reasoning from Campbell's Rhetoric,. • . • •
Passarre from Adam ·Smith.-Exposition applied to Moral
Su~sion,. • • • • . . • • . • • • • . . . . • • . . • . . . • • • • . . • . . • • • • • • •
Oratorical passage from Demosthenes on the Crown, .•.••••
Campbell's Pleasures of Hope.-Passage examined for Poetic
Figures and Qualities,. . . .. • . • . .. • • .. . . • • • • • • • . . . . • •
Coleridge's Mont Blanc.-Poetic rendering of Nature, .•..•••
Byron's Thunder Storm.-The Impressiveness of Action, •••.
Dyer's Grongar Hill.-Poetical Description, .......... . ....
Thomson's Seasons.-The Golden .Age, exemplifyiug the Ideal
in Poetry, ..................................... ••••

824
32'1
330
333
33()

RHETORIO.

836
338
338
341
342
343
843

l
I

,.'

RnETORIO discusses the means whereby language,
spoken or written, may be rendered effective.
There are three principal ends in speaking,-to inform, to persuade, to please. They correspond to the
three departments of the human mind, the Understanding, the Will, and the Feelings. The means being to
some extent different for each, they are considered under
separate heads.
But as there are various matters pertaining .to all
modes of address, it is convenient to divide the entire
subject into the two following parts:Part First, which relates to Style generally, embraces
the following topics :-I. The Figures of Speech. II.
The Number of Words. III. The Arrangement of
Words. IV. The Qualities of Style. V. The Sentence and the J>aragrapli.
Part Second treats of the different Kinds of Composition.
-· ·: ·...
Those that have for their object to inform the UN'
DERSTANDING, fall under three heads-.Deacription, Narration, and Exposition. The means of influencing the
WILL are given under one head, PersuaaWri. The employing of language to excite pleasurable FEELINGS, is
one of the chief characteristics of Poetry.
The Will can be moved only through the Understanding or through the Feelings. Hence there are
'· ·' ' 1 : • '
really but two Rhetorical ends.

. .-----...

---·-

--.--------------------~,~.~~--------=~;;;;:::.~--......,--·

i'
!

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

•

PART I.
STYLE IN GENER.AL.

CH.APTER I.
THE FIGURES OF SPEECH.

1. .A FIGURE of Speech i~ a denntfon from t11e plain
and ordinary mode of i;peaking~ with 8 new to greater
effect.. When, inste3.d of saying~ "that i5 1ery rtrn~ue,"
we exclaim "how ~ue ! r. we n...::.e a ~Plire. ":xow fa
the flint.er of our di5e0ntent. ~ i5 :fi_cruratire : the w(lrd
"winter '."7 is di-rerted th'lm ~~ s ~~n of the
year, to e.xpres; a condition etf the human feelings.
The ancient Rhetoricians d.L<:tio~hed between FiQ'lll"e5 and
Tropes. A Figure, says Quintilian, is a form of speech differing from the ordinary mode of expression ; as in the first exunple giren abol"e. A Trope is the conl"'ernon of a word from
t.s proper ~<TDID<:'8tion fo an0ther, in 0rder to giw force. as in
he second example abore. The di5'tinction is more in appearnce than in snbst.ance, and has no practical y-aJue.
The Figures are _cla.s-..~ under a nriety of names. The
t05t common are Simile, Metaphor, AJJegory, Antith~is or
bntrn...~ Metonymy, Synecdoche, Epigram, Hyperbole, Inter~tion, Exclamation, Apostrophe, Climax, Irony.
~

~

2. Se1era1 of the more important Figures ham ref..
enc.-e to the operntion..~f the human Understanding,

· Inte1lect, and may be. classified accordingly. · .All

21

our intelJectual powers are reducible to three simple
modes of working.
The first is D1soRIMINATION, or the Feeling of Difference,
Contrast, Relativity. It means that the mind is affected by
change, ns in passing from rest to motion, from cold to beat,
from light to dark; and that, the greater and the more sudden
the change, the more strongly is it affected. 11ie figure denominated Antit!tesis, or Contrast, derives its force from this
fact.
The second power is called 81.MJLARITY, or the Feeling of
Agreement. This ~ignifies that, when like objects come under
Oar notice, We are impressed by t1e circumstance, 8S when WC
see the re..c:cmblance of a child to its parent. It signifies farther
that we arc made to nndemand things better, and to feel them
more strongly, by means of other filmilar things. \le are enaMed to know something of the ~ert of Sahara, by being
told that it resembles a sea of sand. The Figures named
Simik, Hetapflqr, .Alkgory, are modes of increasing the force
of rtyJe in this way.
The third pow-er of the Intellect is RETl::nJTE.:qss, or Acquisition. The abilit.T' fo retain ~~ impres9ons Tit.bout
confusion, Md to bring them op afterward...", distingni.4es mind ;
it is a power Cruniliarly known as Memory. Now, the chief
way in which memory works is this : impressions occurring togetMr, become associated together, a~ sunrise with daylight ;
and, when we are made to think of one, we are reminded of
the accompaniments. We cannot think of the sun's rising,
without remembering daylight, and the other circumstances
that go along with it. Hence, things contiguously placed are
associated mentaJJy ; and one o( the many consequences V, that
we often name a thing by some of its adjuncts, as when we say
"the throne" for the sof'ereign, "gold" for wealth. Such is
the nature of Metonymy.
Of the three powers of InteJJect now named-Discrimination or Contrast, Similarity, and Retentivene~the second,
Similarity, is most fruitful in ~es, and may . be. cQnsidered
first.
.
. .
.
. . . -.
.

)
1!

lj

h
f

)I f

_________ ________ _
..,

22

_..._...........
.

,,,..---:-. -·-

--~~~
-

-- - --

----------------

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

FIGURES FOUNDED ON SIMILARITY.

3. The intellectual power named Similarity, or Feel·
ing of Agreement, is the chief inventive power of the
mind. By it similitudes are brought up to the view.
When we look out upon a scene of nature, we are re~
minded of other similar scenes that we have formerly
known.
This power of like to recall like (there being also diversity)
varies in different individuals. The fact is shown by the great
abundance of comparisons that occur to some men ; for example, the great poets. Homer, speaking of the descent of Apollo
from Olympus, says, "He came like night." The eloquence of
Ulysses is described by the help of a similitude : cc

8oft as the fleeces of descending snows,
The copious accents fall with easy art;
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!"

The Figures of Similarity are these :-1. Simile, or Comparison. 2. .Metaphor. 3. Personification. 4. Allegory. 5.
Certain forms of Synecdoche. VVe shall first remark on the
features common to them all.
OF SIMILITUDES GENER.ALLY.

4. The tradng of resemblances among the objects
and events of the world, is a constant avocation of the
human mind.
In Science, general notions arc classed together on foe basis
of some feature that they possess in common. We identify a
great number of objects on the property of roundness, all else
being different.
Some sciences are expressly styled Comparative ; as, Comp~rative Anat<;>my, Comparative Grammar. The purpose of the
former is to find out the points of community or likeness in th«:
structure of Animals: the latter shows the similarities occurring
in the midst of diversities in Languages.

.,

SIMILITUDES.

•

-- ---

. . . .....

23

Reasoning is often based on the similarity or identity of two
or more things. When we infer that the men now alive will
die it is because of their likeness in constitution to those that
'
went before them. This is called reasoning by Analogy.
• . A comparison is often intended to serve for an argument, as
well as for an illustration. Tho following is an example : " It is remarked by Anatomists, that the nutritive q~nlity _is not
the only requisite in food ;-that n certain degree of dutention of
the stomach is required, to enable it to act with its ~ull powers;nml that it is for this renson hny or straw must be given to hor~es,
ns well ns com, i.n order to supply. tho neoes~a1·y bulk. Som?tlung
analogoua to this takes place with respect . to t}ie genero.11~y .of
minds · which are incapable of thoroughly d1gestmg nnd ass1mtlating what is presented to them, however clearly, in a small compass." (Whately.)

5. In all departments of composition addressed to
the U NDERBTANDING -in Description, Narration, and
Exposition-Similitudes are made use of to render the
subjects more intelligible.
If, from some cause or other, a subject is but dimly con.
ceived, one mode of assisting the mind, is to bring forward
something of the .same kind that we already understand. Our
knowledge of the familiar throws light upon the unfamiliar object. Thus, the action of the heart, which is concealed from
our view, may be made intelligible by comparison to a forcepump for supplying water to a town. An event in ancient history may be illustrntcd by something that bas lrnppened in
moro recent times. A man's character is brought home to us,
when likened to that of some one that we already know. · We
often make subjects mutually illustrative through their com·
mnnity of nature ; thus Painting and Poetry, as Fine Arts,
elucidate each other.

6. A Resemblnnce is not n. Figure of Speech, unless
the things compared be different in kind.
The comparison of Napoleon to Cresar is literal and not
fi1Yurative · the subiects are of the same kind. The compario
'
J
•
son of a great conqueror to a destructive conflagration, or a

24

25

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

SIMILITUDES.

tempest, is a figure. The things compared are different in nature, although sufficiently similar to render the one illustrative
of the·other.

into painful prominence, when the general health happens to be · ·
disturbed.
Extract I. (APrENDix) may be referred to as exemplifying
mixed effects.
In not a few instances, even in Expository Composition, the
understanding is sacrificed to the feelings. (See Extract II.)

7. In compositions addressed to the FEELINGS-Ora'
tory and Poetry-resemblances are sought out to give
greater intensity or impressiveness to the meaning.

9. Some Similitudes enable us to picture an object
vividly to the mind, and are called, on that account,
picturesque j as in Chaucer's Squire, "With Jockes
£rull, as they were laide in presse."

For this purpose, the comparison sl1ould be to something
that excites the feelings more strongly than the thing compared. Thus, Sir Philip Sidney, in endeavoring to give a
lively idea of the rousing effect of the ballad of Chevy Chase,
says, "it stirs the heart like the sound of a trumpet."
Chaucer's description of the Squire, contains sevcra~ comparisons for raising the feelings : 11

These comparisons are much used in Poetry, and m the
more pocticnl forms of Descriptive and Narrative composition.

r

I
I

Embrouded was he, as it 10ere a mede,
.All full of frcshe .ftoures white and rede ,·
Singing he was, or floyting all the day ;
He wa& a& freshe as iB the moneth of May."

I

.

I"

So, the following simile from the Odyssey is calculated to
give a more lively sense of the speaker's sentiment of veneration : -,"I follow behind, as in the footsteps of a God."
Again, "Justice," says Aristotle, "is more glorious than the
Eastern Star or the Western Star."
An example of a simile elevating a common subject to a
poetic character, occurs in Tennyson's description of the miller
in "Enoch Arden."
" Him, like the working bee in blossom d1UJt,
Blanched with his mill, they found."

"i.

Of the examples of the Simile on page 29, the 5th appeals to the feelings almost exclusively; the 1st and 6th are
addressed to the undertanding; while the rest fall under a
class to be mentioned presently, § 10.

.'
I

I

8. Many comparisons have a mixed effect, partly assisting the understanding, and partly giving rise to feelmg.

.

Demosthenes likened the statesmanship of sucl1 politiciana
as his rival ...:Eschines to old sores in the body, which come out

I '

I

10. Original comparisons, ·besides having the effects
just stated, cause an agreeable SURPRISE, and are introduced into composition with that view.
A comparison that is new and not obvious, strikes us with
a pleasurable flash, even although contributing little, either to
elucidate a subject, or to excite livelier feelings in connection
with it. In the following instance, the agreeable effect arises,
partly from the elevation of the subject (See QuALITIEB OF
STYLE, Strength), and partly from the detection of a certain
resemblance between two things lying remote in nature:-" The
actions of princes are like those great rivers, whose course
every one beholds, but their springs have been seen by but
few."
When comparisons have no other effect than the pleasure
of surprise, they are often termed fanciful. This indicates oneof the meanings of Fancy. Luxuriant composition, · as the
poetry of Shelley or Keats, is apt to abound in this species of
effect.

11. I. vVhen Figures of Similarity are employed to
give intelligibility and clearness - that is, to aid tlie
Understanding-they must satisfy the foJlowing conditions:. : :: _. r. ·:·. · )
2

_.

-

-

/

26

"

CONDITIONS OF EFFECTIVE COMPARISON.

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

The fo11owing well-known passage from Lucretius contains a
fine harmony, and also a circumstance that jars on the mind : "Sweet it is, when the winds are ngitnting the waters on a wide
sen, to witness from the land tho spectacle of another's distress;
not because it is ngreeable to. us thnt nny one should suffer, but
because it is pleasant to behold the ills ourselves are free from.
Sweet also is it to look upon the mighty encounters of war spread
over the plains, without sharing the danger. But nothing is
sweeter than to occupy the well-girt serene temple raised by the
learning of the wise, whence we may look down upon others and
see them straying and wandering, rivals in intellect, and in the
pride of birth, striving night and day by surpassing labor to rise to
wealth and to win dominion.''
·

This is the most common fault in the use of figures of simi~
larity, and is most likely to occur when they are most profusely employed.
·

12. II. "\Vith a view to heighten the Feelings, the
conditions are these:(1.) The figure employed should be more impressive
than the plain form of expression.
(2.) The degree of elevation should be within the
bounds that the hearer can tolerate. (See HYPERBOLE.)
(3.) The similitude should be neither obvious nor
trite. ·

The two comparisons quoted are in full harmony with the
situation to be illustrated; there is one pervading emotionthe grateful feeling of security from visible woes. But it. jars
on our sympathies to represent the misery of others as our
delight; and the clause of explanation, so awkward in a poem,
does not redeem the discord. Better to have simply compared
the three situations, without giving any name to the feeling.
" Like a man witnessing from the land the struggles of the
mariner with the storm, or like one viewing the shock of war
from a safe distance, is he that occupies the temple raised by
wisdom, and looks down upon the erring crowd beneath."

Some degree of novelty, originality, or rarity, ~ essential to
any powerful effect.

(4.) A mere intellectual comparison should not be
tendered for an emotional one.*
On the . other hand, the absence of intellectual similarity is
consistent with emotional keeping. Hence the admissibility of
the following : · '
·
· ·
The noble sister of Poplieola,
·
The moon of R<Jme ; cha.,te as tlw icicle
That's cur<llcd by the frost from purest snow
And hnngs on Dian's temple."

13. III. To render comparison, as such, a som·ce of
pleasure, the following points must be attended to : (1.) Novelty, originality, or freshness, is still more
requisite than in the previous case.
• The profuse employment of intellectual similitudes wrthout emotional
keeping, is the peculiarity of the class of poets designated by Johnson as
"metaphysical" (Life of Cowley). For a precise discrimination of the
characteristics of this class, see Masson's Life of Milton (Vol. I. p. 441 ).

27

(2.) There should be a harmony between the things
compared, and no distasteful accompaniments.

(1.) The resemblance should turn on the relevant cii··
cum.stance.
(2.) The comparison should be more intelligible to
those addressed than the thing compared.
(3.) The accompanying circumstances should not be
such as to distract the mind from tho real point.

11

---

14. Many figures of similarity are to be found in
literature that fail to yield any of the results jJst
nnmc<l.
'

~ ·,

It would not be easy to attribute atiy effect to .such as tho
following from Bacon:-" Certainly it is heaven on earth, . to
have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and
turn upon the poles of truth." The old writers abound in
comparisons equally unmeaning and insipid.

15. The sources of Figures of Resemblance are coextensive with human knowledge.
An idea may be formed of the wide range of figurative

.,

. ..

• ••;,a.:

\'

28

FIGURES OF SPEEOII.

SIMILE.

comparison by glancing at some of the objects to which it has
been extended.

Natural Agents :-Gravity, Heat, Light, Electricity, Mngnetism,
affinity, attraction, repulsion, force, solution, diffusion, expansion,
matter, solid, liquid, gas.
Celestial Bodies and Operations : - Sun, moon, stars, orbits,
eclipses, cycles, seasons, nebulro, galnxics.
Terrestrial Objects on a grand. scale :-Winds, storms, clouds,
rain, thunder, lightning, oceans, shores, tides, waves, continents,
plains, mountains, villages, rivers, floods, forests, deserts, sands,
swamps, rocks, strata.
.
MineraM and their Properties :-Stone, granite, flint, metal,
diamond, ruby, emerald, gold, silver, iron, brass, crystal, transparency, brilliancy, lustre, opaque, hard, rough, smooth, symmetrical. ·
Vegetation :--Seed, root, stem, branch, flower, bud, fruit, leaf,
growth, sap, ripeness, decay, excrescence. The rose, thorn, lily,
oak, fungus, upas-tree.
Animal Life :-Orgnnic processes, and names of parts, as in
plants: -Birth, procreation; health, disease, food, nourishment, .
bone, sinew, heart, head, eyes, tongue, foot, arm, breath, digestion.
Special Animals :-Lion, tiger, elephant, llog, fox, eagle, lark,
nightingale, parrot, serpent, viper, shark, worm, grub, oyster, bee,
ant, spider, butterfly.
Operation1J of Human Industry: - (Agriculturn), shepherd
flocks, herds, dig, till, plough, manm·e, water, sow, reap, Irnrvest;
thresh, winnow, prune, graft. (Mining), vein, _ore. (Building),
foundation, stone, cement, wan, roof, door, house, palace, temple
pyramid. (Seamanship), launch, set sail, chart, steer, compass:
tack, breeze, wreck, founder. (War), army, array, battle, conquest,
defeat, sword, nrms, shot, broadside, parry, strategy, ·generalship.
(Tra~e), buy, sell, import, traffic, capital, interest, borrow, credit,
security, market, goods, exchange, money, currency, weight, measure. t . (Ma!1ufactures), hbmi;imer, forge, shape, carve, cut, joint,
d ove m1, spm, weave, em ro1der, tinsel.
• Government :-Sovereign, king, rule, court, regulate, minister,
Judge, law.
.Social R elati?ns :-Father, mother, fri end, neighbor, co;npanion,
somety, commmnon, we<llock.
Social Intercourse: - Road, highway, carriage, conveyance,
canal, h!l~bor, h:iven 1 po~t, Icttet, arts of writing and printing.
. Medw_ine :-Physic, pill, unguent, syrup, purge, plaster, bleed,
blister, disease, symptom, remedy fever inflammation pulse scar
. .
'
'dropsy, gangrene.
'
'
'
heart-burn,
sore, ac}ie, woun d , d el1num,
Te<?'°hing :-Muster, pupil, lesson, school.
Science :-Sum, fraction, equation, equivalent, theorem, axiom,
postu!ate, definition, demonstrate, induction.
Fine Arts :-Melody, harmony, <liscord, dunce, rhythm, ptiint,
color, sculpture, engrave, carve.

r'.

~

29

Religion :-God, angel, offering, sacrifice, · atonement, prayer,
propitiation, intercession, sacrament, priest, worship, bible, revelation, inspiration, divine, heaven, hell.
Recreations :-Games, sports, curds, dice, chess, counters, bunt,
snare, trap, decoy, angle, hook, bait.
Hist01·ical Allusions :-The geese in the capitol, the gordian
knot, crossing the Hubicon, magna charta.
Customs of Nations :-Avatar, Juggernaut, pnfaver, ordea1.
Feelings and Operations of the Jfind :-Sweet, soft, harsh, sour,
charm, rejoice, kiss, laugh, smile, frown, angry, loving, relent, disdain,
SIMILE, OR COMPARISON.

16. Simile, or Comparison, consists in likening one
thing to another formally or expressly. "As the stars,
so shall thy seed be." "The condemnation of Socrates
took him away in his full grandeur and glory, ' like the
setting of a tropical sun."
The following are further examples : (1.)

IC

True ease in writing comes from nrt, not chance,
.As those move easiest who have learnt to dnnce."

(2.) "W o have often thought thnt the public mind in our conn,
try resembles that of the sea when the tide is rising. Each successive wave rushes forward, breaks, and rolls back; but the great
flood is steadily coming on."
. (3.) "Nothing is more dangerous to reason than the flights of
imugination, and nothing hits been the occasion of more mistakes
nmong philosophers. Men of bright fancies may, in this respect,
be compared to those nngels whom the Scriptures represent as cov·
ering their eyes with th~ir wings."
( 4.) .

IC

I have ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory."

(5.) "It is on the death-bed, on the couch of sorrow nnd of
pnin, that the thought of one purely virtuous action is like the
shn<low of n lofty rock in t110 desert-like the Jiµ:ht footsteps of
that little child who continued to do.nee before the throne of tht>
unjust king, when Ms guards hnd fled, and his people had forsaken
him-like the single thin stream of light which the unhappy captive has at last learned to Jove-like the soft sigh before the breeze
that wafts the becalmed vessel nnd her famished crew to the haven
where they would be. "
(6.) "The iJlnsion that great men nn<l great events came oftener
in early times than now, is partly due to bistorionl perspective. .A1

...........-LJ...-..--~ ---------- ----

(

30

METAPHOR.

FIGURES OF BPEEOH.

" Canst thou minister unto a mind di.&e<nedPluck from the heart a rooted sorrow ? "

in a range of equidist.ant columns, the forth est off look the closest·
BO the conspicuous objects of the past seem more thickly clustered'
the more remote they are."
'

The characteristic effects of these examples have been given
by anticipation (p. 24 ).
The terms "simile" and "comparison" are sometimes con
sidered as slightly different in meaning. When a likeness i~
followed out in detail, it is called a comparison, in the stricter
meaning of the tenn.
METAPHOH..

17. Metaphor is a comparison implied in the language used : as, he bridks his anger; he was a lWn in
combat; the fact is clear.
... . , . ...
This figure is in frequent use. By dispensing with the
pl1rases of comparison-like, as, &c.-it has the advantageR of
being brief and of not disturbing the structure of the composition.
Like similitudes generally, Metaphors may (1) aid the
understanding, (2) deepen tl1:e impression on the feelings, and
(3) give an agreeable surprise.
Examples:-·
(1.) To aid the understanding:-" Tho wish is father to
the thought ; " .' ' the light of Nature;" " the geological record ; "
" reasoning in a circle j " " the moralist is a scout for consequences."

31

•. f

The following is a picturesque metaphor :-" T~ey sank like..
. lead in_ th~ mighty waters."
.
.
. ,
(3.) Agreeable surprise :-Speaking of the kings honor,
Junius varies the figure of Chatham : "The feather that adorns
the royal bir~, supports Jiis flight. Strip him of hi~ plumage,
and you fix him to the earth." Again, "In the shipwreck of
tho state, trifles float and are preserved ; while everything solid
and valuable sinks to the bottom, and is lost for ever." . ,
The condensation obtained by the metaphor, as compare~
with the simile, tnny be shown in this instance. · (Simile:) "As,
in passing through the crystal, b eams of wl~ite light ~re . decomposed into the colors of the rarnbow; so, in traversing the
soul of the poet, the colorless rays of truth are transformed
into brightly-tinted poetry . " Transformed into metaphors:"The white light of trutl1, in traversing the many-sided trans-- _, __ _
parent soul .of the poet, is refracted into iris-hued poetry."
(Spencer's Essays-Philosophy of Style.)
·
0

18. The p'ersonifying Metaphors are chiefly subservient to the purposes of poetry.
The following are examples : " 0 gentle sleep,
N nture's soft 11ut'8e,"
11 Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountnin.. tops with BOVP.reign eye,
Kt.llBi,ng with golden face the meadows green.'.'

" A thens, the eye of Greece,
.Jfoflier of arts and eloquence."

"But yo~der comes the powerful !"ing of day,
Rejoicing in the east."
· .
·

(2.) To deepen tlie impression on the feelings:-" I speared
him with a jest;" "the town was stormed;" "to let loose these
horrible hounds of war ; " "the news was a dagger to his
heart;" "t~e power of directing the local disposition of the
nnny ·is the royal prerogative, the master-feather in the eagle's
wing." · (Chatham.)

19. The coining of Metaphors is a means of increasing the names in a language.

11

At length EraRmus

. Stemm'd .the wild torrent of a barbarous age,

And drove those holy Vandals off the sta.ge."

Metaphorical expressions pervade every language. All the
simple prepositions--0f, to, for, in, at, with-originally referred
to place and motion j but t11ey have been extended by .meta:
·
phor to other relations:-" honor to tho bravo."
· The technical language of Anatomy is in grent pnrt metaphorical :-pons varolii, hippocampus major, frue skin, labyrinth .

....

32
of the ear.
arts.

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

It is the same with the language of the common

20. :Metaphor is largely employed in expressing the
more hidden operations of the mind. Thus, knowledge
is light, passion is fire, depression of spirits is gloom:
the thought struck him.
So we speak of a ray of hope, a shade of doubt, a flight
of fancy, a flash of wit, ebullitions of anger. AH the names
of mental operations were originally applied to something
sensible ; as perception, apprehension, conception, recollection,
deliberation, inspiration, imagination, sagacity (originally quickness of smell), acuteness, penetration, emotion, expression.
Words originally applied to the operations of the senses,
are transferred to those of the understanding: 11 I see (that is,
understand) what you mean." So "taste" is made to signify
discrimination in the fine arts.

21. By frequent use, metaphors may lose their figurative character.
As in the case of melancholy (black bile), edify (build),
acuteness (sharpness), ardor (heat), express (to press out), enhance (Jift}, provide (see beforehand), detect (unroof), &c.
In these instances, the original meaning is no longer suggested to the mind. In other cases, the words are still used in
their primitive as well as in a figurative sense, and hence they
continue to have a certain illustrative force of similarity ; as,
light, color, fire, fountain, sources, root, life, thunder, star, ficldi
clear, hard, piercing, follow, shelter, mask, mminate.

22. Besides the faults arising in the employment of
figures of similarity in general, there are some more
particularly attaching to the metaphor.
(1.) The Mixed Metaphor. This arises when in the
same expression metaphors from different subjects are
combined; as, "to kindle a seed," "to take arms against
a Bea of troubles."
We may sow a seed or kindle a flame ; but the mind is

MIXED :METAPHORS.

33

confused when incompatible operations are required to be
joined.
The following example has often been quoted from Addison's poem on the victories of Marlborough : " I bridle in my struggling muse with pain,
Thnt longs to launcli into a bolder slrai1i."

Three different actions are here conjoined in one.
•
"The noble harbor of the Golden Horn, five miles in length,
crowded with nil theflags of Europe lying in its bosom."
The following line from Young, although a mixed metaphor,
is considered elegant and expressive:"Her voice is but the sltadow of a sound." ·

In .like manner, many of the mixed metaphors in Shakespeare
are redeemed by their effectiveness and originality.
The mixture of the metaphorical and the plain, or literal,
is also objectionable. Dryden, speaking of the aids he had in
his translations, says, " I was sailing in a vast ocean withoui
other help than the pole-star of the ancients, and the rules of
the French stage among the moderns." "Boyle was the father
of Chemistry, and brother to the Earl of Cork."
When words have lost their metaphorical meaning, the incongruity is no longer felt. There are, however, many words
that have ceased to be metaphors, but still so far suggest their
oriofoal
meaning as to give the sense of •harmony
when tho
b
•
figure is attended to. Thus, to say "the imp1·ession was conveved" involves a certain degree of inconsistency, although
quite intclligihlc. "Upon tho sty lo it is that these perplexitiea
depend for their illumination." Perplexity should be disentangled, and obscurity illuminated.
Our language has many combinations of words, indiffe1ent
as regards the metaphor, but fixed by use, and therefore not to
be departed from. We say "use or employ means," and ''take
steps," but not w~e steps. One may acquire knowledge, take
degrees, contract habits, lay up treasure, obtain rewardfl, win
prizes, gain celebrity, arrive at honors, conduct affairs, espouse
a side, interpose authority, pursue a course, turn to account,
serve for a warning, bear no malice, profess principles, cultivate

34

PERSONIFIOATION.

FIGURES OF SPEECII.

As in Milton, on Eve's taking the forbidden fruit : -

acquaintance, pass over in silence; .all wl1ich expressions owo
their suitability, not to the original sense of the words, but to
the established usages of the language.

" So saying, her rash hand, in evil hour,
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she ate I
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her aeat
Si9liin9, thrOUf!h all her works 9ave si9ns of woe,
That all was lost."

(2.) The sf;raining of a Metaphor. By this is meant
the pursuing of the figure into details that are irrelevant
or out of keeping. · .
J

It is in this form that the figure appears in the boldest
fligl1ts of poetry. In figurative boldness it is surpassed ·only
by the Apqstrophe. Shelley's "Cloud" is personification
throughout. The following stanza is an example : -

Young, speaking of old age, says it should
. "Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn sh.ore .
Of that vast ocean it mtMt sail so soon ;
And put 9ood works on board; and wait tlie wind
That shortly blows us into worlds unknown. "

" I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
.
· From the seas and the streams ;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
·
-. .
.
From my wings nre shnken tho dews thi\t waken
The sweet buds every one, ·
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about tho sun. ·
·
I wield the flail of .the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under ;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder."

In the last two lines, the feelings suggested are out of keeping with what goes before. At first an emotion of deep solemnity is excited ; the figure then changes to the prosaic and
calculating operations of a sea-faring enterprise.
This fault is, therefore, a case of discord, which · is everywhere a blemish iii composition.

(3.) Excess of Metaphors.
"When metaphors ·are greatly multiplied, it becomes difficult to preserve their congruity, and the variety of subjects
necessarily distracts the mind. There is also the evil attending
profusion of figures ,generally; the mind is kept too much on
the strain.
The ancient critics particularly adverted to this fault. In
the opinion of Longinus, Demosthenes observed the just mean
and Plato often exceeded it. Such excess, however, . is not
likely to be confined to metaphors, but extends to all kinds of
figures, constituting the florid or figurative style.
PERSONIFICATION.

23. Personification consists in attributing life and
mind to inanimate things. " The mountains sing togetlier, the hills rej<JWe and clap their hands."
Personification is a figure of various degrees.
I. The highest degree ascribes to inanimate objects
human feelings and purposes, as well as sex.

85

Besides the actual objects of Nature, it is not unusual to personify abstractions of the mind ; as, time,
life, death, truth, love, virtue, evil, sin, hope, wisdom,
genius, friendship, pleasure, vengeance.

.
fl

~

(

" Can wisdom lend, with all her boasted power,
The pledge of joy's anticipated hour?"

By a process short of personification, abstractions may bo
represented as real things, and thereby be rendered more vivid.
Thus time is a river, a shore, a wave on the ocean of eternity. ·
Life is a vapor, a dream, a shadow.
Ancient mythology gave ·personal existence to all the · imposing objects and appearances of Nature; the sun, moon, and
stars; the sky, earth, seas, mountains, rocks, hills, valleys,
rivers, springs, flood!'!; tho winds, clouds, thunder, hail; tho
dny, night, dawn, liglit, dnrk; tho sensons. Likewise to tho
important productions of nature, as com and wine.
These personifications are retained in the poetry of all languages, for the sake of clothing the objects with the interest
that personality gives.

36

._._ ...........

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

. 24. I~. ~nother and inferior degree of personification consists m merely attributing some quality of living
beings to things inanimate.
. As, the thirs.t~ ground, a dying lamp, the ang1·y sea, a cruel
disaster, the smilzng year. Thomson, describing the influenc9
of the sunbeams upon the snow in the valley, says,

.

·
" Perhaps the vale
Relent& awhile to the neglected ray."
"Upon a rock whose haughl!J brow."

The 'two forms of personification shade into each other.
The second is also included among Metaphors constitutin(J'
•
'
0
one species
of that figure.

. 25. The English language, by reserving the distinction ?f gender for livi~g beings that 11ave sex, gives
especial scope for persomfication.
In 1?any l~nguages, as Greek, Latin, French, German, &c.,
gend.er is. attributed to inanimate objects, in a manner that
dep~1~es it of all its meaning. In English, the masculine and
femmme pronouns are regularly applied only to persons and to
t?e m~re distin?uished animals. Hence they are closely assoc1~te~ m our ~mds with personality ; and their occasional application to thmgs without life has at once a personifying effect.

26. The special value of personification arises from
the interest awakened in us by the actions, feelings; and
deportment of beings like ourselves.
Some of the strongest feelings of our natme have reference
to persons; such are love, admiration, vanity, the thirst for
power, revenge, derision. It is one effect of advancing civilization to enlarge the interest that we take in our fellow-creatures.
The compositions that touch the deepest chords of the mind
dea] principally with persons, as Poetry, Romance, and History. From the earliest times, this interest lrns heen extended
hy ascribing human feelings to the objects of the outer worlcl
on some pretext of remote resemblance. Tlms the powers of
nature, as the winds and running streams, have been assimilated

_

7 ..... ---.· - ~ ---. - --- -. -

·~

THE .ALLEGORY.

37

to Jiving beings, nnd fnncifnily endowed with will, purpose, and
feeling, so as to be recommended to our human sympathies.
The highest merits of style are expressed by the words animation, vii•acity, livelinoss, as if the conferring of life were the
means of awakening our strongest interest. (See STRENGTH,
POETRY.)
The highest form of personification should be used seldom,
and only when justified by the presence of strong feeling.
ALLEGORY-F.A DLE- PA RADLE.

27. When, with a view to some moral or instnlCtion,
subjects romoto from ono another arc brought into a
cotnparison sustained throughout the details, the result
is an Allegory.
Tho l'ilgrim'!I Progress is n well-known oxnmplc. Jn it. tho
spiritual life or progress of the Christian is represented nt
length by the story of a pilgrim in search of n distant country,
which he reaches after many struggles and difficulties.
Comparisons of such length a.s Extract I. (APPENDIX) are
allegories.
Examples occur in tho Spectator-the Vision of Mirza, 159;
Luxury and Avarice, 55; The Paradise of Fools, 460. In the
Appendix, Extract III., is an allegorical contra.st of Probability
and Plausibility, from Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric.
Chaucer's House of Fame is an allegory, imitated by Pope
in his Temple of Fame.
Spenser's Faery Queen is allegorical throughout; the virtues and vices being personified, and made to act out their
nature in a series of supposed ndventnres.
Thomson's Castle of Indolence is one of the many imitations of Spenser.
.
Swift's Tale of a Tub is an allegory, wherein the divisions
of Christianity (Catholic, Lutheran, and Calvinistic) are repre11011t.ed as three brothers, whoso adventures nrc related. So, in
tho Travels of Gulliver, tho vicoR of politieinn!'.I nro ridionlocl by
being exemplified in communities made up of imaginary beings

--- 38

--

FIGURES OF SPEECH.
SYNEODOOIIE.

(Lilipntians or dwarfs, Brobdingnagians or giants, Ilouyhnlrnms,
Yahoos). Arbuthnot's John Bull is another celebrated aJJegory of the same age.
In the Allegory, for the most part, n complete story is told
so that there is a double meaning, the obvious and the implied:
or allegorical. There must often be a great deal of straining to
sustain the parallelism throughout a long composition. The
most powerful effects realized in this style have been comic.

Bented, setting forth David's offence as committed by another,
with a change of circumstances-the object unlawfully taken
being a cwe lamb instead of a wife.
REMAINING FIGURES OF SIMILARITY.

31. The term "Synecdoche" is applied to different
kinds of Figures. The following forms of synecdoche
are figures of similarity:(1.) Putting the Species for the Genus: as, bread for
the necessaries of life generally ; ,cut-thro.a~ for murderer
Or assassin; 8UrlUJ for arithmetic. ·
,

28. A Fable is a short allegory.
According to Lessing, the Fable embodies a moral in a
special case; this is invested with reality and narrated as a
story, which suggests the moral at once. Tlms the narrafo·e
of "the Man and the Bundle of Sticks" embodies an import- ·
ant truth-the power of union-in a particular case, represented as real, and calculated to suggest and bring home the moral.
Many fables are made to turn on the actions and characters of certain animals, regarded a" representatives of the
qualities by which they are most distinguit1licd. The fox
figures as the embodiment of cunning, the lamb of meekness
the lion of strength.
'

. 29. M?ral tales, an<l other compositions that combme ~he mterest of a. story with the conveying of instruct~on or the tcachmg of some practical lesson are
sometimes called Fictitious Examples. ·
'
· The Iliad and th~ Od~ssey of Homer were constnntly appealed to ~y the ancrnnts m the way of enforcing important
moral maxims.
Tho moral apologue called the "Choice of Hercules"
(given in _the Memorabi.lia of Socrates) is a fictitious example.
In tins case there is nothing that can be called figurative,
except the double intention.

30. The Parables of the Dible are for the most part
fictitious examples.
'
'
In the parable which Nathan relates to David to make him
realize the wickedness of hiR conduct, a. suppos:d case is pre-

39

t

!

The force of this figure depends on the superior effect-as
regards both the understanding and the feelings-of the Special
and the Concrete over the General nnd tho Abstract. Food
is general ; bread is particular, and more readily calls up a distinct object to the mind. 'The principle is one that will frequently re-appear.

(2.) The .A.ntonornasia puts an Individual for the
Species. "Every man is not a Solomon/" "he is n OraJsus " (in wealth) ; a Jezebel.
This merely carries the same effect a step farther. Speciality or Concreteness reaches the utmost point in tho Individual.
See the stanza in Gray's Elegy-" Some village Hampden,"
&c.

(3.) Putting the Genus for the Species; n.s, a vessel
for a ship, a creature for a man.
To substitute the more general for the less is a rare and exceptional form. It can impart force only when by chance the
generic name has a peculiar expressiveness. Thus, in designating a dance as a measure, the effect lies in stating one of the
characteristic attributes, the measured or rhythmical step.
This is a common form of the figure called "Euphemism," or
the indicating of something that delicacy forbids being specifically named. Thus, to avoid naming death, we have such .

--==-

E

40

tr

··

-- i i i i io

.--.---

- -

. ..-

41

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

EXERCISE.

phrases as deceased, departed, removed, fallinJ asleep, gone to
rest. Campbell suggests that the translators of the Bible
migl1t have used this figure in Martha's expression respecting
Lazarus, "Lord, by this time he smelleth," for "he stinketh."

Terrors are turned upon me; they pursue my soul as the wind,
and my welfare pnsseth away as a cloud.
Censure is the tax a mo.n pays to the public for being eminent.
Thus saith the Lord God; I will also take of the highest branch
of the high cedar, and will set it ; I will cr?p off from ~he top of
his young twigs a tender one, and will plant it upon an !ugh m~un~
tnin and eminont: in tho mount.nin of tho hoight of IArnel will I
plant it: and it shall bring forth bouglrn, nml henr fruit, n~1d bo. n
goodly cedar: and under it shall dwell all fowl of every wmg; m
the shadow of the branches thereof shall they dwell. And all the
trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down
the high tree have exalted the low tree, have dried up the green
. h.
tree and have' made the dry tree to flour1s
·
Destruction o.nd Death say, we ho.ye hen.rd thereof ·with our
ears.
Ni.,.ht
,.., is the summer when the soul grows ripe
With Life's full harvest. . .
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf thut wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

(4.) Putting the Concrete for the Abstract.
As in Dryden : .
"Nor durst begin
To speak, but wisely kept .the fool within."
Again:'
"A tyrant's power in rigor is exprest,
The father yearns in the true prince's breast."

Fool is put for folly, and father, the concrete, is used for
fatherly affection.
The opposite case of putting the abstract for the concrete
is, like the general for the particular, an exception. Youth,
beauty, may sometimes stand for tlie young, the beautiful; the
figurative effect lies in isolating, as it were, the main quality, .
and thus giving it greater prominence.
A minor figure of similarity is the application of numbers
to things that can not be estimated with numerical prechiion ;
·as when, in describing a public man's patriotism, we say, "Ho
gave one to his country and iwo to himself." "Nine-tenths of
every man's happiness," says Paley, "depends on the reception
he meets with in the world." The advantage gained is obvious.
EXERCISE.

Point out and name the.figures in the following passages:A second Daniel come to judgment.
The stream of time, which is continually washing the dissoluble fabric of other poets, passes without injury by the ado.mo.nt of
Shakespeare.
The soul of man is like the rolling world,
One hnlf in day, the other dipt in night.
Galileo was the Columbus of the J1eavcns.
Benevolence descends into the cellars, wl1ere Poverty lies on
the damp floor, while Pestilence stands at tho door, liko tho cl1cri1bim at the entrance of Eden, forbidding Selfishness to enter.
Teachers are the parents of the mind.

..

Correct tlie following figures:In the ferment of political revolutions, the dregs of society are
sure to rise to the surface, and once thero o.ssumo the reins of
power with bohl and unscrllpulous hand.
.
.
Many a youth Io.unches forth on the journey of life with no
fixed goal in view.
.
The fii'e of jeo.lonsy will soon root all 1rn.ppmess out of tho domestic circle.
IInppy is it for tho community when there are some nnsel.fish
hearts ready to step forwn.rd, and pluck the thoughtless and errmg,
.
.
like brands, from the abyss of vice.
Followers and friends, around the dying hero's couch, ~1old tl1e1r
breath, while tho last spark of life is ebbing and tho soul is preparing to tnke its heavenward flight.
FIGURES OF CONTIGUITY.

32. In this class of Figures, n thing is named, either
by some accompaniment (Metony~y), or by som~ pare
(Synecdoche), that is peculiarly forcible or suggestive..

.. l

42

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

33. METoNYMIEB have been classified according to
the nature of the accompaniment singled out.
(1.) The Sign, or Symbol, is used for the thing Signified.
As the crown or sceptre for royalty ; the mitre, the lawn,
the altar, the baton, the silk-gown, the purple, the ermine, the.
ballot-box. Red tape is the routine of office. Peace is signified by sheathing the sword, shutting the temple of Janus.
These signs and . circumstances are usually more striking
than the main subject; in many instances, however, all that is
sought or gained is variety of expression.

(2.) The Instrument for the Agent.
Cowley says of Cromwell, " he set up Parliaments by the
stroke of his pen, and scattered them with the breath of his
mouth," the intention being to substitute for the h_idden operations of .the mind, some outward and expressive action.
In like manner, we say the arbitration of the sword; ·a
thousand horse, a hundred lances ; " to associate to our arms
the tomahawk and the scalping-knife of the savage."

(3.) The Container for the thing Contained.
"They smote the city.'' "Ye devour widows' houses." So
-we say familiarly, the kettle boils. The bottle is a powerful
figure for intoxicating drink. "Ile keeps a good table." "Ile
drank the cup." A carpet bag, for luggage. The purse for
money. From t11e cradle to the grave. The palace and the
cottage. "I should rat.her be ruled by St. James's (the residence of the Court) than by St. Giles's (peopled by the lowest
population)." "France would not consent.''
A period of time is sometimes used for the productions or
events incJuded in it. In trade, we hear of a gof!d season, a
successful voyage.
" Dlossoms, ancl fruits, nnd flowers, together rise,
And the whole yrar in gay confusion lies."

The whole year stands for all the vegetable productiov.. of
the

year~

METONYMY.

43

(4.) An Effect for the Cause; as, the Bhade for trees.
When gray hairs is put for age, we may call it both An
effect and a sign.

(5.) An Author for his Works: "they have Hoses
and the prophets; " " a copy of Hilton."
In like manner, tho name of the inventor is used for his in·
vention ; as when the miner speaks of his .Davy, meaning his
eafcty lamp (h1Ventcd by Davy). The names of mythological
personages were similarly used in old times; ns, Ceres for
bread, Bacchus · for wine. So, Mars, Neptune, Pallas, Venus,
are put for war, the ocean, wisdom, love.
The interest attaching to personification, already alluded to,
is what gives force to the figure in the present case also.

· 34. (1.) The chief form of the SYNECDOCHE consists
in naming a thing by some Part of it.
As, fifty sail; aJI hands at work; they sought his blood;
the rule of three.
In putting sail for ship, ·the part is selected on account of
its pr~minence or suggestiveness; the expression is thereby
rcnde"ed more picturesque. So, when we speak of the redcoats, the greenbacks, the waves.
In the other im~tances, tho part chosen is what most concerns tho end in \•icw; a worlrnm11's cllicicmcy depends 011 hitt
liands; the blood is more particularly identified with life.
" Ilow beautiful upon the mountains nro tho feet of him thnt
bringeth good tidings."
Other examples :-A passenger in a cab is called a fare.
"I abjure all roofs." "She gave her hand but not her heart."
" She had seen sixteen summers; his life had extended to ·
seventy winters." Parts aro here i;elected that will express the
contrast between youth and nge. A colt is i;:nid to b(} "three
years old next grass," that is,-next i;:pring. "The moment is at
hand." "Ile was useful in his da.y."
On the same principle, n person is named by the part of his
character suited to the occasion. " Thus spoke the tempter."

44

"The avenger of blood was on his track." When the Deity is
mentioned by one of his attributes, what is predicated of him
should be consistent thermvith. "The Judge of all the earth
-will do right." "The Lord of Hosts is on our side." It would
be an impropriety to say, "the Almighty knows our thoughts."
" This subject reminds me of what I was told at Calais from
a very good hand." It is not the hand that tells.
The designation of a great man by his locality is a figure
useful 'only for varying the expression; as the Stagirite, the
bard of Mantua, the distinguished Florentine.

(2.) The reverse operation of using the Whole for
a Part is a species of synccdoche: as, the smiling
year, for the spring; "cursed be the day when a manchild was born."
As in the case already mentioned of putting the genus for
the species, this must be a rare figure, since it runs contrary to
the general principle regulating vividness of impression. It
may sometimes happen that there is something in the aspect
of a whole that arrests the attention more forcibly than the
part would do. The phrase " the Roman world" is intended
to impress the mind with the vastness of the Roman empire.

(3.) The name of the :Material is given for the thing
Made: as, the glittering steel (for the sword); the marble speaks ; the canvas glows ; wine ten years in the
wood.
The name of the material is strongly suggestive of the visible aspect of the thing, and e~pecially the color, which it is
more difficult to realize vividly than the form or outline.
Hence this is one of the picturesque figures.

(4.) The name of a passion is sometimes given for

the object that inspires it; as, my 'love, my joy, my delight, my admiration, my aversion, my horror, for the
causes of those feelings.
By this figure the Deity is styled "the terror of the op·
pressor, and the refuge of the oppressed."

45

BYNECDOCHE• .

FIGURES OF SPEEOlI,

Again, "The Lord

(s my song, He is ·become my salvation."
the Duke of Monmouth as

Dryden introduces

" The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme,
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream."

Song, salvation, prayer, vision, dream, are used instead of
. of h er sacred soul"'
.
their several objects. "The sigh
, m 0 ssian,
·:lesignates him that is sighed for.
Tho name of a person is occasionally put for his fame or
renown. " Kant, the greatest name in the philosophy of Germany." "The dreaded name of Demogorgon."
The effectiveness of the present variety of the Synecdoche
ls explained on the general principle of selecting the prominent
or the pertinent portion of the thing designated.
'
The Euphemism is sometimes a figure of contiguity; as,
stopping payment, for becoming bankrupt.

35. The Transferred Epithet is a common figure in
poetry.
The shifting of an epithet from its proper subject to some
allied subject or circumstance is illustrated in these examples:
"Hence to his idle bed.'' "Ile plods his weary way." "The
ignorant fumes that mantle their dearer reason." " With easy
eye thou mayest behold."
" The little fields made green
Uy husbandry of many tlirifi!J ycar11."

Kindred ideas are thus brougl1t closer together ; ns, idle and
bed. Thrifty years is vigorous by condensation.
We have cases in ordinary prose where this figure is used,
for the sake of conciseness; as, a criminal court, the condemned
cr.ll.
FIGURES OF CONTRAST.

36. It is a first principle of the human mind that
we are affected only by change of impression, as ·by
passing from hot to cold, from hunger to repleti~n,
from sound to silence. This applies to both Feelmg
and Knowledge.

46

41

FIGURES OF BPEECII.

ANTITHESIS.

Every outburst of feeling implies that we have passed from
one condition to another. In some emotions, as wonder, the
prominent fact is a transition from a previous state; the shock
of change is the cause of the feeling. In like manner, a sense
of freedom presupposes restraint, and the sentiment of power
some previous state of impotence or weakness.
Knowledge, likewise, implies transition. "\Vc know light
by having passed out of the dark, height by comparison w~th
depth, hardness with softness. In short, knowledge is never
single; it must have at least two objects, sometimes more than
two. Our knowledge of man, for instance, takes in all that we
ever contrast with man-God, angel, animal, &c.
'l'he essential plurnlity of Knowledge is not fully represented
in ordinary language ; we are supposed to be capable of recalling the full contrast involved in each case-heat as against cold,
man as opposed to brute, &c. Still, it not unfrequently happens that our understanding of a thing is aided by the express
mention of contrasting objects; this mention is therefore a device of Rhetoric, and is called Antithesis or Contrast.*
So it is in the production of Feeling. A speaker may convey a more forcible impression of Liberty by conjoining, with
the language usually npplicd to it, an explicit description of the
opposite condition of Restraint. The reference to the opposite
contrasting state is almost unavoidable in description; but by
the figure of Antithesis this reference amounts to a fully drawn
parallel picture.

"To be a blessing, and not a curse." "Two men I honOI) and
no third."
" In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As mild behavior and humanity ;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment."

Here the characteristic attitude of war is sufficiently given
in the last two Jines; but for additional vividness the poet prepa!es the way by an explicit reference to peace.
So in Tennyson's Brook : " Men may come and men may go,
Dut I go on for ever."

The idea of perpetuity is more fully impressed by putting
beside it an example of its natural opposite, the transitory~
An apposite example occurs in Froude's Henry VIII. : "The
petition claims especial notice, not only because it was the first
active movement towards a scpm·ation from Rome; but because
it originated, not with the King, not with the parliament, not
with the people, but with a section of the clergy themselves."

38. There are several forms of Antithesis, in which
the contrast is only of a secondary kind.
(1.) The contrast of the members of a comprehen~ cl~
.
For example, Heat and Light (class of sensations, or of
natural agents) ; Liberty and Plenty (class of worldly blessings) ; Industry and Frugality (means to wealth) ; Sublimity
and Beauty (artistic effects); Painting and Poetry (fine arts).
The process of clnssification, whereby things are brought
together on some point of resemblance, is accompanied with
the marking of differences. vVe come to know heat, not merely
by its fundamental opposite cold, but by its difference from
light, another member of the class of natural agents.. Heat
thus acquires a new meaning, consisting in the peculiarities
wherein it differs from light; and, to indicate that meaning explicitly, we should mention light. So Liberty, besides being
opposed to Uestraint, is opposed to Plenty, to Health, to llonor,
in the class of worldly advantages ; every one of thdse con-

37. Antithesis, properly so called, consists in the explicit statement of the contrast irnplie<l in the meaning
of any term or description.
This is exemplified in Motion and Rest, Hot and Cold, Liberty and Restraint, Pain and Pleasure, Industry and Idleness.
These are the contrasts that girn the contrasted words their
principal meaning. The following are examples:• It is like judging qualities by placing them beside their contrasts instead of trusting for these to memory. Thus a white surface app~nrs
brighter in proximity to bluek ; a weight is compared with a present, in1tead of a remembered, standard.

•

48

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

trasts is something added to its meaning; and, to make that
meaning certain, the contrast may be stated. This form of
Antithesis is frequent in literature. It is common to contrast
points of character that arc different phases of excellence or
defect, as Sense and Sensibility, Genius and Judgment, tl1e
Irascible and the Pusillanimous; these are not fundamentally
opposed, like Sense and Folly, which are merely the two sides
of the same property. The balanced descriptions of Homer
and Virgil by Dryden, and of Dryden and Pope by Johnson,
are but secondary contrasts. The antithesis of the sycophant
and the honest politician, in Demosthenes on the Crown, is
more of a real contrast, and is highly effective both as exposition and as oratory.
The qualities contrasted under the foregoing head may also
possess a certain agreeable effect when brought together. Thus
the contrast · of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza is the means
of producing situations, sometimes harmoniously pleasing, at
other times ludicrously incongruous.
The harmony of different qualities is brought about when
they mutually supply each other's deficiencies. Thus, a man
. of inventive genius and a man of practical judgment may combine with advantage to both; and sncb harmonious combinations form an agreeable picture.
As no one pleasure can endure long, it is usual to provide
for variety of excitement. Thus, a poem alternates from sublimity to tenderness, from description to interest of narrative,
from the ornate to the plain. In so doing, the moods inust not
be incompatible or mutually destructive, as would be a combination of the solemn and the ludicrous ; in other words, a
".ertain keeping must be preserved.

(2.) Another form of Antithesis is seen when .things
contradictory are brought pointedly together to increase
the oratorical effect.
As in Chatham : "vVho is tbe man that has dared to call
into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the
woods 1-to delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of

ORATORICAL ANTITHESIS.

49

disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of bis barbarous war
against our brethren? "
So in the speech of Brutus over the body of Lucretia:"Now look ye where she lies,
Th11t bcn.uteons flower, that innocent sweet rose,
'l'orn up by r1.1il1lcss violence."

" Is dust and ashes proud? " Want of intellect "makes a
village an Eden, a college a sty." The most common cxamplo
of this kind of contrast is Life and Death.

(3.) Contradictory or conflicting statements are sometimes made for the purpose of exciting wonder.
See tlie commencement of Extract IV. "What can be
more extraordinary than that a person of mean birth," &c.
The contrast of great results flowing from small agencies
excites wonder in its highest form-the sentiment of power, or
the sublime.

39. The chief thing to be considered in tho employment of the true Antithesis is the need there is for it.
Assuming tliat tho contrn~t is genuine, and not fanciful, it
is still possible to multiply antitheses unnecessarily. In most
cases, a single statement sufficiently suggests the implied opposite. When from obscurity or feebleness this is not the case,
the explicit mention of the contrast is a valuable nid.
The term Antithesis is also applied to modes of construction afterwards described under the Balanced Sentence.
EXEROIBE.

Point out and name the figures in the following passagea :Favors to none, to all she smiles extends.
Wisdom is grey hair to mon.
Let us pass from the Stagirito to tho philosopher of Mnlmesbury.
\Ve bury love ;
Forgetfulness grows over it, like grnsg,

All Switzerland is in the field.
Faithful are the wounds of n. friend, but the kisses of nn enemy
are deceitful.
-3

-50

.. ,

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

-THE EPIGRA!l.

51

Before his honesty of purpose, calumny was dumb. ·
W om out with anguish, toil, and cold, and hunger,
Down sunk the wanderer; sleep hnd seized her senses.
There did the traveller find her in the morning:
God had released her.

Panoplied in brass, they came from tho ships and tents.
There be some who, with everythiug to make them happy, plod
their discontented and melancholy way through life, less grateful
than the dog which licks the band that feeds it.
A hundred head of cattle sometimes passed in a drove.
In Demosthenes we find a fiery energy, but not that polish and
elegance that characterize Cicero.
His roof was at the service of the outcast; the unfortunate
ever found a welcome at his threshold.
Still in harmonious intercourse they lived
The rural day, and talked the flowing heart.
Talent convinces ; Genius but excites :
That tasks the reason ; this the soul delights.
Talent from sober judgment takes its birth,
And reconciles the pinion to the earth ;
Genius unsettles with desires the mind,
Contented not till earth be left behind.
Talent, the sunshine on a cultivated soil,
Ripens the fruit by slow degrees for toil;
Genius, the sudden Iris of the skies,
On cloud itself reflects its wondrous dyes,
And to the earth in tears and glory given,
Clasps in its airy arch the pomp of .heaven I

It is the decree of Providence that man sl1all earn his bread by
the sweat of his brow.
Petitions having proved unsuccessful, it was next determined to
approach the throne more boldly.
Gold cannot make a man happy any more than rags can render
him miserable.
OTHER IMPORTANT FIGURES.

In addition to the tluce classes of Figures that have been
enumerated, corresponding to the three great powers of the
Intellect, we may single out, as involving principles of importance, the Epigram, Hyperbole, Climax, Interrogation, Exclamation, Apostrophe, Innuendo, and Irony.

THE EPIGRAM. .

40. In the Epigram* the mind is r01(~d by a con~
flict or contradiction between the form of the language
and the meaning really conveyed. " The child is father
to the man" is an epigram. The language contradicts
itself, but the meaning is apparent. " Beauty, when
unadorned, 's adorned tho most," is an epigrnmmntio
form of saying that natural beauty is better without
artificial · decoration. ·
This is a figure of frequent occurrence. It is naturally
confounded with Antithesis, from the presence of an element
of contrariety. The intention, however, is not to elucidate a
truth otherwise than by awakening the attention through the
form given to it. Any contradiction gives a shock of 1mrprise, which is a state favorable to receiving an impression.
The following ilre examples of the epigram in its most
usual form, as now defined:" vVhcn yon have nothing to say, sny it."
"Conspicuous for its absence."
Grote says of the legendary age, that " it was a past that
never wns present." Tho seeming contrndiction conveys n renl
and important meaning.
" ~re cannot see the wood for trees," is nu impressive illustration of the difficulty of attaining a general view, when engrossed with the details.
" Verbosity is cured by a wide vocabulary:" · This intimates a truth under the guise of a self-contradiction. By the
*"Epigram" signified originally n.n inscription on a monument. It
cnme next to men.n n short poem, containing some single thought pointedly
expressed, the subjects being very vn.rious-amntory, convivial, moral,
eulogistic, satirical, humorous, &c. Of the various devices for brevity and
point employed in such compositions, especinlly in modern times, the most .
freqnent is a piny upon words. Under whntever nnme described, this is a
well-marked and distinct effect; and, as nil the other modes or giving point
hn.ve separate designations (metaphor, balance, &c.), I have regarded it as
the principal form of epigram, nnd named it accordingly. ·
·
·

I

52

53

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

THE EPIGRAM.

command of a wide vocabulary, we can make so happy a selcc·
tion as to give our meaning in few words.
Hesiod, illustrating the desirableness of simplicity of life,
exclaims, "How much is the half greater than the whole I"
"By indignities men come to dignities," is a characteristic
saying of Bacon.
''The favorite has no friend."
"Some people are too foolish to commit follies."
"A soul of goodness in things evil."
·"The better is the enemy of good," is a German proverb,
intended to reprove aspirations after impracticable improvements. It is analogous to the homely saying, "More haste,
worse speed."
"By merit raised to that bad eminence."
"One secret in education is to know how wisely to lose
time." (Herbert Spencer.)
"Nothing so fallacious M facts, except figures." (Canning.)
"Every man desires to live long; but no man would be
old."
"Language is the art of concealing thought."
"'Tis all thy bnsiness, business how to shun."
" He surpassed himself."
"Out-heroding Herod."
"He is so good that he is good for nothing," is a play upon
the word good ; in the one clause it means mere amiability of
disposition, in the other the power of being useful.
Pope is especially feitile in epigrams : " And most contemptible to shun contempt."

formation, and we are surprised that any one should make so
unmeaning an assertion. We then caBt about, and find that
there are two senses in the words, and that the subject takes
one, and the predicate another. " What I have written," means
simply the inscription aB set up by Pilate ; the second clause
" I have written " is intended to insinuate the further meaning,
riot necessarily conveyed, that the inscription is written finally,
and is not to be amended or l'Cconsidcred. ·when Johnson
said "Sensation is sensation," it was his way of expressing
that his uneasy feeling on the occasion was too great to be
done away with by reasoning, or mastered by mere resolution.
Bentham made an e.mphatic statement of the principle of
the equal rights of men, in the apparently idc·,tical proposition, "Everybody to count for one, and nobody to count for
more than one."
" Dis coming was an event;" that is, something unusual.

" And now the chapel's silver bell you hear,
That summons you to oll the pride of prayer."
"Nature, like liberty, is best rcstrnincd,
Dy the same laws which first herself ordnincd."

41. The effect of the Epigram in giving a shock of
surprise may be produced by the Identical Assertion : as,
" Fact is fact;" " What I have written, I have written;"
"Bread is bread."
To say that a thing is what it is, conveys no additional in-

42. Seeming Irrelevance, also, has the effect of an
epigrammatic surprise.
W11en Emerson says, " vVhcre snow falls, there is a freedom," he puts together two things that have no obvious connection ; the proposition appears not so much contradictory ns
irrelevant and nonsensical. w ·hcn we reflect a little, we see
that he means to describe the influences of tropical beat in debilitating the energies of men, and so preparing them for political slavery.

43. When a familiar saying is unexpectedly turned
into a new form which completely changes the meaning,
we mny cln.ss it as nn cpigrnm.
As in tl10 saying of Jlornce 'Va] polo: " Sum.mer has sot in
with its usual severity." We might invert Spenser's designation of the old English, and say, "the well of English unpuri- .
fled." "Do unto others; as yo would not that they shou1d do
unto you."
In such a case as this last, it is known that the speaker

'>

..

(

(

54:

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

· does not mean to contradict the highest maxim of morality,
and therefore it is necessary to look out for bis real drift, which
is probably ironical.
The foJlowing example is from Kinglake's History of the
Crimean Wa.r : "In the eyes of the Czar, Lord Stratford's way
of keeping himself eternally in the right and eterna1ly moderate was the mere contl'ivance, tl10 inverted Jesuitism, of a man
resolved to do good that evil might come-resolved to be forbearing and just, for the sake of doin~ a harm to the church."
" He went to his imagination for his faets, and to his
memory for his tropes," is renowned as a cutting insinuation,
or sarcasm. It is an epigrammatic inversion of the province
of each of the two faculties named.

44. : The use . of the ·aITestive conjunctions gives
something of the force of the epigram. " We hate the
sin, but pity the sinner." "The world will tolerate many
vices, but not their diminutives."
"Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull.''
The epigram is evidently dependent upon a plurality of
significations in the same word. Many words have, besides
the obvious or familiar sense, some other acceptation that reconciles the seeming contradiction, and gives a real and valuable meaning; · When Milton describes the leader of the Satanic
host, as " by merit raised to that bad eminence," the double
epigram turns upon the words merit and eminence~· these, 'in
their first and obvious meaning, express qualities that we admire and approve, but they are also employed to denote unusual superiority of body or mind, although exhibited in ways
that we disapprove.
.
·

45. The Paronomasia, or Pun, is well known in ordinary conversation, and in comic writing, but rarely
enters into serious composition. It is a variety of the
Epigram; being a play on the various meanings of the
same word. It is occasionally brought in with effect.
Ferrier, in his Philosophy, terms our Faculty of Se~se a

HYPERBOLE.

55

Faculty of Nonsense, availing ltimsclr of tho donblo meaning ·
of the word to suggest a doctrine.
The Conundrum pushes to the utmost limits the playing at
cross purposes with the meaning of words.
HYPERBOLE.

46. Hyperbole consists in mngnifying objects beyond
their natural bounds, so as to make them more impressive or intelligible. "Swift as the wind;" "rivers of
blood and hills of slain," are hyperbolical expr~sions.
So far as t11e feelings are concerned, the tendeticy .to 11yperbole or exaggeration may be referred mainly to two causes.
1. Every strong passion magnifies whatever concerns it.
Love, fear, hatred, exaggerate their several objects in proportion to their intensity. The Psalm.ist expresses his ~'--votion
by the sentence; "A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand."
Affection has always been permitted to enhance its objects far
above their reality. Fear exaggerates danger. Hatred intensifies, and even creates, bad qualities in the· person or thing
hated.
This has to be attended to in depicting character. ·Any
one under strong passion is represented as magnifying the
object of the passion. The terrified scout, in Ossian, is made
to describe the enemy thus: "I saw their chief tall as a rock .
of ice ; his spear the blasted fir; his Rhield the rising moon ;
he sat on the shoro, like n cloud of mist on the hill/' ' ·Satan's
despair i~ portrayed in the famous passage," Me miserable," &c.
Flattery and Adulation are names for the figure in one
particular application.
2. Human desire is naturally illimitable. Hence, whatever
pleases us in poetry, or in the fine arts generally, is mngnified
as far as can be done without offending our sense of reality and
truth.
·
Wordsworth, in his praise of Duty, exclaims,
II

And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong." .

>

56

-

..

..
57

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

OLIMAX.

It is a function of poetry to please us by objects of surpassing grandeur or loveliness, taken from nature and from
humanity. Accordingly, it raises actual things by the force of
el~vated description, and by all the arts of admissible exaggeration. On account of this feature of the poetic art, Plato
banished poets from his Republic, and Bentham styled poetry
"misrepresentation in verse."
As a familiar instance, we may quote from Milton,

compared the Idea of Good to the Sun. Horace speaks of a
man "striking tho stars with his sub limo hcn<l."
Burke's famous passage on Marie Antoinette is a hyperbole, rendered .impressh•o by chivn.lrous devotion and by originality in the language.

· " So frowned the mighty combatants that hell
Grew darker at their frown."
'

The hyperboles of Shakespeare are in keeping with the
force and profusion of his gen ins. They minister to the intensity of passion in his characters. See, as an example, the
aoliloquy of Macbeth before the murder, Act I., Scene 7.
Exaggeration is largely resorted to for comic effect. As
the ludicrous requires that a certain object should be depreciated in some mode or other, this is not unfrequently effected by
gross exaggeration. Voltaire, speaking of our language, "aid
"The English gain two hours a day by clipping words."

47. Hyperbole must be kept within the limits im,
posed upon the bolder figures. All such figures (1)
should have regard to what the hearer is disposed to
admit in the way of departure from the known reality,
(2) should be sparingly used, and (3) should not be trite.
(1.) The feelings of those addressed must be sufficiently
strong to come up to the hyperbolical expression. Few were
prepared, in this respect, for Dl'yden's couplet on Charles II.:-·
"The stnr thnt at your birth shone out so bright,
It stained the duller sun's meridian light."

The hyperboles of love arc admis8ible only 'vith the lover.

(2.) A continued strain of Hyperboles, as in the Ossianic
poems, is condemned as too exhausting.
(3.) Originality is indispensable to hyperbole. A mere
exaggeration is easy; the kind that yields pleasurable surprise
must have novelty, grandeur, or point, to recommend it. Plato

The following example is from Shelley :- ·
" There was such silence through the host, as when
An earthquake, trampling on some populous town,
Ifos crushed ten thousand with one tread, and men
Expect the second."

48. "What is called putting an Extreme Case, is an
important device of exaggeration for the purpose of
illustraHng truth.
.
vVe reproach a man for neglecting some common duty, by
putting it to him what would be the consequences if every one
were to be equally remiss.
·
To show the influence of the mind on the body, it is usual
to quote the extreme instances of persons dying of a broken
heart, or killed by a shock of grief or of joy.
Xenophanes illustrates the origin of the pagan gods, by the
remark that, if oxen or lions were to become religious, they
would in like manner provide for themselves gods of their own
shape and character.
CLIMAX.

49. CLIMAX is the arranging of the particulars of a
period, or other portion of discourse, so as to rise in
strength to the last.
The common example of this figure is from the Oration of
Cicero against Verros. The orator, wishing to raise tho indignation of the audience to the l1ighest pitch, refrained from
specifying the crime of the accused at once, and led the way
up to it by successive steps: " It is an outrage to bind a Roman
citizen; to scourge him is an atrocious crime; to put him to
death is almost a parricide; but to CRUCIFY him-what shall I
call it 1"

>
•

.
58

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

Climax owes its effect to the peculiar constitution of the
mind. A slight stimulus is at first sufficient to afford gratification ; as this palls, we· must have something stronger; and so
by successive steps the highest degree of strength is called for,
and the greatest effect secured.
The principle of rising in this way by successive degrees
applies to the sentence. or period, to the paragraph, and to tho
• entire composition. A play, or a romance, increases in excitement by degrees to the final catastrophe; and so ought an
oration. .
We do not here particularly inquire what constitutes degrees of strength or impressiveness. Whatever be the reasons
why one expre~sion, circumstance, or situation, stirs up a more
lively feeling than another~ the less lively should precede the
stronger. It has been seen that the special or concrete is more
impressive than the general or abstract. On this ground,
Campbell considers that the following passage in the Song of
Solomon constitutes a climax : " For lo, the winter is past, the
rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the
tiine of the . singing of birds is come, and the voice of the
turtle .is heard in our land; the fig-tree putteth forth her green
figs, and the vines, with the tender grape, give a good smell."
The description commences with the generalities, "winter," the
season of " rain ; " proceeds to specialize the " flowers " tho
'
'
"birds; " and comes at last to individuals, "the turtle," "the
fig-tree," and "tho Yine."
The Climax is exemplified in the Appendix, Extracts I., IV.,

&c.
Burke's peroration in the impeachment of Warren Hastings, seems intended for a climax, but the gradation is
IC I impeach him in the name of the
scarcely apparent.
Commons of Great Britain in Parliament assembled whose
'
'
'
parliam~ntary trust ho has abused (I). I impeach him in the
name of our holy re~igion, which he has disgraced (2). I impeach him in the name of the English constitution, which he
has violated and broken (3). I impeach bim in the name of
the Indian millions, whom he has sacrificed to injustice (4).

INTERROGATION.

59

I impeach him by the name and by tho best l'ights of human
nature, which he has stabbed to the heart (5)." The third
sentence should have been second ; between the third and
fourth there would then have been a natural connection. The
fourth derives its strength from speciality, while the fifth can
merit the highetit place only by the width of its comprehension,
which redeems the abstractness of tho subject, "the rights of
Jmmnn nnture."
Any great departure from the order of ascending strength
is called an Anti-climax.
INTERROGA'l'ION.
50. The lNTERROGATioN aims at conveying an opinion
more strongly by giving it the form of a question: "Hath
he said it, and shall he not do it?" affirms strongly that
what is said will be done.
·
'
We may be listless while one is merely making declarations,
but on being appealed to by a question we are obliged to attend.
The commencement of Cicero's First Oration against Catiline is considered a striking and well-timed employment of this
figure. Demosthenes exemplifies it in his passages of denunciation in the Philippics, and in the Speech on the Crown.
" "Viii you continue to go about to each other and ask, What's
the news 1 Can anything be more new than that a man from
Macedonia should subjugate Greece 1 Is Philip dead t No indeed; but he is ill. What matters it to you 1 To you, who,
if he were to come to . grief, would . quickly get · yourselves
another Philip 1"
Chatham, in his grandest outburst, demands, IC Who is the
man that .
has dared to authorize and associate to
our anns the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage 9"
Pope concludes his passage in Addison:-· ·
.
" Who would not laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he P"

It will be seen from these examples that the negative interrogation affirms, and the positive denies.

~ ·

62

FIGURES OF SPEEOIT.

63

IRONY.

When the Innuendo is employed in vituperation, it has an
advantage belonging in a still greater measure to the next
figure ; it baffles reply. The thing is said, and yet said so
that the person reflected upon cannot lay hold of it in the 'way
of refutation or retort.
A good example is furnished in Pope's lines on the Lord
Mayor's pageant:"Now night descending, the gay scene is o'er;
Ilut lives in Settle'a numbers one day more."

Fuller's saying on Camden, the antiquarian, is a witty innuendo: "He had a number of coins of the Roman Emperors,
and a good many more of the later English Iiings."
In the progress of refinement, innuendo takes the place of
open vituperation.
The derice of 1mggesting, instead of openly expressing, is
made to ramify widely in literature and' the fine arts. The full
illustration of it does not belong to this place. The moral tale
evades our usual repugnance to a moral lecture, by conveying
its lesson under the guise of an amusiug story. But the
painter and the poet have other intentions besides this. They
introduce particulars that imply a great deal more than they
express, and thus give a starting-point to the thoughts. This
Is always a source of pleasure to the mind, which likes to have
a certain scope for desire and imagination.
·
Suggestion may be employed with advantage when a full or
direct statement would involve what is harsh or offensive, as in
depicting violent anguish or horror, and even in such extreme
manifestations of pleasure as the observer cannot sympathizo
with.
lflONY.

·'

55. InoNY expresses the contrary of what is meant,
there being something in the tone or manner to show
the real drift of the speaker ; as in Job's address to his
friends, "No doubt but ye are the people, and wisdom
will die with you."

The ironical ad<lress gives an opponent no handle, and is
thus an embarrassing instrument of vituperation.
Carlyle, speaking of the much abused Cromwellian Puri~
tans says "yet they were not altogether imbeciles, these men.''
The cloak of Irony was put on by Swift in his masterpieces
of allegory'"'-Gulliver, the Tale 'o f a Tub, and the Battle of the
Books.
There is a delicate stroke of irony in Sir G. C. Lewis's remark on the pretended antiquity of the Babylonian Astronomy.
"The story of the astronomical obser\ ations, extending over
31,000 years, sent from Babylon to Aristotle, toould be a ~o~
elusive proof of tlie antiquity of the Ohaldccan ·.Astronomy, if it
were true." The irony consists in seeming to accept the enormous nllegation, with mere Iy the slight reservation, if it were t~ue.
SAncAsM is vih1pcrntion softened in tho out.~vnnl oxpr~ss1on
by the arts and firrures
of clisguise-epigrnm, mnuendo, irony
0
-· and embellished with tbe figures of illustration. The Letters
of Junius come under this description.
· -. ·· ·
Pope's Atticus is a mixture of direct vituperation, epigram,
innuendo, and irony.
.
There is irony amounting to sarcasm in Locke's remark
upon tho Aristotelian Logic: "God did not make man, and
leave it to Aristotle to make him rational."
1

56. Of the . figures of the old rlrntorieians only a
small number have been selected in the foregoing exposition. ~~any are mere varieties ?f those ~ow give~ ;
some will appear in other ~onne~tio~s_; wlule a con.s1derable number are so minute or trivial that they .are
scarce worth attending to.
Ellipsis, or tho omission of a word or words essential to
tho construction but not to the sense, is a figure of both grammar and rhetoric. It conduces to brevity, and is sometimes
a sign of strong feeling. It is also a suggestive fig.u re; what
is unexpressed being left to the imagination to fill up: .
The single word " Impossible" is more express1vo than a
complete sentence affirming impossibility.
·
· J ·~ ·' 1 -, · ·

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64

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

Asyndeton, or the omission of connectives, is a figure conducing to energy. " The wind passcth over it-it is gone."
"Thou sentest forth thy wrath-it consumed them as stubble."
See also the song of Moses, and Psalm civ. 28-30. Great
stress was laid on this figure by the Greek rhetoricians.
The Hyperbaton (much used, it is said, by Demosthenes) is
purposed inversion and perplexity, before announcing something of great emphasis and import, thus giving to a meditated
expression the effect of an impromptu.
EXERCISE.

Point out and name tliefigttrcs in tlie following passage8 :No light, but rather darkness visible.
A frnme of ndamnnt, a soul of fire,
No dangers fright him, and no labors Ure.
Art thou the first mnn tlint was born 1 or wast thou mndo be-

fore the hills 7 Hnst thou heard the secret of God? and dost thou
restrain wisdom to thyself?
He lived to die, and died to live.
Harmonious discord everywhere.
But there are even some, 0 Romans, who say that Oatiline bas
been cast into exile by me. Thnt timid and very modest man, no
doubt, was unable to endure the voice of the consul; as soon as ho
was ordered to go into exile, he obeyed, he went.
Oaaian'a .Addreas to the Moon :-Daughter of heaven, fair m·t
thou I The silence of thy face is pleasant. Thou comest forth in
loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds
rejoice in thy presence, 0 Moon I They brighten their dark-brown
sides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the silent night? The
stars are ashamed in thy presence. They turn away their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the
darkness of thy conntennnco grows? Ilnst thou thy hnll, Jiko
Ossian 7 Dwellest thou in the slrndow of grief? Have thy sisters
fallen from heaven 7 Are they who rejoiced with thee nt night no
more 7 Yes, they have fallen, fair light I nnd thou dost often retire
to mourn. But thou thyself shnlt foil one night, nn<l lcnve thy blue
path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads; they wl10
were nshnmed in thy presence will rejoice. Thou art now clothed
with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Durst the

EXERCISE.

65

cloud, 0 wind I that the daughters of night may look forth; that
the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white
waves in light.
The cloud-cnpt towers, the gorgeous palace!.'1
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yen, all which it inherit, shall diE'solve;
And, like n.n insubstnntittl pageant faded,
Le1tYo not a rack behind.

If I h1ld ns mnny tongues ns there are stnrs in heaven, as many
. words Oil there are grains of sun<l on the shore, my tongues would
be tired, and my words exhausted, before I could do justice to your
immense merit.
War nnd Love nre strange compeers. _
War sheds blood, and Love sheds tears ;
W n.r hns swords, and Love has dnrts;
W nr breaks heads, and Love breaks hearts.

And beside this, giving nll diligence, nclcl to your faith, virtue;
nnd to virtue, knowledge; nnd to know lodge, tompernnco; nn<l to
temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; nnd to godliness,
brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity.
llusten slowly.
Oh for a lodge in some vnst wilderness I
Some boundless contiguity of shade I

Ilow art thou fallen from heaven, 0 Lucifer, son of the morning I
As the waters foil from the sea, and the flood decayeth and
drieth up: so man lieth down, and riseth not: till the heavens be
no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. 0
that thou wouldest hide me in t.he grave, that thou wouldest keep
me secret, until thy wrath be past, tbnt thou wouldest appoint me
a set time, and rem em her me I
A Scotch mi8t becomes a shower; and a shower, a flood; nnd
a flood, a storm ; and a storm, a tempest; nnd a tempest; thunder
and Jightning; and thunder nncl lightning, J1euven-qunko and enrthc1unke.
For contemplation he nnd .vnlo1· formeil;
For softness she nnd sw eet nttmctive grace;
lie for God only, she for God in him.
Me miserable I which way shnll I fly
Infinite wrath, n.nd infinite rle~pnir?
Which wny I fly is hell; myself nm hell;
And in the lowest deep n. lower deep,
Still threatening to devour .me>, opens .wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

>

60

'
SOURCES OF BREVITY.

NUMBER OF WORDS.

CHAPTER II.
TIIE NUMBER OF WORDS.

57. TnE Figures of Speech all conduce to the greater effectiveness of style; they either present a thought
more vividly to the intellect, or operate more powerfully upon the feelings.
It is now requisite to consider two other devices
having the same objects in view as figures. The one
regards the Number of Words employed, and the other
their Arrangement.
58. On the principle of attaining ends at the smallest cost, Brevity is a virtue of language.
Every word ltttered taxes the attention and occupies a space
in the thoughts; hence when words are used only as instruments, they should be compressed into the ]east compass consistent with the ndeqnnto exprm1sion of the meaning. Tho
epithets "terse," "concise," "laconic," imply strength as the
result of brevity. The vcni, vidi, vici of Crosar is unsurpassed
and immortal. Of the ancients, Thucydides, Horace, and
Tacitus were celebrated for brevity. Dante is likewise a great
example. Though the genius of the English language is not
so favorable to condensed forms of expression as that of the
classical tongues, yet some of our writers are models of a.n
elegant brevity; it is sufficient to mention Shakespeare and
Pope.

59. The chief sources of Drevity are (1) the selection of the aptest words; (2) a condensed grammatical
structure; and (3) the employment of figures, more especially Comparison and :Metaphor, Transferred Epithet,
Antithesis, Epigram, and the admissible forms of Ellipsis.
(1.) For the selection of words no precise rules can be

l

, I

61

given. The effect, on trial, will show · what answers the purpose of conveying much meaning in a small compass.
(2.) There are certain constructions favorable to brevity.
These are-the use of the participle for the clause with a finite
verb ; apposition, instead of connectives; the employment of
the abstract noun (See 81MPLICJITY) ; the use of adjectives for
adjective clauses,* of nouns for adjectives ("knowledge qltalification," " stump orator"), of the phrase made up of preposition
and noun, with or without an adjective (" action for trespass,"
" the right of the strongest ") ; the contracted and the con·
densed sentence.
(3.) As regards the employment of figures, it is apparent,
from the illustrations already given, that the species named
contribute to Brevity. The fo11owing are a few additional
examples :-Pitt's defence of the rotten burgh system was,
"Their amputation would be death" (to the country). Curran's saying on Irish liberty is equally terse: "I sat at her
cradle, I fo11owed her hearse."
The proverb, or aphorism, is a condensed expression of a
trnt.h, goncrnlly embodying nn epigrnm, or n bnhmcod structure. " Least said, soonest mended."

GO. Brevity has to be sought without sacrificing
perspicuity and the proprieties of language.
There are occasions when the desired effects of style
are gained by diffuseness.
For example, an explanation must be suited in length to
the state of mind of the persons addressed; while things well
lrnow n are recalled by brief allusion. In working up the feelings, a certain length of time iA requisite, which the orator and
poet know how to adjust. Again, in suiting the sound to the
sense, a polysyllabic word, or n lengthened clanse, may bo re"'
quired. Thus the long word stupendous better corresponds
with a state of intense astonishment than the monosyJlable
1

*

11

The clouds . . . . let all their moisture flow,
In large effusion, o'er the fresliened world."
Byron describes the !thine castles as ~· all tenantless, save to the ~annyin9 wind."
· ' •

I .

68

. .

NUMBER OF WORDS.

vast; magnificent is more pO\verful tlian grand.
The high·
sounding word ambassador suits A. dignified functionary ; while
wo often express contempt by a curt appellation, as a flirt, a
fop, a sot, a thief, bosh.
It is a general rule that an excess of the connecting parts
of speech-as pronouns and conjunctions-enfeebles the style.
Yet emphasis sometimes requires their multiplication ; as in
the words of St. Paul, "For I am persuaded that. neither life,
nor death, n.or," &c.
So in MiltOn : " Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n 01· mom,
Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose,
Or flocks or herd~, or human face divine."

Other exceptions will appear in what follows.

61. The violations of Brevity are of three kinds,
denominated Tautology, Redundancy, and Circumlocution.
I. TAUTOLOGY means the repetition of the same
sense in different words; as when Swift says, "In the
Attic commonwealth, it was the _privilege and birtliright of every citizen and poet, to rail aloud and in
pitblia." The meaning is the same as, "it was the
privilege of every citizen to rail in public."
The foJlowing sentence from Tillotson contains numerous
tautologies: "Particularly as to the affairs of thi3 world, integrity hath many advantages over all the fine an~ artificial
ways of dissimulation and deceit ; it is much the plainer and
easier, mucl1 the safer and more secure way of dealing with the
world ; it has less of trouble and difficulty, of entanglement and
perplexity, of danger and hazard in it. Tho arts of deceit and
cunning do continually grow weaker, and less effectual and
serviceable to them that use them."
So in Addison : " The dawn is ovcrrn~t; the morning lowers,
And heavily In clouds bringf! on thti tfay."

These three clauses all express the same fact.

TAUTOLOGY.

69

Through constantly aiming at a balanced structure of sentence, Johnson sometimes approaches this fault. Sp~aking of
· the style of Pryor, be says: " He had often infused into it
mud1 knowledge and much thought ; had often polished it into
elegance, often dignified it into splendor, and sometimes heiglitened it to sublimity; and did not discover that it wanted tbe
power of engaging attention and alluring curiosity."

The coupling of synonymous words and phrases is
admissible under the following circumstances : (1.) When one word does not express the full sense
intended.
· No two words are exactly synonymous for nll purposes; one
has a shade that the other wants; and it may take both to give
the whole meaning. Hence we arc accustomed to snch phrases
as "ways and means," "passing and transitory," i: subject-matter." In legal documents synonymous words nre joined for the
sake of exhaustive completeness. When Wordsworth couples
"the vision and the .faculty divine," he intends that the two
phrases, which are nearly alike, should unfold between them a
greater amount of meaning than either conveys.

(2.) For the sake of putting greater stress on the
prominent points of the exposition.
Good exposition requires that the main snhjcct should ho
distinguished from the subordinate parts. This is effected,
among other ways, by dwelling longer upon it ; and repetition
by mearis of equivalent phrases may be occasionally resorted
to. " The head and front of bis offending: " " the end and design."

It is implied in tho foregoing principle thnt wordy
diffuseness should be especially avoided in subordinate
clauses and statements.
It is often better that a subordinate Clause sl1onld be feeble
or obscure, than that it should bo raised' out of its p1nce by
nmplificntion. Gibbon, spcnldi1g of tho deification of tho
Roman Emperors, says: "This legal, and, as ·it. should seem,

70

NUMDER OF WORDS.

injudicious profanation, so abhorrent to our stricter principles,
was received with a very faint murmur by the easy nature of
Polytheism." This is better thnn, "by Polytheism, wltich was
of a nature easy and accommodating."

(3.) In strong passion, when the min<l is disposed to
dwell upon the object of the passion.
Chatham's famous address abounds in tautologies referable
to this principle. " I am astonished, I am shocked, to ·. hear
such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this houso
and in this country." So, Bolingbroko exclaims in an invective against the times : " But all is little, and low, and mean
among us." Cicero's exultation over Catiline's discomfiture
was expressed by the use of four verbs nearly equivalent in
meaning-"Abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit."
· Affection and admiration lead to similar repetitions.
It is desirable to avoid such tautologies as the " first aggressor," the " standard pattern," the "verdant green," "some
few." So, excesiJ of inflection is objectionable; as "chiefest,"
"extremest," " worser," " most highest."

62. II. REDUNDANCY, or Pleonasm, consists of additions not essential to the sense.
As when something sufficiently implied in the words already used is also separately expressed. The following is an
extreme illustration: " They returned back again to the same
city from whence they came forth;" the five words in italics
are redundant. " The different departments of science and of
art mutually reflect light on each othc1· ;" either of tho cxpreRsions in italics embodies the whole idea. A very common redundancy is exemplified in the expression, " the universal opinion of all men." In the sentence, " I wrote you a letter
yesterday," the words a letter may be omitted, being already
implied in '' I wrote you."
"While Tautology adds a superfluous word in the same grammatical place, Redundancy repeats the meaning in a different
place: "I rejoiced at the glad sight."

REDUNDANCY.

71

Campbell remarks that our language contains many compound words in which there is redundancy: as, unto, until, selfsame, four-square, devoid, despoil, disannul, oftentimes, nowadays, downfall, furthermore, wherewithal. Sometimes terminations arc added to words without a specific meaning: as,
mo~mtain, fountain, meadow, valley, island, climate; for mount,
fount, &c. Again, we find double terminations of tho same
import, as in philosophical, tragical, political. In many such
cases, the different words gradually acqniro different sensesclimate, clime ; politic, political.

Redundancy is permissible, for the surer conveyance
of important meaning, for emphasis, and in the language
of passion and of poetic embellishment.
In giving directions and instructionR, it may be right to add
an explicit statement to what is already implied; as in military
despatches and official instructions.
" We ha.Ye seen with our eyes," " we have hear<l with our
ears," are redundancies that give emphasis to the action expressed.
The epithets and amplifications of poetry may add nothing
to the meaning, but they fulfil the end of tho art, which is to
give pleasure.
"The breezy call of incense-breathing mom" .

is an accumulation of picturesque circumstances to which the
rules of brevity would not apply.
Nevertheless, as the loading of style with epithets leads to
tho fault cnllc<l 'Turgidity, it must be kept undor the restrictions
hcrcnftcr stated with reference to tho quality of strength in
composition.

63. III. CmcuMLOCUTION means a diffuse mode of
expression, such that the remedy for it iR, not omission
of parts, but the re-casting of the whole in terser language.
The following is an example : " Pope professed to have
"learned his poetry from Dryden, whom, whenever an opportu·

•
'16

77

ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS.

ARRANGEMENT OF QUALIFYING CLAUSES.

the complement, is illustrated in the opening of Keats's "Hyperion":-

" A modern newspaper-statement, though probably true,
would be laughed at, if quoted in a book as testimony ; but
the letter of a court gossip is thought good historical evidence,
if written some centuries ago." Here the closely related clauses,
"a modern newspaper-statement," and "if quoted in a book as
testimony," are too far apart. Then, again, if both the qualifying clauses to "a newspaper-statement" ("though probably
true," and "if quoted in a book as testimony"), were to precede, the strnpcnsion would be more than we arc accustomed
to. In such a case, the best armngement is to place the subject between the two qualifying members, thus bringing it close
to both. " Though probably true, a modern newspaper-statement, quoted in a book as testimony, would be laughed at; but
the letter of a court gossip, if written some centuries ago, is
thought good l1istorical evidence."
To give another example. " W c came to our journey's end,
at last, with no small difficulty, after much fatigue, through
deep roads, and bad weather." This sentence violates · the
principle just laid down, the qualifications being all placed
after the statement qualified. ~ On the other hand, the strict
carrying out of that principle would cause too many suspensions: "At last, with no small difficulty, after much fatigue,
through deep roads, and bad weather, we came to our journey;e
end." By arranging the qualifying clauses on the plan of beginning with the most abstract, and by carrying backward the
verb and its subject we came, so as to enclose them in the 'middle of the qualifying clauses, and thereby shorten the suspen~
sions, we get the · best arrangement, as follows : " :At last, with
no small difficulty, and after much fatigue, we came, through
' ··
deep roads, and bad weather, to our journey's end ! "
In the consideration of the Sentence, there will be a farther
reference to the principles of arrangement.

".Deep in the s!iady sad1usa of a vale,
Far 8Unken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star,
Sat gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone."

A conditional clause precedes the main clause, from the
same consideration. If the main clause stands first, the hearer
conceives it unconditiona11y, and then has to re-shape his conception. And generally, subordinate clauses are properly made
to come before their principal. Containing, as the subordinate
proposition does, some qualifying or explanatory idea, its priority prevents misconception of the principal one, and therefore
saves the mental effort needed to correct such misconception.
The following is an example of the conditional clause placed
first: " Were the honor given to wealth and to title bestowed exclusively on high achievements and intrinsic worth, how immense
would be the stimulus to progress I "
In the next example, two subordinate statements are given
in advance, and the principal comes last.
"The secrecy once maintained in respect to t110 parliamentary
debates, is still thought needful in diplomacy; and, in virtue of this
secret diplomacy, England may any day be unawares betrayed by
its ministers into a war costing a hundred thousand lives, and hundreds of millions of treasure; yet the English pique themselves on
being a self-governed people I 11

66. A second principle is, that the words and expres. sions most nearly related in thought should be placed
closest together. This consideration may prevent the
foregoing principle from being carried out to the full.
The longer the time that elapses between the mention of the
qualifying clause and that which it qualifies, the longer must
the mind be burdened with unemployed ideas ; and the burden
is increased according to the number of qualifying clauses.
Hence, other considerations being equal, preference is to be
given to the arrangement that entails the fewest and the
shortest suspensions. .The following instance will illustrate
what is meant:-

78

QUALITIES OF STYLE,

SIMPLICITY OF . TERMS.

79

SIMPLICITY.

CHAPTER IV.
TllE QUALITIES OF STYLE.

67. Under the great variety of descriptive words employed. to denote the merits and the demerits of style, we
may discern a few leading qualities.
· ·
In what has already been said regarding the Figures of
Speech, and the Number and the Arrangement of Words explanations have been furnished of many characteristics of s~yle.
A co~position ab~unding in any one of the figures would be
described by ~n ep1the~ der~ved from the name of that figure ;
as, Metaphoncal, Antithetical, Epigrammatic, Hyperbolical
Ironical, Sarcastic,· Elliptical. A profusion of figurative Ian~
guage generally woul~ r~ceive the designations-Figurative,
Flower~, Ornate, lmag10at1ve, IUustrative; to which are opposed
th~ Plam, Dry, Bald. The number of words emplOyed determmes, on the one hand, the Diffuse or Verbose, and, on the
other, the Terse or Concise. So, according to the arran1Yement
of the words we would distinguish the Natural or Flowi:g from
the Inverted or Involved style.
With reference to TaouGm·, or meaning, there are two chief
qualities-Simplicity and Clearness.
As regards FEELING, there is an important contrast between
';hat is designated by the terms Strength, Energy, the Subhme,-and the qualities denominated Feeling Pathos and
B. e.auty ('m a na~ow sense) ; a contrast answering
' to the 'oppos1t1on of the Active and Passive sides of our nature. To these
two classes of effects, we must add the peculiar qualities denoted
by the Ludicrous, Humor and Wit.
It is necessa?·, further, to. consider the Melody of language,
and also Expressiveness, that JS, the suiting of the sound to the
sense.
Finally, a few observations are needed on the meanings of
Taste.

GS. Simplicity is the quality of being easily understood. It is opposed, not so much to the complex, as to
the abstruse.

The possibility of being aimple must depend, in the first instance, on the subject as compared with the capacity of the
persons addl'essed. But apart from this, there al'e certain general peculiarities thnt render stylo more or lcRs intelligible.

69. Simplicity may apply to the Terms, or to the
Structure.
Terms are simple, as opposed to abstruse and unintelligible, on various grounds.
(1.) They may represent common and familiar objects and actions, instead of such as are rare and remote.
In the sentence, " He that doeth these sayings is like to
a man that buildeth his house upon a rock," every one
of the terms has the simplicity belonging to things common and familiar.
Our native Saxon terms, and those foreign terms that have
come into use among people generally, are the most intelligible
of all. Our Latin derivatives are less understood by the uneducated. The phraseology of science and of special nrts and professions, as Law, Medicine, Navigation, &c., is i:1tclligible only to
snch as arc acquainted with the subjects concerned. Many
terms belong to scholarly erudition, and arc more or less unknown to the mass of men ; for example, allusions to ancient
mythology, and to the customs of remote nations.
·when a subject can be treated in familiar language, it is
pre-eminently popular and intelligible. A man of great genius
will sometimes contrive to oxp1·cHs himRelf, oven on n difficult
subject, in popular phraseology; but this power must soon find
its limit.
Johnson's remarks on Swift are in point here : " The
peruser of Swift wants little previous knowledge ; it will be
sufficient that he is acquainted with common words and com-

••

80

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

mon things ; 11e has i1cithcr to mount elevations nor to explore
profundities," &c.
(2.) The terms are simple when they relate to things
that are in their nature palpable and easily conceivable.
The objects of our senses arc of this nature-the things
that we see, hear, touch, smell, taste. So are our familiar emotions and energies--love, hate, fear, will, desire, &c.· But the
world contains, besides these obvious things, a great number of
subtle and impalpable agents, hidden forces, that neither the
seni;es can discover nor the imagination realize. So that, while
the sun, .the stars, the mountains, rivers, fields, houses, bread,
water, fire, are simple,-gas, molecule, electricity, latent heat,
vital force, association of ideas, free-will, are impalpable and obscure. . These last have to be understood by special study in
Physics, Chemistry, Physiology, the Human Mi:1d, &c. . Among
the sciences, the Natural History group-Zoology, Botany, &c.owe their great popularity and intelligibility to the palpable
character of their objects.
It is remarked that the ancient poets took their images from
familiar sources to a greater degree than the moderns; this being the natural consequence of their priority.
(3.) The more general a notion is, the more difficult
it is to conceive; hence terms expressing generalities
and abstractions, are not so simple as the names of indi,
viduals or concrete things.

It is easy to conceive a well-known mountain, river, tree,
,, house, steam-engine; or an individual animal, man, or society.
Nothing is required but to remember the individual objects exactly as we have been accustomed to observe them. But when
a whole class has to be viewed collectively, as mountains, rivers,
trees, in general, we liave to bring to memory at the same moment all the individuals, or at least a considerable portion of
them, attending to their common features, and neglecting their
points of difference. A farther step in the same direction is to
conceive a quality in the abstract, or entirely separated from

81

SIMPLICITY OF WORDS.

the other qualities accompanying it in real things ; as, length,
extension, weight, fluidity, elasticity, attraction, intelligence,
goodness, temperance. The mind must still run over the particular objects possessing the quality, so as to affirm nothing of
the abstract idea t11at is not true of all the concrete instances
of it. Now it is a work of labor to recall the necessary examples ; and a speaker or writer should use such language as to
suggest these readily to tho mind. Hence the advantage of
the figures that substitute the special, individual, and concrete,
for the general and abstract(§ 31). It is ·possible to express a
general truth in terms that shall be themselves highly concrete.
Compare the two following modes·of expressing-the same principle of human nature. " In proportion as the manners, customs and amusements of a nation arc cruel and barbarous, the
'
regulation of their penal codes will be severe." " According as
men .delight in battles, bull-fights, and combats of gladiators, so
will they punish by hanging, burning, and crucifying."
'·
Such terms a,g pain, feeling, are less conceivable and less
forcible than ache, penury. Curve is very general, circle is less
so, wheel approaches the particular ; sun, full moon, are individual, and the most intelligible of all.
The style of Bishop Butler is rendered difficult by the excessive employment of general and abstract terms, unrelieved
by such as are specific and concrete. The following sentences
will give an idea of what is meant:-" Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in, or be, an affection to ourselves, a
regard to our own private good. But that benevolence is dis-tinct from, that is, not the same .thing with self-love, is no reason
for its being looked upon with any peculiar suspicion, became
every principle whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it," &c. (Sermon xi.)

70. The Abstract Noun is the form that carries abstract naming farthest ; as, motion, whiteness, color,
virtue, comprehension. Nouns denoting whole classes
of objects, Adjectives, Verbs, and Adverbs, tend . rathe:r
to suggest the concrete.
r

,. ; ;_ :··

I

82

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

A Class Noun, as river, tree, city, denotes concrete objects,
although requiring a whole class to be taken into account
which class the mind selects one or two individuals to rcpre~
sent. . An Adjective,-as, large, wise, fruitful,-snpposes a name
dcnotmg a whole class; which it limits and renders more concrete; as a "large house," a "fruitful field." The Verb requires
the mention of a subject, and very often an object also ; as, "he
comprehends the meaning," which is more concrete and su<Ygcstive than the abstract noun " comprehension." The Adverb
'
in this regard, resembles the adjective.
In the following sentence, abstract nouns are employed :
"The undfJrstanding of this truth will preclude that great source
of human misery, groundless expectations." To convert these
nouns into verbs and adjectives, the sentence would have to be
changed thus: "If we clearly understand that this is true, we
shall be saved from what often makes us miserable namely ex'
'
pecting what is groundless." In this form, the idea is · more
readily conveyed than when expressed, as above, by a succession of abstract nouns.
It will readily be seen, from the above and other . instances,
what arc the compensating advantages of using the abstract
noun. In the first place, it is often more concise 1 which entitles it to preference when brevity is an object; as in subordinate clauses, which must not by their length overwhelm the
principal clause.
In the next place, it allows a passive and impersonal form to
be employed, which is often convenient: "Unless care be taken."

.

71. A series of abstract terms is difficult to follow.
. Each separate abstraction rcqnircs a reference to examples
m the concrete, and we cannot, without labor, make this reference as rapidly as abstract words can be uttered.

72. The operation of the foregoing principle is modified under certain circumstances.

p.) When the abstractions arc simple and easy; as Jcngth,
motion, warmth, strength, blackness, pain, sweetness, Jove.

)
I

ABSTRACT TERMS NOT SIMPLE.

83

(2.) When they have some natural connection, or have been
4'ften grouped together ; as, "light and heat," "time and space,"
"number and importance," "virtue and happiness," "learning
and talents," "law, order, and moraJity."
(3.) When they are repeated in the concrete (Extract V.).
( 4;) When they are merely symbols to connect thoughts,
and do not require attention directed upon themselves. This
is the case with the abstractions of mathematics, and in scientific reasoning genera11y.
(5.) When they arc intended to rouse the feelings. Thus,
an enumeration of the virtues may ham no other object than to
excite a glow of approving sentiment: as, "faith, hope, charity;"
"truth, justice, benevolence."
·
"For, wrth strong speech I tore the veil thnt hid
Nature, and Truth, and Liberty, and Love."

Among simple writers in English, we may name More,
Hobbes, Bunyan, Defoe, 'l'illotson, Addison, Swift, Goldsmith,
Cowper, Paley, Southey, Macaulay, Irving, Prescott, Bryant..
As examples of t.hc more learned nnd abstruse style, wo
have Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Bacon, Hooker, Milton,
Barrow, Jeremy Taylor, South, Butler, Cowley, Pope, Johnson,
Gibbon, Bentham, Robert Hall, De Quincey, Carlyle, Bancroft,
Emerson, Longfellow.

73. Simplicity of Structure means an arrangement
of clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, suited for easy
comprehension.
The principles of good arrangement have been in part adverted to already (§65, 66), and will be more fully considered
under various subscqnent heads.

74. With a view to simplicity of arrangement, it is
desirable to avoid a complication of negatives.
Snch an expression M " The loss of blood destroys the
strength," is not so intelligible as the positive fonn "Abundance of hlood gives strongt.h." Compare "lndifforonoo to
suffering is unfavorable to sympathy," with "Being alive to

-I

84

85

QUALll'IES OF STYLE.

PREVENTION OF .AMBIGUITY.

suffering favors sympathy." Again, "If they do not acquiesce
in his judgment, which I t11ink never happened above once or
twice at most," is a puzzling, if not ambiguou~, construction.
" It is not to be denied that a high degree of beauty does not
lie in simple forms."

his " demeanor . and · appearance." "I remarked the circumf'tn.nce" might imply either "I made a remnrk to . somo one,"
or "I was myself struck with the circumstance." The word
common, from its two significations, " usual" and " widely
spread," is a frequent cause of ambiguity.
The most effectual remedy for equivocal language is to mention the term opposed to what is meant. This method, l1owever,
being cumbrous, is reserved for cases of special difficulty or importance: we may say, "the moral as opposed to the physic~l,"
or " ns oppoimd to the ·intellcctuul,'' or " as opposod to tho unmoral " according to the intended signification of tho word moral.
To' prevent ambiguity, tautology is sometunes allowable.
" Sense and acceptation " determines one meaning of sense;
"sense or susceptibility" gives the other meaning.

CLEARNESS.

75. Clearness is opposed to obscurity, vagueness, am.
biguity, or ill-defined boundaries.
A statement is clear when t11cre is no possibility of confounding it with anything else. This is more than is meant
by simplicity. Some of the means of attaining clearness have
been described under Figures (especially those of Similarity and
Contrast); others will be given in treating of Exposition.

76. Ambiguity of language being one chief obstacle
to clearness, words with a plumlity of meanings should
be used in such connections only as exclude all but the
one intended.
It is not uncommon to find words used in such connectiot1s
as suggest most readily the meaning not intended. For example: "A man who has lost his eye-sight has in one sense
less consciousness than he had before." The word sense, being
used after the mention of eye-sight, is naturally supposed to
mean one of our five senses, which is not the case. Again:
" And seeing dreams are caused by the distemper of the inward
parts of the body;" here the word seeing, followed by dreams,
is apt to suggest the act of vision, instead of the meaning which
the word really has, inasmuch cts. " There is something unnatural in painting, which a skilful eye will easily discern from
native beauty and complexion." Herc the first idea suggested.
by the word painting is the nrt of painting; what we find to be
the meaning is a painted face.
At other times, the word is simply ambiguous; two meanings being equally suggested. " His p1·esence was against him"
means either "the fact of his being present and not abs~nt,." or

.

77. The recurrence, at a short interval, of the same
word, in two different senses, is to be avoided.
Such constructions as the following tend to obscurity, besides being inelegant :-" If the show of anything be good for
anything, sincerity is better." " It is many times as troublesome to make good the pretence of a good quality, as to have
it." "Ile turned to tho left of tho House, and then left abruptly." "The truth is that error and truth are blended in
their minds." " I look npou it as my duty, so long as I keep
within the bounds of tmth, of duty, and of decency."
Tho two senses of the pronoun we, called tl10 editorial and
the n~presentative, are apt to be confused in this way. " We
(the writer) will now proceed to enquire bow we (men generally) first arrive at such notions." It is in discu:is~ng ?u~an ·
nature that this clash arises, and the mode of avo1drng it is to
use the singular pronoun for the speaker's self, or else to make
the construction passive or impersonal.
When a recurring word has one meaning prevailing through
the same discourse, it is wrong to bring it in unexpectedly in
one of its other meanings.
The word wit is said to be used, m Pope's Essay on Criti,
cism, in seven different acceptations.

8G

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

STRENGTH.

78. In drawing comparisons, clearness is greatly pro..
moted by using similar constructions in setting forth tho
agreements and differences, and excluding all unnecessary matter.

ment of Power.
Sublime.

"The wise man is happy when he gains his own approba-ti on, the fool when he recommends himself to the applause of
others;" say rather "when he gains other people's."
Hume Mays of Shakespeare :-"There may remain a suspicion that we over-rate the greatness of his genius, in the same
manner as bodies appear gigantic on account of their being disproportioned and mis-shapen." The correspondence of the parts
would be improved thus:-" There may remain a suspicion that
the greatness of !tis genius is over-rated by us, in the same manner as bodies appear," &c.
This will be illustrated again under the Balanced Sentence,
r.ncl under the Paragraph.

70. It ~s essential to clearness that every word be
f'mployed in one of its well-understood meanings, and
that the aptest terms should always be chosen. But
this cannot be effected by any rules of Rhetoric; ~t belongs to the general cultivation of the mind. Some
help may be obtained from Dictionaries.

I

•

In clearness, our later writers have vastly improved on those
who preceded them. Even in the greatest authors of the Elizabethan period and the times immediately following, ambiguity
is a frequent fault. Hobbes is perhaps the most remarkable exception to the general rule ; yet even in his works are found
ambiguities that no good writer at the present day would tolerate.
It may be doubted whether the ancient Greek and Roman
authors attended much to this peculiar merit of style. Many
of them certainly overlooked it.
STRENGTH.

80. Strength is that quality of style that elates us
with the pleasurable feeling called the sense or senti~

.

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l

81

'fhe highest form of strength is the

Other names for the same quality are Energy, Vigor, Force,
Nerve, Liveliness, Animation, Vivacity, Fervor, Loftiness, Brilliancy. Several of these have specific shades of meaning. Thus,
Liveliness, or Animation, implies a ccrtnin rapidity in the flow
or cadence of the language, so as to render it more exciting.
The poems of Sir vValtcr Scott exemplify this characteristic.
Fervor supposes great intensity of passion in the writer, made
apparent in the language. Loftiness scarcely differs from Sublimity. · Brilliancy implies an ornate or figurative style well
sustained.
·
Under the general term Vivacity, here given as a synonyme
for Strength, Campbell comprehends every excellence of style
as far as the feelings are concerned, excluding only the intellectual qualities. Whatever can give effect to composition, or
stir up any of the powerful or agreeable emotions, is regarded
by him as a mode <?f Vivacity. He discusses the choice, irnmbcr, and arrangement of words, and various other points, as
bearing on this general nttribute.
But the effects so em braced arc various, and some of them
E1trongly contrasted. Thus Sublimity is very different from
Pathofl, and is often opposed even to the comprehensive designation, Beauty ; while something characteristic and peculiar is
signified by Humor. It is, therefore, an object to arrive at an
exact definition of these contrasted qualities.
· Leaving the humorous out of view for the present, we may
draw a distinction among the other effects, based on the difference between our Active and our Passive modes of pleasurable
excitement. The one is represented by the emotion of Powerthe sense of Might possessed or imagined ; the other, by what
· is variously called Tender Feeling, Pathetic Emotion, Love,
Affection. The first we propose to illustrnte under the present
head-Strength and Sublimity ; the second will be found to ·
embrace a large circle of objects generally characterized by
Beauty as opposed to Sublimity, in which meaning it points
to the more soothing and pnssive enjoyments of Fine Art.

i

88

89

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

SUBLIMITY.

81. I. The essential pleasure of Power is an elation
or rebound from some state of weakness, impotence, constraint, or dread; and, like the re-action from any depressing condition, it imparts a grateful and hilarious
glow to the mind.

beginnings and insignificant agencies ; as when the son of
a poor miner revolutionized the world. This is a motive to .exaggeration or hyperbole,-the charm of Romance and of fairyland.

83. The display of Anger or Indignation, if approved
of by us, is sublime.

The pleasure is felt most acutely in those moments when we
ourselves pass from a lower to a higher grade of efficiency; as
in recovering from sickness, in growing stronger physically or
mentally, in acquiring wealth, and in being raised to a higher
position of influence or command. In a stationary condition,
the necessary contrast is supplied by the recollection of our own
former inferiority, and by a comparison with those at present
our inferiors.

These passions are modes of power or energy, and, unless
they stir us up to disappi:obation nnd hostility, they give us the
agreeable elation of power. In poetry, bursts of indignation are
highly effective. The angry passions and exalted energies of
combatants rouse the feeling of energy in the spectator.
.
In Gray's Welsh Bard we have an expression of indignation
raised to the sublime.

82. II. We derive a pleasurable elation from witnessing manifestations of Power in other beings. This
is an effect of Sympathy.
A thrill of pleasure may arise from the sight of great force
exerted by others. 'Ve feel for the time as if ourselves raised
to a higher pitch of energy. \Ve enter (imperfectly and erroneously perh11ps) into the feelings of the actor, and are sensibly
elated by this transferred or imagined power. Hence the interest we take in superior force, whether bodily or mental, in
eminent fortunes, and in the display of public authority and
high command.
The same effect is due to the recital of deeds of superior
might. The mind is kindled in this way bJ'the prowess of individuals and by the force of multitudes, as portrayed in the
annalg of the world. The attitude of Socrates, on his trial and
before his execution, as set forth by Plato, has always been regarded as sublime.
The production of great effects of any kind is the sign of
energy ; as, the moving of a huge mass, or the stopping of a
mass in motion. When the agent appears to work without
effort, the impression is greatly enhanced. It is a favorite
etroke, in literature especially, to show great results from sma!J

..

·.·

8-1. An effect of Terror sometimes mixes with tho
Sublime, but it detracts from, instead of heightening, the
pleasurable sentiment.
Terror is, in its nature, a cause of weakness and prostration.
So far as an object of might excites dread, it gives pain and not
pleasure. One of the tokens of power is wide-spread destmction and ruin ; and, if we are ourselves exempted from the
misery, we may enjoy the spectacle as a manifestation of energy. If, however, there is danger to any of our own interest.c;, we al'c overwhelmed by fear, in place of being elated by
sublimity. .
The vast power exercised by the Mongol conquerora would
be sublime, if their destructive fury did not excite horror and
indignation.
Mere poetic and undefined terrors have little depressing
effect, and the power that they snggcst gives rise to the unmingled sublime. There is no real terror inspired by the
speech in Hamlet :-" 'Tis now the very witching time of
night."
So, in Cowper, the lines
"While God pcrfonns, upon tho trembling stnge
Of We own works, his drendful part alons,"
·

/

90

.
Ul

QUALITIES OF STYLIJJ.

BUDLIMITY.

are sublime from the well-c110sen circumstances for suggesting
power,-" the trembling stage," the acting "alone," and the
"dreadful" part; while the dread is too vague to· bring home
the sense of danger either to ourselves or to any definite persons or interests.
In Milton's " Sin and Death" the sublime reposes upon
mere imagined terror.

effect little, if it all, short of the reality. Ile may make up for
the inferiority of imagined scenes by a skilful employment of
the devices of language. When, by such methods, he can excite the feeling of manifested power, he attains the quality of
Strength or the Sublime, in composition.
The ~ords that name powerful, vast, and exciting objects,
clfccb~, and qnulitic11, · mnko up tho vocnhulary of Strength.
Such arc break, crush, wreck, destruction, ruin, storm, tornado,
torrent, ocean, mountain, continent, desert, world, planet, sphere,
star, galaxy, nature, chaos. Years, ages, centuries, immortal,
eternal, primeval. Height, loftiness, sublimity, \'astness, ~ro­
mensity, glory, expanse, infinite, ineffable, uncreated. Armies,
fleets, war, battles, conquerors, cities, nations, empires, states,
thrones, tlominions, majesty, splendor, illustrious, divine, godlike, hero, demigod, Deity, multitude, thousands, millioni:1.
Magnanimity, resolution, determination, energy, force, might,
elation, will, freedom, genius, virtue, hope, faith. Words of
this class skilfully combined arc sublime.
Simply to name· one or more objects of superior might, is
not enough. A child could get by heart and repeat the designations of everything suggestive of power on the vastest scalethe infinitude of space, the galaxies, the stars, the mountains,
the cataracts, the tempests, the heroes of the past. Even after
much pains, compositions aiming at the sublime are frequently
stigmatized as mock-sublime, bombast, grandiloquence, fustian,
falsetto, pincbbeck.
The following are illustrations of sublimity : -

85. III. A third form of the feeling is that arising
when we view or contemplate the powers of Nature.
Thus, in watching the ocean wave, the commotion of
the tempest, the flow of rivers and the fall of cataracts,
the mountains as they tower aloft, the volcano, and the
Alpine glacier, we are elevated and pleased by the feeling of superior might.
Here also is a kind of sympathy. vVe look at such displays as if a being like ourselves, but vastly more powerful,
were at work. The personifying impulse of the mind led, in
former times, to a belief in actual spirits, of the human type,
investing the sea, the river, and the hurricane. The belief has
passed away, but the fiction is kept up, on account of the grateful elation attending it.
·
The mere magnitude and expanse of the outer world-the
outspread landscape as seen from a commanding height, and
the plenitude of space with the scattered orbs of heaven-fill
the mind with a sense of vastness, which is a variety of the feeling of might.
Even the results of man's industry may be on such a scale
as to impress us with the sentiment of superior power; as in
the case of populous cities, vast buildings, extensive machinery,
mighty fleets, the implements of modern warfare.

86. The mental elation, arising on the view of personages and objects of superior power, may be imparted
·
through the mere description of them.
A writer may so describe a conquering army, an heroic
atruggle, a grand prospect, a terrific storm, as to produ:e an

" The stars shall fnde nway, the sun himself
8row dim with age, and nature sink in ycnre ;
But thou shnlt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt, amid the wnr of clements,
The wreck of matter, nnd the crash of worlds."

Herc we have images of vast power and grandeur, rend~rcd
effective by contrast nnd by climax.
Nothing was ever RO well n<laptccl to sn~~cst utter nnd universal ruin ns the following from Shnlrnflpcnrc : " '11iougli the trea..'fl.tre
germin.• tumble all together
E en till destruction sicken, answer me to what I ask you."
~[nature's

92

STRENGTH FROM HARMONY.

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

memory in connection with that which excited it. It i!\ by
this memory or association of pleasure, that we counterwork
the dulling effects of repetition, and the inferior susceptibility
of advanced life. Affection is the memory of pleasure.
F).ftbly, in artistic effects, it must not be forgotten how
much depends on the temperament of the individual. When
the mind is in a high degree disposed to some one emotion,
the repetition of the same objects and the same forms of language neither pa11s nor loses effect. As regards the love of
nature, for example, Wordsworth's feelings were so copious that
he could exclaim,

Sec also the Poetical extracts in the Appendix.

s1: The description of great and imposing objects,
operations, or events, will not constitute the Sublime in
composition, without certain conditions, already partly
indicated.
I. Originality. Novel comparisons, metaphors, and
other figurative effects, applied to what is intrinsically
·
great, are a principal means of strength.
In the real world, few t11ings have the same effect after
repetition. So in language ; it is usuaHy when first met that a
striking image or thought possesses the greatest charm. Novelty is essential to many of our cllief pleasures.
The literary works that have fascinated mankind, and earned
the lofty title of genius, abound in strokes of invention ; witness H~mer, .AJ:schylus, Plato, Virgil, Horace, Dante, Chaucer,
Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, De Foe, Pope, Addison,
Gray, Goethe, Scott, Byron, Coleridge, Wordsworth, SheHey,
Keats, Bryant, Longfellow. No combination of other merits
could place any one in the first rank of poetic fame.
Some explanation is required of the fact that many objects
and compositions have the power to please after frequent repetition.
In the first place, when there is a high degree of complexity and elaboration, the whole effect of a scene or work of
art is not experienced on one occasion. It is often said of the
Swiss mountains, that they give new pleasure every time they
arc beheld.
Secondly, our own state of mind may alter, and tliay render us
susceptible to beauties previously unfelt. This is ·especially the
case with regard to the greatest classical productions of poetry
and the other fine arts.
Thirdly, works that arc far removed from what is habitual
and familiar to us may be said to have a perennial novelty.
This constitutes part of the charm of the ancient classics, of
foreign literature, and of the antique in our own country.
Fourthly, a great pleasure once felt can be revived in the

93

" To me the meanest flower that blows can give
'l'houghts that do often lie too deep for tcare."

••

The same effect could not be wrought in men generally, except by some of the rarest and greatest of scenic combinations.
J ohnsoti's patriotism could burn on the plains of Marathon, and
· his piety wax warmer amid the ruins of Iona; and such would
be the experience of the average man. 'Vordsworth's heart
could fill on much smaller occasions.

88. IL Harmony and Keeping, or the mntunl support of the language and the subject.
We have already remarked on the power of an apposite
comparison (FIGURES OF SunLARITY, § 13). The mutual support of two effects diminishes the intellectual labor of conceiving, and thus heightens the pleasure. It is part of e\·ery fine
art, as will be afterwards seen, to accnmulate harmonies. In
aiming at composition of a lofty kind, the difficulty is not so
much to find strong language as to adapt and harmonize it.
An examination of Milton's description of _Sin and Death .
would disclose an harmonious adjustment of the similes, the circumstances, and the flow of the langunge, to the subject and
to one another. 'Ve have in this passage all tho elements of
the sublime. The .vast power of the objects described, the expression borrowed from other powerful ohjccts, the originality,
the keeping of the particulars, and the rich cadence of tho Ian·
guage,-all contribute to the impression.

•
94:

95

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

STRENGTH FROM VARIETY.

Strong epithets arc forcible, only when bestowed on suitable
objects. The vague comparisons and ill-assorted circmp.stances
so frequent in Ossian, are a source of feebleness.
The mixture of Saxon and Classical elements in English has
often a discordant effect, and is adverse to poetry.

gant. In this sentence from Macaulay, we find both varietyand repetition :-" As there is no stronger sign of a mind destitute of the poetical faculty than the tendency to turn images into
abstractions-Minerva, for example, into Wisdom-so there is
no stronger sign of a mind truly poetical than a disposition to
reverse the process, and to make individuals out of generalities."
In introducing synouymes to vary tlic language, there should,
if possible, be some other reason apparent in the selection. " If
any one take or touch a particle of the hoard, the others join
against him and hang him for the theft." Here, take or touch
describes the mere physical action ; theft is used in connection with its punishment as criminal. " Views with respect to
human improvement are so comforting to entertain, that even,
although founded in delusion, a wise man would be disposed to
cherish them ; " entertain and cherish are synonymes, but each
has a certain propriety in its own connection.

89. III. . Variety, or the due alternation of effects.
what has been for some time out of mind has a certain
freshness on being renewed. We may derive considerable
pleasure from varying or alternating effects already experienced.
After an interval, we can revisit impressive scenes, and re-peruse
great compositions, with delight.
On this ground, writing may be powerful by the variety
of its effects, although none are absolutely new. Commonplace
is not at its lowest, till it is narrow-ranging, poor, monotonous.
A full command of the ideas, images, and combinations of original minds, will make a second-rate poet, a good play-wright, a ·
successful novelist, or an eloquent orator.

90. Variety is s011ght after in all parts of composition.
The frequent occurrence of the same sound is unpleasant. Hence it is a law of melody to alternate the
letters of the alphabet. (See :M:ELODY.)
91. We avoid repeating words by the use of pronouns.
The same end is sought by employing general words and
synonymes. The following is an example :" The voyage is recommenced. They sail by the sandy shore
of Araya, see the lofty cocoa-nut t~ees that stun~ ?ver Cmn.a~a,
pursue their way along that beautiful coast, noticing the Pmtu
palm at Maracapana, then traverse the difficult waters of the
gloomy Golfo Triste, pass the province of Venezuela, catch a
glimpse of the white summits of the mountains nbovo Santa Ma~·tha,
continue on their course to Darien, now memorable for the fmluro
. of so many great enterprises-and still no temple, no great idol, no
visible creed, no cultus."
A studied variation of terms is often carried too far ; and
there is seen in some eminent writers a readiness to incur repetition to a degree that wou]d once ha\'e been reckoned inelo-

92. variety is also sought in the length and in the
structure of sentences.
Some writers affect a succession of curt sentences, as Channing and Macaulay. In Johnson, we have the excessive iteration of the balanced period, which is a beauty when sparingly
used. In Gibbon, the Johnsonian form is adopted, without
being canied to the same excess. A good st.ylo introduces by
turns every type of effective sentence that fits the subject.

93. In a long composition, as a Romance, a Play, or
an Oration, many different kinds of interest or effect are
purposely aimed a.t.
94. . The extreme case of variety is Contrast; as in
li'ght and sliade, cold and hot.
In style, variety amounting to contrast is seen in passing
from the Scientific or abstract, to the Poetic or concrete ; from
the Tragic to the Comic ; from Sublimity to Pathos. In such
transitions, not merely is ono state of fooling remitted, bu( an
opposite is induced.
·
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96

.•

97

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

STRENGTH.

95. The more stirring effects should be relieved by
alternating with what gives little excitement.

97. The description of the External or ·object World
is more conducive to strength than the description of
states of the mind.
·

A bold figure, a strong image, an impressive object, exert
their full force when the composition is in other respects quiet
and unexciting.
In Gray's Bard, the couplet,
cc Give ample room and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace,"

exemplifies the effect of a single strong word set among others
of a quieter tenor. Pope is blamed for excess of epigrams and
other strong figures. Young's Night Thoughts are too much on
one key. The Essays of Macaulay want relief to their brilliancy.
Carlyle's French Revolution is saved by its great originality
from palling upon the attention : this is the prerogative of the
highest genius.
Apart from great originality, the strength of a composition
may be sustained by employing all the figures in due alternation; now a simile or a metaphor, at another time a metonymy,
then a contrast, again an epigram, an hyperbole, an interrogation, or a climax ; and no one figure e.hould recur disproportion"'.
ate) y. Variety may also be attended to in the number of words,
as in alternating the terse with the elegantly diffuse ; and likewise in the arrangement, by well-timed im·ersions.
The effect of an occasional sparkle of imagination-as a
simile or an epigram-in a discourse addressed to the sober
reason, is grateful and exhilarating. Wbcn an emphatic expression comes from a man habitually sober and measured in
his language, the effect is doubly telling.

96. The putting of what is Specific and Concrete for
what is General or Abstract, is a recognized means of
strength.
The superior force of concrete and specific terms has been
seen under the figures, and also in explaining Simplicity. Examples are abundant in poetry. Every stanza of Gray's Elegy
. is in point.

It is a Jaw of our nature that tnuch attention directed upon
the feelings of the mind has a debilitating effect; while, on the
contrary, to be taken out of self, nnd mndo to regard external
things, is inspi1·iting. In referring to humanity, the names implying its outward and bodily aspects are, as far as practicable,
to be chosen. Better say, "Men (human beings, we) iir.e disposed to over-rate distant good," than "the mind is disposed,"
"our feelings exaggerate," &c. (See DESCRIPTION.)

98. Every aid to the easy understanding of what is
·
meant, contributes to strength.
All kinds of difficulty and labor, intellectual as wcll ns bodily,
are depressing ; the relief from labor is cheering. Any device
that easily and vividly suggests a picture, is a means of strength.
An incoherent crowd of images oppresses the mind ; order in
the array, mutual harmony, and paucity of number, give the
cheerful feeling of intellectual relief. The first stanzas of the
Elegy of Gray are perhaps overcrowded. H ohenlinden is a
·nearer approach to perfection, in the proper number of ideas
and images.
Notice has already been taken of Brevity and the Arrangement of Words, as sources of Strength.

99. The peculiar effect known as Soaring, or taking
a flight, demands keeping in the language, a climax in
the thought, and a cadence falling to the close.
Sec p. 91, and examples in Appendix.

100. The quality of strength and the sublime may
appear in scientific composition, although not the direct
aim of science.
The vast objects and powers of Nature arc handled in science as well as in poetry. Geography embraces the sublime
features of the earth, Astronomy the heavens. But the peculiar
5

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.:·..:.

98

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

force of science consists in the discovery of general laws, which
embrace in a short statement a wide range of knowledge. Such
enlargements of human insight and power ma~ have the ~ha~­
acter that we nre considering. The law of universal gravity is
sublime.

101. The modes and effects of strength are commensurate with the variety of powers in the physical, the
moral and the intellectual world, whether cited on
their 'own account, or adduced in illustration of something else.
One great aim of composition is to heighten some actual
subject by the force of comparisons, allusions, and impressive
circumstances and groupings ; as, a scene of nature, an . abode
of mankind, an event in history. In some instances~ a purely
fictitious thenie is worked up from borrowed materials, as in
Paradise Lost.

102. The poet enhances the sublime of Nature by
opening up new and impressive aspects of personality. ·
This is sometimes called Interpretation, aR if it were the
evoking of bidden meanings in the aspect of things. We should
rather consider it as an agreeable illusion, brought about by
superadding foreign attributes.
The department of Nature-poetry is best represented in
modern times. Reference may be made to Thomson, Cowper,
Beattie, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, Keats, Tenny- ·
son -and among American poets, to Bryant.
'The n~ble lines of Cokridge on Mount Blanc exemplify the
sublime. The following from Wordsworth is more akin to
Pathos:cc Then up I rose
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage ; and the shady nook
Of hazels and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and 11Ullied, patiently oave up

Thei. T quiet bei.ng. 11

TENDER FEELING.

. 99

FEELING-PATHOS.

103. In contrast to the sentiment of Power, there is
a class of emotions allied to inaction, repose, and the
passive side of our nature. They may :flourish even
under the consciousness of weakness. The generic title
of these emotions is Tender Feeling.
The word feeling is sometimes used in a restricted sense, to
mean tender feeling, or tenderness. Love and the warm affections are displays of tender emotions. Pathos and the Pathetic
are other designations of the same quality.
Considered as a large source of human pleasure, these
emotions arc important. They are a bond of mutual attraction, and increase by being shared ;. they manifest themselves
as a soothing and cheering influence in the depths of misery
and depression.

104. The Tender Feelings are awakened by objects
of special affection, by displays of active goodness, by
humane sentiments, by pain and misery, and by pleasures, especially such as are gentle rather than acute. In
highly pathetic situations, several of these modes arc combined.
We have here to do with these influences, not in the nct11al,
but as expressed in language; and the illustration of them will
be determined accordingly.
(1.) As to what relates to the strong special affections of
mankind. · Richter Mays," Unhappy is the man whose mother
docs not make all mothers interesting." Inasmuch as the generality of human beings have experienced some o( the special
attachments of family, friendship, and country, any allusion that
strongly reminds them of these relationships has a tender influeuce. Such allusions form a principal ingredient in all kinds
of poetry. The love tale is indispensable to the drama and the
Romance.
·
(2.) Acts of goodness awaken the tender sentiment both in

I

100

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

the recipient and in the beholder. Hence the cliarm of narratives
illustrative of compassion, beneficence, and philanthropy. · The
spectacle .of devotedness has in every age exercised a fa.<Jcination
over men's minds. Of the ideal pictures indulged in by poets,
this is the most frequent. The relation of protector and protected is dwelt upon even to excess.
Burke's picture of Howard is touching:-" He has visited
All Europe, •
• to dive into the depths of dungeons; to
plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions
of sorrow and pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to
attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, ancl compare and
collnte the distresses of all men in all countries."
(3.) The mere expression of kindly and humane sentiments
· works in the same way. · These sentiments are thEJ echo and
approval of active goodness, and lose their power only when
offered as a substitute for the actions themselves.*
(4.) Pain, misery, calamity,-" all the ills that flesh is heir
to "-stir the depths of our tender nature. The words pity,
compassion, mean tenderness at the prompting of distress. It
is most natural that the pains of the affections should awaken
the feeling. The fate of mortality common to all, and its untimely arrival and untoward circumstances in the case of the
greater number, keep us in constant readiness for the tender
outburst. The passing away of generation after generation, the
sinking into forgetfulness, the long and last farewcll,-are · the
. • ,One of the most touching passages in ancient poetry is that contained
m Ovid's Metamorphoses (Book xv.), where the poet, in describing the
tenets of the Pythagoreans, dwellA upon their fcelinrr of the sacredness of
animal life. After adverting to the deserved punish~cnt of the wild beast
for his ravages and spoliation, he exclaims, "What have ye done to be so
treated, ye gentle sheep, made to provide for men ye that bear nectar in
t!1e full ti;at, that give us your wool for covering, a~d are more helpful in
hfe than m death 7 What has the ox done, a guileless innocent beast
made to endure toil?" "Unmimlful he, and not worthy to be repaid with
crops, who could kill the tiller of his fields, as soon as the weight of tho
crooked plough was removed ; who struck with the axe that neck worn
with labor, which had so often renewed the bard field and given so many
harvests I" (116-126).

SOURCES OF l'ATHOS.

101

toncl1ing themes of religion, the inspiration or the tragic pocti
the soul-engrossing actuality.
It is a strong testimony to the power of this emotion, not
merely to tranquillize, but to cause delight, that for the sake of
it we can bear with tales and pictures of distre8s. Even death
can yield a ·powerful fascination. Bear witness 'Gray's Elegy
and Bryant's Thanatopsis.
· ··
(5.) Though it appears a coutradictioti, tl1e tender fc<Jling
is awakened by pleasure as well as by pain ; particularly by the
gentle pleasures, as opposed to the fiery and exciting· by· such
as are . compatible with repose. · The . example·.,most relevant
to our. present object is the Beautiful 'in' the ·narrow ' Bense;
ns opposed to tho · Sublimo. Tho charactoristio olemont8 ·ofi
beauty, as will be seen, are ce1tain sensuous pleasures of' the
sight and hearing, coupled with harmonies, and extended by ·
associations. These incline to, and adopt, tenderness· as a kin:· . ··'
dred quality.
·Any very intense pleasure wiU dispose to · tender feeling.
Even the elation of power may show itself in affectionate con- ·
descension ; and the sentiment of the sublime may be mingled
with what pertains to beauty.
The vocabulary of Tenderness corresponds to these various
sources of emotion. .
(1.) Mother, father, sister, brot11er, son, daughter, child, lover,
husband, wife, homei hearth, friend, country, God, Saviour. (2, 8.)
Good, kind, benevo ent, protecting, generous, humane, love, the
heart, fond, devoted, sacrifice, affection, sympathy, pity, compassion, felJow-feeling, disinterestedness. (4.) Pain, agony, torment,
awe, sadness, tears, distress, misery; . adversity, .calamity, disaster,
trouble, trial, atliietion, bitterness, sinking, desolation, bereavement,
fatherless, widow, orphan, wretchedness, tribulation, sorrow, grief,
inconsolable, tragic, pathetic, despairing, do9med, clevoted, accursed,
death, the grave, the tomb, the clcparted. (6.) Plcnsure; joy, rejoicing, delight, charm, happiness, felicity, bliss, transport, glad,
grateful, cordial, genial, heart-felt.

105. With allowance for difference of subject, tho
conditions of the employment of langunge to raise pathetic emotion are the snme as for atrongt.h. (Seo P• 89,.)
A mere profusion of the phraseology. and images Q{ ; pathoe; .

102

QUALmEs OF STYLE.

EXAMPLES OF PATHOS.

without originality, keeping, or alternation and relief, will fail
to accomplish the end in view. 'Vhen the language exceeds
the occasion, we have the maudlin and tho sentimental, as in
Sterne's episode on tho Ass, and not unfrequcntly in tho
speeches of both Sheridan and llurke.
The maudlin is reached by Burke in the following sentence
on the British constitution, a subject which people in general
are unable to regard a8 an object of affectionate fondness :-"In
this choice of inheritanc~ we have given to our frame of polity
the image of a relation in blood; binding up the constitution
of our country with our dearest domestic ties; adopting our
fundamental laws into the bogom of our family affections; keeping inseparable, and cherishing with the warmth of all their
combined and mutually reflected charities, our state, our hearths,
.
our iepulchretJ, and our altars."
In Extract VI., pathos is shown in contrast to tragic
strength on the one hand, and to unredeemed horrors on the
other. The misery that inspires tender feeling must neither
repel nor overwhelm our sympathies.

"O goode God I how gentle and how ki!1d
y c seemed by your speech nnd your v1snge,
The day that makM wns our marriage I"

106. The interest of natural objects is, in many instances, due to their suggesting the tender emotion.
The vastness of the world inspires us with a sense of the
sublime, but there arc many objects and situations that touch
us in other ways. The fragile stem indicates weakness ; the
flower on the rock is an image of protection. See; among numberless instances, Wordsworth's odes to the Daisy.
" 11iou unassuming common pince
Of Nature, with that lwmely face,

And yet with something of a grace,
Which love mak11s for t!tee I"

107. The following are additional examples of Pathos.
"Ye shall seek me in the morning, but I shall not be."
Wolsey's FareweJI need only be referred to.
The Olerk's Tale of Griselda in Chaucer, with its incrediblo
picture of meekness and submission, is replete with pathos.
Griselda's speech to her husband, when about to be cast off,
contains these touching lines :-'--

103

Compassion for tho oppreilscd, nnd for tho victims of injustice is a common form of tenderness.
There is deep pathos in the sense of lonelines.~, illustrating
the alliance of tender emotion with weakness.
·" How can I Jive without thee I How forego
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly join'd,
To live in these wild woods forlorn I"

The decline of strength with advancing years disposes to
the melting mood.
•
The circumstances and arts of pathos may be well studied
in Thackeray's picture of Esmond at his mother's grave : " Esmond came to thi!:1 Rpot in ono sunny evening of Bpring, and
snw amid a thousand blnck croRses, cnsting their shadows across
the grassy mouncls, that pm·ticnlar one which mnrke<l his mother's
resting-place. Many more of those poor creatures tho.t lay there
had adopted thnt so.me name with which sorrow had re-baptized
her and wJ1ich fondly seemed to hint their individual Rtory of lovo
and grief. He fancied hor, in tears aml darkness, ~neoling at tho
foot of her cross, under which her cares were baned. Surely he
· knelt down, and said his own prayer there, not i!l sorrow so mu~h
as in awe (for even his memory had no recollection of her) and m
pity for the pangs which the gentle soul in life ~ad been mad~ to
suffer. To this cross she brought them ; for this heavenly br~de­
groom she exchanged the husband who 1111d wooed her, the tro.itor
who had left he1·. A thousand such hillocks Jny round about, the
gentle daisies springing out of the grass .ove~ them, and each be.aring its cross and 1·equiescat. A nun, veiled m black, was kneelmg
hard by nt a sleeping sister's bcd-i:ddo (so fresh made, that the
spring h~d scarce hnd time to spin a <1overlid for it) ; beyond the
cemetery waUs you had gJimpses of life nnd the world, and the
spires and gables of the city. A bird came down from a ro?f
opposite, and lit first on a cross, .und then. oi:i tho grass below it,
whence it flew away presently with a leaf m its mouth; then came
n sound as of chanting from the ohapel of the sisters bar~ by; others
lrnd long since filled the pJace which poor Mnry Madeleme once hnd
there, were kneeling at tho snr?e stnll and hearin~ the same hy?lns
and prayers in .which her s.tnckcn heart !rnd tound consolation.
Might she sleep m peace-might she sleep 111 peace; an~ w~, too,
when our struggles and pains are over I But the earth 1s the
Lord's, as the heaven is; we are ali~e his creat1;1res h~re and yonder. I took a little flower off the hillock and kissed 1t, and went
my way like the bird that had just lighted on the cross by . me,

104

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

back into the world ngnin. Silent receptacle of death I tranquil
depth of calm, out of rench of tempest and trouble, I felt as one
who hnd been walking below the sea, and treading amidst the
bones of shipwrecks."
From the nature of the subject, the Bible abounds with examples of Pathos, greatly aided by the Saxon style of our
translation.
Every great poetic genius has been able to produce strokes
of patlios; but in some it is a marked feature. John Paul
Richter is probably unsurpassed. Shakespeare's tenderness is
equal to his sublimity. Chaucer occasionally touches the tender chords; Spenser still oftener. In recent times Cowper,
Goethe, Burns, Scott, Wilson, Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt, Shelley, have given many examples. It is essential alike to the novel
and to the ,drama to produce scenes of love and pathos.

THE LUDICROUS-HUMOH-WIT.

108. The Ludicrous and the Laughable arc names
for what excites laughter.
Among the causes of laughter \ye may name .abundance of
animal spirits, any sudden accession of pleasure, the special elation of power and superiority, or an unexpected diversion of the
mind when under excitement.

109. The Ludicrous in composition is for the most
part based on the degradation, direct or indirect, of
some person or interest-something associated with
power, dignity, or gravity. It is farther requisite that
the circumstances of this degradation should not be
such as to produce any other strong emotion, as pity,
anger, or fear.
·
Comedy took its rise from the jeering and personal vituperation indulged in 'during the processions in honor of the god
Dionysus, or Bacchus. In the regular comedy, and in every
kind of composition aiming at the laughable, the essential fo-

105

THE LUDICROUS.

gredient is the vilifying nnd degrading of men or institutions
commanding some degree of veneration or respect.
· The pleasure thus affot'ded is very great, and has :a strong
affinity with tl1at feeling of exnlted energy entering into the
sublime. To throw down anything from a height is a signal
manifestation of power, and, M such, gratifies the agent and
,t.hose that enter into his feelings. Even whero tho prostration
is not designed by a conscious agent, as when any one tumbles
in the mud, or takes fright at an · unexpected appearance, we
experience a degree of enjoyment corresponding to the greatness of the effect. When our sympathy is· .~ith .the pbject
arrested,. and ~om~
thrown down, the tendency to laughter
other feeling takes its place.
.
.
. ·
' ,. · · ." '
The following are examples .o f this degradation. · When
Moliere introduces the celestial messenger of the gods, sitting
tired on a cloud, and complaining of the number of Jupiter's
errands, Night expresses surprise that n god should be w~ary;
whereupon Mercury indignantly asks, "Are the 'gods ma.de of
iron 9" This degradation of divine pcrso11ngcs is ludicrotis and
delightful to unbelievers. Accordingly, in the decline of Pagan.,.
ism, the gods came to be a subject of mirth in such cornposi~
tions as the Dialogues of Lucian.
A Frenchman, disappointed with English cookery, ex. claimed, " Behold a land with sixty religions, and only o-ne
sauce." The putting of religion and sauce upon a level partly
degrades religion, but still more degrades the speaker ; and
there is a complex effect. of the ludic.rous. ·
.
'
..
The lines of Hudibras,
.
· · · · · ' ' · ··

is

f

·

·'

' ii

And, like a lobster boiled, the mom ·
From black to red began to turn,"

contain an obvious degradation of a dignified subject, although
belonging to the inanimate world. Whatever inspires us with
lofty feelings of admiration or awe .can be a subject of ludicrous
prostration, if we are disposed to exult over the fall. We
usually enjoy the laugh at something ·that we observe other
r .
people rci:1pccting, but do not ourselves respect. · ·
·. The incident of Queen Sophie Charlotte's taking a pinch of

5.*

"

I

loo

snuff during the pompous and protracted coronation ceremonial of her husband Friedrich I., of Prussia, is intensely ludi·
crous. The rules of decorum were treatecl with contempt, and
the splendor of a pageant suddenly dashed hy an act suggestive
of ennui.
The Burlesque, the Mock-heroic, Parody, Travesty, Caricature, are modes of composition answering to the general character of the ludicrous. Either some elernted object is treated in
a low and vulgar style, or a mean object in the style of things
dignified ; in both cases, there is an effect of degradation.

110. The circumstances of the laugliablc ·may vary
between two extremes : For the one extreme, we have the pure pleasure of
power shading into malignity, as seen in the laugh
of victory, derision, ridicule, scorn, contumely, contempt.
In composition, this is exemplified in the writings of Swift
and Voltaire, in the letters of Junius, and in the comedies of
AristophRnes. Unmeasured denunciation, abuse, sarcasm, give
this pleasure, provided they do not rouse sympathy towards tho
victim.

· 111. At the other ~nd of the scale, the exultation of
power is disguised by various arts ; and the laugh assumes a genial and kindly character. This is HmroR.
We often hear of innocent raillery and harmless jests.
Since degradation must, as a rule, be unpleasant to tho person degraded, while it cannot be acceptable to the honest sympathies of men generally, there must be something to redeem
or neutralize the effect.
(1.) It is but raillery, when the degradation attaches to
something that a man . doe~ not pride himself upon. Wo may,
without offence, ridicule the bad handwriting of any one not
pretending to write well.
(2.) A jest may be broken upon a point of character so
unquestionable as to be beyond the reach of depreciation. A

107

HUMOR.

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

handsome man will allow any slight irregularity or defect to be
laughed at; not so, he that is really deformed.
(3.) The degradation may be made the occasion of a compliment. An example occurs in De Quincey's criticism on
Kant's 'style:-" Kant was a great man; but he was obtuse and
deaf an antediluvian boulder with regard to language and its
capacities. He has sentences which have been measured by a
carpenter, and some of them run two feet eight by six inches.
Now, a sentence
with that enormous span is fit only for the use
.
of a megatlierium or a pre-Adamite." It is pos1.1ilile to pnss
by the seasoning of a little jocularity, an amount of adulation
that would be otherwise intolerable.
(4.) An infusion of kindly and tender feeling softens the ·
harsh effect of ludiCrous degradation. Carlyle, in speaking of
John Paul Richter, says, " In Richter's smile itself a touching
pathos lies 11idden;" and he add~, "the essence of humor is sensibility ; warm, tender fellow-feeling with all forms of existence."
This is a widely prevalent, although not the only, mode of con- ·
verting the ludicrous into humor. It is admirably exemplified
in Don Quixote, whose childish folly is ludicrous, and his chivnlrous devotion amiable. The like combination renders Sir
Roger de Coverley a hlimorous personification. Ilurns and Sir
"\Valter Scott exhibit the same kind of humor. We may contrast these inRtnnccs with Swift and Voltaire, who struck severe
blows, with no palliution of kindliness.
Thus the great masters of pathos are also the greatest
humorists. It should also be noted that
slight touch of the
jocular often enables one to display tender feeling without be. oom~g m~ill~
_
(5.) Jesting at one's own expense is humorous. This is
one mode of sacrificing self for the pleasure of others. Falstaff's humor in pait consists in surrendering himself as a butt
to his companions. When Sir Hugh Evans, on the eve of his
duel, confesses that he has "a great disposition to cry," he is
highly humorous.
To constitute a genial and good-humored company, it is
essential that each, in his turn, should submit to be laughed at.

as

?ff,

a

108

WIT.

QUALITIES OF STYLE.·

(2.) The unexpected combination must display ingenuity or

Sydney Smith's remark to the Chapter of St. Paul's, on the
proposal ·to lay a wooden pavement round the building,-" if
we lay our heads together, the thing is done,"-was witty and
bumorouA. If any one outside had said, " if you lay you1· heads
together," it would have wanted the humor.
(6.) Humor is reached by combining effects of wit ·and
poetic beauty with the ludicrous. 'l'he pleasure thus arising
is often ·capable of effectually soothing the wounded pride of
the sufferer and bis sympathizers. All the great productions
of comic genius might be quoted as examples, arid such of
them as have seldom any of tho other softenitig ingredients
yield momentary flashes of geniality from this cause. It is
only thus that either Swift or Voltaire can lay claim to humor; ·
it is also the principal softening ingredient in Aristophanes.
Chaucer was a great humorist, on several of the grounds
now stated. · He did not often derogate from the dignity of
his subjects in a violent or extreme form ; he imparted flattering and loving touches to his ludicrous depreciation ; and lie
could clothe his shafts with delicate wit and poetic imagery
to a degree unsurpassed. His Canterbury Tales ab'ound in
humor. His " Disappearance of the Fairies" is an example of
sarcasm and innuendo invested with the highest beauties of
po~try. : '" '
"" ·
Addison's humor is re.p resented by Thackeray (Lectures on
English Humorists) as depending chiefly on tho trivial nature
of the ·follies · ridiculed, and on · the · lightness of the scourging hand; It was easy to redeem so gentle an application o(
the rod.
·

11ki11, such as gives something to admire. Herein consists what
may be called the interesting and genial element of wit,_:_the
pleasure of admiration." ·
·
(3.) It is a mode of ingenuity consisting in a play upon
words.
·
The epigram is the purest reprcscntntivc of wit. Next are
innuendo and irony. All the varieties of effect produced by
double meanings, including puns and conundrums, if they pos.;
sess the conditions of unexpectedness and ingenuity, are · de11ignated wit.
..·
· · . .
· ' ' · · ·· · · · · · ~ ;·
A striking metaphor is sometimes called witty/ beeauso ·of
its possessing the first two requisites:.,: ·.. :- .,
"Bright like the sun her eyes the g1tzers strike · · ' ·' ·· ~ · . ··
And like the sun they shine on all alike."
'
·

So, any great ingenuity in turning a figure is admired under
the name of wit. It is remarked by Dryden that, when a poet
describes his mistress's bosom as white as snow, ho is at tho
utmost poetical ; but, wlrnn he proceeds to add "and as cold
too," he becomes witty I Likewise a double analogy, as in tho ·
· retort of Coleridge, during his democratic lectures at Bristol,
to some marks of disapprobation : " I am not at all surprised
that, when the red-hot prejudices of aristocrats are suddenly
plunged into the cool clement of reason, they 11honld go off with
a hiss."
Thus it is, that nny fino effect., bound up more with th<>·
language than with the matter, may receive the praise of ivit.'·
We may apply the name to a stroke of fclidtous brevity; : A
fop, who possessed fine teeth, and was always grinning in order
to show them, was designated by Horace 'Valpole as "the gen·.
·
..
tleman with the foolisli teeth."

112. Wit may be defined as a combination of ideas,
in the first place, unexpected; secondly, ingenious; and
thirdly, consisting in a play upon words.
(1.) As regards being unexpected. This is implied in the
terms used in speaking of wit; as, strokes, sallies, flashes. . A
sharp, biting, pungent, racy effect, like that of wit, must b~ produced by something sudden and new. Originality or no·rnlty
is indispensable to the l1ighest literary effecti!.

109

113. "\Vit, althot1gh distinct from tho ludicrous, is
frequently found in combination with it.

'·'

', l

vVe have seen that ·wit can convert the ludicrous .into humor. It being not always permissible to degrade a person or
thing by open vituperation or depreCiatory adjuncts, some diS.'

•
110

111

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

EASE OF PRONUNCIATION.

guise or redeeming ingenuity is sought ont, and the forms of
wit are well adapted for the purpose. An anecdote related by
Lord Bacon is an . apt illustration. " Mr. Popham, afterwards
Lord Chief Justice Popham, when he was Rpcaker, and the
House of Commons had sat long, and done in effect nothing,
coming one day to Queen Elizabeth, she said to liim, 'Now,
Mr. Speaker, what bath passed in the Commons' House 1' He
answered, 'If it please your majesty, seven weeks.'" vVithout
this play upon words, the ·Speaker could not liavc dared to reproach the House for their proceedings. ·
The witticisms that convey depreciation are probably more
numerous than all others put together. Jerrold's ingenuity
took this form in almost every instance. Thus, when some one
said that certain musical air "had quite carried hini away,"
Jerrold looked round the company and asked," Is there no one
here that can whistle it 1"

and nrc pronounced with less effort. 'l'lms, above iA cosier than
PU.ff"; go thou than cut.
The liquids, r, l, m, n, ng, nnd the sibilants, s, sh, z, zh, all
represent continuous sounds, approaching in this respect to the
vowels; while w and y arc a kind of consonant vowels. There
is no abruptness in rain, loom, sing, shame, leisure. The Greek
and Roman languages (particularly the Greek) showed a preference for the flat mutes, the liquids, and the sibilants ; and, for
the most part, softened the sharp mutes, especially p, t, k, by
combination with the more flowing letters, as clepsydra, prurient. We have the benefit of this in English, owing to the
great number of words adopted by us from tho classics.

116. The abrupt consonants are easiest in alternation
with vowels, and especially long vowels; as, appear,
Attica, I go to put a cabbage apart, I took a ticket
above.

a

MELODY.

114. The :Melody, Harmony, or Music, of language
involves both the action of tho voice, and the sense of
hearing.
What is hard to pronounce is not only disagreeable in the
act of pronouncing, but also disagreeable to hear ; for in listening to speech, we cannot help having present to our mind the way
that the words would affect our organs if we had to utter them
ourselves. Even in reading without utterance aloud, we have
a sense of the articulate flow to the voice and to the ear.

115. If we regard the sounds of the letters individually, we shall find, as a rule, that the abrupt consonants
are the hardest to pronounce, and the vowels tho easiest.
The letters, p, t, k, arc the most abrupt of all ; next nrc
their aspirated forms/, th (as in tliin), h; these arc called sharp
mutes. The corresponding flat mutes arc b, v-d, th (as in
thine)-g . . These last allow a certain c;mtinuance of the voice,

I
i

In these cases, the transition of the voice from consonant to ·
Yowel is easy : with the other class of consonants, it is less easy;
as, elimination, clamminess, azure. Hence there is a cliaracteristic lightriess and rapidity in the alternation of mutes with
vowels, while the other combination yields a Rlow and soft
melody.

117. A sharp and a flat mute cannot be easily sounded
together; as, up, by, eke, go.
In the flat mutes, there is an accompanying vocal sound
from the larynx, which it takes a certain time to commence.
Even an intervening vowel, if short, docs not suffice to make
the pronunciation easy, as may be seen in pab, keg, ted. A long
vowel, or a combined liquid or sibilant, will remove the difficulty, as in toad, pobe, trod.

118. Tho cnmnlnt.ion of conRorninf:A mnkcs diffieult.y
of pronunciation; which is nggmvatcd when they do
not coalesce, and when tho vowels nro short and cm~
phatic. Thus the words pledged, ad.judged, Btruggkd,
scratched, strengthened, disrespect, fifthly, are harsh.

I

112

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

·MELODY.

The lightest. nnd most ngreeahlc words arc those tl1at nlle~
nate vowels and consonnnb1, or vowels nnd easy combinations
of consonants. Such are celerity, fertility, intimidation.

nvoi<l t.11e too fro<p1011t rcpot.itfon of t110 i:1n.mc Jotfors,
whether consonants or vowels.

.119...The alternation of vowel and consonant makes
the succession of words more agreeable ; as, a lovely boy,
The change of the indefinite article into a before a consonant sound is in accordance with this principle.
When the same consonant sound ends one word and begins
the next, the effect is unpleasant ; as, keep people, brief fate,
hear right, come more, gone now, dress soon, tax Xerxes. · It is
difficult to make a pause, and go back upon the same letter.
If the consonants di ffel' somewhat, the effort is easier; as, brief
petition, let there, cut down, comes soft. A liquid and a mute,
or two liquids (not the same), arc pronounced without difficulty;
as, rare doings, come ba.ck, calm retreat.

Many persons never say idea of, but idear of.
In the clash of vowels, it is better that one should be short
and the other long, or one emphatic and tl1e other not; as, go
on, the ear. When the precedes an unemphatic syllable, we arc
obliged to make it emphatic, the endeavor. If the vowels are
different, the pronunciation is easier ; lively oracles, pity us,
blew over. ·

121. L~ng vowels out of nccent are somewhat hard
to pronounce; as, u in contribute, ow in fol~ow, a in

reprobate.
Some. words alJow more time for these vowels ; as, moun·
taineer, usual.

l22. It contributes to the melody of language, to

Our language may be said to contain 23 cousommts, 'and 15
vowels in accent, with unaccented vowels, and diphthongs. ' A
writer aiming' at melody
endeavor, in~tead of repeating the
same letters, whether vowels 'or consonants, to ring the changes
thr~ughout the entire alphabet. In the first stanz~ of Gray's
Elegy, nearly all the vowels are introduced.
"
The commencing of successive words with the aame .letter,
or syllable, is called Alliteration, and is objectionable, ~~less
done ~m a regular plan, ns in balanced composition' and in some
kinds · of poetry. Long live Lewis, · come conqueror, · are bad
alliterations. It is still worse when the similarity extends to
sylJables, as convenient . contrivance; The same remark applies
to iterations at the end or in the middle of words. All such
as the following are inharmonious : indulgent parent, instead of
a stea.dy, uniform formality. ·
·
·
' ' ; ~
Even a short interval is not enough to allow the repetition
of very marked sounds ; as, " I confess with humility, the sterility of my fancy, and the debility of my judgment.n "What
is of more importance, the principles being propounded with
reverence, had an influence on the subsequent jurisprudence."
The endings ion, ing, ity, nee, and ed, often occur ioo close
for melody. As regards the verb-ending ed, the irregular verbs
afford an important means of variety ; "given and received;"
"I came, I saw, I conquered.'' .
. .· . · ' i · :

,viU

a good inf,ention.

120. It is desirable to avoid the clash of vowels, both
in the middle of -words and between one word and
another ; as in idea, hiatus, re-assitme, you unite, potat,O
only.

113

j
\

I
j
I

1

·123. In the succession of syllables, .the ~same: regar4
should be paid to ease of prom~nciation, and, the. a".'oid.ance of monotony.
-' .
(1.) As the words of our language usually have but one ac~
ccnted syllable, words of many syllables are apt to be difficult
of pronunciation. ·Hence we avoid lengthening words with
numerous prefixes ·or terminations ; · unsucccs.ifulness, peremptoriness, wrongheadedness, are objectionable in this respect.
(2.) Words containing a · succession of unaccented short
vowels are a trial to the voice ; as, primarily, cursorily, BU~

114-

VARIETY ESSENTIAL TO MELODY,

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

Very long words do not make a melodious close; as, intimidation, in·esistible.
The worst kind of ending is a syllable short, emphatic, and
abrupt; as, " Ile came up." A monosyllable is not necessarily
a bad close. It may be unemphatic, aM often bappens with the
pronoun it, and with the prepositions of, to, for, &c. : or it may
hnvo liquid or other consonnnt.s thnt protrnct tl10 sound; ns,
ease, same, shine.
Even an abrupt close mny be plensing in alternntion with
others.
The present rli.le applies with greatest force to the close of
a paragraph.
·i ·

ma1·ily. Still worse is the repetition of the same letter 01
sy liable ; as in farriery, lowlily.
(3.) A due alternation of long and short, of accented and
unaccented, syllables, is an essential condition of melody. This
is one part of English versification ; and, although proso allows
a greater latitude, yet. the principle has to be attended to. The
Shakespearian line, "The pomp and circumstance of glorious
war," is a perfect alternation, besides being melodious through
the variety of the letters and the nature of the closing
· syllable.
It is from the want of this due alternation that a series of
monosyllables is usually objectionable : as, "Good Lord, give
us bread now ; " where, except us, every word is emphatic,
rendering the pronunciation heavy. If, however, there be an
even distribution of unemphatic words, the bad effect does not
arise. "Bless the Lord of hosts, for he is good to us," is not
inharmonious; every second word is unaccented. So in Macbeth:-

125. The principle of variety, or alternation, applies
to Clauses, to Sentences, and to Composition throughout.

"Stars, hide your fires,
Let not light see my black nnd deep desires,
The eye wink at the hand. Yct let thnt be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to sec."

In ordinary cases, melody arises through the alternation of
long and short words. A succession of long words is seldom
melodious.
(4.) Even difficult and harsh combinations of letters may
be brought in as an agreeable variety, after a succession: of
smooth and liquid sounds. Monotony in sweetness is the most
painful of all.

124. The closing syllnulcs of a sentence should allow
the voice to fall by degrees.
(1.) This will happen if the concluding syllabic is long and
e.nds in a continuing consonant; as, appear, disgrace. A short
vowel is admissible when the consonants give scope for the
voice to die away ; as, defend, mischance, world.
(2.) The other mct11od is to close with one or more uncm·
phatic syllables ; as, Uessing, liberty.

115

.I

Melody forbids a succession of c~auscs of one cadence or arrangement. The structlll'e and length of sentences should be
varied, subject to the more important considerations of meaning
and force in the matter.
Let us consider some farther examples :or · the fo~egoing
principles.
Johnson says, "Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults."
The stiffness of this sentence is felt at once. On examination,
we note: lst, The want of melody in the word tediousness, from
the crowd of consommts, and the itcrntion of s. 2nd, Tho .additional hissing consonant in is (although tho hard sound z).
3rd, The occurl'ence of four unemphatic syllables in succession;
namely~ the last two in tediousness, and is the. · 4th, The additional 8 ih most. 5th, The concurrence of consonants at the
end of most, and the beginning of fatal ; this cannot always be
avoided. 6th, The alliterations, fatal all, fatal faults, all faults,
make tho Inst few words singnlnrly unmelodious.
" The men that gave their country liberty," is melodious
from the variety of the vowels and consonants, and from the
suitabl~ fall, although the combination th11,t gave is somewhat
heavy, and t11ere is an alliteration in the last two words.
"They often sa,·e, and always illustrate, the 8.ge and nation

II

116

111

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

BOUND .A.ND · SENSE.

in which they appear," is a good example of prose melody from
the alternation of accented and unaccented syllables j it departs
from the strict regularity of verse, and yet secures an easy movement. There is also great variety in the sounds, and an unusual
avoidance of the ·clash of consonant with consonant, or of vowel
with vowel, in the succession of the words. ·
The following sentence violates nearly all the rules :·-"Proud
and vain-glorious, swelled with lofty anticipations of bis des-.
tiny, no danger could appal and no toil could tire him."
There are many admired passages, in which almost the
whole beauty lies in the melody of the words. This we may
see in Campbell's opening stanza of the Battle of Copenhagen:-

language (as well as others) contains many examples of imitative names j as, wbizz, buzz, burr, hiss, crash, racket, whistle.
The imitation can be extended in a · succession of words.
Homer's line, in the beginning of the Iliad, describing the sea,
is celebrated as a~1 instance. The " hoarse Trinacrian shore"
is a similar attempt, one of many in Milton. The grating noise
Qf the opening of hell's gates is described thus:" On I\ sud<ll'n, open fly,
With Impetuous recoil, and janing sound,
Th' infernal doors; and on their hinges grute
Harsh thunder."
,
·
'

..

Contrast the opening of heaven's doors:- .:

"Arms on 1trmor clashing, bray'd
Horrible discord ; and the ma.dding wheela
. Of brazen chariots raged."

The following is from Byron : " I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from n female mouth,
And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
With sylla.bles that breathe of the sweet south,
And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in,
That not a single accent seems uncouth,
Like our harsh, northern, whistling, grunting, guttural,
Which we're obliged to hiu, and spit,.and sputter all." ·

II.A.IlMONY OF SOUND ..UH> SENSE.

Our

..

Discordant sounds are effectively described in the line from
Lycidas, "Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw."
The sounds of a battle in former times arc represented by
the language thus:.

Such passages, with nothing strikingly original either in
thought or in language, are sometimes spoken of as admirable in
their simplicity; the fact being that the poet has been able to
· bring out a ·richly melodious effect by his mode of putting
together a few familiar expressions. Milton:s phrase, " the old
man eloquent," is a happy stroke of mere arrangement, and is
both melodious and original.

Words, being themselves· soundR, can imitate sounds.

'

i ' , J_

" Heaven opened wide
Her ever-during ga.tes, harmonious sound,
On golden binges turning."

"Of Nelson and the North,
Sing the glorious da.y's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
·All the might of Denmark's crown."

126. This is a special instance of the effect that more
than any other p~rvades comp~sitions of Fine Art-the
harmony of the different parts.
'
In language, it is occasionally possible to make the
sound an echo to the sense, thereby assisting the mean·
ing and heightening the pleasure.
127. The effect is most obvioUB and easy, when sounds
are the subject-matter.

• : .i

128. :Motion, also, can be imitated. Here there is a
much wider scope for the adaptation of the sound to the
sense.
I_ .

A series of long syllables, or of words under accent, with
the frequent occurrence of the voice-prolonging consonants,
being necessarily slow to pronounce, is appropriate to the description of slow and la.bored movements. As in Pope's couplet
· ·, ·
on the Iliad : -

118

SOUND AND SENSE,

QUALITIES CJF STYLE,

" When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labors, and the words move slow."

Of the ten syllables in the first line, only two, when, to, can
be rapidly pronounced ; all the rest, for some reason or other,
detain the voice. In the second, the two the's are the only
short syllables.
The opposite arrangement, that is to say, an abundance of
short and unaccented syllables, and the more abrupt consonants alternated with vowels, by making the pronunciation rapid,
light,. and easy, corresponds to quickness of motion in the subject ; as in the lines,
"Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
.Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims nlong the main."

These Jines by no means illu!'ltrate the most rapid combinations of Jolters ; there being a preponderance of liquids and
sibilants, which detain the voice more than the mute consonants.
The Jines in the Odyssey describing Sisyphus are an admired example in the Greek, and the effect is aimed at by the
English translators : "With many a weary step, and many a groan,
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone ;
The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,
Thunders impetuous dO\vn, and smokes along the ground."

Up to the middle of the third line, we have· the -slow laborious motion ; then the change to the rapid and impetuous
·
descent.
Besides marking the difference of quick and slow, the language may indicate various modes of motion, as in the expression "Troy's turrets tottered," where there is a sort of resemblance to the vibratory action of a building about to tumble. I
In many passages, the effect combines sound and motion;
as, "Tumbling all precipitate down da:sh'd."
So in Pope's famous lines:" If nature thundei·cd in our opening c:irs,
And stunned us with the music of the spheres."

The word stunned, by its short emphasis, well expresses the
effect of a stunning blow.

119

Obstructed movement is readily imitated by the march of
the language, as in the second of the lines on Sisyphus.
It is to be remarked, however, that the representation of
pain and difficulty, by uncouth and hard combinations of letters
and words, is an attempt that is exceptional, a~d ought to be
rarely made. Pain, as such, must be nvoi<led in art; even in n
painful subject, tlie handling must supply a redeeming amount
of pleasure.

129. Huge unwieldy bulk implies· slowness of movement, and may be expressed by similar langu.age ~u O'er all the dreary coasts
So stretched out, huge in length, the arch-fiend lay."
11

But ended foul in mriny a scnly fold
Volieminolt8 and vast."

. 130. In the natural expression of the feelinga or passions, there are characteristic sounds and movements to
.' .·.
which articulate language can adapt itself. ·
This suitability is one of the effects brought out in Milton's
counterpart. odes, L'Allegro and II Penscroso. The cheerful
emotions have a lively movement, while ~elancholy is slow and
drawling.
·
·

In poetry, different mc;msures are adapted to different passions. This power of numbers is fully shown · in the Ode on
Alexander's Feast.
·
. ·?
. ~e Iamb~c s.train in blank verse, and in the ten line couplet,
JS smted to d1gmty and grandeur, as in the Epic. The Trochaic
measure is frolicsome and gay. The Annprost expresses, says
Campbell, on the one hand, ease and familiarity, and, on the
other, hurry, confusion, and precipitation.
. .
The tender and pathetic emotion is represented by a slow,
ge~tle melody: The languishing reluctance of the i::pirit to
qmt the earth IS finely expressed in the march of Gray's stanza
begmn.mg,
..
"For who t.o dum briorgetfulness a prey," &c.
·
It Is thought by many that, in the origin of words; we may
largely trace the process of imitation, or the suiting of the sound

.'

I

120

121

QUALITIES OF STYLE.

TASTE.

to ihe sense. See, in particular, Wedgwood on tho Origin of
Language, and Farrar on Language. ·
The name Onomatopaia was anciently applied t~ the imitative process• .

II. Tho variable clement includes the points on which men
do not feel alike. Ages, countries, and individuals, differ in
their sense of what is excellent in composition.
.
Thus, as regards age and country :-The taste of the Greeks,
reverentially accepted in many things by nfter ages, allowed to
orators and poets a license of personal vituperation that would
now he condemned. Again, nothing hns varied so much in
different times as the mode of representing the passion of love;
· allusions forbidden by the taste of our day were permitted in
former times.
As an example of change of taste, compare the ancient
rules of Tragedy (adhered to in the French stage), which forbid
the introduction of comic' scenes, with the English practice in
that respect. "It was Dryden's opinion, at least for some time,
and he maintains it in the dedication to this play (The Spanish
Fryar), tliat the drama required an alternation of comic and
tragic scenes; and that it is necessary to mitigate by alleviations of merriment the pressure of ponderous events, and the
fatigue of toilsome passions. 'Whoc,·er,' says he, 'cannot perform both parts, is but half a writer for the stage.'" (Johnson'&
Life of Dryden.)
·
,
Taste is also a matter of personnl peculiarity ; varying with
the emotional constitution, the intellectual tendencies, and the
education of each individual. A person of strong tender feelings is not easily offended by the iteration of pathetic images ;
the sense of the ludicrous and of humor is in many cases entirely wanting; and the strength of humane and moral sentiment may bo such as to recoil from inflicting ludicrous degradation. A mind bent on the pursuit of truth views with distaste the exaggerations of the poetic art. Each person is by
education more attached to one school or class of writers than
to another.

. T.AST&-:-ELEGANCE -POLISH-REFINEMENT.

131. The word Taste, employed with reference to
Fine A1·t, means, in the first instance, the susceptibility
to pleasure from works of art. A person devoid of this
enjoyment is said to have no taste.
There is a further use of the word, to denote the kind
of artistic excellence that gives the greatest amount of
pleasure to cultivated minds. Such minds are said to
have taste, and others to want it. The words " elegance," "polish," "refinement," designate nearly the
same thing. The distinction is sometimes expressed by
the epithet "good taste," implying that taste may be
bad, or enjoyment misplaced, in the judgment of those
that claim· to arbitrate between the two.
It being the end of Rhetoric, as a whole, to consider
the various points of excellence in composition, the attention .to.these must be synonymous with good taste.
In regard tO Taste, there is a perm!\nent element and 'a
variable element.
I. The permanent element comprises all the rules of composition, grounded on the admitted laws of om· sensibility, nnd
generally followed by tho best Rpoakers and writers. 'l'o avoid
discords, to use bold figures sparingly, to set bounds to exaggeration, to :idmit painful effects only so far as they can be
redeemed,-are rules of Taste, as being rules of Rhetoric.
Refinement in Taste consists partly in enhancing the pleasure of works of art, by the removal of what pains, and the
addition of what pleases, the proper artistic sensibility ; and
partly in avoiding the tendencies of art compositions to infringe on truth, usefulness, humane sentiment, and morality.

.

~ '· -.· .i~

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122

THE SENTENCE.

CHAPTER V.
THE SENTENCE AND THE PARAGRAPH.
THE SENTENCE.

132. TnE rules of Syntax apply to the concord, the
government and the arrangement of words m sentences.
Under the head of Arrangement, it is laid down that
qualifying words should be placed near t~te ~ords they
qualify, a rule having clearness expressly m view.
A sentence isn any way ungrammatical incurs the risk of
being obscure, if not a perversion of the meaning; more especially in cases where the rules of synt~x are violated, where t~1e
pronouns, conjunctions, and preposit10ns are not correct}! mtroduced, .a nd where the different parts of the verb are misapplied.
In the present work, under tho Number of vV.or~s (p. 67),
and under the Arrangement of Words (p. 65), prmc1ples were
brought forward having reference to the structure of the sentence.

· 133. In a rhetorical view, sentences arc divided into
vatious classes.
I. A distinction is made between the Period and the
'Loose Sentence. In a Period, the meaning is suspended
until the close.
The first sentence of Paradise Lost, if stopped at Heavenly
muse, would pe a period ; short of that point, nc complete
meaning is given. Continued as it is to line 16 in prose or
rhyme, it is loose; there being several places where the reader
might pause without incompleteness.
· The following is another example:-" Shaftesbury's strength
Jay in reasoning and sentiment, more than in description ; howe~r much his descriptions have been admired I" In this sen-

PERIODS-LOOSE SENTENCES.

123

tence, we tnigbt stop (1) at reasoning, ·(2) at 8entiment, (3) at
description, where, at all events, we should ·expect ·a final conclusion ; to our surprise, n conditional clause is still to be
added. On the general principle of placing qualifying statements before the parts qualified, the sentence should be ·inverted thus:-'' However much Shaftesbury's descriptions have
been admired, his strength Jay not in description; but in rea
soning and sentiment."
" It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind, that application is the price to be paid for mental acquisitions, and
that it is as absurd to expect them .without it '. M to hope for · a
liarvest wl1ere we have not sown the seed." •A sentence of this
character is tendered periodic, by roserving the predicate" cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind "-to ·the last;
but there is often an advantage in availing ourselves of the construction with "it is," to comrnenco . with the predicate. If
the clause " that application .
acquisitions" were
omitted, the sentence would be a good specimen of a . period ;
the next clause being kept in suspehse by the US!! of the ,correlatives as-as, and by the adverb where.
The next example brings into . view other connectives
whereby the meaning is suspended :-" But on this topic they
are either silent, or speak with such uncertain utterance that
they might have as well been dumb. A fc,v slight changes
would make it loose ; " they are silent I , or else speak with
uncertain utterance I , so that they might have been d~mb I
as well." Compare also, "He speaks so clearly as to be always
understood; n with, "He speaks clearly I , so a~ .to be always
understood."
To take another instance. "On the whole, while the Essay
on Criticism (Pope's) may be readily allowed to be superior in
execution, as it certainly is in compaRs, to any work of a similar nature in English poetry, it can hardly be said either to redeem the class of didactic poems on restheties from tho neglect
jnto which they have fallen, or to make us regret thnt tl10 critical ability of our own day should prefer to follow the path
marked out by Dryden, when he chose to discourse of poetry

124

!t

125

THE SENTENCE.

SHORT AND LONG SENTENCES.

in his own vigorous and flexible prose." The last clause, when
he chose, &c., is not essential to the completeness, and the sentence is therefore loose.
The loose sentence must be of frequent occurrence ; our language not permitting the inversions requisite for the constant
. practice of suspending the sense. Even when a meaning is
grammatically complete, we are often aware that something has
yet to be added to explain or qualify what has been said, and
we still keep up the attitude of expectation. In the sentence,
" The mature man, in the desire to get quit of an early habit,
attempts an imitation I , in which he is prevented from succeeding I by the }~sting consequences of the unintentional imitation I into which he had glided when a child," there are
several places where we might close with an intelligible sense,
but we feel that the writer will still add something to make his
meaning more definite and clear.
In the following, the stoppage might occur at a great many
points, yet the sentence is not viciom:ily loose, because the additions, although they could be dispensed with, chime in to advantage with what went before: "The only light of every truth
is its contrasting error I ; and, therefore, in the contemplation
and exhibition of truth, a philosopher should take especial care
not to keep himself too loftily aloof from the contemplation and
exhibition of error I , as these proud spirits Plato, Spinoza,
Leibnitz, and Hegel, most undoubtedly did I , much to the
detriment of their own profound disquisitions I , and to the ioss
of mankind I , who, had their method been different, might
have profited more largely by their wisdom ! " The last clause
but one " had their method been different" could have been
placed at the end, which would l1avc added to the looseness.

tance, might prove a cathedral tower, a church spire, a pilgrim's oratory, or at least a way-side cross, these religious explorers must have often strained their sight in order to recognize some object of a similar character."

134. The participial constrnction is one of the hinges
of the period.
This is one of the advantages accruing from the participle.
The foil owing period would be a very loose sentence, but for
the suspension arising out of the participial clause. ".Accustomed
to a land at home where every height, seen dimly in the dis-

135. The periodic form, while keeping up the attention nnd being a collateral security for the right
placing of qualifying words, is favorable to Unity in
sentences.
This will be illustrated afterwards. In the meantime, the
examples quoted will show that, in the loose sentence, the additions tacked on may readily lapse into digr-0ssions.
It is desirable, in some measure, to counteract the tendency
of our language to the loose sentence, by interspersing periods
on all suitable occasions.

136. II. Sentences are divided into Short and Long.
Among the points of mere variety in style, is the length of.
the sentence. Irrespective of this, each kind l1as its advantages. The short sentence is the easier to understand ; the
long, besides affording more room to expand the sense, may
admit of an oratorical cadence and he graduated to a climax.
It is in the long sentence principaJiy that we encounter the
faults of intricacy, prolixity, ambiguity, and vagueness.
Short sentences, unvaried by long, have an abrupt effect in
prose, and are still more unsuited to poetry.
For example :-"Antony has done his part. He holds the
gorgeous East in fee. He has revenged Crassus. He will make
kings, though he be none. , He is amusing himsclf, and.Rome
must bear with him. He has his griefs as well as Cresar. Let
the sword settle their disputes. But he is no longer the man
to leave Cleopatra behind. She sails with him, and his countrymen proclaim how low be has fallen."

137. III. The Balanced Sentence. When the different clauses of a compound. sentence are made similar
in form, they are said to be Balanced.
The style o~ Johnson abounds in this arrangement : ·-' "c~~

' '.

126

'rIIE SENTENCE.

teinpt is the proper · pnnishme~t of affectatiOn, and detestation
the just consequence of hypocrisy." "He remits his splendor,
but retains his magnitude ; and pleases more; th'ough he daziles
:
less."
Junius. affords numerous instances :-"But, my lord, you
may quit the fi~ld of business, though not the field of danger;
and, though you cannot be safe, you may cease to be ridiculous."
" Th~y are still base enough to encourage the follies of your age,
as they once did the vices of your youth." " Even now they
tell you, that as you lived without virtue you should die without repentance."
It will be seen that the sameness in thes-c balanced clauses
lies partly fo the grammatical structure, and partly in the sound,
or alternation of emphasis. The meaning is different, and tho
words are more or less varied.

138. When a succession of clauses is formed upon
the same plan, a certain aid is given to the memory.
Tho repetition impresses the mind, and when we have learnt
what is common to tho several statements, we need only attend
to the points of difference.
· It was a rule given under Clearness that things compared
should have corresponding places in the composition. . Balance
is a means of securing this. The following is an example from
Chatham :-" In sho~ Sir, as I could at first see no reason for
sending our troops to Flanders, unless it was to furnish ministers
with a pretext to load us with the maintenance of 16,000 Hanoverians, so I now see no reason for our retaining them there,
unless it be to afford a pretext for continuing that load."

· 139. . A further effect of the balanced structure is to
cause an agreeable surprise.
Sameness of form in difference of matter communicates a
pleasurable impression. ThiR is part of our enjoyment of verse.
In passing. from one statement to another, we are prepared for
a change, not merely in the words, but in the grammatical
1tructure and cadence. - When we find that successive mean·

127

TIIE BALANCED SENTENCE.

in gs can be expressed in exactly the same fonn of grammar,
with the same sound on the ear, we are affected with some degree of surprise, while also enjoying the pleasure of harmony.

140. When a new and distinct meaning can be con:..
veyed in nearly the same w01·ds, our feeling of surprise
is all the greater.

f
.l

In the sentence, "this is trne but not new, that is now bnt
not true," there is a double application of the balance. First,
• tho sameness of sound in tho contrasted terms true and new;
and, secondly, the employment of the identical terms, with a
mere transposition, to convey a new meaning .
" w·hat is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba i" is an exam. pie to the same purpose. "A juggler is a wit in t11ings, and a
wit a juggler in words," is an ingenious combination of simile
and balance, to illustrate the real nature of wit.
A good example, containing a profound truth, is furnished
by Coleridge :-" When we meet an apparent error in a good
author, we are to presume ourselves ignorant of his understanding, until we are certain that we understand his ignorance."
Senior snys :-"Charity creates much of the misery it re-·
lieYes, but does not relieve all the misery it creates."
Napoleon described the tactics of war, as "the art of being
strongest on a given point at a given time."

141. The balanced structure is fi:eqnently combined
with antithesis, or contrast.
·
" In peace, children bury their parents ; in war, parents
•

I

•

I

.

t

bury their children." Here the members arc balanced, and are
also made to ·convey .antithetical . or opposed 1~ea11ings. This
addition enhances the effect of the balance.
" If you wish to enrich a person, study not to increase his
stores, but to diminish his desires." " 'Vords are the counters
of wise men, and the money of fools." " The laughter will be
for those that J1ave most wit, the serious for those that . have
most reason."

142. The purest form of antithesis is the

obvers~

I\

128

THI£

SENTE~CE.

iwation, in which character wo olten find it accom'
panied with balance.
In an obverse proposition, the equivalent fact is stated from
the opposite ~ide ; "heat relaxes the system ; cold b~aces it.''
" Light cheers ; darkness depresses." The following from
Bacon combines this form of antithesis with the balance.
" Prosperity doth btist discover vice, but ad\•ersity doth be.st
discover virtue." "To buy in the cheapest market, and sell rn
the dearest."
The style of the Proverbs of Solomon abounds in obverse
iteration (see chap. xii. xiii,); and the iterated statements arc
more or less balanced.

143. Sometimes the contrast of the balanced mem·
bers is a species of epigram.
As, "when reason is against a man, he will be against reason." This is the epirrram of tlie obverse identical proposition.
0
" •
" Not that I loved Cresar less, but that I loved Rome more, is
another of the !lame. "He should consider often, who can
choose but once,'' is a kind of epigram turning on the opposition of often and once.
The following have the full point of the epigram, together
with balance:" Frequently we arc understood least by those that have
known us longest." "High life below stairs." "He can buy
· but he cannot gain, he can bribe but he cannot seduce, he can
lie but he cannot deceive."
Helps quotes from Soutl1ey t110 balanced and sarca&tic mnuendo, "as if a number of worldlings made a world."

144. The contrast may amount only to the pointed
expression of difference, without opposition.
In this case also, the balance is often canied out with great
elaboration, as in Pope's comparison of Homer and Virgil, and
the analogous contrast of Dryden and Pope by Jo.hnson.
t< Homer was the greater genius, Virgil the better att1st: 111
the one, we most admire the man ; in the other, the work."

THE CONDENSED SENTENCE.

129

" Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull ;
Calm wilhont rage, witliout o'erfiowing full."

145. Merely to keep up the same leading term,
under change of meaning, has the effect of the balance;
as, "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain
mercy."
"And Rome may bear the p1·ide of him
Of whom herself is proud."

Bentham's celebrated expression of the end of politics and
of morality,-" the greatest happiness of the greatest number,"
-is balanced in sound, in grammar, and in tho recurrence of
the word greatest.
" The right man in the right place."
The poet is "dowered with the hntc of hntc, the scorn of
scorn, the love of love." (Tennyson.)
"Man desires not only to be loved, but to be lovely."
"Man proposes, God disposes," is a balance in the termination of the balanced words. Also, " Cleanliness is next to god,
liness."
" Chronic diseases must have chronic cures."

146. IV. The Condensed Sentence. This is a sentevce abbreviated by a forced and unusual construction.
Sometimes we find the same verb npplied to incongruous
ohjects, ns in the expression "sepi\rnted by mountains nnd by
mutual fear." "Brutus instituted liberty and tho consuls/tip."
An ordinary writer would have used two verbs to suit these
different objects; "Brutus obtained freedom for the State, and
instituted the consulship."
•
Gibbon (who delights in these condensations) describes
Spain as ''exhausted by the abuse of her strength, by America,
and by superstition." Again: "The system of Augustus was
adopted by the fears and the vices of his successors." "The
Caledonians were indebted for their independence to their
poverty no less than to their val01-." " Of the nineteen tyrants
who started up under the reign of Gallienus, there was not one
who enjoyed a life of peace or a natural death." ..
·6*

.I

PLACE OF THE l'RINCIPAL BUDJECT.

TIIE SENTENCE.

130

When we come to treat of the various kinds of c.omposition 7
we shall find their several peculiarities occasionally impressing
a special character on the structure of the sentence ; but we are
now to consider the laws that are generally binding. Campbell,
in the Philosophy of Rhetoric, observes, with reference to the
sentence, " The only rule which will never fail, is to beware of
prolixity and of intricacy."
Prolixity means overcrowding;
intricacy arises when it is not easy to ascertain the relation of
one member to another, or when there is a degree of compli· : ·,·
cation amounting to the unintelligible.

There is a:n artificial condensation in the line ·of Pope,
!

11

•

,,

Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.

Such Mnstructions as the following are admissible occaeionally : - ' 1 ' · •
•
,
.
. c1 A~~ ·a 'war of about forty yea.rs, undertnkeh. by the most
stupid maintained by the most dissolute, and termmated ~y the
most timid of all the emperors, the for greater port of the island
(Britain) submitted to the Roman yoke."
.
" The Danes appeared next year off the enstern coasti m hopes
of subduing a people, who defended thc!1111elves by ~heir mif?~
which invited assailants, instead of their arms, which repe e
them." (Hume.)
·
.
.
·
t
is
''Thie conduct of the court, which, m nll its c1rcums an~es,
so barbarous imprudent, and weak, both merited and prognosticated
the most gri~vous calamities." (lb.) .
.

of

150. 'I. The Principal Subject
a .' sentence· should
occupy a conspicuous position. This may.be:. ' .. ·~ ; · .·.·· . '.
(1.) In the beginning. "Learning taketh away the
wildness, barbarism, and fierceness of men's minds."

·, .. 147. The Condensed Sentence is sometimes used for
comic effect.
.
.
Here thou, great Anna, whom three rea!ms obe~,,
Dost sometimes coimllel take, and sometimes tea.
" To rest, the cullhion and soft dean invite." ·

11

The following sentence from Macaulay on the visit .of l)etcr
the Great to England is a telling satire. " The Russian g~a~~
dees in London came to the court dropping pearls and verunn.

.148. The profuse. employment of the Balanced Sentence in : conjunction· with antithesis, epigram, and
clim~x, determines the Pointed Style.
. This co~bination is seen in Pope, Junius, and iu a less dc'gree in ~any others. It is als.o termed th~ " Epigrammatic"
style, The French excel in epigram and p~mt. The ~xces~ of
this 'quality in Tacitus, Lucan, and Seneca, 1s usually identified
with the decline of the Latin languagc.-It is the nature of ~11
artifices that call attention to tlic form of tbe language, ~fter a
time to become fatigi1ing; the more pungent an effect is, tho
more sparing should be its introduction.
.

131

, , I

149. Whatever be the subject, or the kind of co~­
position, there · are certain things to be a~tended to m
the structure of the sentence.
4!\j.1

This sentence occurs in Goldsmith: "Nature, with most
beneficent intention, conciliates and forms the mind of man to
his condition." Hero the principal subJect (as the context
showsps not nature, but the mind of man; accordingly, the
preferable arrangement is, "The mind of man is, by Nature's
beneficent intention, conciliated and formed to its condition."
;. To quote another example :-" Homer's beautiful dcscrip~
tion of the heavens, as they appear in a calm evening by the
light of tho moon and stars, co11cludcs with this circumstance--' and the heart of the shepherd is glad.' Madame Dacier, from
the turn she gives to the passage in her version, seems to think,
and Pope, in order to make out his couplet,. insinuates, that the
gladness of the shepherd is owing to his sense of the utility of
those luminaries." Now, in the second sentence, the prominence
is given, not to the main .theme of the sentence, wl1icb is the
gladness of the shepherd, but to Madame Dacier and Pope.
The desirable order would be : " The gladness of t11e shepherd
seems to be attribntcd by :Madame Dacier, from tho turn she
gives to the pMsage, and by Pope, in order perhaps to make
out his couplet., to the sense of tho utility of these luminaries." .
" The State was ma<le, under the pretence of serving it; in
reality, the prize of their.contention, to each of those opposite

' I

132

THE SENTENCE.

POSITION OF IMPORT.ANT WORDS.

parti.es, who professed in Rpecious terms, the one a prefcrcnco
for moderate Aristocracy, the other a desire of admitting th-J
people at large to an equality of civil privileges." As amended
by Whately, the sentence runs thus: "The two opposite parties,
who professed, in specious terms, the one a preference for moderate Aristocracy, the other a desire of admitting the people at
large to an equality of civil privileges, made the State, :which
they pretended to serve, in reality the prize of their contention."
The improvement is manifest. The two opposite parties is now
made prominent at the beginning of the sentence, as its subject;
· the leading idc:i. that they made the State the prize of their
contention is placed at .the end as the principal part of the predicate; and the structure is rendered periodic.
Again : " It is not without a degree of patient attention,
greater than the generality arc willing to bestow, though not
greater than the object deserYes, that the liabit can be acquired
of examining and judging of our own conduct with the same
accuracy and impartiality as that of another." Altered thus
(by Whately) : " The habi t of examining our own conduct as
accurately as that of another, and judging of it with the same
impartiality, cannot be acquired without a degree of patient Qttention, not greater indeed than the object deserves, but greater
than the generality are wiiling to . bestow." The change consists in beginning with the principal subject. The sentence
is unavoidably loose ; any attempt to suspend the sense by
throwing the verb acquired to the end would probably cause,
in the shape of artificial inversion, a worse evil than the
looseness.

a million," is more effective thus:-" For illustration, a dozen
will do as well as a million."
A passage already quoted (§ 134) as an example of the
period, "Accustomed to a land," &c., shows also that the principal subject may follow ll participial clause.
t "

The close of a sentence gives

prominence no less than the beginning.

'I
I

The subject of the sentence may be thrown to the end with
a special emphasis : . " The wages of sin is death."
" On whatever side we contemplate Homer, what principally
strikes us is his wonde1ful invention." This is an arrangement
for maintaining the interest, by not disclosing the main idea till
the very end.
"There is not, and there never wni:1, on this earth, n work
of human policy so well deserving of examination as the Roman Catholic Church."
"On seeking for some clue to the law undcrlyinrr these cur•
•
t>
rent maxuns, we may sec slrndowcd forth 111 many of them, the
importance of economizing the reader's attention." Herc, as often
happens, the principal subject of discourse is not the grammntcal subject of the verb. The writer intends to put it last~ and
he accordingly makes it a grammatical object, and so, without
an inversion, secures for it that poRition.
"Add to your faith, virtue."

. 153. II. The Predicate of the sentence is also a prin·
c1pal part, and should have a eituntion corresponding to
its importance.
·

151. (2.) After an adverbial phrase, or clause, or some
statement evidently subsidiary.
The prominence of the principal subject fa not aficctcd by
qualifying phrases or clauses that arc manifestly such. " In
the vacant space between Persia, Syria, Egypt, and Ethiopia, the
Arabian peninsula may be conceived as a triangle of spacious
but irregular dimensions."
The sentence : " A dozen will do, for illustration, as well as

152. (3.) At the end.

133

'

.
!

.I

· The close of the sentence is, in our language, tho usual place
of tlie predicate, and the opposite order, although agreeable to
the first principles of arrangement (§ 65), is considered an inversion. "Blessed are the merciful."

154. When statements of some length enter into the
subject, or the predicate, the places of emphasis are to
be reserved for the most important words.
· . .-. ..

135

THE SENTENCE.

. UNITY.

A subordinate phrase should .not occupy a position where
we naturally look for a principal.
" Every attempt to dispense with axioms hns proved unsuccessful; somewhere or other in the process assumed theorems
have been found." In the latter clause, the unimportant word
found bas usurped the place of prominence belonging to asaumed, on which the real force of tho remark hinges. Tito sentence should either begin or end with assumed:-" Assumed
theorems have been found in the process somewhere or other;"
or, " Somewhere or other in the process there are found theorems that are assumed."
" That our elder writers to Jeremy Taylor inclusive quoted
to excess, it would be t110 very blindness of partiality to deny."
Transpose the clauses : " It would be the very blindness of partiality to deny that our elder writers quoted to excess."
"Nor is the reason which has led to the establishment of
this moral law difficult to be discerned." The words difficult
to be discerned are not the emphatic words of the sentence.
Better-" Nor is it difficult to discern the reason that has led
to the establish.ment of this moral law."
'' And the convertibility of the ordinary mode of description with · this new one may be easily shown in any case."
"And it is easy to show in any case the convertibility of the
01·dinary mode of description witli this new one."
" The praise of judgment Virgil has justly contested with
him, but his invention remains yet unrivalled." More emphatic thus :-" Virgil has justly contested with him the praise
of judgment, but no one has yet rivalled his invention."
"He that tells a lie is not sensible how great a task he undertakes ; for he must be forced to invent twenty · more, to
maintain one." Amended:-" for, to maintain one, ho must
invent twenty more."
"Both Greeks and Romans drew prognostics from prodigies: that is to say, from rare natural appearances; among
which comets~ meteors, and eclipRes held an important place;""among the most important of which were comets, meteors, and
eclipses."
·

In tlie following sentence, the emphasis rests on the cohditional clauses, and they are with obvious good effect given
last:-" Of what consequence are all the qualities of a doctrine,
if that doctrine be not communicated ; and communicated it is
·
not, if it be not understood 1"
The following is from Paley:-" Amongst tl1e causes n.q-

134

eignod for tho co11ti11111mco nml d iff11sio11 of tho 11n1110 mol'n] llOll·
timcnts among mankind, we have mentioned imitation." 'l'his
is as it ought to be. He continues, " The efficacy of this principle is most _observable in childr~n;" here too an important
word occupies the close. ' · ·' ·· '.
··· > •·• ·
·
As, in an army 012 the march, the fighting ·columns are
placed front and rear, and the baggage in the centre, so the
emphatic parts of a sentence should be found either in the beginning or in the end, subordinate and matter-of-course expressions in the middle.
It may. sometimes be the nature of the clause to refuse .em-:
phnsis to itself; so that, though placed at the · end, it does . not
interfere with the importance of a preceding clause. In the
sentence, "Dissipation wastes health, as well as time," the loose
addition, as well att time, cannot deprive liealth of the stress that
would natnrnlly bo put upon it.

155. III. A Sentence is required to possess Unity.
This means that every part should be subservient to one
principal affirmation.

I

Illair's rules on this point, together with his examples, have
been copied by succeeding writers. . They are these :-:- . : .. ; .
(1.) In the course of the same sentence not to shift the scene.
"After we came to anchor, they put me on shore, where I was
welcomed by nll my friends, who received me with tho grcntest
kindness." Here the putting on shore completes one act, and
what follows changes the scene, and should have made a new sentence. '
(2.) To avoid crowding into one sentence heterogeneous idcss.
"Tillotson died in this year. lie was exceedingly beloved both by
King Willin.m and Queen Mary, who nominated IJr. Tenni8on,
Bisltop of Lincoln, to succeed liim." The last clnm10, hnving no
natural connection with the leading proposition, ouglit not to have
been included in the same sentence.
· • · . · : · · · :. 1·

..

--- --=--- -.. . . .------....
137

TilE SENTENCE.

TIIE SENTEXCE DREAK.

" The usuul ncceptntion tn.kes profit and pleasure for two different things; nnd not only culls the. followers or votari~s of. them by
the several names of busy and idle men ; but d1stmgmshes tho
faculties of mind that are conversant about them, culling the operations of the first, wisdom, and of the other, wit: which is a Suxon
word used to express what the Spaniards and Italians call ingenio,
and the French esprit, both from the Latin ; though I think wit
more particularly signifies that of poetry, ns may <!ccur in remarks
on the Runic language." There 1s here crowded· mto one sentence
abundant matter for three.
(3.) To avoid excess of parenthetical clauses.
(4.) Not to add members after o. full and perfect close. Temple
so.ya of Fontenelle, "He falls so grossly into the censure of the
old poetry, and preference of the new, that I could not rco.~ his
strains without indignation ; which no quality among men u so
apt to raise in me as self-su.ffeciency." This last clause is an extraneous addition to the sentence, which is naturally closed at indignation.
•
Such superadded members aggravate the nntural looseness of
English sentences.

(by the semicolon, tl1e comma, &c.), should, as far as
may be, have a co-ordinate value.

136

156. Clauses of Consequence, of Explanation, of Iteration, of Exemplification, of Qualification, and Obverse
Clauses, are often separated by a semicolon or colon from
the main statement, but do not necessarily mar the unity
of the sentence.
"Now surely this ought not to be assmte<l, unless it can be
proved ; we should speak with cautious reverence upon such a
subject." Here the second clause is a reason or justification of
the main statement, and is properly included in the sentence.
" Agriculture is the foundation of manufactures ; tlie productions of nature are the materials of art." This last clause may
be viewed either as explanation or as iteration. Examples under
all the heads indicated are of frequent occurrence.

157. In description, and in narrative, it is often requisite to bring together in the same sentence several
distinct facts. A sentence is then a smaller paragraph.
The only rule that can be observed in distinguishing the sentences, is to choose the larger breaks in the
sense.
The sentences, as well as other parts pointed off alike

If every distinct statement were always followed by a full
stop, the style would be disagreeably broken up into curt sentences. Moreover, we should lose the advantage of having a
division intermediate between a single affirmation and a paragraph. Each sentence may contain a plurality of statements,
more closely allied than the matter cf two successive sentences.
The following is an example of what fa meant. "By night
sweet odors, varying with every hour of the watch, were wafted
from the shore to the vessel lying near; I and the forest trees,
brought together by the serpent tracery of myriads of strange
parasitical plants, might well seem to the fancy like some great
design of building, 1.over which the lofty palms, a forest upon
a forest, appeared to present a new order of architecture." Here
three separate facts are expres~cd, and the including of them
in one sentence is justified by their being more closely. allied
in meaning to one another than to the sentence following-" In
the back-ground rose the mist, like incense." 'Vherc the subject-matter consists of a great number of detached statements,
we avail ourselves of all the grades of punctuation--comma,
semicolon, and full stop-to mark, according to our best judgme~1~, the degrees of connection or separation.
A larger extract from the same work (Helps' Spanish Conquest in America) will illustrate the peculiarities of the narrative sentence. The subject is an expedition of Ojeda along the
American coast near the river Darien. He captured a number
of Indians and a quantity of gold in tlte course of his voyage,
and, disembarking, founded San Sebastian.
" Ojeda sent his stolen gold and Indians home to Saint
Domingo, in order that more men and supplies might in return
be despatched to him ; and he inaugurated the building of his
new town by a foray into the territories of a neighboring Indian.
chief, who was reported to possess much gold." Here two
separate facts are stated in one sentence, the author judging it

..
138

l&V

THE SENTENCE.

inexpedient to devote a sentence to each. The facts were closely
related in time, and the separation of a semicolon is thought
enough for them. The concluding clause is explanatory, but it
is an explanation that also saves a narrative clause. It suggests
the purpose of the expedition, namely, the search for gold, and
at the same time accounts for it.
"This foray, however, produced nothing for Ojeda, and his
men were soon driven back by clouds of poisoned arrows."
Again two distinct facts are brought together, merely to avoid
the multiplication of short sentences. In making the four statements now given, the writer has thought fit to introduce the
sentence break between the second and the third. But a minute
attention to the comparative degrees of connection of the four
facts, might suggest the end of the first ns the greater break ;
tJ1e second, third, and fourth, being all related to the one matter
of the foray against the Indians.
The author now commences a new paragraph, to suit the
transition to a new subject.
"How their people should be fed, seems always to have been
a secondary consideration with these marauding governors; and,
. indeed, on Jike occasions in all periods of the world, it appears
as if gold were supposed to be meat, drink, and clothing, the
knowledge of what it is in civilized and settled communities c~e­
ating a fixed idea of its universal power, of which people are
not able to divest themselves." The second member of this
sentence is a sort of generalization of the remark contained in
the first, which is itself a general observation prefatory to the
next part of the narrative. Long as this second member is, being a general maxim, burdened with a clause of explanation,the writer did well to place it as an appendage to the previous
clause, to which it ought to be kept in subordination. This
will be seen still better from the next sentence.
"Famine now began to make itself felt at San Sebastian."
This sentence joins on naturally to the first part of the foregoing, and would not 11ave joined on so well to the second part,
if that had been made a separate sentence. The author has
thought fit to confine this sentence to a single fact. Its brev-

UNITY.

139

ity makes a not unacceptable contrast to the length of the
preceding.
"Just at this point of time, however, a supply from a most
appropriate quarter came suddenly to the ai.d of the hungry in··
habitants of the new town." A single statenient occupies this
sentence also. It migl1t Jmve been coupled with the foregoing,
although perhaps the present arrangement is preferable.
·
" There came in sight a vessel, which had been stolen from
some Genoese by its commander Bernardino de Talavera who
was bringing it to the new settlement, as being a place ~here
the title to nny possessions would not be too ' curiously looked
into." The' first clause; "there came in sight a vessei," contains
the only fact essential to the narrative; but the author indulges
in a little digression or by-plot, by informing the reader bow
tl1e vessel came. Such digressions are unavoidable, and often
proper in narrative; and one mode of keeping them from trenching on the main story is to make them subordinate members of
a sentence whose principal is the main story. To erect them
into distinct sentences, on the plea of unity, would be substituting a greater evil for a less.
" The supplies which this vessel brought were purchased by
Ojeda, and served to relieve, for the moment, bis famishin<1'
colony." The principal subject connects this sentence with th~
principal member of the foregoing-" There came in sirTht a
vessel "-and the digressional explanation is no more hea~d of.
The sentence itself contains two facts, so nearly a11ied that a
comma is enough to divide them. .
·· · · · ·
" But their necessities soon recommenced, and, with · their
necessities, their murmurings." The hreak between this and
the foregoing is enough to make a distinct sentence. · Its two
component facts are, as in the former case, nearhr rdatr,d, and
proper to be joined in the same sentence.
•
·
" The Indians also harassed them by perpetual nttncks, for
the fame of Ojeda's deeds was rife in the land, and the ·natives
were naturally very unwilling to have such a neighbor near
them."· The .change of subject requires a now sentence"1 · the
main clause is followed by two clauses ·.of 'rea8otl or"expla-' '

..
140

-

TIIE SENTENCE.

nation, so necessary as to be added on with merely a comma
break.
"The Spanish Commander did what he could to soothe his
people, by telling them that Enciso, the partner in his expedition and his alcalde, was coming ; and, as for the Indians, Ojeda
repelled their attacks with his usual intrepidity." Two distinct but connected facts are here given. The connection, however, is not of the closest kind; and two sentences would not
have been improper.
"His Indian enemies, however, began to understand the
character of the man they had to deal with, and, resolving to
play upon llis personal bravery, which amounted to foolhardiness, they laid an ambuscade for him." This has three statements, but the last contains the action, and the two others are
merely preparatory. A good example of a narrative sentence.
"The Indians then feigning an attack, Ojeda rushed out
with his wonted impetuosit.y, until he came within reach of
their ambuscade, which concealed four bowmen." The circumstances here given all concur in describing a single acti~n. Tho
unity is perfect. The participial form of the commencing clanse
is skilfully chosen, so as not tb interfere with the prominence of
the principal subject, Ojeda.
" These discharging their poisoned arrows, one of them
passed through his thigh ; and this was the first time, strange
to say, in his adventurous and riskful . }ife, that he had been
wounded." Again we have a unity in the action. The participial form commences, for the same reason as before ; the second member is an explanatory clause of the periodic form, rightly
included in the same sentence.
"No veteran, however, could have shown more indifference
to pain in the remedy which he insisted upon adopting." This
is properly made a new scnter,cc; its structure, however, is not
free from exception. The place of the principal subject is oc
cupied by a subordinate word veteran; and there is an awk·
wardncss in the connection of the parts. Better thns : " Ilut
the remedy that be insisted on adopting, showed him to sur·
pass any veteran in indifference to pain."

- --- - - ~=-=.,,,,,,_

___

"=!!~-

14:1

UNITY.
11

,
I'

I·

He ordered two plates of iron bronght to n white hent to
l>e tied on to the thigh, thrcntening the reluctant surgeon to
hang him if ho did not npply this remedy." This also contains
a single action, and therefore is in accordance with the most
rigorous demands of unity.
..
" It was so severe that it not only bnrnt up the leg and the
thigh, but the heat penetrated his whole body, so . that it became necessary to expend a pipe of vinegar in moistening the
bandages which were afterwards applied." Otherwise:-" So
severe was the application, that not only were the leg and the
tliigh burnt up, but the heat penetrated his whole body, and, in
moistening the bandages that were afterwards applied, they had
to expend a pipe of vinegar." The sentence is an explanatory
addition to the foregoing, and might have made one with it,
but for the length and the prolixity of the resulting compound.
It was also, perhaps, desirable not to accumulate the horrors of
the transaction in one unbroken string.
" All this torture Ojeda endured without being bound."
The impressiveness of the fact stated justifies the separateness
of this brief sentence.
" Would that this terrible energy and power of endurance
had been given to a career more worthy of them! "-Appropriately closes tho paragraph. The last few sentences digress from
the main story, to recount the incidents personal to the chief;
and, after such a digression, it is desirable to resume the narrative in n new pnrngrnph.

It may now be seen with wliat limitations we are to receive
the precept regarding the unity of the sentence. A narrator
may often have to include in a sentence as many particulars as
arc contained in tho following from Johnson's Life of Prior,
which is adduced as n violntion of unity:"Ile is supposed to lrnvo fallen, hy l1h1 fot.hcr'A <lcnt11, int.o tho
hnnds of l.'ifi tmclo, a vintner, 11c11r Ulinrfog Urrnis, wl10 sent J1im
for some tune to Dr. Busby, at Wcstminstcr · but not intending to
givo him nny educntion beyond thnt of tho s~hoo] took him when
ho wns Wl'll mlvnncod in litornturo, to his own 1i'ouso • wh~ro tho
earl of Dorset, celebrated for _Pntronnge of genius, fo~nd him by ·
chance, ns Burnet relates, reading Horace, and was so well pleased
1

•

.'• •'

'·

EXPJ,JCIT REFERENCE.

with his proficiency, that he un<lei·took the care and cost of his
academical education.'
In no kind of composition can the strict rule of unity be
canied out. Even in science, where the crowding of separate
facts seems most objectionable, the due subordination of whatever is·subordinate is a higher necessity. A statement merely
explan~tory. or qualifying, put into a sentence apart, acquires a
dangerous prominence. ·

The head and representative of the llst is AND. The othet'S
are-Also, yea, likewise, rc:o, in like manner, flNlt, secondly, &c.,
again, besides, then, too (following another word), further, moreover, furthermore, add to this (which). These are all quite
common. · Tho phrases, "Yet another," " Once more," for add~
ing to a cumulation already very much eitended, are f!lmiliar
to the readers of Mr. llerbert Spencer.

TllE

.,
' .\1

PARAGRAPH~

,,It

158. The division of discourse next higher than the
sentence is the Paragraph : which is a collection of sentences with unity of purpose.

159. There are certain principles that govern the
structure of the paragmph, for all kinds of composition.

l

'

162. Certain of the ADVERSATIVE conjunctions are
used to indicate the mutual bearing of consecutive sentences.
: !
I

Some of the members of this subdivision are termed Exclttaive, because they indicate the exclusion of some circumstances
that would otherwise be allowable. "Else," " otherwise,n are
the chief examples ; they occasionally introduce sentences, but
owing to the intimacy of union that they express, their chief
·
use is to unite clauses.
Those termed Alternative sometimes form a link behteen
two sentences ; for example, 01· and nor. When nor is nsed
without neither preceding, it is commonly in the sense of and
not : " Nor would he have been mistaken ; " " .And he would
not have been mistaken."
We may have one sentence commencing with either and tlie
next with or ; and so with ncitlier and nor. But, in general,
these intimate a closeness of connection, such as requires the
members to be kept within the same sentence.
The group of Adversative conjunctions represented by BuT
(called Arrestive) very often institute relations between consecutive sentences. They arc-But then, still, yet, only, nevertheless, however, at the same time, for all that. These may
operate on a great scale, covering, not only the sentence, but
the paragraph. An entire paragraph is not unfrequcntly devoted
~o arrest.i~g or preventing a seeming inference from one precedmg, nnd is therefore appropriately opened by but, still, &c.

Like every division of discourse, a paragraph handles and
exhausts a distinct topic ; there is a greater break between the
paragraphs than between the sentences.

f (

143

TIIE r ARAGH.APII.

142

I. The first requisite of the paragraph is, that the
bearing of each sentence upon what precedes shall be
. explicit and unmistakable.
Ambiguity of reference may arise within the sentence, but
is still more likely to occur in a succession of sentences.
·

160. The employment of the proper Conjunctions
is one condition of explicit reference.
·
Conjunctions ·connect sentences as well as clauses. Those
employed for that purpose are of the co-ordina.ting class. The
others (subordinating) are used to connect a subordinate clause
with a principal in the same sentence.

161. The subdivision of the Co-ordinating conjunctions, and of conjunctive adverbs and phrases, called
CmruLATivE, frequently connect sentences. They add
a new statement having the same bearing as what preceded.

163. :Many of the conjunctions indicating effect or
consequences, called lLLATIVE, often .connect sentences,
t

'

: ~

'\)

.

144
"-

THE . P ARAGR.APil.

\ . being applicable in reasoning and argument. They
'•
are-Therefore, wherefore, hence, whence, consequently,
accordingly, thus, so, then, so then.
An effect or consequence may be gh·en in the sentence containing the cause or reason. It is equally common to employ
a separate sentence; whence the foregoing ·nre reckoned Para.graph conjunctions.

164. Besides the regufo.r conjunctions, there are a
variety of words and phrases serving for reference. .
Thus the expressions for the very imp01tant ends of stating
opposition or negation, involve a reference to what went before ;
-On the contrary, on the other liand, conversely, obversely. Of
these the only one properly signifying negation is the first ; the
othe:S are frequently misused for that signification. " On the
other hand" properly implies an alternative. " Con;~rsely " is,
in strict logic, tr~nsposing th~ terms of a pr~pos1tion (~ome
Englishmen are wise ; some wise men are E~~hshmen ).
Obversely" denies the opposite of. a ~roposit10n (A:H men 11re
mortal, no men are immortal), wluch is to re-affirm it from the
other side.
·
Nay is an old-fashioned word for introducing an opposite
statement with some emphasis.
For returning after a digression, we employ the phrasesTo return to proceed, to resume.
In su~ming up, we have-In sl1ort, in a wo~d, on the whole,
to conclude in conclusion, to sum up, to recapitulate.
Transition to a new line of remark is introduced byHitherto, formerly, so far, tlms far.

i

165. The SunonmNATING conjunctions (Becau.s~, if:
that in order that, provided, when, &c.) usually JOlll a
sub~rdinate clause to a principal in the same sentence.
Occasionally, however, a subordinate statement rises to
such importance as to be placed in a sentence apart.
This happens with for, when introducing a r~ason; also

I

with the plirase provided that, in Acts of Congress and Par-

OMISSION OF THE CONJUNCTION.

145

Jiament c8pl:'cially ; and occasionally with tho conjunctions of
negative condition, unles.<1, &c.
Scarcely any others of this class are found connecting sentences. . We may be satisfied of this by observing the manner
in which because, if, &c., are used. These often begin a sentence, but to indicate subordination to a clnnso following.
Campbell remarks on the arbitrariness of usage in making
for a paragraph conjunction, and refusing tho same latitude to
because.

166. In many instances, no connecting words are
used between consecutive sentences. · ·· . · ·
.· ..
Connectives generally-pronouns and conjnnctions-l1aving
n tendency to load and encumber the composition, are dispensed
with as far as possible. Their absence has a distinct meaning.

161. 'Vhen a sentence either iterates or explains
what goes before, a conjunction is unnecessary. · ·
These are perhaps the cases where the connective is oftenest
omitted. In like manner, a member of a sentence that iterates
or explains generally stands without a conjunction. The nature
of the reference, in these instances, is supposed to be 11hown ·by
the context. When there is any doubt, specific phrases may be
employed. Thus, for iteration we say :-Jn other word11, It
comes to the same thing, This is cqnal to saying, To vary the
statement. For explanation :-The explanation is, We may account for tho fact, &c.
'
The omission extends to obverse iteration likewise.

168. In cumulative statements, the omission of conjunctions extensively prevails.
When a number of particulars are given in successionwhether descriptive, 11arrativc, or expository-they are presumed, in the absence of any contrary indication, to have a
common bearing.
·
As the omission of connectives is not restricted to this case,
the cumulative conjunctions must be inserted, should there be
any danger that some other interpretation will be put upon

'1

y

.• _._....:.>

tt'

''

147

MODES OF REFERENCE,

'l'HE PARA GRAPH.

146

~~e~lial reference to a preceding sentence :-In this case

their absence; as, for instance, when any sentence might be
supposed to iterate or explain a preceding one.
As in a sentence, when several words or members in succession are cumulative, the conjunction is generally inserted
only before the last, so in the case of the paragraph the same

iat case, Under these circumstances In th
,
now described B
e
manner
.
'
tailed U d ' y sue1l proceedmgs as have been det Aft
' n er the foregomg arran
has now been
said
Not
tl
t
11
gemen
er what
ia a
men are so' affected
.
'
A relative prono un re ficrs one clause to another in tl •

usage prevails.
Several of the cumulative conjunctions involve the additional
meaning of comparison; as, Thus, so, likewise, accordingly.
This renders them less easily dispensed with; still we find them
occasionally omitted. " Beware of ~be ides of March, said the
Roman augur to Julius Cresar. Beware of the month of May,
says the British Spectator to his fair countrywoman." The
mere fact of juxtaposition shows that the two sentences are to
be thought of together, and, as the mind can readily perceive .

sentence but rarel
ie snmo
old En lish
y connects ~wo successive sentences. The
he is n!w ob::~~ o!h:o:::nc~n~ a sentence with who for and
a close connection 'between th: ~~=hthat. t~e drelative expresses
Th d
ers JOme •

.

0

:i;:ce ~h::~:::,:·;:~r;;b:\;;: ;:J~::-;e: ;;~~:;Y: ~':'~
'

.;
i

the relation, it is left unexpressed.

169. In the statement of a consequence, the connective is sometimes expressively omitted.

'Ihe repetition
is prefaced by such express10ns
.
as.0 we ha
W

~::~0:::.ar~e;•::0:!~•:g,i:1•:~d ItbwM fonnerly Iaid dow::

when we i·efer some way back.

ask the surrender of your army."
"I have been bullied," said the Countess of Dorset to Charles
the Second's Secretary of State, who suggested a member for
her pocket burgh; " I have been bullied by an usurper, I have
been neglected by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a

subject.
f

I

' 1

Your man sha'n't stand."

1 '71 ·

e

ecomes more necessary

113. Tho roforence mny also bo indicated b tl
of the sentence. Inversions often
n in view.

reandg~me~t
"

170. It is remarked by Campbell that the omission
of connectives succeeds best, when the connection of the
thoughts is either very distant or very c1ose.
" When the connection in thought is very distant, the copulutive appears absurd, and, when very close, superfluous. For the
first of these reasons, it is seldom that we meet with it, except in
the Bible ; and for the second, it is frequently dropt in familiar nnrrative, where the connection is so obvious as to render it useless."

. ough he had foreseen this consequence" 0 •t' '
m other positions " Th
.
. ·
r I may stand
.
. e general, in this emergency, trusted to
his cavalr ,,
Y·
The article and a general word is en . h
reference :-The
. event deceived h'un .' .Lmz.ne case was oug
not sofor
bad.a

172. The reference ma b
d b
literally or in substance t?e e mtta e yfi repeating, either
'
ma er re erred to

Wben something is stated as a cause, we are prepared for
the statement of the effect ; and, if the feelings are roused, the
abrupt transition is more forcible. " The result of this week
must convince you of the hopelesimess of farther resistance. I

'

-

TPz-m=

'rllf~re are Demonstrative phrases for making a

.:.av:etho.~1s­

"Entering the gulf. he cnde
d
1:liis river ho could Mt 'discover bv~hc0 d~o find tho river Dal'lcrt.
side of the gulf."
' u
isembarked on the eastern
.
. 1The followin<r
~ pnssng
. e cou11
c b o unproved
on the s
.
.
1.
ame prmattcndcd on the king ass::~~gd t. ie t~oblcs and gentlemen, who
c1p e :-" Early in the m

~:; ht~· t~ey began 'to

:r ;;,.t •.g~:~;f~

1

!:," ;';"':~~

talk
::0
tvh:t
mgh~dbc;ore. But Macbeth could scarcely understand
'' Wha cy sm ? or he was thinking of something worse J"
t they said, Macbeth could scarcely understand." .. ;' . .<.

t;

...!¢

• l

"

148

P .A.RALLEL CONSTRUCTION.

THE P ARAGRAPII.

174. The writings of De Quincey deserve especial
mention on the point of explicit reference.
The followi~g sentence will furnish a short example. The
words that make reference to what precedes, are in italics ; it
will be observed that they fonn a considerable part of the sentence. Such profuseness is characteristic of the author.
"If we do submit to this narrow Mluation of 8tyle, founded on
the interut of t'M 8ubject to whic~ it i8 min'iBterial [r~petition in
substance of what is referred to], still, even on that ba8u, we E~g­
lish commit a capital blunder, which the Frenc~ earnestly an~ smcerely escape· for a88Uming that the thoughts involve the primary
interest still \t ~ust make all the difference in the world to the
success 'of those thoughts, whether they are treated in the way best
fitted to expel the d~ubts or darkness that. may .have settled on
them; and, secondly, m cases where the b.us~ness. 1s, not to. est~b­
lish new convictions,. but to carry old convictions mto operative bfe
and power whether they nre treated in the way best fitted to rekindle in the mind a practical sense of their value."
.

175. IL vVh~n several consecutive sentences iterate
or illustrate the same idea, they should, as far as possible, be formed alike. This may be called the rule of
Parallel Construction.
The principal subject and the principal predicate should retain their positions througliout. The variety required, on other
considerations, should interfere, as little as may be, with this
uniformity. 'Ve ought not to i1eek variety by throwing the
principal into a subordinate place.
.
The disposition of corresponding expressions in corresponding places, already recognized for the Sentence (§ 138), is no
less important, as a means of intc11igibility, in the arrangement
of the Paragraph.
Macaulay's Milton contains this paragraph; where the principal subject, variously worded. is retained in the place of
prominence throughout.
. .
.
.
" The most striking characteristic of the poetry of .Milton, is
1
the extreme remoteness of the associations by means of which
it nets on the reader." This also, in accordance with § 1'16, is
the theme of the paragraph. "Its effect is produced, not so

==

•

•

~

I'

149 .

much by what it expresses, as by what it suggests; not so much
by the ideas which it directly conveys, as by other ideas which.
are connected with them." A sentence of iteration in varied
phrase. ''He electrifies the tnind throu<Yh conductors." ··under
the Exposito~y art; t11is would be called an Illustration. " Tho
most unimaginative man must understand the Iliad •1 Homer
gives' him no choice,' but takes the whole on J1imself. and sets·
his images in so clear a light that it is impossible to b~ blind to
them-'.' A contra~ting sentence, not quite so well m'anaged ;·
~he lhad or Homer should have had the place of prominence, ·
mst~ad of _.'.' the unimaginative man." Out of the present·connecti~n, this membe.r ;vould have an emphasis by closing with
the lhad ; but here it is preferable to say, " The fliad must be
understood by the least imaginative of men ; " with whieh the.
s~cond member correi1ponds.
".ilfilton does not paint a finished
picture, or play for a mere passive listener. He sketches,, and
1
leaves ot~ers to fill up the outline ; he strikes the ke1-!.19t~r ~n.d.
e~pects his hearer to make out the melody."
··
· · · · '. .
~' Take a~other ex.ample :-" Heracleitus of Ephesus, who may
be placed. m the line of the Ionic Philosophers, is ·stated to
have flounshed about 504 n. o. The aciive part of his life
probably belonged to the last part of the sixth and the fir8t part
of the fif~h century. He may be considered as nearly contempo~ary with .AJ;schylus. The obscurity of the written style iti
wh1~h he expressed l1is philosophical opinions became proverbial." The parallelism is preserved in all .these sentences
bu~ the ~ast.. Say r~ther, ':
b~c~me pro~ei:bial fot ·bavi!Jg
wntte~ his ph1lo~oph1~a! opinions in ~n obscu!e style." Besides
resto.rmg the subject t~ its place, this arrangetnent improves the
predicate ; the emphatic expressio-p. being put last.
· ··
. It do.es not violate the parallel construction to place the
mam subject, for the . sake of emphasis, nt ·the end of the firs\
sentence. Such sentences as that already quoted, "There is
not a work of human policy so well descrvincr of examination.
ns the !1oman Catholic Church," are.to be. l1eld as merely pr~
1
pound1~g t~1e theme fo~ consideration j : they do not as yet,affirtrl.
any of its important predicates; After the subject is thtiifpr~

I(e

army

150

UNITY OF 'fIIE PARAGRAPH.

pounded, it must take its proper position, and be maintained in
that position throughout. " The history of that cliitrch joins
together the two great ages of human civilization. · No other
institution is left standing whicb carries the mind back to the
time~ when the smoke of sacrifice rose from the Pantheon, and
when camelopards and tigers bounded in the Flavian amphitheatre. The proudest royal houses are but of yesterday, when
compared with U1e line of the Supreme Pontilfs. That line we
trace back in an unbroken series, from the Pope who crowned
Napoleon in the nineteenth century, to the Pope who crowned
Pepin in the eighth, &c." The second and third sentences are
contrasting or obverse sen~enccs, and tl1eir subjects take tho
place corresponding to the main subject ; by which means the
parallelism is maintained.
Further examples occur in Extracts I., III., V., &c.

character of a prepnrntory illm1tration. Then t11e next sentence
would have been:-" Now, so similar in character to volatility
is the Diffusive power possessed by all liquid substances," &c.,
thus propounding the main subject of the parngraph and of the
paper.

177. IV. A paragraph should be consecutive, or free
from dislocation.
Eacl1 paragraph lrns a plan dictated by tho nnturo of tho
composition, According to such plan, every pertinent statement has a suitable place ; in that place, it contributes to the
general effect; and, out of that place, it makes confusion, For
examples see Extracts III., VII., XI.

178. V. The paragraph should possess unity; which
implies a definite purpose, and forbids digressions and
irrelevan~ matter.

176. III. The opening sentence, unless so const:.-ucted
as to be obviously preparatory, is expected to indicate
with prominence the subject of the paragraph.
"t

l

151

THE PARAGRAPH.

A paragraph describing the constituents of the British Government may begin thus:-" The Government of Britain, called
a mixed government, and sometimes a limited monarchy, is
formed by a combination of the three regular species .of government."
The two following sentences are the opening of Graham's
celebrated paper on Dialysis. " The property of volatility possessed in various degrees by so many substances, affords invaluable means of separation, as is seen in the ever-recurring processes of evaporation and distillation. So similar in character
to volatility is the Diffusive power possessed by all liquid substances, that we may fairly reckon upon a class of analogous
analytical resources arising from it." Now the first sentence is
preparatory to the introduction of the main subject (Diffusion)
in the second ; but, as it stands, it seems to propound volatility
as the subject of the paragraph. The author might have said:" It bas been found with regard to the property of volatility,
possessed, &c." ·This would have given to the sentence its true

This rule belongs to · compositions that address the understanding, and is not strictly enforced in Poetry. Thus in Milton:" He scnrce hnd eens'd, when the superior Fiend
Was moving towards the shore; his pond'roue shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, Jnrge, and round,
Behind him cnst ; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, wh<>&e 01·b
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At ev'ning from the top of Fesole,
Or in V nldarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, on hci· spotty globe."

•,

The lines beginning whose orb are a pure digression ; but,
as tlwy give an interesting picture, they serve the object of the
poet. See also the Odyssey, VIII. 521-30.
Adapting an old homely maxim, we may say, Look to the
Paragraphs and the Discourse will look to itself; for, although
a disconrso ns n whole hns n method or plnn suited to its nature,
yet the confining of each paragraph to a distinct topic avoids
some of the worst faults of composition; besides which, lie that
fully comprehends the method of a paragraph, will also comprehend the method of an entire work.

179. VI. As in the sentence, so in the paragraph, a

152

THE PARAGRAPH.

due proportion should obtain between piincipal and
subordinate statements.
It is a maxim of style universally, that everything should
have bulk and prominence according to its importance. We
have formerly seen (p. 69) that the arts of condensation ·nro
especially required for this end. Thus Gibbon says:-" Tho
forms of the old administration were maintained by those faithful counsellors to whom Marcus recommended his son, and for
whose wisdom and integrity Commodus still entertained a 1·eluctant esteem."
The following sentences occur in De Quincey's remarks on
Style :-"Darkness gathers upon many a theme, sometimes
from previous mistreatment, but oftener from original perplexities investing its very .natm·e. Upon the style it is, if we take
that word in its largest sense-upon the skill a:1d art of the developer-that these perplexities depend for their illumination."
The main subject here is the "Darkness gathering upon a
theme ; " the causes of the darkness are of minor importance,
and should have been given more shortly,-whcther from natural perplexity or from previous mistreatment.

PART II.
KINIJS OF COMPOSITION, .

WE must now Consider in detail the peculiarities of
the !ive Kinds of Composition. We shall thus . bring
to view a number of other piinciplcs and maxims bearing bu effectiveness of style. There will also be m~ny
. . of illustrating farther tho precepts
' ' already
opportumties
laid down.
·
' ·
;

.

CHAPTER I.
DESCRIPTION. .

.

1. WHEN an . objec.t of some degree of complexity
IS to be represented lil language, there is a certain
method to be observed ; in other words, there iS an•
Art of Description.
··
·
·
' . ·' :·

. 4"

.

.
.
To recall a simple or familiar thing, in its ordinary aspcct,as, the moon, the sea, or a field,-a word · is . enough .. ' Even if
there be a qualifying term in addition,-as, tbe full moon, the
smooth sea, a field of wheat,-no direction is needed, except to .
give~ as far as convenient, the qualifying attribute first• . But
when we have to describe a varied scene,-the array of a battle,
a town, a prospect, the exterior or interior of a building, a piece
..

'

"l•

'

I.I

DESORIPTION.

PLAN OF ENUMERATION.

geography of a country, the structure of a
plant or an animal,-wc must proceed according to method.

tributaries of a river, valleys, and mountain ranges. A parallel
case is furnished in the blood-vessels and nerves of the human
body.
The complication of a town is often happily unravelled by
starting from a main trunk. Many towns afford this naturally
in a river, a valley, a ridge, or a principal highway ; the streets
are then arranged and described as they branch off from the
trunk ; the larger branches being first pointed out, and then
the smaller as tributary to these. In some cases, the point of
departure may be a very prominent central ·object, as an elevated castle, or citadel, or n great public building. This reference may be joined with the other; and both may be·combined
with an outline.

154

~ -of machinery, the

2. I. The chief rule in Description is to include with
the Enumeration of the parts a comprehensive statement,
or general Plan, of the whole.
The general plan may mmally be given first; and, if there
be danger of its dropping out of view, it should be repeated.
The particulars are to be enumerated in the order that they
occupy in the plan.

3. The Form, or Outline, furnishes, in many instances, the comprehensive type that is sought.
We describe a field as triangular, square, oblong, semicircular, &c. A building is represented as long and narrow, lofty,
circular, or quadrangular. A hill is conical, domc-slrnped, or
truncated. A valley is straight or winding. A city is round
and compact, or long and straggling. A geographical tr~ct is
described in the first instance by its form.

I ..
l

'

" They plucked the RCated hilla, with nil their loadllocks, waters, woads-and by the shaggy top1
Up-lifting, bore them in their hands."

4. In a definite description, the Magnitude is stated
as well as the Form : as, a circle one hundred feet in
diameter ; an oblong tract of country, covering · two
hundred square miles.

Also in Carlyle's description of Zorndorf :-" Snch is the
poor moorland tract of country ; Zorndorf the centre of it,where the battle is likely to be :-Zorndorf and environs, a bare
quasi-island among these woods ; extensive bald crown of the
landscape, girt witl1 a frizzle of firwoods all round."
The subordination of the detail to the type necessarily applies throughout. In Milton's -1escription of Satan's Palace, the
whole building is first chnrnctcrizod, "tho nsconding pil~;" noxt
in the interior, " the smooth and level pavement;" and then
the "arch'd roof."
The following passage, describing the Alpl'I, exemplifies in
part the foregoing rules as applied to Geography.

The Outline and Size together constitute the fundamental
fact of the Object world,-Extension in Space. In the orderly
enumeration of the contents, it is shown how the containing
whole is made up.
•
Any well recognized form is sufficient, although not one of
the simple mathematical figures. A thing may be heart-shaped,
leaf-shaped, egg-shaped; it may resemble a boot, like Italy, a
a spider, or a crown . ..., The constellations exemplify gr?upings
according to arbitrary but familiar shapes. A star 1s tlien
known as in the belt of Orion, or in the tail of the Great Bear.

5. Some objects may have their parts aiTanged
.branches from a centre, or main trunk.

M

The tree is a suitable type for a variety of things ; as, the

6. Any feature suggesting a comprehensive aspect
may be chosen. A figurative epithet often answers the
desired end. Thus in Milton:-

" The Alps consist, in their en.stern portion, of severnl pnrnllel
running in o. general enst nnd west direction ; westwnrd of
the 9th meridian, these are diminished to two chnins, divided by
the valley of tho river Rhone i and still further to tho west, where
they bond sonthwnrd, they form a single mnin chain, or axis of elevation, though with numet·ous offsets, which occupy the country on
either side. In this, the most western portion, the · entire . breadth
rnn~es,

.
I-

li

156

DESCleIPTION.

f the mountain moss is nbout 100 miles: in their more eastern
breadth. is considerably greo.~er, o.nc~ between the.9th
nnd 18th meridians, 1s from 120 to 130 miles. 1he Alps are highest in their western po.rt, where the crest of the range lrns an o.ve~­
nge elevation of between 8,000 and 9,0oo. feet; Mo.un~ Blanc, their
lo~iest summit, is 15, 730 feet in elcvat10n, a~d is (if we e~cept
the border chain of Mount Caucasus) the 111ghest mountnm m
Europe. Many other summits in this part ?f the rnngc exceed
12 000 feet in height~ The more eastern portion of the Alps have
an' nver~e. elevation of between 6,~00 and 7,000 feet; bu~ thr?ugh
their entire course numerous summits exceed 10,000 f~et m heigJ1t,
and rise above the limits of perpetual snow, the hne of wh1Ch
is here between 8,000 and 9,000 feet ttbove the sea-level. The
descent of the Ali;>s is more rapid towards Italy than. towards t~e
north on which side they form elevated plains and high mountam
'
valleys."
It will be observed that the horizontal outline or form of the
range is given first. The elevation follows, and the comprehensive figure is finally determined by the description of the sl~pe
on each side. The author afterwards proceeds to descnbe
the passes, which still farther contri.b ute to the figure, and
chime in with, or support, the assigned elevation of the peaks.
He then adverts to the most prominent of the constituent
features of the Alps--th~ glaciers, which he describes on the
same system . of comprehensive type . and detailed enumeration.
.
.
See also Extracts VII., VIII., IX., APPENDIX.

THE TRAVELLER'S POINT OF VIEW,

~ortion, the

'l. II. The description may follow the Succession of
Aspects disclosed to a spectator surveying the whole . .
: In those cases where the object canno\ ·be comprehended
in one view or from one position, it may be described in the
order of a~tual presentation. By such adaptation to the
natural method of observing, a strong feeling of reality is
given to the . picture. The panoramic view is an obvious
''
example.
This may a]so be called the Traveller's point of view~ Out
of the vastness and variety of the world, it aims at presenting
only what the m1nd can embrace; if inadequate, it is at ]east
inte11igib1e. As the traveller's route 1?ay be so conduct~d as .to
exhaust and comprehend an entire obJect or scene, so hkew1se

/1

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157

may be tho description. The precaution requisite in this case
is to shift the point of view decidedly and avowedly, and not
to mingle successive aspects of the panorama.
The advantages of the Trave1ler's point of view have led to
its being adopted as a mode of fiction. The genius of Defoe
stands out distinguished in this kind of representation. · His
" Voyage round the World " sets forth aJl the aspects and incidents of n seafaring and trading life exactly as they would
have met the eye of any one on ship-board. Arthur Helps
constructs an imaginary voyage to present more vividly the
country and the customs of the Indians on the Pearl Coast
(Spanish Conquest in America, vol. ii., p. 123). Goldsmith's
Traveller is an example in poetry. See also a short passage
quoted on p. 94.
·
·

It is mieful to ~ombinc with other modes of describing a
tow·"· and its environs, the panoramic prospect from some lofty
position, as Athens ~rom ·the Ptiyx.
· ·

8. III. A description is more easily and fully realized when made individual, that is, presented under all
the conditions of a particular moment of time.
As the mind, even when supposed to entertain an abstraction, must have a concrete instance in view, anything that helps
t? suggest our concrete experience adds to the force of description.
All scenes whatsoever nre beheld under n ee1'tnin light and
~t n certain .hour of tho day. . Many things are liable to chnng:mg. aspects m themselves ; the sea is smooth, rippled, or piled
up In breakers ; the face of nature generally has its varieties according to season ; the plant, as seen in the concrete, is at some
definite stage of its growth ; the animal is in some posture, or
performing some act, characteristic of the moment. Now we
can m~re easily picture to ourselves an object when individualized to the full, as it appears in a given instant of time, than
when the individualizing features are made an abstraction. · · ·
As our mental conception 'of the visible world . iS a com.:
pound of form and color, these must be sufficiently giv:en· iri any

.

158

ASSOCIATED CIRCUMSTANCES.

DESCRIPTION.

tion of these allied facts ; M, " the distant hills," "the landscape
shining near."
.We may also use more casual associations; as, " the solitary
peaks," "a place where only mountain sheep could be at home," .
"the town stands high and windy."

description. The form is perhaps tho least laborious to conceive ; hence what vivifies the picture is an indication of the
color; as a "brown visage," a " scarlet lip," "the · deep blue
sky," "the amber stream." When, by metonymy, the material
is used for the thing made of it-as, "the cold steel "-the
effect of the figure is due to its suggesting surface and color.
Next to color is posture or attitude, or the momentary
aspect of the thing described ; as in the following from the
Odyssey:11

10. The associated human feelings are often adduced
in describing objects, especially in poetry.

He ceased ; the whole assembly silent sat,
Charmed into ecstasy with his discourse,
Throughout the twili9ht hall."

I

Some accompanying action also gives individuality. Another principle is here involved, belonging to the art of poetical
description,-namely, that language is suited to express action
better than still life. Thus, in Suckling's Bride : 11

I

·1

Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out."

A river in motion is either quick or slow, uniform or interrupted with r:ipids, muddy or clear; and the indicating of those
features makes the description individual or concrete : " tl1e
sluggish Ouse."
An interior is more vividly pictured, when a moment is
chosen, and the characteristic attitude and movements are
pointed out : " For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Nor bU8!f howewife ply her evening care ;
.~No children n.tn to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied ki.~s to share."

9. IV. Associated circumstances are an aid to description.
Thus although form and color are the pictorial basis of the
'
.., .
external world, the modifications of these suggest many other
properties. For example, we have an inseparable association
(accounted by some an instinct) between certain visible appearances and the distances and real magnitudes of tl1ings. Wherefore it is possible to aid the visible representation by the men-

159

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The feelings of common utility are reflected from many
things, and help to describe them; a.c;, a cheerful home, a com~
f01·tless den, a dainty repast, a toilsome ascent, a pi.tilesa storm.
The associations with the various emotions of Fine Art are
i;till more frequently introduced to vivify the pictorial representation of nature. Hence such epithets as grand, imposing,
solemn, awe-inspiring, soul-subduing, dreary, gloomy, gay, animated, cheerful, beautiful. We speak of a comical face, a noble
pile, a terrible abyss, a sublime peak.
The picture of Dover cliff is prineipnlly made up of associated feelings.
·
" Come on, sir, here's the placc--stand still. Ilow dreadful
And di:uy 'tis to

ca..~t

one's eyes so low I"
" I'll look no more,
Lest m,11 brain tum, a11d the deficient sight
Topple down headlong."

The intermediate portion-" The cro;7s and chougbs, &c."assigns the associated circumst:mccs of diminisl1ed size, to express great remoteness.
As each person mingles self with all outward regards, and
as the object world cannot, in the concrete, be separated from
a subject mind ; the acts, feelings, and thoughts of an obser\rer,
real or supposed, have an individualizing effect in description.
" Turning with easy eye, thou may'st behold-."

11. The particulars of a description may sometimes
support each other.
As mountains, valleys, and rivers arc naturally inseparable,
they are thereby mutually suggesth·e. The description of a
valley implies the sides of the enclosing mountains; while the

•
160

101

DESCRIPTION.

BUDJECTIVE DEBCRirTION.

branchings and course of a river determine the valleys. The
separate detail of the three parts, therefore, though appearing
only to fill up the description, in reality repeats it from different points of view ; .and each part supports and confirms the
others.
Another case of mutual support is the harmonious combination of the different methods of description. Tho method of
Plan and Enumeration (I) may be followed up by the Traveller's point of view (II). If the two are managed so as to fit well
together,' the 'result is highly favorable to the ease and vividness
of the picture. · In like manner, the associated particulars confirm ·the literal delineation.
If such additional and supporting particulars are not justified
by the difficulty oi' the importance of the subject, they fall under
the censure . of. redundancy.
.

their own; as, perception, memory, imagination, reason.
The resulting ideas may be described by a reference to
their several objects; as, "the recollection of one'B early
yearB," " the imagination of a feast," " the notion of the

12. The description of the feelings and thoughts of
the mind-sometimes called the Subject World, as opposed to the Object or Extended 'V orld-has, to a certain extent, a method of its own.
I. The description of the feelings may be effected by
means of the proper vocabulary of mind ; as, pleasure,
love, rage, fear, unconcern, trust, hope.
Every language provides terms for describing the feelings of
the mind ; and the English language owns an extensive stock
of such. To make known a feeling, therefore, we, in the first
instance, look for tl1e suitable name in this department of our
vocabulary. We can express a large number of mental states
by names .appropriated to them. Hunger, repletion, cold, exhilaration, intoxication, ennui, sweetness, charm, pungency, bitterness, worider, sorrow, despair, melancholy, depression, are a
few additional ~xamples.
We attain a more exact delineation of the feelings by assigning a genus and a specific difference ; a " faint pleasure,"
" strong affection," "noble rage," " intense curiosity."

13. Intellectual processes have also a language of

Infinite."
The matters successh·cly thought of may bo mentioned in
order :-" These, howe,·er, were hut the evening fancies of the
mariner, who had before him fondly in his mind the wreathed
pillars of the cathedral of Burgos, or the thousand-columned
Christian mosque of Cordova, or the perfect fane of. Seville.":
The predominance of these modes constitutes a subjective
style, and is an extreme to be avoided.
' '
The following passage from Adam Sniith comes almost
wholly under the present bead. The few objective references
are marked in italics : "The violator of the more sacred laws of justice, can never reflect on the sentiments which mnnkin<l must entertuin with regunl
to him, without feeling a1l ·the ngonies of shame, nml horror, and
consternation. When his passion is gratified, and he begins coolly
to reflect on his past conduct., he can enter into ·none of the motives
which influenced it. They appear now ns detestable to him ns they
did always to otlier people. lly sympathizing with the hatred and
abhorrence which other men must entertain for him, he becomes, in
some measure, the object of his own hatred and abhorrence. The
situation oft.he person who suffered by his injustice, now calls upon
his pity. He is grieved at the thought of it ; regrets the unhappy
effects of his own conduct, and feels at the same time that they
have rendered him the proper object of the resentment and indig. nation of mankind, and of what is the natural consequence of resentment, vengeance nnd punishment. - The thought of this perpetually haunts him, and tills him with terror nnd amazement. · He
dares no longer look society in theface, but imagines himself as it
were rejected, and thrown out from the affections of nil mankind.
He cannot hope for the consolation of sympathy in this his greatest
and most dreadful distress. The remembrance of his crimes ha~
shnt out nll fellow-feeling with him from the honrts of ~1is fcllowcrontures. The sentiments which they entertnin with regnrcl to
him, are the very thing which he is · most nfrnid of. Every thing
seems hostile, and lie would be glad to fly to some inhospitabk
desert, where he might never more behold theface of a human creature, nor read in the countenance of mankind the condemnation of
his crimes. · But solitude is still more dreadful than society. His
own thoughts can present him with nothing but what is black, un.:

• -• -

14. II. The feelings may be described, or, to speak
more correctly, suggested, by their various associations.
And first, by their Outward Expression.

Secondly, by their known Occasions, Causes, or
Provocations.
The mention of a kind or beneficent action suggests to us,
by anticipation, the grateful feeli~g of the recip.ient. An impending danger makes us conceive the terror it causes. On
hearing of some great provocation, we recall the emotion of
anger.

Thirdly, by the resulting Actions or Conduct.
There is a specific line of conduct following our stronger
feelings, such as to mark more especia11y their p1easurable or
painful character. The devotion to knowledge, to art, or to
sportive recreations, suggests the degree of pleasure th~t they
severally give ; intense avoidance has the contrar~ m~anrng..
While feeling an<l thought nro mental or snhJcct1ve, action
is materi~l or"objective, and can be so described. Such characteristics as energetic, lively, slow, taciturn, uncouth, persistent,
applied to human beings, arc objective features.
.

Fourthly by the External Scenes, Objects, and Circumstances, that are in harmony with them. ·

-

...

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163

We have already referred to the tendency of external nature
to raise certain emotions-the sub1ime, the terrible, the beautiful, the tender, &c. (§ 102)-and have shown the union thus
arising to be made use of in objective desc.ription (p. 159).
We may employ it also in subjective description. 'l'lms, to
represent the timid man's feelings, we use the objective illustration," he saw a lion in his path." Other cxmnples are-" In
the seventh heavens ; " " down in the depths ; " ''a sunny
soul ; " "the one with spirits as of men beating, the other with
spirits as of men beaten." See a]so the expressions in italics,
in the passage quoted on page 161.

fortunate, and disastrous, the melancholy forebodings of incomprehensible misery and ruin."

The expression of the features, the varying hues of the countenance the tones of the voice, 'the gesticulations of the body,
are cha;acteristic of the great leading emotions. The signs of
p1easure, pain, anger, fear, wonder, te~der feeling, ar~ ~nown
and read in all times and in all countries. The description of
them in language is also suggestive. Hence" the smiling coun·
tenance" "the dark frown of anger," "the stare of wonder,"
help us'to realize the feelings. Fear. has been often pictur~d
vividly. We need only recall Job iv. 14, and the passage m
Hamlet, "I could a tale unfold-."

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DESCRIPTION IN SCIENCE.

DESCRIPTION.

162

-

I,

15. Description is involved in all the other kinds of
Composition.
The narration of events or operations must often be a series
of descriptions ; as a battle, a campaign, a voyage. Kinglake's
narrative of the battle of tho Alma is in great part made up of
descriptions.
In describing machin~ry and processes in the arts, the main
or essential part of the mechanism is to be carefully distinguished from the accessories or details.
Dr. Arnott introduces liis account of the steam-engine thus:
- " The name steam-engine to most pet'Sons brings the idea of
a machine of tho most complex nature, and hence to bounderstood only by those who will devote much time to the study of
it ; but he that can understnnd a common pump, rnny understand a steam-engine. It is, in fact, only a pump in which the
fluid passing through it is made to impel the piston instead of
being impelled by it, that is to say, in which the fluid acts as
the power instead of being the resista.nce."

lG. Exposition, or Science, is frequently made up in
a great measure of Description. The Natural Sciences,
Geography, Anatomy, Zoology, Dotnny, &c., are exam-

ples.
Geography hns been nlrendy referred to. In Anatomy, there
is an elaborate descriptive method. The larger organs, as tho

164

DESCRIPTION IN ·POETRY.

DESCRIPTION.

viscera, are represented by Outline, Plan and Enumeration of
pnrts ; the blood-vessels nnd nerves are gh en on the method of
Main Trunk and Ramifications. In tlJC description of the vagus
nerve, the following comprehensive outline is prefaced !-"The
vagus hR.S the longest course of any of the cranial nerves. It
extends through the neck and the cavity of the chest to the upper
part of the abdomen ; and it supplies nerves to the organs of
voice and respiration, to the alimentary canal as far as the
stomach, and to the heart."

".A point that !!how'd the valley, stretched
At length before us ; and, not distnnt far,
Upon a rising ground n grny church-tower,
Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees.
And towards a crystnl mern, that lay beyond
Among steep hills nnd woods embosomed, flowed
A copious stream with boldly-winding courl:lc;
Here traceable, there hidden-there ngain
To eight restored, and glittering in the sun.
On the stream's bank, and everywhere, appenred
Fair dwellings, single, or in social lcnots;
Some scattered o'er the level, others pcrl'hcd
On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene
Now in its morning purity arrayed." ~

1

17. Poetry partakes so largely of Description, that
the principles now laid down are proper to be incorporated in the poetic art.
The end of Poetry, which is immediate pleasure or emotional
effect, determines the subjects chosen. Language being inadequate to the easy presentation of complicated scenes, the poet
refrains from attempting such, and selects the simpler and more
impressive objects, which a few bold touches will enable liim to
depict. Ile also dispenses with numerical exactness, and employs largely the langnage of associated circumstances, and,
more especially, the associated feelings.
Milton's description of the scene from the Mount of Temptation fairly represents the degree of complication that n poet
may undertake : -· :
·
"It was a mountnin nt whose verdant feet

.A spacious plain, outstretched in circuit wide,
Lny pleasant; from its side two rivers flow'd,
The one winding, the other straight, and left between
Fair champaign with less rivers intervein'd,
Then meeting join'd their tribute to the sea;
With herds the pnstures throng'd, with flocks the hills;
Huge cities and high tower'd, that well might seem
The seats of mightiest monarchs; and so large
The prospect wns, that here and there was room
For baqen desert, fountainless nnd dry."

The laws of description are well observed in this passage ;
and, without a Jaborious effort, the whole scene may be conceived and its beauties enjoyed.
The following is one of 'Vordsworth's most complicated
descriptions : -·

165

Usually, however, the practice of poets .is to give mere
snatches of views, and to overlay them with figures of similitude, associated particulars, and the language of feeling. Scott's
description, in Marmion, of the prospect towards Edinburgh,
from the top of Blackford, is a series of poetic touches : -

.
'
I

" When sated with the martini show
That peopled all the plain below,
The wandering eye could o'er It go,
.And mark the distant city glow
. With gloomy splendor red; .
For, on the smoke-wreathe, huge and slow,
That round her sable turrets flow,
The morning beams were shed,
.And tinged them with a lustre proud
Like that which streaks a thundcr-cl~ud.
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height
\Vhere the huge castle holds its stnte, '
.And nil the steep slope down,
~hose ridgy bock heaves to the sky,
Piled deep nnd massy, close and high,
Mine own romantic town I
But northward fnr, with purer blaze,
On Ocbil mountains fall the rays,
.And as each heathy top they kissed,
It gleamed a purple nmethyst.
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw;
Here Preston-Day and Berwick-Law;
And, broad between them rolled
The gallant Frith the eye might note '
Whose islands on its bosom float
'
Like emeralds chased in gold.

The delineation of character is sometimes called Description.
But in so far as this consists in summing up the conduct of an
individual, or of a nation, or in depicting any other object, in

166

NARRATIVE.

..~'
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ORDER OF EVENTS.

•·

general attributes, it is of the nature of science; and, when
striking emotional effects are aimed at, it is a species of
poetry.

••·1

"'

ing the ground plan, as well ns the fatigue of distrncting pictures. When one <lcscription can, by slight curtailmcntK or
additions, be made to answer throughout, to depart from it is a
waste of mental force.

(2.) Clear intimation should be given of any change
of scene, or of the introduction or the dis~ppearance of
an important agent.

CHAPTER II.
NARRATIVE.

This essential of perspicuous narrative is often disregarded,
especially by the poets ; they being unable to give such intimations in poetic diction. In the Faerie Queen, personages
appear and disappear without warning; and the whole action
is rendered hazy by the uncertainty of the groundwork. Stage
directions would be invaluabfo in these cases.

18. NARRATIVE composition applies to a succession of
views, or to things changing from one phase to another,
and to the stream of events.
Language, being itself successive, is best adapted to inform
us of successions. Hence, in cases where the individual phases
or objects that pass before the view arc of a simple and intelligible nature, Narrative is easier both to compose and to comprehend than Description. The narrntive of incidents in a
Fable is such as to dispense with rules of art. Even when the
subject is of wider scope, there may be no more than a single
thread to follow, the deliberations and dictates of one mind.
But event.'! of importance usually imply a mechan~sm and a set
of arrangements, more or less complicated, and occupying a
definite space ; thus pre-supposing the means of Description.
Such are the movements of armies, and the occupation of new
countries ; the larger processes of industry ; the busy life of
cities; the workings of Nature on a grand scale; the vicissitudes of the seasons, da7 and night, stormi:;, tides, and the flow
of rivers ; geological changes ; the evolution of vegetable and
animal life. Narration, therefore, may have to put on the guise
of a series of descriptions. 'Vhcncc the necessity for the two
following prcc~utions : -

19. I. The first principle of Narrative is to follow
the Order of Events. This implies placing the events
before us as we should have witnessed them.
· It is also the order of dependence, or cause and effect,
a relationship commonly made prominent in narrative.
A historian is required, not merely to relate events, but to
explain or account for them. In other words, be has to show
how they conform to the ordinary Jaws of the world. His personages must be seen to be actuated by the nsnnl motives of
mankind ; be must find, in the recognized modes of working
of things, adequate causeg for whatever bas happened.
Such explanatory accompaniments are said to make a history philosophical. There is, however, no 11istory that is not
philosophical in some degree. The difference between one historian and another has regard to the accuracy and penetration
that they severally display in accounting for the transactions
nnnntcd by them.

20. To assign the dnte of every trnnsnct.ion is to give
it a definite place, and to institute one vital bond of connection between it and other transactions.

(1.) In N aiTative, the scenes should not be shifted
oftener, or to a greater extent, than is absolutely necessary.
The reader should be spared the work of often re-construct-

167

.i

Chronology is the skeleton, the chart, of history.

It is what

168

NARRATIVE.

latitude and longitude are to geography. Every event is by
this means set in a definite position towards every other; any
two events are either contemporary or successive, with a fixed
interval between. Hence there is no rule of historical composition more imperative than the easily obeyed one of giving
dates. It is hard to comprehend Gibbon's motives in not supplying a marginal chronology:
.
.
.
To fix upon a year and nss1gn the tlnngs transactmg there~n,
throughout all the countries historical.ly known, is a f~vonte
theme with Macaulay, and would constitute a good exercise for
pupils studying history. Among countries having relations with
each other-in war, alliance, trade, &c.-these contemporaneous
events will often be found connected ; and every sort of connection both imparts intere~t and aids memory.

· 21. For the better explanation of events, a back\vard
reference may be necessary.
Wliatcver period an historian selects, he starts with a certain
condition of things, which he is desirous to account.for. He
therefore gives a short summary of previous transactions, confining himself to such as bear on this s~ecial end.
.
Macaulay's History of James II. 1s prefaced by a rapid
survey of the History of England. A_n historian of the batt~e
of Waterloo· would have to prepare Ins readers by a sum mm y
like the following : The great political event of tl1e eml of the Inst century, tl1e
French Revolution of 1'i'8!), cxpe!led the dynasty ~hat hud ruled
France for many ages, and estabhshed a <lemoe~abc government,
which after a series of vicissitudes, marked by mtense party_fe.elin !'1 gave way to the usurpation of Napoleon, who had <l1st1_n~'h d himself as a victorious general in the wars of the Rcpubhc.
Y~~~s g~eat militnry career, begun in ~taly~ e~tended over Eurnpe,
a· git" the subjugation of the Spamsh I emnsula, the Low Co';ln~~e~n and a great part of Germany. The Britisl1 power, co-operutmg
wit!; the subjugated nations, through that me1?1orable. stru~gle
known as the Peninsular War,, at Ia.st succe.eded m wrestmg _tro~n
ltirn his conquests and in makmg hun a prisoner nnd an e~1le m
the island of Elba'. He, however, contrived to escape from his c?nfi
ent to make good a lnnding in France, and, hy the attraction
o~b'fs n~me, to muster the military power of the country, and

ORDER OF EVENTS.

169

ngnin to thrClllten tho nations that he had previously conquered.
The rest of Europe prepared to resist him. An army composed of
J~nglish, Germans, llelginns, and Dutch, assembled and marched by
the Low Countries to the French frontier.

22. It is sometimes best to commence by describing
a recent stnt.e of things more familiar to the persons addressed, n.nd thou to point out by whut previous steps
that state was arrived at.
In this case also, the inversion of the order of time has a
view to the explanation of the event. It corresponds to a rule
in teaching science, requiring us, before propounding an explanation or solution, to state clearly the point to be explained, or
the problem to be solved.
There could not be a better preparation for studying the
history of Great Britain than a full acquaintance with all its
existing institutions. Knowing exactly tho stntc of things to
be accounted for, we sl1ould be more alive to the flow of events
that contributed to produce it.
This method is not unsuited to the case of nations that have
ceaRed to exist. A full account of the Roman world in the age
of Augustus might, ·not improperly, precede the early history
Qf Rome.
In Geology, t11is plan is followed with ndvantage. It may
be seen exemplified in Lyell's Elements, nnd in his Antiquity
•of Man.

23. II. It is necessary to provide for the narration
of Concurring Streams of Events.
There are several distinct modes of concurrence.
(1.) A principal action, with subordinates; as in a
campaign, in the history of a single country or of a collective interest, and in any complex proceeding where
<let.ached operations are carried on. In Romance and
the Drama, subordinate events are essential to the plot.

or

Here tho art consists in upholding the prominence
the
main stream of the narrative. In relating the subordinate transaction!'.', the historian has to make apparent their subordination.

170

NAIUtATIVE.

The forms of languag~ announcing the transition from the prin·
cipal current to the minor Rtrcams, and back again, should be
explicit. The separation into distinct chapters contributes to
the same end.

24. In imitation of the descriptive art, it is possible
to give a comprehensive scheme, or plan, -of the events,
principal and subsidiary.
Many narratives may be brought under the similitude of the
tree. Not merely the genealogy of families, but the progress of
colonization, the diffusion of races, and the spread of languages,
are adapted to this representation.
Carlyle draws upon his usual boldness ~f metaphor to supply these comprehensive narrative plans. We quote a few specimens :-The Royalist army at Worcester, pressed by Cromwell,
is a lion in the folds of a boa; the confused politics of Poland
in the end of the 17th century, he styles the Polish Donnybrook fair; George II., distracted by opposite alliances, is the
Hanoverian white horse between seven sieves of beans.
Helpi,i, aware of the peculiarly involved .nature of tho history of American discovery by the Spaniards, tries various devices for grappling with it. He remarks, on the occasion of a
passing reference to the third voyage of Columbus : "This voyage will have, hereafter, to be carefully recounted.,
I nm so convinced however, that the best chance for the reader to
remember any of the entangled history of the disco.very and s.ettlement of Spanish America is to have it told to h1m according to
place, nnd not to elate, that I entirely postpo~e nll far.t.her allusion
to Columbus until that part of the coast wluch he discovered becomes important in the general narrative."
·
-

25. (2.) Concurring streams of nearly equal importance ; as in the History of Greece.
In thiA instance, we m:ty be said to have a plurality of historieA, embraced in the same work. In Grecian history, for example, Athens, Sparta, Argos, Thebes, Corinth, &c., the Asiatic,
the Italian, and the Sicilian Greeks,-pursue for the most part
their independent career, broken only by their mutual conflicts.

CONCURRING STREAMS.

l'il

The historian of collective Greece has to execute his task by
a series of distinct narratives.

26. (3.) The case of two or more contending parties.
Ilostile operations introduce a new element to perplex
and complicate the narrative.
In depicting warfare, or any species of contest,, the l1istorian
narrates sometimes from one side, and sometimes from tho
other. Now it is esRcntial to n clear unclcrRtnnding of tho oper·
ations that the change of posit.ion should be open and declared.
Actual conflict involves both parties; and there is great danger
of bringing about confusion in the picture, by passing in a
stealthy manner between the two sides. An eye-witness, like
King1ake at the Alma, retains his point of view throughout ; a
compiler from various witnesses differently stationed is liable to
those furtive transitions of scene. The most obvious course
seems to be to describe the preparations first on one side and
then on the other ; and, during the shock of battle, to adhere
to one point of view. This is the usual method of Carlyle. In
describing the ·battle of Prag, 110 gives n fnll account of tho
preparations on the part of the Austrians, and then makes the
transition Urns :-" We will now return to Friedrich ; and will
ltay on his side through the terrible action that is coming."

27. (4.) The plurality of departments in the eame
historical unity.
A nation plays many parts at one time. Its Foreign rela·
tions, which are its wars, diplomacy, and colonization, figure in
the history of the world. Even when they do not absorb the
historian's attention, they are usually recounted apart. The
Internal or Domestic history is itself open to subdivision. The
struggles to determine the Government, or the Political Consti·
tution, rank first in prominence. There may be other questions
that stir the whole life of the nation, and afford an exciting
theme of narrative ; such are the Revolutions in Religion.
After these, come the subjects of quieter interest; Administrative improvements, and the progress of Literature, Art, and Sci·

I

.

.
,l, :

172

NARRATIVE.

ence. Although the various currents of events must often come
together, it is the practice of the best historians to follow them
separately. As in battles, so in all other cases of action and reaction, a view from both sides is desirable. The conduct of a
war is affected by the vicissitudes of political parties at home;
Religious Revolutions are entwined with Literature ; Administrative · changes (Police, Pauperism, Education, Commercial
Policy) are at the mercy of all other influences ; still, the
separation of the parts conduces to the understanding of tlie
·whole.

28. III. The detail of events should be relieved and
assisted by summaries.
· We have already noticed the use of the summary to prepare
for the commencement of a narrative. Its application is much
more extensive. It is the comprehensive view that embraces
the details in an organized whole such as the mind can retain.
No department of composition having a host of particulars t<J
present, is able to dispense with this aid.
· An example from Helps is worthy of being given entire:11 The narrative, after many turnings and windings, in tlie dijficult narJigation of affairs at court, has now come to that point
where Las Oasa.S, having conquered bis troubles in Spain, was ready
to start for the Terra-firma, tolerably weJI equipped with all the
things that were necessary for a g1·eat enterprise of colonization in
that part of the world. It remains to be seen how for the Terrafirma was ready to receive him; and whether there would be thnt
concurrence of favorable circumstances upon which success in any
enterprise depends, or at least without which success is in the
highest degree difficult. For this purpose, it is necessary for the
writer to go back a long way in the history of the Indies, to resuscitate Columbus, ~vho had now for many years found the true rest
of .the tomb, and to describe, at some lengt11, the discovery and
settlement of that part of the Terra-firma which Jind been grunted
by the King of Spain to the Olcl'igo, l . as Casas.
. "Nay further, to bring the sul~jeet with anything like completeness before the mind of the rencler, it will be advisable to anticipate the Spanhih Conquest, and to make some endeavor, at
least, to describe the inhabitants of the coast of Cumanu (otherwise
called the Pearl Coast), and their mode of life, before they had seen
the face of a white man. Hitherto, in the course of this narrative,
when the word 'Indians' has occurred, it has conveyed little

SUMMARIES.

i

t

113

more in formation than jf the Words I Savages, l I aborigines, l 'Or
'copper-colored men,' had been used. And, indeed, so much is
our knowledge of different tribes intermingled and confused, that
it would be presumptuous to say with respect to nny account ~ven,
even after the utmost research, of the inhabitants of any particular
part of the coast, that it was exactly faithful. Still, some attempt
must be made; and, as there wns a general resemblance in the
languages spoken by the adjacent tribes, even though they could
not understand each other, so in the life of these several tribes
there Wl\8 a general bnsis of nccordnnco, wl1ioh we must endeavor to bring bofore our minds, if wo would tnko tho full interest iu their story which its importance to the worlcl demands
for it."

29. The framing of summaries-called also, abridg~
ing, abstracting,-is an important art, and is conducted
in a variety of ways. (See PART I., chap. ii.)
Sometimes it corresponds to scientific generalization,
which is the only perfect mode of summing up an array
of particulars.
·
'
The law of universal gravity is a summary of the fall of
bodies to the earth, the round figure of the earth, the tendency
of the planets to the sun, &c. Tho law thnt supply follows demand, is an abridgment of the phenomena of trade.

In many cases, the art of condensation turns upon
discriminating the essentials ; which is not possible
r
without a full knowledge of the subject.
·
In historical narrntion, the condensed snmmnry is
commonly made by passing over many of . the ·connecting links.
The beginning and the end of a long transaction are briefly
given, with or without a few selected points in the unfolding of
the plot. "Grcnt Britnin imposed nn obnoxious tax on her
American colonies ; they resisted, fought, nnd mnde themselves
independent "-is an easy abridgment of the events of several
years.
It being unadvisable to anticipate the plot, summaries are
not given to start with. They are usually retrospective. They
substitute for the numerous windings of the narrative the larger

i74

NARRATIVE.

features and the main results; they are the heads, abiding in
the memory themselves, and belping the cohesion of the details.
A stimmary of the previous events opens a new chapter with
advantage ; and is all the more called for, when there has been
a considerable break in the thread to be resumed. In merely
recurring to the past, in the course of the JJarrative, a brief
summary is the surest mode of reference. (See p. 172.)

30. IV; The Explanatory Narrative is, by its nature,
a mixture of narration, strictly so called, with general
principles.
The statement of a principle may either precede the recital
of the events to be thereby cleared up, or be introduced at the
close of the narrative.
When the explanation is of some length, occupying one or
more paragraphs, the progress of the narrative is wholly suspended. The shorter explanations take the shape of interpoJated sentences and clauses. Parenthetic el:mscs nrc often resorted to. (See pp. 137-141, and Extract X.)

31. V. Before attempting to define more narrowly
the method of Historical Composition, we have to consider its ends. .
And, :first, in point of Instruction, History furnishes
an array of facts or experience in lrnman nature, more
especially in its social workings. It is the inductive
basis, and the · illustration by example, of the doctrines
that regulate man in society; a knowledge of which is
what we mean by political wisdom.
History is to us the trial of Institutions. The Absolute
Monarchies, Limited Monarchies, Aristocracies, Democracirn~,
represented in operation, are so many experiments as to the
best form of government; and we judge them by their fruits.
vVe can study and compare centralization and localization of
authority; large states and small; slavery and free labor; castes
and equality ; Paganism, Mahometanism, and Christianity ;
Catholicism arid Protestantism ; state-control in education and

INSTRUCTION FROM HISTORY.

175

its absence. By interpreting, wisely or unwisely, all this experience, states are guided in the choice of their own institutions.
The following is a political lesson deduced by Gibbon from
the History of Imperial Home : -.
"The division of Europe into a nnmher of independent states,
connected, however, with each other by the general resemblance
of religion, language, and manners, is productive of the most beneficial consequences to tho liberty of mnnkind. A modern tFtmt,
who should find no resistance either in his own breast or m his
people, would soon experience a gentle restraint from the example
of his equals, the dread of present censnre, the advice of his allies,
and the apprehension of his enemi.es. The object of his displeasure,
escaping from the narrow limits of his dominions, would easily obtain, in a happier climate, a secure refuge, a new fortune adequate
to his merit, the freedom of complaint, nnd perhaps the means of
revenge. But the empire of the Homans filled the world ; and
when that empire fell foto the hands of a single person, the world
became a safe and dreary pri8on for his enemies. Tl1e slave of Imperial despotism, whether he was condemned to drag his gilded
chain in Rome and t110 senate, or to wear out a life of exile on the
barren rock of Scriphus or the frozen hanks of tho Danube, expected his fate in silent despair. To resist was fatal, un<l it was
impossible to By."
Helps says :-"The history of nlmo)lt every nation tells of
some great transaction peculiar to that nation, something which
aptly illustrates the particular characteristics ot' the people, and
proclaims, as we may say, the part in human nature which that
tiation was to explain and render visible. In gnglish history,
the contest between the Crown and the Parliament; iri that of
France, the French Revolution ; in that of Germany, the r~
ligious wars,-are such transactions."
And again:~" History seems often to be only a record of
great opportunities missed or mismanaged. Amid the tumult
of small things which require immediate attention, and which
press at least fully ns inuch upon persons in grcnt pince as upon
private individuals, the most important transactions are not appreciated in their true proportions. Besides-and this is the
fatal circumstance-when great affairs are in their infancy, and
are most tractable to human endeavor, they then appear of the
smallest importance; and all consideration about them ·is lost in

____.

~ ·~

~

116

NARRATIVE.

nttending to the full-blown events of the current day which
'
'
however, are rapidly losing their significance."
The lesson of Grecian History is thus set forth by Grote :~
" The poets, historians, orntorR and philosoplrnrs of Greece have
nil been rendered both mot·e intelligible nnd more instructiv~ than
they were t.o a student in the last century ; and the general picture
?f the <;treman "!'orl? may n.ow be conceived with a degree of fidelity, which, coi;isiderrng our imperfect materials, it is curious to con~mpla~e. It is that general picture which an historian of Greece
ts reqmred first to embody in his own mind and next to lay out
~efo~e h!s reader~;, a picture not merely su~h as to delight the
imagmabon by bnllJancy of coloring and depth of sentiment but
als~ suggestive and improving to the reason. Not omitting' the
pomts of resemblance ns well as of contrnst with the better-known
forms of modern society, he will especially study to exhibit the
spontaneous movement of Grecian intellect, sometimes aided but
never borrow~d from without, and ~ighting up a small portion of a
wo~ld otherwise .clouded and stat10nary.
He will develop the
act10n of that socuu system, wl1ich 1 while ensuring to the mass of
freem'3n a degree of protection elsewhere unknown acted as a
st~mulus to. the creative impulses of genius, and left the superior
mmds sufficiently unshackled to soar above religious and political
routin~, to overshoot their own age, and to become the teachers of
postenty."
The teachings of History arc not confined to the merits of
the institutions tested. They enforce, besides, the dependence
of soci~ty on the virtues of the individual members, governing
or governed: they read moral lessons even more unequivocally
than political. Hence reflections of a moral kind are abundantly strewed over the historian's page. Froude, alluding to
the vocation of history, makes these observations : "~he history of this, as of all other nations (or so much of it as
there is. oc~asion for any of us to know), is the history of the battles which it~~ fougl?t and wo!1 with evil; not with political evil
merely, or spintunl evil; but with all manifestntions whatsoever of
the .devil's/ower. And to have beaten back, or even to have fought
agamst an stemmed in ever so small a degree those besetting basenesses of human nature, now hel<l so invincible that the influences
of.them are assumed as the fundnmental axioms of economic science·
this appears to me a greater victory than Agincourt a grander tri~
umph of wisdom and faith and courage than even tli'e English constitution or the English liturgy."

32. ·Secondly, as regards Interest, or the gratifica;

INTEREST . OF HISTORY,

171

tion of the feelings. Iu this light, History participates
of the nature of Poetry, of which it commands many
elemen ts.
(1.) There is always a powerful attraction in human personality-man's interest in man. Our sympathy with the race in
general, and with our own, or any other, country in particular,
cnmiges us with human affairs in the past.
0
(2.) 'l'be spectacle of great heroic men, and of the collective
force of nations, displaying itself in war or in peace, is imposing and sublime.
(3.) It is in narration that we enjoy the stir of movement
and the interest of plot.
( 4:.) Sometimes we are gratified by a righteous moral retribution, and by the success of worthy endeavors.
(5.) 'l'he progress or improvement of mankind is a natural
aspiration, lending interest to the course of event.A. The following passage from Macaulay brings out tbis special interest, and
is also deserving of being quoted as an example cf Strength, and
of the arts of Poetry embodied in prose:"The sources of the nohlcst rivers which spread fertility over
continents nnd benr richly laden fleets to the sen, nre to be sought
in wild and barren mountain tracts, incorrectly laid down in maps,
and rarely explored by trll;vellers. To snch a tract. the history of
our country during the tlmteen~h century n:iay not maptly be ~011!­
pnred. Sterile and obscure ns JS thnt portion of our annals, it JS
there that we must seek for the origin of our freedom, our prosperity and our glory. Then it wns that the great English people
wns f~rmed ; thnt the national cl1aracter began to exhibit those peculiarities which it has ever since retained; and that our fathers
became emphatic!llly is!ande;~,-islal!ders !lot mer~y in.geographical position 1 but m tbeu pohtics, their feehngs, anu their manners.
Then first appeared with distinctness that. CO,!lstit~tion which h~s
ever since, through all changci;1, preserve~ its.1den~1ty ; that constitution of which all the other free constitutJons m the world are
copies and which in spite of some defects, deserves to bo regarded
ns th~ best un<le~ which any great society has ever yet existed
<luring many ages. Then it was that the House of Commons, the
nrchct.ypo of all the representative assem~lies whic~ n?w meet eith~r
in the Old or in the N cw World, hchl 1tR first 1:11ttmgs. Thon 1t
was that the common law rose to the dignity of a science, and
rnpidly became a not unworthy rival of the imperial juri.d rudenco .
. Then it was that the courage of those so.Hors ".Vho manne the.rude
8*

~.r·

~l> _:.·

.
.~

'

178

IIISTORY OF NATION.LlL PROGRESS.

NARHATIVE.

~:rks of th~i?inquo Ports first mndo the flng of England terrible on
exis:e::- both e~ it wast that. the most ancient colleges which still
Th
ie grca nat10nnl scats of ]earning were founded
en was formed thnt lnng1111gc, less musical, indeed than the Ian·
ra~est of the south, but in force, in richness, in aptit~de for all th;
fi •s: est pt~r~os~sGf the poet, the philosopher, and the orator in
derior 0 111 . o re~ce n1one. Then, too, appeared the first faint
biw~ otlf tl1at noblle l!ternture, the most splendid ai1d the most <lurae o 1e many g ones of England."

· 33. VI. A History is appropriately commenced with
the Geography of the country.
It is not an historian's province to teach Geography. Still,
as few readers are well versed in tl1e Geography of any country
and ~the writer of a history knows exactly what arc the ge;_
graphical feature~ that concern the events to be related, he does
well to preface his work with a sketch adapted to his own ends.
The other method of attaining the object-to introduce t.h e
loc~l des~riptions piecemeal, as they are wanted-is less compatible. with a ~~m~rehensive view. In any case, an acquaintance with l~cahties is essential to realizing the events graphica11y, and gives them an .additional hold on the memory. Between Geogr:iphy and History there is a mutual support.
.
The ph.ys1c~I features of the country constitute the first part
of the dehneation,-the coasts, plains, mountains, rivers fertile
and barren. tr~cts, mines, vegetation, animal Jife, &c. TiJCn follows what .it is ~ow usual to call tl1e Political Geography-the
races that mhabit tl1e country, their d;stribution, their industry,
the towns, the government, &c.
. In such a detail, opportunities may be found of · dishurdcnmg the future narrative of explanations necessary to comprehend the events. Such matters-pertinent to all national
movements-as the industry and resources of the country the
character and liabits of the population, the political systct~ or
7
the working of the government., are to be understood once for
all, a?d are merely to derive confirmation froin the pro1Yress of
the history.
· t->

yn.

. .3.4.
.Considered as unfolding the progress or
CIVIhzation of a people, and thereby furnishing political

I•

17V

and mornl lessons, n. History might ho conceived as a
series of d,elineations or cross sections ef a nation's existence, selected from d~'fferent epoclis, with an intermediate narrative to s!ww lww tlie one passed into t,~e other.
Mere existence does not· provide matter for history in the
above sense. If a people maintain the precise routine of their
fathers in the limits of their abode, in their industry, thei1·
usages, their knowledge and beliefs, and all their institutions,
the life of such a people is exhausted by a single delineation ;
they have a geography, but not a history. This state of things
is commonly, though incorrectly, attributed to the Chinese. It
is more true of other Asiatic nations, and of the tribes everywhere reputed savage. Highly dramatic incidents and struggles,
and the lights and shades of human life, would still appear, and
might be seized hold of by a poet-historian, but the only material for the politician or the political philosopher would be the
fact that certain institutions could co-exist, and might possibly
have the more intimate bond of cause and effect.

35. The entire mode of existence of n. people at any
one epoch would require to be exhibited under welldefined heads.
By different historians the institutions of a complete society
arc differently cln.c;sed. We append one mode as an example:It being assumed that the physical constituents, or geographical features, of the country are fully set forth, and the
natural characteristics of the population undcntood, the institutions may be dm,cribed in order as follows : (I.) The INDUSTRIAL ARRANGEMENTS. The Industrial conditir)n not only gives the action of the people on the materials
presented to them hy surrounding nature, and their efforts for
the first necessaries of life, but al~o reflects light upon their intelligence and their degree of advancement, and penetrates a
good way into their social relations, many of which, as master
and servant, buyer and seller, grow out of their industry. A
fuU description of the agricnltnral, mining, commercial, and

••
80

...,ARI

E.

manufacturing operations, makes us already familiar with a
large part 9f a nation's life. It shadows forth the distribution
of the people in towns and villages, the means of communication, and a considerable portion of the legislative, administrative, and judicial acts of the Government.
In connection with the material industry, we may treat of
the more intellectual professions-the priest, the teacher, the
physician, the legal adviser-all which are interesting in themselves, and suggestive of many other important points.
. (2.) '!'here can be no society without a GovERNMENT.
The political head of the state, whether one person or more,
stands forth in various relations to other states, which relations
history seizes by preference. The constitution of the Government needs to be fully described for each epoch. \Vhcn this
has greatly changed between two epochs, there is always scope
for narrative and explanation.
The extent of liberty granted to the individual citizen is a
vital part of the political system.
The operations of the governing body fall under three heads:
Legislative, or the permanent regulations known as the Laws;
Administrative, or the daily conduct of such affairs as are managed by the central authority ; and Judicial, or the forms and
processes of distributing justice, in civil suits and in the punishment of criminals. The Legislation can be described. only in a
general manner, unless it be very simple and primitive; but
many of it.a details come out in the delineation of the other departments of society.
The account of the Government must include local authorities, as well as the central, and the extent of the sphere allotted
to these,-in other words, the degree of centralization of political power.
The System of Ranks is a political institution; for, althougl1
rank is sometimes found to mean only precedence, yet, in its
first foundations, it must be associated with temporal or spiritual
authority.
(3.) The FAMILY.
The lnws and usages connected with marriage, and the re-

CIVILIZED INSTITUTIONS •

181

spective positions of man, woman, and child, in the family system, are points of vital interest. In all societies, the domestic
life covers a large part of each person's existence; and in some,
as in ancient Rome, the family is a unit of the state, containing
within itself an absolute authority, vested in the head. The
Patriarchal family, was, like the Homan, the framework and
foundation of the political system.
(4.) The arts of SocIAJ, INTERCOURSE.
By these we understand, first, the machinery of communicntion,-roads, vehicles, shipping, &c.-rcquisite alike for industry, for government, and . for the pleasures of society; secondly,
the forms of social co-operation, or the rules for facilitating
collective action ; ·and thirdly, the courtesies of social life. ·
(5.) :MORALITY.
The nctions counted moral or immoral by a community differing greatly in different ages, it is expedient to embody, 1st,
the morat code, and 2nd, the prevailing degree of strictness or
laxity in complying with it. Both the one and the other are
higl1ly cbaracteristic of particular periods of history.
(6.) RELIGION.
Religion comprises a system of doctrines relating to the
nature and the dispensation of a supernatural government; and
a ritual~ or the ceremonies observed as religious worship. There
being usually a class of men set apart to ascertain and teach the
doctrines, and to perform the leading part in the ceremonial
observances, some account of this body,-the priestly or spiritual powcr-'-should also be given.
(7.) Tho state of SonrnoE, or the highest kinds of knowledge.
The scientific knowledge possessed in any one age and
country is not expected to be described by the political historian. All countries capable of receiving it, participate in
the existing science of the world ; and its different stages are
traced in a history apart, having an interest peculiar to itselt:
Still, the position and spread of science or philosophy in a country at a given epocl1, the applications it has given rise to, and
above all, the diffusion of the scientific spirit or· methods, are
of the highest significance.

,.
2

NARRATIVE.

(8.) LITERATURE and the FrnE AnTs.
The refined and elegant accomplishments, the inventions for
tending and elevating the pleasures of the community, arc
>rtby to be recorded by the historian. In other words, the
ogress made in Poetry, . Painting, Sculpture, Architecture,
ecorativc Art, the Drama, Polished Manners in Society, Music
·is a distinct thread in the network of a people's existence.
(9.) The ART oF L1vING.
After describing these \'arious resources available for the scrity and happiness of ·a community, the historian would still
1d something to say as to their application and adjustment,
1der a certain plan or theory of living. The ordinmy routine
mixed occupation and pleasure, the arrangements of dwellings,
e indoor and outdoor amusements and recreationl'I, the social
joyriicnts, and all other means resorted to for giving zest to
tman existence,-would be the completion of the full-life detention now chalked out.
It is not to be supposed possible to obtain the materials
:edful to complete the above scheme, for any far back period.
acaulay regrets that he has not the means of picturing an
dinary English parlor and bedroom two hundred years ago.
evertheless, it is desirable to know what things are required
r a full delineation, and how to arrange advantageously what'Cr information is procurable. Many historical facts are obined by a painful indirect process, the importance attached
them being the stimulus ; and there is no reason to suppose
at this method has reached its limits in any case. A survey
' all the institutions of a complete social state, with a view to
iding out their mutual dependence, is the preparation for this
direct or inferential method of ascertaining what is not on
:tual record.
As an example of a detailed nnalysis of society, wo may
fer to the account of the Hindoo Institutions, in the first
>ok of Mill's History of British India. Another will be found
the delineation of Grecian life, in the Homeric times, by
rote ; who has also, in detached sketches, presented many
1refully ascertained views of Greek socict.y in the best known

EXAJ.lrLES OF IIISTORICAL ANALYSIS.

183

epochs. The French historians, Guizot, Thierry, Michelet, afford
many partial glimpses of the Middle Ages. De :ocqueville's
work on the state of France before the Revolution of 1789,
contains a minute and searching inquiry into the particulars of
French life and society in the last century. Macaulay's interesting picture of the state of England in the 17th century is
well known. Becker's Oharicles and Gallus give, the one for
Greece and the other for Rome, an analysis of the state of society
in ancient times ; the facts being stated both methodically nnd
in the form of a talc,-attempts worthy of imitation. Many
fictitious narratives have been written, reproducing more or less
accurate pictures of life in the past, the Ivanhoe of Scott hav· .
.
ing given the lead.
The ] Jist.ory of Jlero<lot.ns h:u; tho gl'cat merit of present.mg
an array of trnstworthy delineations of the varied social systems
of the 5th century, n. c. The Commentaries of Coosar are a
storehouse of similar information in regard to the countries
where he cnrricd his nrms.
In narratives that have to rccor<l a series of intellectual
struggles-as Church History, the History of Philosophy, and
Constitutional History-it is well to provide at the outset a
summary view of the points in dispute, or the various principles
contended for at different times.

3G. Historical style draws upon the arts of hoth Exposition and Poetry.
Under the scientific aspect of Ilistory, general views are c.onstantly put forth regardin·g· men, nations, institutions, modes of
social action. · These are the subjects of exposition by iteration,
examples,, and illustrations, according to thrir importance or
abstruseness.
Under tho n!'lpcct of hnmnn int.cr<'!'\t., or ns n work of Fino
Art,· a History is arranged with a view to involution of the
plot, dramatic situations, and effective contrast~; .and is accompanied besides with an elegant and elevated d1ct10n. Gibbon,
Macaulay, Helps, Froudc, and Carlyle, are distinguished for the
prominence they give to this aspect of historical composition.

NARRATIVE.

EXl'OSITION.

31. l\fnch of wlmt ltns been said on History npplios
ith allowances, to lliography.

'

A Biography professes to give the experience of a life, and

185

'.l11i11 c\'lulcs tho <linic11lty of rcnliziug n co111plicntcd tlcscription,
nnd sets before the reader the easier task of following a detailed
succession. (Sec PoETRY.)

lJ therefore bring to view and illustrate important truths
1pccting man's physical and mental nature. The examples
:isente~ to us in. the Jives of prominent men and women may
1·c vanons hearmgs. They may iustrnet mi how to preserve
'llth (sec, for instance, George Combc's Life of Andrew
mbc), to nttnin knowledge and culture (the Lives of Philos!1crs, Scholars, Poets, &c. ), to play a part in public affairs, to
'sper in business, to regulate our families, or to do good in
: generation.
Most commonly Biography gratifies our interest in some dis~uished person, and is the more acceptable, the more it is
cstcd with the colors and touches of Poetry.

38. The Environment, or snrronnding circmnstnnce8 ,
ysical and social, must be regarded as necessary to t.ho
ineation of a life.
Natural constitution and outward circumstances united arc
means of explaining both a man's character and his career.
' su~ro~mdings arc no Jess demanded in a picture aiming only
'octic mterest.
·

39. The form of Narrative occurs in Science and
)try, as well as in History and Biography.
The Physical Sciences represent the operations of the world
:r the !aw of Cause and Effect. It is, however, in the sciences
~v?lution, that we lrnve the most characteristic examples of
ative. The growth of a plant, or of an animal, has to be
unted according to the rules of narrative.
fn Poetry,. narrative is much more abundant than <lcscrip-. ~he Epic poem and the Drama arc based on story. Even
riphve t11emes arc often handled hy narrative devices.
1er describes t11e elaborate shield of Achilles, not Ly tlic
:t method of Type a~d Enumeration, but by relating tho
· of its manufacture, JO the hands of its divine fabricators.

CIIAPTEH III.
EXI'OSITION.

40. ExrostTION is the mode of handling applicable
to knowledge or information in the form of what is
cnllcd the ScmNcEs, as Mathematics, Natural Philos-

ophy, Chemistry, Physiology, Natural History, the Human l\Iind.
The sciences just nmned arc called Theoretical or Pure, being
cnch nrrnngcd on the plan of exhausting, in the most systematic
nrrny, nll tho informnt.ion respecting one department of nature.
There aro other science!", in n great measure derived from tho
foregoing, and having reference to practice, or some end to be
attained; as, Navigation, Practical Mechanics, Medicine, Logic,
. Ethics, Politics, Jmisprndence.
The principles of Exposition arc in the main the same for
liot.11 classes, keeping in \'icw their different objects.

4 l. 'Vliilc bent on rcnlizing the property that alone
gh·cs vnlne to nnytliing called knowledge, or information,-nnmely, thnt it shnll be true, or certain,-Science
is further chnrnctcrizctl by the attribute of Generality, or
Cumprchcnsi vencss.
Knowledge may he <'ompoi:;ed of individnril factR; fl8, "Rome
was i::acked by the GaulR,~' "The earth's circmnfcrencc is nearly
3+ times its diameter," "The great pyramid of Egypt is a st.able
strnctnre : " or of statements comprehending many in<livitl11als;
n!'l 1 "Conquering hm;ts prey upon their victim8," " The circnmfercncc of a circle is about 3f times the diameter," "The form
of the pyrnmi<ls gh·cs stability."

I

:!MsITION.

-

-

TI1ese last statements arc general,· they have the character
is at once the glory and the difliculty of science. The otlwr
bute, superior certainty, or truth, does not necessarily make
1tific knowledge less intelligible; although it too sometime;;
Ives cumbrous qualifications and technical symbols. But
mation, when of a highly generalized sort, is, in the va~t
>rity of instances, taken into the mind with labor, and needs
1e aids that method can afford.

187

As will be seen, the deductive statement frequently appears
in arguments, or reasons adduced in proof or in disproof of
some allegation.
·

43. With or without the name, we have something
of the reality, of science, whenever knowledge is expressed generally.
We liave the wl10le reality, when the pains usual in science
l1ave been expended in testing the truth of the general proposition. But there are many generalities current in ordinary
conversation and business, too little tested, and too loosely
worded, to deserve tlie name of science. Still, such as they
are, the mode of expounding them is the same as in the case
of the more vigorously established principlc8. The partially
correct maxims-" Prosperity makes friends, and :Hh-ersity
tries them," "Unlimited power vitiates the character," "Age
blunts the faculties and the powers of enjoyment," "Governments resting on fear alone are unstable,"-would receive t11e
same expository handling ns the most precise doctrines of tho
physical or other sciences.
The strivings and energies of men h:n-e always been towards
general truths. The multitude of details presented in nature
would overwhelm the human faculties, but for the similarities
or -repetitions traceable throughout, and the consequent power
-of summing up many facts in a single affirmation. The resulting advantages arc undeniable, but the generalities themselves
arc often of an abstruse nature, and not to be understood without difficulty. The mind is adapted to comprehend the individual and the concrete; the general necessarily partakes of the
abstract.

l2. Individual facts are the foundation of the generes, and are therefore essential to the structure. And
1e generalizing process can be shown to yield three
:net products, we have, in all, four constituent elets of science, which are as f'ollows : [. lNDIVIDU.AL objects, facts, or observations.
[I. Objects classified according to some common
ierty, to which a general name may be applied, and
~h admits of being accurately defined. This operamay be called, for our present purpose, DEFINITION.
Ul known t11ings agr~cing in the round form arc brougl1t
~her in the mind ; a general name-round, or circle-is apto them ; and we are able farther to frame a definition for
sely expressing this property. So with river, city, man,
e, &c. This process is sometimes called generalizing a
tt.

II. The regular concurrence of two natural properdisclosed by a comparison of particular concures, may be expressed in a General Law, Proposition,
ffirmation. This is INDUCTION.
:xposition is principally occupied with these general law1',
iples, or propositions. The statement of individual fact~,
he definition, are in a manner subsidiary to them.

V. A proposition resulting, not from the comparison
.r ticulars, but from applying a more general propm already eqtablished, is said to arise by DEDUCTION.

GENERAL TRUTHS.

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44. That each individual fact and every General
principle should be expressed clearly, and ns simply ns
may be, is no more than is rcq uirod in all tho moues of
communication by language.
45. In the statement of Individual facts hy them~olves, there is nothing peculiar to soience. They take

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their place in scientific exposition as aids to our understanding of the generalities.
'
46. The first Generalized element is the NonoN or
gener~l property. This often stands in need of 'explanat10n.

DEFINING BY PARTICULARS.

189

Chemistry l1as to deal with one grand property, among
others, known as Affinity, or Chemical Union.
Physiology deals with Cells, Vital Force, Assimilation, &c.
In the Human Mind, we have numerous high generalities,
Feeling, Tho11i;l1t., Volition, Co11~cie11cc, Ue:rnty.
In the Political Sciences occur Government, Lnw, Sociul
Order, Civilization, Liberty, Right, Democracy, &c.
In the N atuml History sciences, where clnssificntion prcvnils,
tho properties of a class can be shown by referring to the members or species composing it. The class Coniferre is defined by
what is common to its members.
Barrow's famous definition of wit is an enumeration of the
subordinate kinds or species. The explanation by tl1is mode
would be carried to its utmost by a selected array of witticisms,
sufficiently numerous and various to represent everything that
comes fairly under the name.

. Many lengthened . expo.sitiorn~ arc .concerned, not with princ1pl~s or laws, but with smgh~ ideas, notiorn1, or abstractions .
J ushce, Right, Civilization, J>octrvJ , Philosophy , Natur
•
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tiew examples.

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4~. 1Vhatcve~ is necessary either to determine the
~eanmg of a notion, or to render it intelligible, may be
mcluded under DEFINITION.
.. As two notions at least always enter into a principle, propo~1tron, or truth, Definition must be preliminary to the dcterminmg an~ expounding of principles. Before we can deal in any
way w.ith ~~1e proposition that " Liberty causes tho prosperity
of nahons, . we must clearly understand the notions Liberty
and Prosperity.

49. (2.) By indicating the quality opposed to, or excluded by, the one in question. This is the method of
Antithesis or Contrast.

48: (1.J 1Ve define by producing individual or concrete mstances. This is the method of Particulars.

Antithesis has been already exemplified among the Figure~.
Its force grows out of the essential doubleness of all knowledge,
a doubleness disguised by the forms of language. Wl1en we
mention heat, it is unnecessary to add, what only completes the
statement, the absence of cold. The filling up of this ellipsis is
often, l1owever, an aid in the exposition of general or ·abstract
properties, or notions.
·
Thus, we might complete the definition of a Liquid, by mentioning its two contrasts, the Solid and the Gas. " Straight" is
defined by its opposite, bent or crooked. " Round" would
have to be opposed to all the other simple forms, to the rightlined figures, and to the curves of varying curvature. "Transparent" is the opposite of opaque. " Po~try" is sometimes
contrasted with prose, but still better, according to Coleridge's
antithesis, with science.
In explaining such difficult notions as " Self" and "Disintcrcstcdncsg," we should find tlic present method of great value.

As every general element, whether notion or proposition
grow~ out of t~ie comparison of particulars, the direct mode of
enabhng the mmd to grasp it, is to bring forward the particulars,
or an adequate selection of them.
Thus we may explai~ the notion of Roundness, by ·producing
a nu~ber. of .r~und bodies, varying in size and material. To
c~plam L1qmd~ty, we sl10w, or refer to, a series of liquids. To
gn'e ~J1c mc:mmg of Solution, n sufficient variety of iustances
are cited. We may expound Beauty, by adducing a number
of beauti~ul things ; Poetry, by mentioning known poems ;
Law, by different examples of Jaws.
. Physica~ scicnc~ has to explain the 11ighly generalized prop·
?rtres, Ine~h.a, Motion, V clocity, Equilibrium, Elasticity, Polal"
1ty, Electrietty, Heat.

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EXPOSITION.

5~. To the particulars coming under a notion to be
exp.lamed, w~ may add the particulars of the opposed
notion or not10ns.
vVe may explain Transparency, first by enumerating the
transparent bodies-water, glass, the various crystals, air, &c. ;
~nd next by an enumeration of Opaqne substances ; thus defining the .separate notions both by their particulars, and b their
mutual contrast.
y
. It. docs comparatively little good to produce a mere formal
neg.a~1ve, made ~p by applying the negative prefixes to the
po~1tive : as, straight? not-straight ; prudent, imprudent; just,
UnJUSt. The contrastmg words Unjust, Injustice 1 are of use only
on the supposition that they can suggest to the mind a number
of .the partic?lars opposed to those coming under Just, Justice.
Tins s~ggestmg power is more likely to be connected with
~~~1cs md ~pend.e1~~ly for~ed ; thus "savage" is of greater scr" ice than un-c1v1hzccl" rn defining Civilization Ly contrast.

1

51. (3.) In ~he case o~ a complex notion, we may
de~ne. or explam by statmg the constituent notions.
This ~s. the method of Analysis ; it is also the Verbal
Defirnt10n.
Tlic.re are aome notions of a simple or ultimate nat.ure. Such
1r? Res~stance (Fo~cc), Motion, Linc, Form, Quantity, Likeness
C>1fference, Success10n, the characteristic feelings of the senses~
Past~s, Odors, Touches, Sounds, Sights,-thc simple emotions
- \Vonder, Fear, Anger, Love, &c. These we can conceive
inly by actual experience of individual instances. By remindng us o~ these. particular experiences, any one may enabic us
0
~ccogmzc t11e1r agreement, which matter of agreement is the
otwn, or generality. Ily being farther remind ed of particular
1stanc.es of the co~1trasting notion in ::my case, we sliall be still
ctter impressed with the common property in question. Restance Is opposed to unimpeded energy, and by considering
rnmples of both, we attain the notion of cac1 1•
But the vast majority of onr notions arc complex, Lcing

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DEFINING BY ANALYSIS.

191

made up of such simple clements as the foregoing. Now, on
the supposition of om perfect mastery of all the clementnry
conceptio1rn, we onght to be capable of understanding all compounds, when their component parts arc mentioned. Very often
we are able to do so. And hence it is part of the business of
an exposit.or, to define or explain hy Analysis, or enumeration
of parts.
Thus a Circle is defined as " a plane. figure contained hy one
line everywhere equidistant from a point called the centre."
Here an appeal is made to our knowledge of certain constituent
notions, as plane figure, line, equality of distance, point : these
we are supposed previously to know ; and by putting them together as prescribed, we attain the notion of the circle.
This is the method of mathematical definition throughout.
Indeed, mathematicians have incautiously applied it to the simplest notions of the science, as " point," "li!1c," in defining
which they perform the inverted operation of explaining the
simple by the complex j point being a simpler idea tban position, or magnitude; and line, the concrete, than length, the
abstract.
So in Physical Science :-"Elasticity" is "the power of
bodies to recover their form after compression ; " we are snpposed to understand the more elementary notions of power,
bodies, 1·ecovery, <.:omp1·ession.
Again, in tho Mental and Mornl Sci ences. 'Vhile, in them,
there are certain ultimate notions, as Feeling, Discrimination,
&c., by far the greater number arc complex, and may be defined
by analysi~, or verbally. For example, "Memory is the power
of recalling to the present view of the mind past impressions
witl1ont the renewal of their original cause, or by mental forces
nlonc." "Venerntion is a feeling drawn ont townnls l1cings of
superior power, ·wisdom, and goodness, and constituted hy the
feelings of manifested power, wonder, fear, and love."
To refer to l)olitical Science:-" Law is a general command
by one intelligent heing to another, followed by the infliction
of pain in case of disobedience." "Property is the recognition
in each person of a right to the exclusive disposal of what he

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193

EXPOSITION.

GENERAL PRINOIPLE, OR PROPOSUION.

has ~roduced by his own exct'tions, or received by free gift or
by fatr agreement from such as h:wc produced it."

The concrete method is not entirely excluded even from
Mathematics, the science of abstraction by pre-eminence. In
Arithmetic, the formation of numbers is illustrated, on the Pes~
talozzian system, by pebbles arranged in rows.
So Property, or Law, or Justice, may be defined by analysis
(or by genus and difference), and explained by particulars and
by contrast.

52. The scholastic mode of defining by "the genus
an<l the differenee" (per genus et differentiam) is only a
mode of expressing the definition by Analysis.
vVhcn we define Mathematics as "the science of quantity,"
we assign the two simpler not.ions, supposed to be already understood, science and quantity; in other words, we define by
Analysis. But the old logicians remarked that in such definitions there are (1) some one term more general than the thing
defined, and (2) one or more other terms of specification applying exactly to the difference between the thing and the genus.
Thus "science" is more comprehensive than "Mathematics,"
including as it does other subjects also-Chemistry, Natural
History, &c. Hence, after assigning the class or genus, science,
we must say wlierein Matl1ematics differs from all other members of the class, or all other sciences, namely, in having for its
subject-matter Quantity: this is the" difference" and completes
the definition.
All the foregoing examples could be resolved according to
this method :-A circle is "a plane figure contained by one
line" (genus), which line differs from otq.er lines in being
"everywhere equidistant from a certain poitt" (difference).

53. Although the method of AnAlysis, for complex
notions, may be all that is demandeg in strict rigor, yet
we often require to superadd an explanation by the other
methods.
Being made up of purely abstract elements, the definition
by analysis is not always readily comprehended; whence it has
to be aided by particulars and by contrast. Thus, "Elasticity,"
besides being scientifically defined by analysis, is rendered
easier of understanding by a series of examples of elastic
bodies-a piece of India rubber, a spring, an ivory ball, a bladder of air, &c.-and by counter reference to non-rlastic substances, as clay.

54. The second, nnd the chief, scientific element is
the PnorosITION, Principle, or General .Aflirmation ; as,
"Heat expands bodies," "All matter gravitate~," "Exercise strengthens the body and the mind."
· ·
Even the Notion is commonly expounded as it appears in
rome Proposition, that is, as coupled with some second notion ;
for example, "Gravity varies inversely as the square of the distance." It is rare, although it might be advantageous, to separate the defining of the notion from the truth or falsehood of
the affirmations respecting it. The notion, in fact, is of value
ns preparatory to the proposition, which alone amounts to
knowledge.

55. We have now to consider the methods of ex1101mding the General Principle, or Proposition.
I. By Iteratiof\· or by repeating the statement of the
principle in the smi~ or in different words. · .
.
It being the nature of a principle to give Information respectr
ing a wide range of plrticulars in a few words, a single enunciation of those words ~s not enough to impress the. meaning
adequately. The oral expounder repeats the exact words of a
proposition several tirJ!eS ; he may vary the statement besides.
The writer confines himself to the last method.
The following is an example of iteration : '' Bins is not a direct source of wron~ conclnsiom'I; the intellect
must first be corrupted" [short stntemcnt of the principle, foJlowed
by n series of vnried Hpressions of it]. "We cnnnot believe a
proposition only by wishing, or only by clrending, to believe it (1).
The most violent inclination to fincl a set of propositions true, will
not eno.ble the weakest of mankind to believe them without a ves·
9

Hl4

EXPOSITION

tige of intellectual gronn<ls, without nny even appnrent evklcnce
(2). Though the opinions of the generality of mankind, when not
<lcpen<lent on mere habit nnd inculcation, have their root much
more in the inclinntions than in the intellect, it is a necessary condition to the triumph of a moral bins thnt it should first pervert the
understanding (3 ). If the sophistry of the intellect could be rendered impossible, tlrnt of the feelings, having no instrument to
~· ork with, would be powerless (4)."

56. There should always be one chief statement of
the principle, for which the natural place is the commencement, although it may not improperly be given at
the end.
·whatcly remarks that of two expressions of a principle
differing in length, we understand the diffuse, and remember
the concise.
The iterations should all harmonize with the main statement,
ac'cording to the Second law of the Paragraph.
Iteration might be applied to the Definition like..-;ise, when
very abstruse or highly concentrated.
In some writers, and in some subject!:!, iteration is the pre- .
vailing form of exposition. .Mueh of Adaln Smith's Theory
of Moral Sentiments is of this character. ·without actually
quoting examples in the concrete, the mere variation of the bnguage is calculated to suggest them.

57. II. By Obverse Iteration, or the Counter-propo.
sition denied.
As, from the nature of knowledge, every notion has some
other notion (or notions) opposed to it (light-darkness, straight
-crooked), so to every proposition affirmed there corresponds
some other proposition (or propositions) denied. " This room
is light;" "This room is not dark." "Socrates was wise;"
"Socrates was the reverse of foolisl1." "All our knowledge is
obtained from experience; " ""\Ve ha,,e no intuitive knowledge."
The affirmation and the denial in these cases arc not different
meanings, but the same meaning differently viewed and expressed. To the statement denied when anything iR nffirmed,
Perrier has given the name "Counter-proposition ; " and tho

BY ODVERSE ITERATION~

195

denial of this, which is equivalent to the original affirmation,
may be called Obverse Iteration.
As examples of Obverse Iteration we may give the follow·
ing :-''Heat expands bodies;" "Cold contracts bodies." "Heat
relaxes the frame;" "Cold braces it." "Exercise improves the
powers of body and of mind;" "Inaction or neglect deteriorates
the same powers." These double statements are, strictly speaking, the complements of each other; the first implies the second ; and tl1erefore the mention of the second is the repetition
of the first from another side, or from the obverse aspect.
"Socrates declares justice to be good, or a cause of happiness, to the just agent, most of all in itself-but also, additionally, in its consequences ; and injustice to be bad, or a cause of
misery to the unjust agent, both in itself and also in its consequences."

58. All that has been advanced respecting the power
of antithesis, or contrast, in making things definite and
clear, applies to the Counter-proposition and tho Obverse
statement.
In the counter-proposition, the contrast or opposite of the
predicate is given. " This man is a Briton ; " "This man is an
alien." In the obverse affirmation, the counter-proposition is
denied, which gives an equivalent of the original proposition;
"This ~an is not an alien;" Briton and not alien being the two
obverse expressions for the same attribute.
In cases such as " Heat expands bodies," " Cold contracts
them," both the subject and the predicate are ob,·erted; heatcold, expansion-contraction.
When it is said, "The poet is born, the orator is ma_de,"
the obversion is essentinl to the meaning of the statement; wo
should not know in what senses the words poet nnd born wero
intended, but for the statement of what they arc put in contrast
with.
Instead of merely iterating the principle, " Every effect has
11. cnus<"?," wo might moro properly sot down tho counter-propositions denied ; for there are more than one. Theso ·arc, first,

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DY EXAMPLES.

" Events · arise without any cause," and secondly, 11 The game
causes do not produce, in the same circumstances, the same
effects." Both these propositions are implicitly denied fo the
Law of Causation ; yet their explicit statement greatly adds to
the clearness of the principle.
.
It has been urged with great force by Ferrier, in his Institutes
of Metaphysics, that the statement of the counter-proposition is
a means of exposing errors, especially such as are sheltered under vagueness of language.
It is sometimes said 11 Might is right;" what does this
deny? · Right has many meanings, and as many opposites.
the opposite meant is wrong, the obverse would be " Might
is seldom or never applied in support of wrong,"-a statement
that would not be so readily hazarded.
Take again the proposition-" The standard of Art is
Nature." What is denied by this 1 On examining the use
made of the maxim, we find the obverse is, "111e standard of
Art is not Nature badly imitated." In other words, the principle is, when . Art imitates Nature, it should imitate well and
not ill.
The style of the book of Proverbs abounds in obverse iter1tion ; sec chaps. xii., xiii., &c.

60. When the sole · object is to make an abstruse
principle intelligible, as in ·pure scientific exposition, the
examples must be chosen on the following grounds:(1.) They must themselves be intelligible or familiar
to the persons addressed.
(2.) Their number is to be regulated by the difficulty
and the comprehensiveness of tho pdnciple.
.
(3.) They should be at first simple, and in the end
complicated, so as to show the force of the principle in
explaining matters of difficulty.
.
,
(4.) They nre not to contain distracting · accompaniments.

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197

EXPOSITION

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59. III. By Examples, or Particular Instances. This
must always be the leading method of expounding general principles.
.
· · ··
·
To quote from Physical Science. The statement of the First
Law of Motion,-the perseverance of movement once berrun -is
::. '
followed up by a number of cases or examples of this perseverance. "A large spinning top, with a fine hard point, set in
rapid motion in a vacuum, on a hard smooth surface will continue turning for lwurs." "A pendulum swinging i~ n vacunm
~as to overcome only the slight friction at its point of suspcns10n, and, when once in motion, will vibrate for a day or more."
"The earth's rotation maintains itself without diminution" &c.
See also Extracts XIII., XVI. .
. ·
' ·.

This last is the hardest condition to satisfy, and yet the
most imperative. To obtain a series of examples bearing directly and evidently upon one principle, yet not suggesting_any
inatter away from the purpose, c.?nstitutes the chief lab?r of th~
expositor.

61. The particulars are sometimes mentioned first,
and the generality last, as ill the o~·dcr of discovery.
This gives a stimulus to the learner to find out the principle for himself, and creates a. kind of suspense, or plot
interest.
See an example in Extract XI.

62. The extreme case is an example showing the
principle, as .it were, in an exaggerated form. (See
H YPERDOLE.)
.
Hume, in maintaining that men possess genuinely disinterested impulses, and revolt from inflicting gratuitous pain; puts .
an extreme instance thus:-" Would any man, in walking along,
tread as willingly on the gouty toes ' of another man that he has
no quarrel with, as on the hard flint and p:wcment 9"
rlato pnts the question as to pleasure bcirig the ·sole end of
life (unfairly) in tl1is extreme form :-"·You arc to be without.
thought, intelligence, reason, sight, memory; · you .are··.not ·fo

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199

EXPOSITION

BY ILLUSTRATIONS.

have nny opinion as to prese11t enjoyment, any remembrance
of past, or nnticipation of future ; you are to live tlie life of an
oyste1·, with great present pleasure."
" If we wish to know tho nature of tho species hard " says
Plato again, "we should look to tlie hardest things."
'
,

Education, the generalities are for the most part of the loosest
kind, and often serve merely as a framework for poetical and
literary illustration. The maxims of mind, character, and conduct, usual in poetry, would fall under this head.
The popular literary essay, as we find it in Bacon, Addison,
Jolmson, Goldsmith, Macaulay, Helps, and in the magazines and
reviews of our own day, is a combination of general principles,
ethical, critical, liistoricnl, politicnl, &c., wif h poet.ic interest.
The generalities, when not instigated by urgent practical needs,
are thrown into the ·form best adapted for elegance and adornment. See Extract XIV.

03. A principle is sometimes embodied in a concrete
example.
Paley states the question "whether the moral sentiment be
innnto" by .me~tioning a painful incident in Roman History,
and supposmg it propounded to a certain wild boy caught in
the woods of Hanover. In the same work, when inquiring into
the foundations of Moral Obligation, he selects the special duty
of Truth to try the point upon :-" Why am I oblifl'ed to keep
OH
A
•
b
my word r
.n wnter on the Immortality of the Soul puts the
question under an individual case :-"Is Socrates alive now ?"
Adam Smith's exposition of the principle of Division of Labor
is embodied in the manufacture of a pin.

04. There are many generalities that are wanting in
~he ~haracters of .science; they. are but vague approximations to certamty, and their degree of generality
does not make them technical or abstruse. They serve
the literary ends of popular interest as much as, or more
than, the scientific end of truth.
As we pass from science in its higl1cst rigor of numerical
precision and infallible prediction-the tmths of :Mat11emat.ics,
Astronomy, Mechanics, and Chemistry-to the subjects of Life,
Mind, and Society, the increasing complication and the absence
of numerical estimate render the principles less definite and
~ertain, although t11cy arc s~ill of the scientific clnsR. In PhyR1ology and the Natural History departments, in the Human
l\!ind, in Politics, Political Economy, and Jurh1prudcncc, wo
frequently find high generalities, considerable precision of language, and careful verification ; so that these branches still part.ake of the. characters of science. But in Ethics' Criticism ,
History, Human Character, and commonplace Politics and

05. In delineating character, and in Criticism, the
expository methods, although still predominant, are
greatly modified.
The methodical delineation of character, to be scientific,
would require to be based on a general scheme of character,
uniformly applied to each case. But under any mode of delineation, it is an obvious maxim that the points should be
grouped under distinct heads, according to natural connection,
and not scattered at random. See Extracts III., XII.
The same remarks are applicable to Criticism. There is a
scientific mode founded on the systematic application of general principles, and a mode determined by the wish to produce
a work of art.

GO. IV. By Illustrations, as distinguished from Examples.
It has been seen that the Figures of Similarity-as the
Rimilc and the metaphor-are largely used for assisting the understanding, tlmt is, for making plnin wlmt iR nnturnlly diflicult
or obscure. Two things, in their nature different, mny yet ha\'o
such an amount of similari y that the one shall cast light on
the other.
In the sciences of the first group above cnumerated-1\!athcmatics, Astronomy, Mechanics, Optics, Chemistry, &c.-the
illustrations principally employed aro of a severe type; they

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201

EXPOSITION

BY ILLUSTRATIONS.

are such ns diagrams, models, and sensible representations of
what eludes the senses. Mathematical points nnd lines aro
made visible to the eye. The rays of light, the vibrations of
sound, and the still finer undulations of the ether, are given in
the same palpable form ; indeed, the undulations of the assumed etherial medium have been represented by "Wheatstone
in a meehanical model. The supposed ultimate atoms of bodies
are studied upon balls and circles of tangible 'and visible dimensions.
Comparisons drawn from one science to another arc frequent.
A body, like nitrogen, that docs not readily combine, will bo
termed by a chemist inert. The mechanical distinction of
atatical and dynamical, and the notions of equilibrium, moving
power, resistance, are widely diffused in sciences where the
phenomena are not mechanical.
A still greater approach to figurative con~parison is found
even in these rigid sciences. Tho mutual cohesion of atoins of
one substance, as copper, tin, water, salt, is kindred attraction;
the attraction between the atoms of two different substances, ns
in an alloy of copper and tin, or a solution of salt in water, is
alien attraction. ·when a body i3 submitted chemically to tho
operation of the ordinary tests, the chemist speaks of its deportment. The human body is the ltouse we live in; the brain is tho
dome of thought. Ph),siology, says Haller, is animated anatomy.
In the sciences of the second rank-Natural History, Geography, Physiology, Mind, Logic, Politics, Political Economy,
Jurisprudence, &c.-the scYere mctl1ods arc relieved by figurative comparisons.
In the Human Mind, metaphorical illustration is abundant
and often misleading. According to one view, the infant intclJigenoe is a tabula rasa, where experience inscribes everything;
another view is expressed under tho similitude of a prepared
plate in photograpl1y. See Extract II.
. Plato's doctrine that the body obstructs the soul, is combated by Kant, through the simile of a dove cleaving the thin
air, and supposing that in a vacuum its movements would bo
more rapid.

Whately advises an orator, when deep-rooted prejudices nrc
to be overcome, not to make a refutation stronger than is barely
sufficient, and adds this illustration : in driving wedges into a
block of wood to sp1it it, too hard a blow will throw out . the
wedge.
Political doctrines have always been subjects of illustrative
comparisons. In Burke's hand::1, they nre sometimes buried
under a load of similes and metaphors ; see § I 05.
In Political Economy, tl1e law that demand follows supply
is illustrated by saying, "the two find their level."
In subjects of the third class above .mentioned-Ethics,
Criticism, Character, Philosophy of History-whore generalities are still found, but of a vague character, interest is sought
after, no less than instruction, and tho illustrations are still more
addressed to the feelings.
It has been a constant endeavor to combine ethical instrnction with the interest of poetry. So criticism, in literature and
in art, instead of beirig a severe and cold .enunciation of princi,
plcs, is itsc1f decorated. with the figures of imagination. Both
the one nnd the otl1er have been repeatedly chosen as the sub~
jects of poems.

G7. Although at the risk of repetition, we shall here
make a general remark applicable to the expository use
of both examples and metaphors addressed to the feelings.
.
It is naturally desired to soften the rigors of sdentific
exposition by cl.ements of pervading human interest~ .
The sources of interest proper to science nre chiefly these:
the attainment of trustworthy knowledge for the purposes of
life ; the sense of power imparted by the ·great and commanding generalities; and the feelings touched by the special objects
of science as objects of sens~the stars, the geological up-building of the earth, the mineral forms, and the variety of vegetable
and animal life. There is also the excitement of nnrrative and
plot in the l1istory of science, and in watching the course of
discovery. The united effect of these · influences ie . not suffi·
9*

202

EXPOSITION.

cient for in<lui::fo_g; r.rnn in general to undergo tlie labor of the
abstruser sciences. Hence the endeavors to widen the sphere
of attractio~s by <:'tlwr charms,-thosc that form the distinction of Poetry.
Plato made the first attempt on a grand scale to relieve the
severity of philosophical discussion with touches of. general
human interest. He adopted the form of the Dialogue, to introduce the action and re-action of personalities, as in the
Drama. Before commencing the discussion of a question, he
brings the speakers forward in a scene, with minute circumstantials of time and place, such as we witncs~ on the stage. (Sec,
ns examples, the Charmidcs, the Cratylus, and the opening of
the Republic.) The following short specimen, from the Dialogue called Phredrus, serves ns the introduction to an inquiry
into the truth of mythology : " Phredrua. Dost thou see tlrnt very tall plane-tree 1
Socrates. Certainly I do.
Phredrua. There is shade there, and the wind is not too strong,
4nd there is grass to sit, or, if we like, to lie U.own.
Socrates. Lend on, then.
Phredrus. Tell me, Socrates, is it not from somo pince here,
they say that Boreas carried away Oreithyia from the Ilissos 1
Socrates. So they say.
Phmdrus. Should it not be from this spot 1 For the waters
seem so lovely nod pure and transparent, and as if made for girls
to play on the bank.
Socrates. No, it is two or t11rce st.ndia further clown, wl1ere
you cross over to the Temple of Agra. There you find sqm~where
nn altar of Boreas.
Phredrus. I was not aware of thii:1; but tell me, by Zeu11, 0
Socrates, dost thou believe this myth to be true?"
In the Platonic Dialogues, sublimity, pathos, poetic beauty,
humor, are produced by turns, as in a poem; while their avowed
purpose is to ascmtain philosophic truth. The cross-questioning operation of Socrates is exhibited upon a great variety of
opponents; and the debate is interrupted by dramatic displnyi.
of personal feeling.

GS. The chief scope for extraneous interest is in tho
choice of examples and illustrations.
Among the Platonic arts of exposition we must includo ex·

LIMITS OF ILLUSTRATION.

203

amples and similes, which often excite other emotions than
those belonging to science. · The painful effect of the crossquestioning of Socrates, is compared to the shock of the torpedo.
Again, Socrates represents l1imsclf ns seeking the good of his
fellow-citizens, and not captivating them by showy arts ; and
hence, if brought to trial for his conduct, he would be like
a physician a1'1'aigned by the confectioner before a jury of
children.
The ass of Ilnridan, held in suspense between the equal attractions of two bundles of hay, is an immortal illustration of
the equipoise of motives in the human will. The humorous
i-epresentation of George II., in 1741, quoted from Carlyle on
p. 170, is an extension of this figure.
Paley's famous simile of the pigeons, in illustration of the
hntmc of privnto property, is cnlcnlat.orl t.o gratify tl10 invidious
1:1entimcnt felt towards the holders of property by thoso that
have none,-an emotion altogetl1er extraneous to science.
Locke's affecting illustration of the fading of our recollections is given in Extract II.
The sentiment of wonder is often nppen.led to.
.
The antiquarian interest of Geology is highly stimulating.
Slight occasions of personal feeling will arise in the driest
expositions. An allusion to a great discoverer, an expression
of esteem or of contempt, of approbation or of disapprobation,
of sympathy with the learner's difficulties, will impart unction
and give a passing relief to the tension of the mind.

GU. With regard to the employment of illustrations
for expository ends, the conditions and limitations already prescribed, under Figures of Similarity (p. 26),
are fully applicable.
If the illustrations arc sought exclusively for the sake of
clcarnc.ss, that is, if the ends of feeling a~d fancy arc set aside,
there is little danger of a wrong choice; the suitability must bo
evident to any one that attends to the matter. It is under tho
pressure of the extraneous motive of general human interest,
that darkening illustrations are resorted to. .

i

I

j
j·

..
204

EXPOSITION.

In the best scientific writings, illustrations o{ a highly figurative nature are brought in only at considerable intervals; the
exposition being chiefly made up of iteration, example, &c.
The due medium is thought to be realized in many of tho
Dialogues of Plato, although in regard to some the critics of his
own country, whose taste on such a point was consummate, have
charged him with excess.
The following short paragraph from Dr. Whcwcll has been
praised a.S a specimen of philosophic style. It begins with a
statement, follows up with an example, and closes with a happy
illustration."
"The type-species of every genus, the type-genus of every family, is, then, one which possesses all the characters nnd properties
of the genus in a marked and prominent manner. The type of tho
Rose family has alternate stipulate leaves, wants the albumen, lias
the ovules not erect, has the stigmata simple, and besides these
features, which distinguish it from the exceptions or varieties in its
class, it hos the features which make it prominent in its class. It
is one of those which possess clearly several lending attributes;
and thus, though we cannot say of ::my one genus that it must be
the type of the family, or of nny one species thnt it m1t.,t bo tho
type of the genus, we are still not "·holly to seek: tho typo must
be connected by many ntlinities with most of the others of its
gro11p ; it must be near the centre of the crowd, and not one of tho
stragglers."
The next extract is a paragraph from Mr. Samuel Dailey,
expounding the great principle of the remit;sion or nlternation
o{ pleasures. It proceeds by iteration, examples, and illustrations, and will reward a careful study.
"Wit and humor, it must be allowed, may Lo sometimes ont of
place, and sometimes carried to excess. This, however, is a liability which they share with other excellent things, nnd cannot Lo
brought as a specific ohjection against them, nlthough it may. Lo
against tho works in which they appear. Enjoyment of every k11ul
must of course, have intermifli<ion; and tho more exquisite tho
plens~re, the more is a smipension required. Wo sicken nt perpetual Jusciousness: we loathe tho unvarying atmosphere of n
&cented room, altb0titsh 'all Arabia breathes' from its recesses.
'The breath of flowers,' as Bncon beautifully observes, ' is for
sweeter in the air, when it comes and goes like tho warbling of
music than in tho lrnnd.' Even the rich illnstrntions which fancy
scatte~s over the pnge of the orator or the poet, mny Lo crowded
on each other ~oo fast. In eloquence, in fiction, in poetry, in every

CAI.LING ATTFJNTION TO DrFFIOUJ,Tms.

205

work intomleJ. to yielU high and permanent plemn1re, the body of
the work must undoubtedly be something solid, something adc~rossed to good sense or earnest feeling. The figurative decora·
t10~1s must nppea.r no more thnn elegant foliage, or beautiful convolut1ons, SUtTountlrng the steadfast columns of thouO'ht and sentiment.
Poets of mere imaginative power, however dazzling who have not
possessed considerable strength of intellect, have u~ver been able
to keep a high place in public estimation. For a w bile we are
pleased to rise above the earth, and wing our way through the atmo~phere of fancy ; but wo soon grow weary of an oxcursion
wl11ch is all fli~ht. In (lefia~ce of Bishop Borkoloy, wo must have
a world of solid matter to nltght an<l repose on."

70. V. By calling attention to the special difficulties
of the matter expounded.
It may be of the greatest use to show the precise difficulties
that an exposition is intended to meet ; an interest is aroused,
and the ingenuity is put on the alert to judge of the attainment
of the end proposed. Paley, in the preface to his Moral Philosophy, remarks : " Concerni11g the.principle of morals, it would be premature to
speak; .bu~ concernmg the manner of 1111fohling nnd explaining
that prmc1plo, I havo somewhat which I wish to be remarked
An cxperi.enco. ~f nine ~ears in the office of a public tutor in on~
of the u01vers1tics, nnd 111 thnt department of education to which
these. ch~pters ~elate, afforded .me frequent occasions to observe,
th~t, m d1scours111g t~ yonng muHls upon topics of morality, it roqmrcd much moro pam.s to mnko them perceive the difficulty, than
to understand the solut1on; that, unless tho subject was so drawl\
up to a point, as to exhil>it the full forco of an objoctton or the ex·
~ct placo of a doubt, before nny explanation wns cnter~d upon m other words, unless some curiosity was excited befol"e it was 'at~empted .to be satisfied, the labor of t.he tencher was lost. When
rnformat1on '!as not de?ired, it ~as ~eklom, I found, retained. I
!rnve made tins obs~rvntion my gmdo m the following work : that
is, upon en~h occns!on ~ !•~ve ernlcavored, before I suffered myself
t? prnceed m tho. d1sq111s1t10n, to put the render in complete posses~1on of the. q11cst1~m ; all(l to 1lo it in a wny thnt I thought most
l1kcly to stir up l11s own donuts and solicitude nbout it."
The Socratic cross-qncstioning operation resulted in a painihl sense of ignorance, which was the best preparation for tl 1o
attainment of real knowledge.

71. VI. The Proof of a principle indirectly con·
tributes to its exposition.

206

207

EXPOSITION.

.APPUCATIONB OF PRINCIPLES.

In the first place, the mere iteration or expansion incident
to the proving of a doctrine is a means of impressing it.
In the next place, by soeing what the proofs are able to
establish, we have a check upon the meaning and extent of the
principle.
Thirdly, it is an additional advantage when the proof is
made to include the statement and disproof of the countcrproposition or propositions ; as happens in a well-conducted
polemical exposition.
Tlie methods of Proof fall under Logic. They arc either
Inductive or Deductive; the one is proof from facts, the other
from the application of some higher or more general law. That
cloven-footed animals are herbivorous can be proved only by
induction ; that the path of a comet is a conic section can be
proved deductively as well as inductively.
It would often contribute to clearness of exposition to arrange the proofs of a fact or doctrine according to their logical
method. Thns under Induction, it has been shown by Mr. J. S.
Mill that there are four modes of bringing facts to bear upon
the proof of a general proposition ; he calls them the Four
Experimental Methods (Agreement, Difference, Concomitant
Variations, Residues). If there arc any facts under Agreement,
they might be stated first :md npart; next those under Difference, and so on. These Experiment.al or Inductive Proofs
would be followed by the D eductive, or the assigning of tho
higher generality that includes under its sweep wbat is to be
proYed. See PERSUASION.
These four methods imply tl1c possibility of cstablisl1ing a
point as certain. In a vast number of instances, however, and
many of them of the highest importnncc, the evidence is only
probable. Herc, too, Logical method wonld be of great service.
Probable evidence is usually a concurrence of separate probnbiliti es, each having an assignable value ; the s11mmi11~ of them up
being a well-understood arithm etical process. The l1cst or1kr,
whether for Proof or for Exposition, would be fir:;t to Ret forth
the distinct rrobabilitics, and then to combine the sum into 8
joint probability.

Exposition by Proof is a part of Persu.asion, and is named
t\rgument.

72. VII. Inferences, Deductions, Corollarirn~, Applications, Consequences, may be drawn from principles,
and may serve still further to elucidate them.
To turn a principle to immediate account by deductive applications, necessarily engages our interest in it., besides having
the same efficacy as the proofs in expanding it to the mind, and
in determining its precise import. The corollaries of a geometrical proposition contribute to clear up and impress the proposition ; and the like holds all through science, and through the
less scientific generalities.
Thns the First Law of Motion is practically applied to the
beating out of dust, and to the drying of a mop; and these arc
good as examples in expounding the principle.
The doctrine of the Expansion of Bodies by heat has a wide
rnnge of applications, both to the unravelling of difficult phenomena, as the winds, and to processes in the arts.
The constitution of the Council and the Ago;·a in early
Greece is expounded by Grote with reference to its consequences, in the following parngrnph : "There is yet. another point of Yiew in wl1ieh it hc11ovrs 11!'1 to
tako notico of tho Oonncil nn<l tho Agorn. ns int.c~rnl portions oft.ho
legendary government of tho Grecian communities. Wo nre thus
enabled to trnce the employment of public speaking ns tho standing
engine of government and the proximnte en.use .of obedience, to the
social infancy of the nation. The power of speech in the direction
of public affairs becomes more an<l more obvious, developed, and
irresistibl e, as we advance towards the culminnting period of Grecian history-the century preceding the battle of Chroronein.. That
its development was greatest among the most enlightened sections
of the Grecian name, and sma.llcst among the more obtuse and stationary, is mnt.trr of notorious fact; mul it is not less trnc, t.11nt tho
prevalence of this ha.bit was one of tho chief causes of t.he intellectual eminence of th e nntion generally. At a time when nll tho
countries nronntl were plunged compnrnth-cly in mental torpor,
there was no mot.ive sufliciently present nml powerful to mult.iply
so wonderfully the productive minds of Greece, except such ·as
nro~o from tl1e rewnrds of p11Llic Rpeaking. The imsccptibility of
the multitude to this sort of gui<l.nnce, their haLit of requiring and

208

EXPOSmON,

enjoying the stimulus which it supplied, nnd tJ1e open discussion .
combining regulnr forms with free opposition, of practical matters'
political as well as judicial, are the creative causes which formed
such conspicuous adepts in the art of persuasion. Nor was it only
professed orators who were thus produced. Didactic aptitude wns
formed _in ~he bac~gro'.lnd, and the speculative _tendencies were supplted with mterestmg phenomena for observation and combination
at a time when the truths of physical science were almost inucces~
sible. If the primary effect was to quicken the powers of expression
the secondary, but not Jess certain result, was to develop the habit;
of scientific thought. Not only the oratory of Demosthenes and
P erikles, and the colloquial magic of Socrates. but also the philosophical speculations of Plato, and the systematic politics rhetoric
and logic of Aristotle, are traceable to the same general tendencie;
in the minds of the Grecian people; and we find the germ of these
expansive forces in the senate and agora of tbeit- legendary government."

Remark in the concluding sentence the employment of tho
Interesting Example.
Sec also Extract XIII.

73. The Expository Paragraph has certain pecu,
liarities, growing out of the nature of science. In tho
ordinary form of composition, there are no nieans of indicating successive degrees of subordination; and we havo
to consider the best modes of overcoming the defect.
In a sentence, there may be apparent a principal and sub
ordinate clauses ; but, in a paragraph, all the sfmtenccs arc, t~
the eye, of equal or co-ordinate value.
In a technical !'cientific work, subordination is indicated; (1)
by indenting the letter-press, (2) by the forms of the numerical
characters employed,-I., II., I, 2, (1 ), (2), a, b,.&c., and (3) by
difference of type.
vVhen such devices are not resorted to, we have to trust, in
a great measure, to the sense of the pas!mgc for deciding whn\
is co-ordinate and what subordinate. Further ns~istance mny
be obtained, by attention to the following points:(1.) The theme of the paragraph, to which all the rest is
ministerial, should be found at the beginning, at the end, or in
both.
(2.) Iteration gives promincncr., and therefore superiority.

TIIE EXPOSITORY PARAGRAPH.

209

The circumstance that a thing is stated many times over, leads
us to infer that it is more important and probably more com~
prehensive than the things stated only once.
(3.) 'Vhen facts are plainly made known as examples or
illustrations of a them e, tl1cy arc thereby declared to be in subordination to that theme.
( 4.) Statements of the second degree of subordination
should, if possible, be included in the same sentence as their
immediate principal ; it being inexpedient to constitute distinct
sentences of three different grades in the paragraph.
(5.) After descending to a second, or to a still lower, degree
of subordination, we should avoid returning to the higher grade
in the same paragraph.
··
(6.) A separate paragraph may be devoted to n series of
examples or statements of n low, but uniform, degree of sub.
ordination. This is much better than mixing up the different
degrees without change of paragraph.
(7.) It is possibic to intimate by onr phraseology when we
pass from one degree of generality to another:-" The following
facts come under this principle;" "'Ve give examples, or cases,
of the rule;" ''The subordinate laws arc these," &c.
A subordinate statement may happen to be difficult of understanding, but we arc not at libcrt.y to expand it by iteration
or otherwise, so as to raise it out of its rank. To study clearness in the expression, or to append some brief example or ill\lStration, is all that the case allows.
Mr. Herbert Spencer has introduced a division intermediate
between the Sentence and the Paragraph, marked by a blank
of about half an inch between two sentences.
.
The arts of relief are essential to Exposition throughout.
i\fonotony can neither keep up attention nor impress the memory. Even when the subject is made np naturally of monotonous
or co-ordinate particulars, means must be used to raise some of
them into relief. Thus in the details of Anatomy-the muscles,
blood-vessels, &c.-certain leading tm.~tions arc indicated, as,
in reference to the muscles, the two great facts of the. ~recting
and the beveling of the body.
··· "

..
211

EXPOSITION.

NEW TERMS, AN EVIL.

74. The leading form of the Expository Paragraph
(and of Exposition generally) is the statement of a principle followed by such a choice of iterations, obverse
'
statements,
examples, illustration!';, proofs, and appl'!cations, as the case may require.
Other forms of Paragraph arc the Inductive (§ Gl)
an<l the Argumentative.

rertcd order :-" The productiveness of labor is very much
increased hy the division of labor, or by each man's devoting
himself to a separate avocation. Now this involves tho possibility of exchanging tlio productions of labor; but there can be
no exchange without the right of property." Paley's own language might be adapted tl1us :-" l\Iuch of tho superiority of
civilized life depends npon tho division of labor. ·when a man
is his own tailor, tent-maker, carpenter, cook, lmntsman, and
fisherman, it is not probable that he will be expert in any one
of these callings; mnong savages tho h:ihitntion!l1 fnmituro,
clothing, and implements arc of tho rudest kind, and the construction of them is very tedious. Now this division of labor
cannot take place unless one man can exclrnnge the productions
of his own art for what he wants from others; and exchange
implies property." Sec also Extract XV.

210

The simplest form of Argument is the adducing of a general
principle in suppo1t of a particular allegation. The fact is affirmed that tho freezing of water in a close tube will make it
burst; the principle adduced in proof is that water in freezing
expands with great force. Th ere is in this nothing different
from the ordinary type of Exposition, except an invcrsion,-the
fact being stated first, and the principle afterwards.
An Argument may contain a succession of steps, called n
chain of reasoning, and is then more difficult to follow. The
precautions to be observed in this case arc to reduce the munber of steps to the fewest possil1lc, nnd to give an adequate
expression to each, yet so as to allow the whole to ho gra!>.pe<l
together. It is in such complicated reasonings that tho rules
of the Sentence and tho Paragraph justify their importance.
Paley says : "Property improves t110 conveniency of 1iv_ing. It ?nn~le~ mankind to divide themselves into distinct profcss1ons, winch is impossible unless n man can exchange the proclnctions of his own art for
what he wants from others· and exchange implies property. .Much
of the advantage of civili~cd over savage life depends upon this.
When n man is from necessity his own tailor, tcnt.-mnkcr, cnrp~ntcr,
cook, huntsman, and fisherman, it is not probnbl~ t~int ho w!ll bo
expert at any of his callingR. Hence tho rndo hn~1tnt1011~, f.11m~t~1r<>,
clothing. and in'lplements of savages, and the te<l1ous length of t11110
which ail their operations require."
The chain of reasoning here is perplexed. Tl1c steps nro
these :-1st Individual property enables one man to exchan~o
raluables with other men. 2nd, Exchange allows division of
labor. 3rd, Division of 1 :..:1or makes men more expert in their
several avocations, and so increases tho produce of labor. Tho
rcasoninCT would be apparent either in this order, or in tho inc

.

75. One en.use of the difficulty of understanding
science is the novelty of many of the terms employed.
Apmt from the austruseness of the notions, the mind is oppressed by the introduction of unfamiliar terms, sometimes in
great numbers and in close succession. This should, as f~r as
possible, be considered in tho exposition ; a certain time being
allowed for one strange word to become familiar before bringing forward others.
It is Rcnrccly neccRRary to r<~mark thnt 11 cw language h1 in
itself an evil.

76. In scientific exposition, it is imperative to observe
the general maxim of proceeding from the known to the
nnkuown.
In describing an object of Natural History, or in expounding
a great principle, reference should be made, in the first instance,
to the existing knowledge of those addressed ; all wl1ich shonld
be rendered available in bodying forth the ucw matfor.
No one has more assiduously endeavored to m·oid unnecessary teclmicalitics of language, and to turn to account the previous knowledge of tho general reader, than Dr. Arnott in his
Elements of Physics.

..
212

213

PERSUASION.

ENDS OF ORATORY.

CHAPTER IV.

the selfish impulses are to be opposed by the disinterested regard!!, ·which is to fortify Social Virtue.
Practical convenience is served by n reference to tho different occasions of Oratory; each giving rise to a distinct method
and constituting 11 separate professional study.

PERSUASION.

77. PERSUASION, or Oratory, is the influencing of
men's conduct and belief by spoken or by written
address.
Men are variously moved. Outward compulsion may determine their conduct. As free Lcings, they follow their natural
activity, their sense of good nnd evil, their passionate excitement, and the lead of others by imitation or sympathy. Oratorical persuasion endeavors to obtain the co-operation of thoso
free impulses for some proposed line of conduct, by so presenting it in language as to make it coincide with them. A lender
of banditti knows that l1is followers arc mo,·cd by a desire fot
plunder and considerations of personal safety ; and it is his busi·
ness to show that a certain wealthy houi:;e or n travelling party
can be attacked with success. The engrossing patriotism of tho
old Romans required only tho appearance of clanger to their
country to immerse them in the cost and perils of war. A
C!:iristian assembly will be prepared to further nny causo that
is clearly identified with tho spread of Christianity.
It is supposed that the persons addressed do not, nt the outset, sec a subject as the speaker secs it; otherwise they would
not need persuasion. Either they arc intellectually blind to the
connection between tho case supposed and their own principlea
of action, or they arc under the pressure of some opposing
forces.

78. We must consider first the ENDS of Orntory.
These might be classified in yarious ways.
If we were to advert to the forces brought into conflict, '\Te
should find that, in one department, the aim is to i;ct up n mnn'1
dimly rnprcscntcd future against the impetuous dcmnnda or tho
present, which is what we designate Prudence; in another claaa,

79. I. The Oratory of the Law Courts.
The pleader in criminal causes has to persuade a judge and
jury to find an accused person guilty or innocent. In civil
causes, the design is to show that one of two litigants in a <lispnt.ccl matter has tJ1e lnw on his Ric lo. Jn both thcAo cncleuvors,
what is termed Argumentative Oratory must bcai· a chief part,
while (in the first more CRpecially) there is also scope for working on the feelings.
·

80. IL Political 01:ntory.
This wide department may be defined as the mt of pcrsnadtng some society, or body of people, or a nation nt large, to
adopt, for the general good, some one line of policy, rather
than another. Such _is the Oratory of Congress, Parliament,
and all deliberative assemblies, wlrnthcr great or small, national
or local, whether consulting for the general welfare or for narrow and special objects.
The end now described assumes a twofold nspcct, constituting two different kinds of Persuasion. Those nre well stated
in the following passage from 'Vhatcly : "In order that tho Will mny bo inflttcncc<l, two things nre requisite; viz. 1. that the proposed O~ject should nppear desirable;
nncl 2. that the Means suggested should be proved to be conducive

to the nttninment of that object; and this last evidently must depend on a process of Reasoning. In order, e. g., to induce the
Greeks to unite their efforts against the Persian invn<ler, it 'vns neccs~mry both to prove thnt co-operntion could alone render their resistm1ce effectual, and nlso to nwnken such fe~lings of patriotism
nnd abhorrence of a foreign yoke, as might prompt them to mnke
these combined efforts. For it is evident that., ho\vever nrdent
their love of liberty, they would make no exertions if they npprc·
hendcd no danger; or if they thought themselves nhle, ~cparntely,
to defend thcmsclvo~, they would he bnckwnr<l to join the confo<lerncy : nnd on the other hand, that if they were willing to submit
to the Persian yoke, or valued their independence le!!S thnn their

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PERSUASION.

present ense, the fullest conviction thnt the Menns rccommende1l
would secure their independence, would have had no practical effect.
"Persuasion, therefore, depends on, first, Argument (to provo
the expediency of the Means propose<l), and secondly, what is mmally called E:r]wrtation, i. e., the excitement of men to adopt tlioso
Means; by representing the En<l ns suliiciently desirnl>le. It will
l1appen, indee<l, not unfre'luently, that the one or the ol her of these
objects will have been already, cit.her wholly or in part, nccomplished; so that the other shall be tho only one thnt it is requisite to insist on; viz., sometimes the hearers will be sufliciently
intent on the pursuit of the End, :mil will l>e in doubt only as to
the Means of attaining it; and sometimes, again, they will have no
doubt on that point, but will be indifferent, or 11ot sufficiently
ardent., with respect to the proposed End, and will need to ho
stimulated by Exhortations. Not sufficiently ardent, I have said,
because it will not so often hnppen that the object in question will
.be one to which they are totally indifferent, as that they will, practically at least, not reckon it, or not feel it, to be worth tho requisite pains. No one is absolutely indifferent abont the attainment of a happy immortality; and yet a great part of the Preacher's
business consists in Exhortation, i. c., e1Hlcavoring to intlnco men to
use those exertions which they themselves know to be ncccssnry
for the attainment of it."
'Vhcn people arc indifferent to the cn1l, we lun-e to work
upon tlieir feelings. As re~anls the choice of mcnnR, wo mldrcss the reason or understanding, which nlono cnn juclgo of the.
fitness of means to ends.
It is impossible, by any mode of address, to overcome n rml·
ical difference of view ns to the supreme social or cthicnl ends.
If one man believes in the paternal theory of government, nnd
another in individual liberty as the highest end, there is scnrcely
any possible way of bringing the one over to the opinion of tho
other. As in argument, f\O in oratory generally, there must bo
some common ground to work upon. In the discussion of
truth and falsehood, the common ground is certain first prin- ·
ciplcs admitted by both parties; in moving to action, tho com·
mon ground is an admitted end.
Political oratory comprises the speeches in Congress, Pnrliament, and in all meetings for discussing public affairs; nrticlcs
in the newspaper and periodical press relating to the policy of
governing bodies ; separate publications bearing on tho enmo
subject; and diplomatic correspondence.

mms

OF ORATORY.

215

81; III. Pulpit Oratory.
A leading aim of the oratory of the pulpit tnnst nlwayA bo
to cultivate and strengthen a class of feelings, or emotions, those
of religious devl:Jtion and of moral duty. The Apostles, and the
missionaries that converted t.he nations to Christianity, aimed
at 1111 immediate object, and worked a sudden change in the
1ninds of men. The same is true of the Heformerfl. But after
a religious creed is cst:ihlished in a community, the preacher
erlucates gradually far oftener than he converts suddenly.
The pulpit orator sometimes urges men to immediate action;
as a well-known instance, we may refer to the preaching of the
Crusades.
The religions feelings nrc cull.irntcu hy nets of worship and
by the addresses of the preacher.

82. IV. :Mornl Suasion.
Exhortation to good conduct, while it falls witliin the province of pulpit oratory, also appears in other departmente of
composition. In addresses directed more especially to the
young, whose cliaracters arc unformed, the endeavor i.s to impress them with the maxims of prudence, and the obligations
they are under to society. Much of the literature of popular
interest is shaped so as t.o convey these lessons indirectly, and
therefore more effectually : such arc History, Biography, Poetry, and Homance. King Alfred endeavored, says Hume, to
convey moral lessons by apologues, parables, stories, and
apothegms, couched in poetry.
Prudential exhortation must proceed by vividly depicting
the good or evil consequences of actions to the agent's own self.
The deepening of the social regards in men's minds involves a wider range of appeal.

83. The next matter for considcrntion in Oratory is
KNOWLEDGE OF TUE PERSONS ADDRESSED.

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If all men were constituted cxnctly alike, :md were always
in the same mood, a speaker would need only to judge from
himself how to move others. But such is . the disparity of
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216

PERSUASION.

human characters, that no small time is expended in gaining
n thorough knowledge of any considerable number of men.
The case that most dispenses with express study of character, is presented by a fraternity whose members -arc strongly of
one mind on the most important questions. In such a body,
each one, by speaking as he feels, carries the rest with him.
Cromwell could put forth a commanding oratory when he addressed his fellow Puritans.
Every speaker has necessarily mucli in common with his
liearers. . It is, however, a natural weakness for us to . suppose
other persons actuated in all things like ourselves.
.
/ The young do not comprehend the feelings of the o~d; tho
bne sex is often at fault in judging of the other. The nch and
the poor, the noble and the plebeian, the educated and tho uneducated, the professional worker and the manual ';o~l~er, the
members of distinct professions, Jrnve each pecuhanhes_ not
readily understood by the rest. Nntmnl tcmpcrnmer.ls differ
greatly ; the man of ener~y and pushing .enterprise i~ nt a loss
to adapt himself to the views of the cant 10us nn<l circum~pect
man ; the abundance of feeling in some characters is inc?mprchensiblc to those of n different mould. Moreover, different
temperaments may pervade different m~sses; an Am:rican and
an English, a French and a German aud1cnce, arc not mfluenced
in the same way.
An important department remains': 1iamely, the intellectual
condition of the persons addressed, comprising the nature nnd
extent of their acquired knowledge, and their practical maxims
in the conduct of affairs. A man's acquired knowledge, coupled
with his ability of comprel1ension, must regulate tho manner
of addressing him for all purposes-for informing, persundin~,
or pleasing. As regards p:rsunsion more espcc~nlly, tl1.o ucquired knowledge nnd experience of n. hC'arcr, be.sides being I\
check upon the averments of the speaker, constitute the fout:·
dation circumstance of the plausible in address.
For oratorical end~, knowledge of character must descend
into minute details and flow from personnl cxpcricncr. An RC•
quaintance with human nature in general, as obtained hy men•

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KNOWLl<JDGE OF THOSE ADDRESSED.

21'1

tal science or the maxims laid down in books, is good so far;
but we cannot operate with effect on individual tnen or masses,
without the further knowledge acquired by actual intercourse
with these men or with others like them.
It is well to have in the view systematic scheme of man's
nature,-of the mind's activities, feelings, and thinking powers,
-as described in a system of the lnunan mind or character;
ouch a systematic view instructs us wlrnt to look for, and · hovr
to arrange the facts coining under our observation. 'Ve are
thereby taught the leading motives common to all men, although
differing in degree, and the manner of the~r operation,-the influence of love, of hatred, of fear, wonder, the sentiment of
power, curiosity, the Fine Art emotions, the moral and religious
sentiments. 'Ve are practised in tracing cause and effect in tl1c
region where persuasion has to work.
Rut tJiiR ntllOltnt of knowJ c<lgo COllll'll Rhort of tho orntor'K
requirements. Ile must see to what extent the forces and feelings common to human beings arc developed in tho particular
class that ho has to deal with ; whether they are disposed principally for action or emotion, for love or hatred, for veneration
or self-esteem, for Fine Art or duty, for studious acquirements
or rccreative sports.
Nor is it enough to observe how far a class of persons are
actuated by some pow0rful feeling,-love, religion, fear, hatred,
~and to know gcnc~ally what causes excite love, and what
fear. We must furtb~r learn what are the specific loves and
venerations, fears and hatreds, of those we have to persuade. It
is not all lovely thing:n that the most loving person loves, nor
all hateful things that are liatcd by the best bater. The exact
direction given by education nnd circumstances to tho various
feelings of oi1r nature must be studied hcforo nppcnling to tlicsc.
We have to find out a man's friendships and his enmities, his
party ties and bis ohjects of respect and deference, with a view
to gaining him through his feelings of love and hatred.
The practical mnxims acquired by men in the conrso of their
education and experience, arc their principles of action, or rules
of procedu~e~ trusted to for gaining their <'nds, individual or

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PERS l'. ASION.

KNOWLEDGE OF THOSE ADDRESSED.

social; these arc the data of the orator, his media of persuasion, the major premises of his reasonings. Each man has certain maxims or opinions as to the management of his own pri·
vatc affairs, the care of himself and his family; any views propounded in conformity with these will command his assent. So
in politics and the affairs of societies. vVe find in every free
community, allowing for party differences, certain prevailing
opinions re]ative to the mode of conducting public affairs, nnd
the orator, assuming tlrnse, turns them to liis own ends. Such
arn the English opinions and sentiments regarding constitutional monarcl1y, official rcsponsibiJity, local self-government,
publicity of judicial and deliberative bodies, the Jiberty of thn
subject, civil equa]ity, national ascendency, attachment to old
ways and dislike of abstract theories, consideration of general
consequences.
In Political Economy, we have free trade, and the duodecimal coinage.
In Law, besides the professional Yicws of lawyers, there arc
generally received maxims mt to a fair trial, and punishment
combined with reformation.
There are likewise peculiar views of Morality current in each
tommunity, which to oppose is defeat, to bend to, victory. A
certain ideal of chivalrous self-devotion has numerous followcrR;
the maxim, "Ile just before you are generous," hns nlso ml·
herents. " Man must Jive for something higher tl:an l1imself1"
is a recognized ethical doctrine.
"Talk of the law of nations," exclaimed Chatham; "Naturt
is the best writer-she will tcacl1 ns to be men, and not to truckle
to power." That a something called N atnrc possesses numerous
virtues, is a favorite maxim that an orator may usually nppcul to.
"Success is the test of merit," is a prevailing view nlwnys
difficult to opposo. "It is seldom given to man to do unmixed
good." ""'~'hen once you begin to deviate from a rule, you
will never know where to stop."
The special opinions of Sects, political or religious, nrc also
to be ndverted to.
To logical mindR, a speaker must address logical arguments;

with persons of cultivated taste, attention must he given to the
arts of refined composition. We must not appeal to the fears
of men of courage and spirit, or to the devotedness of thorough
self-seekers. On somo occnsiom1, as in the mcmornhlc election
of Daniel O'Connell for Clare, success is gained by tl1e unmeasured vituperation of an opponent. In another atmosphere,
i~ is possible "to damn with faint praise ; " and the circumstances arc not unfrequent where a triumph may be gained by
sincerity and candor.
In addressing a judge, there is required a professional acquaintance with the law, which he is merely an instrument in
carrying out. In official applications to Government, we succeed according as we understand, and are able to conform to,
the rules of office. And as all regular deliberative bndies are
bound by certain rules of procedure, nnd by laws nnd decisions
passed by their predecessors or by themselves, a speaker unable,
from ignorance or want of skill, to adapt himself to thei:;c, can
hope for no success.

84. An orator has frequently to overbear the special
maxims and views of an audience, by showing these to
be at variance with the final ends of action, namely, the
attainment of good and the avoidance of evil; in which
is implied the preference of a greater good to a less, ancl
of a less evil to a greater.

1

An example is furnisl1ed in Bentham's Ilook of Fallacies,
where he examines a number of topics appealed to by the opponcnts of change ; as, the wisdom of our ancestors, the preservation of the glorious Constitution, &c. See Sydney Smith's
summary in his famous "Noodle's Oration."

85. The kind of knowledge wanted is the same, as
regards both an individual and a class or assemblage of
individuals; only, in this last case, we have to ascertain
what principles of action, of an effective kind, are common to all, or to a preponderating number.
As we cannot make a personal study of every man in n large

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PERStJASION.

F.AILt:RE OF EFFORTS OF GENIUS.

deliberativ(, dssembly, we learn the temper of the whole, by our
knowledge of individuals here and there, especially such as.
take a lead among others, and by the collective determinations
of the body. The final criterion is, on actual trial, to have succeeded or failed.

oblivion, and was at the mercy of every pilferer." He hai; else·
where added, that in no shape did it contribute in any assign·
able degree to the emancipation of the press.
Lord Erskine has never been surpassed as a pleader before a
jury, nnd we may compare with the nhovc l1i8 mode of handling
the same question. A specimen is subjoined:-

86. Inattention to the character of the persons addressed will render nugatory the oratorical efforts of tho
highest genius.
Milton's defence of the Liberty of the Pr<1ss (Areopagitica)
is in his most gorgeous style; yet it had no effect. The motives
appealed to arc not those of ordinary Englishmen, and are in some
instances mere poetic fancies. Take the following example:"I deny not but that it is of the greatest conccrnment in tho
church and commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books bcmean themselves as well as men ; and thereafter to confine, imprison and do sharpest justice on them ns malefactors; for books
are no't absolutely dead thingA, but do contain n progeny of lifo in
them to bo a.'~ active as that Fmul was whoso progeny they nro;
nay, they do preserve, as in n phial, tho pnrcst. cOicncy m11l cxtrnction of that living intellect that hm.I them. I know thoy nro ns
lively, and as vigorously productive, ns thoso fabulous dragon's
teeth j nnd being sown up and down, mny chnnce to spring UJl
armed men. And yet, on the other hnncl, unless wariness be use< ,
as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills n mnn
kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys n
gootl book, kills reason itself, kills tho imflgc of God, as it were, in
the eye. Many a man lives a burden to tho cnrth; but a good
book is the precious life-blood of n master-spirit cmbnlmod and .
treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. It is true no ngo cnn
restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great lo~; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a r~jected truth, ·for tho
want of which whole nations fare the worse. We Rlwuld ho wnry
therefore, what persecution we raise against the living lnborf! ol
public men, how we spill that seasoned life of man, preecrvcll n111l
i;tore<l up in books; since we Rec a kind of l1omici<lo rnny Lo thnf!
committed, sometimes a kind of martyrdom ; nnd it' it utc111l to
the whole impression, a kind of massncre, whereof tho execution
ends not in the slaying of an elcmcntnl life, but strikc~s nt tho
ethereal and soft essence, the breath of reason itself; slays nn immortality rather than a life."
''That noble discourse," says Macaulay, "had been neglected
by the generation to which it was addressed, hnd sunk into

"From mil1(18 tlms subdued by tho terrors of p11nif~l11nent., tlwro
could issue no works of genius to cxpnnd the empire of hmnnn reason, nor nny masterly compositions on the general nnture of government, by tho help of which the great commonwealths of mankind
have fonnded their establishments; much less any of those useful
applications of them to critical conjunctures, by which, from time
to time, our own constitution, by the exertions of patriot citizens,
has been brought back to its stamlnrd. Under such terrors, all the
great lights of science and civilization must be extinguished ; for
men cannot communicate their free thougl1ts to one another with a
lash held over their heads. It is the nature of everything that is
great and useful, Loth in the animate and inanimate world, to be
wild nnd irregular,-and we must be contented to tako them with
the alloys which belong to them, or live without them. Genius
breaks from the fetters of criticism, but its wanderings nro sanctioned by its majerty an<l wisdom when it advances in its pathaubject it to t11c critic, and you tame it into dnlness. Mighty rivers
break down their banks in the winter, sweeping nway to clenth the
flocks which aro fattened on tho soil tlrnt they fertilize in t110 summer: the few may be Mve<l by embankments from drowning, but
the flocks must perish for hunger. Tempests occwionally shnko
our dwellings, and dissipate our commerce; but they scourge before
them the lazy elements, which without them would stngnnte into
pestilence. . In like manner Liberty herself, tho Inst and best gift
of God to liis crentmes must bo taken just as she is; you might
pare her down into basl1ful regularity, and shape her into a perfect
model of severe scrupulous law, but she would then be Liberty
no longer; and you must be content to die under the la..cih of this
inexorable justice which you had exchanged for the banners of
Freedom."

In this passage, the orator appeal~, in general language, to
the fruits of unrestricted mental energy, assuming that these
are so far evident that they need only be recalled to mind; he
rebuts the common objections against Liberty, drawn from its
abuses, by analogies from the material world; and, finally, he
affirms his main theme in energetic langnage. It would }!ave
greatly strengthened his case with an English jury to have.

222

PERSUASION.

MEANS OF PERSUASION.

cited the prosperity of England as growing with its successive
acquisitions of freedom.
Let us now contrast these declamatory passages with tho
arguments that really procured the abolition of the censorship
in 1693. We find, from Macaulay, that Blount, a notorious and
unscrupulous writer of the time, laid a trap to ruin the liccnSC'r
Bohun, a high Tory and high Churchman, by sending him nn
anonymous pamphlet full of high Tory and high Clmrch principles, but with the title prefixed, " King William and Queen
Mary, Conquerors." Bohun fell into the snare, licensed tho
pamphlet, and, in a few hours, discovered that the title-page
had set all London in a flame; while, in four days, the Ilouso
of Commons summoned him to the bar, and sent him to prison.
The incident roused attention to the inexpediency of the censorship, which had hitherto passed unchallenged by the influential voices in Parliament. "But," says Macaulay, "the queA-tion had now assumed a new aspect; and the continuation of
the Act was no longer regarded a.'l a matter of course.
"A feeling in favor of the liberty of the pr('g~, R reeling not yet,
it is trne1 of wide extent, or formi<lnble intensity, began to sl1ow
itself. The existing system, it wns snid, tca11 prejudicial both to
ccmmerce and to learning. Conl<l it be expected thnt nny cnpitnli"t
would advance the funds nece~sary for a grent literary undertnking,
or thnt any scholar would expen<l yenrs of toil nnd research on such
an undertaking, while it was possible thnt, nt the Inst moment, tlio
caprice, the malice, the folly of one man might frustrnte the wholo
design 1 And was it certain that the lnw which so grievously restricted both the freedom of trade and the freedom of thought hml
really added to the security of the State 1 IJnd not recent experience proved tl1nt the licenser might himself be an enemy of tl1(•lr
majesties, or, worse still, nn absurd nnd perverse friend; thnt ho
might suppress a book of which it would be for their interest thnt
every house in the country should Jmve n c-0py, nnd thnt he mi1:d1t
readily give his sanction to n libel which tended to mnke them
hateful to their people, and which deserved to be torn nnd hnrnc<I
by the hand of Ketch 1 Had the government gnined mnch by C!I"
tablishing a literary police which prevented Englishm<'n from hn\'ing the History of the Bloody Circuit, nnd allowed tlwm, hr, wny
of compensation, to read tracts which repreRented King \\ l!li11111
and Queen Mary as conquerors 1 "
Two years after the feeling in favor of tho liberty
tho
press, which was fostered by the ~onsidcrations quotc<l, had

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223

arisen, the obnoxious Licensing Act was condemned in the Ilouso
of CommonR and removed from the statute-books. At first,
however, there was opposition from the Lords, and a conference
took place between the llonscR, nt which the Commoi1s defended
their resolution. The paper they presented containing their
reasons is dcscril,ed thus by Mn.ca11lny: "Tl1cy pointed out,
concisely, clearly, forcibly, and sometimes with a grn.ve irony
which is not unbecoming, the absurdities and iniquities of tl1e
statute which was about to expire. Ilut all their objections will
be found to relate to matters of detail. On the great question
of principle, on the question whether the liberty of unlicensed
printing be, on the whole, a blessing or a curse to society, not
a word is said. The Licensing Act is condemned, not as a
thing essentially evil, but on account of the petty grievances, the
exaction.'!, the job.'!, the commercial restrictions, the domiciliary
vi.~its, which were incidental to it." After mentioning some of
their petty, but convincing reasons, Macaulay adds, "Such were
the arrruments wl1ich did what Milton's Arcopagitica had failed
to do.'~ Locke, it is said further in a note, is believed to have
dram1 up the paper. .Macaulay goes on: "If this were so, it
mnst be remembered that Locke wrote, not in his own name,
but in the name of a multitude of plain country gentlemen and
merchants, to whom his opinions touching the liberty of the
press would probably have seemed strange and dangerous. ·we
must suppose, therefore, that, with his usual prudence, 110 refrained from giving an exposition of his own views, and contented himself with putting into n nent nnd pcrRpienons form
arguments suited to the capacity of the parliamentary majority."

87. We come now to the :MEANS OF PERSUASION.
The Means of Persuasion mny be stated, in general
terms, as the assimilating of tlie object desired with tlie
principles of action of those addressed.
The hearers are possessed of certain active (]ispositions,tastcs, likings, convictions, beliefs, or opinions,-and the speaker
· must bring the object sought under the sweep of one or more
of these; in other words, he must represent it as constituting

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225

PERSUASION.

VERBAL INGENUITY.

he very occasion for these active impulses to operate. Seo
he example just quoted.
.
Pitt's memorandum to George III. on Fox's East India Dil~
lescribing it SlS " a plan to take more than lialf the royal power,
md by that means disable his :Majesty for the rest of his reign "
ms a highly persuasive appeal.
'

11pondence, and the most unreserved communication with his constituents. Their wishes ought to have great weight with him· their
opinion, high respect; their business, unremitte<l attention.
is his
duty to sacrifice 11is repose, his pleasures, 11is satisfactions, to theirs·
and above all, ever, and in all cases, to prefer their interest to hi~
own. But, his unbinsse<l opinion, his mnture judgment, his enlightened conscience, ho ought not to sacrifice to you, to any man, or
to any set of men living. These he does not derive from ycur
plcinsure; no, nor from tho lnw nnd the constitution. They nre n
trust from Providence, for tho nhuso of which ho iR <loeply nnswornule. Your rcprc11outntive owes yo111 11ot ld., ind11st1·y only, but
liu jttd(Jment; and he betrays, imteaa of serving you, if he Bacrifices it to your opinion."

88. For persuasive ad<lress, a thoro11gh ncqnnintnnco
the subject is a chief re<1uisitc.

~ith

By being acquainted with a subject in all its bearings wo
re qualified to adduce whatever there is in it to conciliat~ tho
ood will of the hearers. People generally arc most persua.qi\•o
1 their own walk; as the phrase is, " they have most to say for
aemselves."
With a knowledge of the subject, and a k:10wlcdgc of tho
~arers, the power of fitting the one to the other will <l<'pend
1 force of mind and extent of attainments and resources. Orn~ry consists, not in adducing a few of the obvious points of
mnection between the end desired nnd the conviction~ of those
!dressed, but in exhausting tho whole range of pertinent conderations, near and remote.
It is necessary to persuasive force to ho able to rnry tho
nguage and illustrations. A fact that is inert when stated in ono
nn, may strike home when put in another form. For example,
iley remarks, as an objection to the theory of mornl s<'ntimonts,
at there are no maxims in morality which "are absolutely
1d universally true ; fa other words, which do not bend to
•cumstances." The latter expression is an equivalent of tho
rmer, but more effectual for the purposes of the argument.
. Many instances might be cited of verbal ingcnuit.y in rcconlmg what seemed a hopeless clash between n spc11kcr nod his
arers. The following is from Burke's speech to lais con&tituts at Bristol, where he vindicates the exercise of J1is own frco
dgment in Parliament, and reconciles it with his duties to his
nstituents themselves : "Certainly, gentlemen, it ought to be t110 happiness nnd glory
a representative to live in the strictest union, the closest corr&

It

This may be compared to !miling in tho wind's eye.
The ingenuity of the following retort of ·whatclcy merits
admiration:-" I have seen in a professedly argumentative
work, a warning inserted against the alleged unsound doctrine
contained in the Article ' Person' in Appendix to the Logic;
which being unaccompanied by any proofs of unsoundness, may
be regarded as a strong testimony to the unanswerable character
of the reasons I have there adduced."
"Tyranny," says Chatham in his i:;pcech on t11e expulsion of
Wilkes from the House of Commons, "tyranny is detestable
in eYery shape; but in none is it so formidable as where it is
assumed and exercised by a numbc1· of tyrants."
None of these surpasses in felicity Shelley's apology for
the excesses of the first French Revolution:-" If the Revolution had been in every respect prosperous, then misrule and
superstition would lose lrnlf tl1eir claims to our abhorrence, as
fetters which the captive can unlock with the slightest motion of
' bis fingers, and which do not cat with poisonous rust into the
soul."

80. Everything rclat.i vo to Persuasion comes under
the principle just state<l; nevertheless, for the full illustration of that principle, and for bringing ont the variety of minute considerations rertinent to Oratory, it is
proper to view the subject under the three following
aspects:10*

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rERSt:.ASION.

TIIE FORM OF EXPOSITION.

I. Persuasion consi<lered as based on some of the
modes of simple communication.
II. Persuasion by Argument.
III. Persuasion through the Feelings.

to a nearly unparalleled degree, upon Iteration and Illustration.
Robert Hall frequently pursues the same method. The educa-tional function of pulpit oratory is fulfilled by tho elucidation
of doctrines ; but these must be chosen, shaped, and illustrated,
to rouse the feclingR. Where action is to be brought about at
once, as in legal and political oratory, the method is less applicable. llnrke expounded principles to excess, so far as l1is immediate object was concerned .
To give a few examples. .Definition may be made higlily
effective in oratorical stimulation. In the following passage from
Demosthenes, we find Law defined with such circumstances
and coloring as to produce in the hearers an active sentiment of
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90. I. Persuasion mny be based on some of tho
modes of simple communication,-Description, Narrntive, and Exposition.
.Description is employed to picture scenes that are to rou~o
the passions. Such are the descriptions introduced by Burke
into his speeches on . Warren Ila.stings; the descriptions in
Hall's sermon on the French invasion ; and the account by
Macaulay of the devastation of the Palatinate in the end of tho
seventeenth century. These pictures, it is true, arc not exercises of the pure descriptive art, as we have reco<Tnizcd it above·
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t liey mvolve narration also, but they are popularly designated
by the name of Description. The fcatnreR selected arc such ns
to inspire strong feelings in a certain direction.
The happiness accruing from good co111luct.1 and the miseries
of vice, are subjects of oratorical description. All things tlmt
can impart a charm or fascination arc accumulated under tho
one, and revulsive horrors are spread over tl1e other.
Narrative also enters frequently into oratory. '111e 11 cMo"
in a law-pleading often consists of a chain of c\·cnts, and thcso
must he narrated. The narration is conducted with tho \·icw
of making prominent all that favors the side of the 11pcnker• .
It is possible, besides, in the recital of facts to introduce persuasive touches.
In the celebrated contention hclween DemMthcnc!\ and
A!:schincs, a great part of the speeches on both si1lcs ie mndo
up of the narration of actions and events.
Exposition is still more intimately allied with pcnmMion.
In many instances, oratorical address is an exposition of ccrtnin
great principles, which it is desired to commend to pcoplo's acceptance. Especially is this the case with preaching. The eloquence of Chalmers was almost always expository. In di~ua­
ing Exposition, we might have quoted his sermons as modelltd.

"The wliole life of men, whether the state they live in he great
or sn)1tll, is govcrnc<l either hy Nn.turo or hy Ln.w. Nntnro hi irregulnr n111l c1tpricious ;· Ln.w is dolinit.o, n111l I.ho HILlllO f.o nll. WIH'll
tho nnt11rnl <lhiposition is evil, it frc1p1ontly urgcH to crime; lJ11t tho
law aims n.t the just, the good, n.nd tho fit; these they search out.,
nrul when determined, they pubfo;h n.s the regulations to be followed by every one alike. To tlieso ohedicnco must be rendered
on mnny grounds; but most of nil on this-tlrnt Jaw is the invention
nnd gift of the god9, the resolution of prudent men, the corrector
of voluntary or involuntary wrong-doers, and the cleterminntion of
the state n.t large, which it1 necessarily binding on oll its citizens."
Here the function of law is elevated by its alliance with all
that is commanding and august in political society.
In the Speech on the Crown, Demosthenes introduces an
elaborate antithetical definition of two species of characters,
the straightforward adviser (b avp,{3ovA,o~), and the trncklcr
(b avKo<f>aVT1J<;), in order to point out the contrast between
himself and his adversary JEschincs. The defining of nn ideal
type of character, pointing to the instance actually in Yiew, is
a suitable medium of praise or ccn:mrc.
Pitt's reply to Horace 'Valpolc contains an effective nsc of
definition. "I have been accused of acting a theatrical part.
A theatrical part may imply either some pewliarities of gesture,
or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and tlie adoption of
tlie opinions and langua.qe of anotlier man."

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PERSUASION.

ARGUMENT.

In exemplification of the expository method as applied to
Moral Suasion, we may refer to Extract XVI.

of logic, the n11cgcd similarities must be complete and l'clevant (
and so with the dissimilarities: but for pcrsna~ion, it is enough
that they appear so to the persons addressed.
Before commencing to argue a question, the speaker is
recommended to set clearly before liis own mind the point to
be argued. The arts of exposition contain all the artificial
means of furthering this object. In an argument intended to
satisfy minds of fair intelligence, the leading terms should be
defined, and tho principles expressed in clear language, with tho
aid of counter-statement and example.

Dl. Persuasion is aided by all the arts that can
strengthen or loosen the bonds which fasten ideas in the
mind.
This appears to open a large imbjcct, but, in point of fact,
it only refers us to the figures and devices of style alrea<ly considered. Similes, metaphors, antitheses, epigrams, balanced
constructions, have a11 the effect of strengthening the hold of
certain things upon the mind, and thereby increasing their force
when used in persuasion. Bacon's epigram, "By indignities
men come to dignities," t ends t o dissolYc the usual associations
with indignity, and replace them with others of a contrary nature. The metaphor that "Cah1mny is the shadow of grentne!'l!'l111
has a similar efficacy in modifying our views of calumny. · Tho
apothegm, "Youth in toil, age in case," hy it.s furm, deepens n
moral impression.
Canning's famous retort to the 1ri ~h r<'pealcrs, iR nn argument intensified by the form of the hngnage :-" Itepeal tho
Union, restore the Heptarchy."

92. II. Persuasion takes on, to n. lnrgo extent, t110
form of Argument, Reasoning, or Proof.
There are still supposed certain fundamental disposition!!,
convictions, or opinions on the part of the hearers, accompanied with ability and readiness to follow trains of reasoning
or deductions from these, and to balance considerations on opposite sides.
Argumentative Persuasion is closely allied with Logical
Proof (Sec EXPOSITION by PnooF). To a mind perfectly rntiona1, scientific or logical evidence is conviction ; I1ogic and
Rhetoric are the same. Ilut the ordinary arts of persnnsirc
reasoning take in modes of proceeding irrelevant to gcnuino
proof, and adapted to minds imperfectly rational.
All Proof and all Disproof are resolvable into nllegntion11
of Similarity or Dissimilarity. To comply with tho dcmnnd11

93. An Argument is a fact, principle, or set of
facts or of prin eipl cs, ndduccd ns evidence of some other
fact or principle.
It is alleged as a fact., or a law of nature, that the stars gravitate towards each other; and the argument, or fact in prnof, is
that the sun and planets gravitate. Vt/c argue that the weather
is about to cl1ange, by quoting the fact that the barometer is
falling, or the fact that the wind is shifting, or the general la'~
that at the particular season such changes happen.

94. Two thiugs are requisite in Argument. First:
The facts or principles adduced must uc admitted, nnd
sufficiently believed in, by the hearers.
Belief may be genuine, but too feeble to overcome resistance.

95. Secondly: A certain similarity must be a<lmitted
to hold between the facts or principles adduced and the
point to be established.
One fact cannot prove another unless the two are so far of
a kind, that, on the ground of nature's uniformity, we may expect t11e second to happen exactly as the first has happened.
The gravitation of the sun and planetR is an argument for tho
gravitation of the stars, because we believe that the stars aro
constituted with a sufficient amount of likeness to entail the
gravitating property, nature being uniforln.
O~ t.hc two reqnisites just mentioned, the first corresponds

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PERS U.ASION.

to the mnjor premise of the Logical Syllogism, tl1c second to
the minor. The major (in a regular syllogism of the first
Figure) lays down a principle, the minor asserts the relevance
or identity of this with the thing to be proved.
" Matter
gravitates (major)-a meteoric stone is matter (minor)-a meteoric stone gravitates." Mr. J. S. Mill has shown that tho
major need not be a general principle; it may be n fact or Aeries
of facts stated individually; "this, that, and the other mnterinl
thing gra,ritates (major): a certain thing-a meteor-resembles
these in their common property of heing inert matter; and l!O
(nature being uniform) resembles them in the superadtlc<l property of gravitating."

9G. Arguments, or rroofs, are of the following
classes :--(1.) Deductive, Necessary, or Implicntcu; thnt
is, such as imply the thing to be proved.
An assertion given to nccre<lit its ob verse, i!1 nn argument
of implication or necessity. It is merely ,·icwing tho Fame fnct
from the other side, and is little more than n chnnwi of language. "Such a race cannot he 1mvn~es; for tl1ey hai1e many
civilized institutions." "Virtue favors hnppincs.CJ; vice cau1t1
misery."
Tlrn logicnt converse of nn ns.CJertion (made by trnnsposing
the subject and predicate with certain caution!!) is the cxnct
equivalent of the original, and Is therefore n ca~e of mere implication. "No just man would make his children n burd en .
to others; no one that does this is just,"-arc different fonns
of the same assertion, and not different assertions; nn<l to mnko
the one prove the other is to put forward :m argument of implication.
When a general statement is aclvat1ce<l as ed!knr.c of n pnrticnlar included in it, tho argument is !lccl11ct.ivc !lr implicntcd:
"We shall die, for all men arc mortal." The syllogism, M nlready remarked, is of this character; th e major premise coven
the conclusion, provided we have assnranee of the rclc\'nncy, M
affirmed in the minor. It hn..~ only to be nscertnincd thnt w
are men (the m;nor) ; nnd the arg11mc11t to prov.c that wo 11hn.ll

DEDUCTIVE rROOFS.

231

die is necessary, because it contains the fact · as a p~nt of the
meaning.
.
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This form of deductive argument is a prevailrng type of argumentative reasoning. The mode of expressin~ it is ~ kind
of inverted exposition; instead of n general doctrine takmg the
lead of the particular examples or applications, a pnrticnlar cnsc
is given first, and the principle is then adduced ns. the proof of
it. To show that the Laplanders arc not so miserable n.s wo
should expect from t11cir climate, we b~·ing forw~nl the .g.cncral
principle that the mind of man shapes ?tsclf to h~s cond1t~on . .
Another well-known type of deduct.Ive rcasomng, consists m
following out a conditional assertion. " If the moon has no
atmospli ere, animals constituted like those on the earth c.annot
exist thero (major); now the moon hns no atm oc;ph erc (mmor);
therefore animals constitntcd like those on the earth do not
exist in the moon."

97. (2.) Inductive, sometimes called Contin?ent: as
when from particulars observed, known, or admitted, we
prove, through the m edium of nature's uHifo:·mi ty, other
particulars unobserved, unknown, or unadm1tted.
The nrgmncnt for the ~rndtation of the i;t.nrs is inductive.
The proof that quinine will cure agne ~s of the same class. .
Althoncrh 11. know ledge of th e vnnons modes of lnductffc
proof, as tl~ey are exhibited in Mill's Logic of Induction, would
serve the purposes of exposition and persuasion, ~s well as of
science, I cannot transfer a complete enumerat1011 of these
to the present work. A few select points may, nevcrthelesR,
be indicated.
The first species of lndncti\'C proof .is called the ~ieth~d of
Acrrccmcnt. It is grounded on the umform compamonsh1p of
h;o facts through a great variety of circumstances, which lends
to their being considered as cause and effect. VI c sh.ould. prove
by this method that extreme heat is ~ c~use of dctcnorat10~ o.f
t.hc lrnman system; for, under all..vanct1cs of race and .of m~li­
vidunl cha.radcr, a residence in tho tropics is nccompa.med with
enfeeblement of body, or of mind, or of both.

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INDUCTIVE PROOFS.

It is only a scientific man, or a logician, that fa fully a\vare
of the limits of this argument ; the popular tendency is to
accept it too easily : it has a rhetorical plausibility beyond ilJI
real worth.
Many common modes of reasoning are fallacious examples
of this canon. A particular mode of life is called healthy, because it has been the habit of a healthy man ; a certain institution is lauded, because a nation has pro!!pcrcd under it. '1110
logician in such instances would say that the conditions of fl
true induction liave not been complied with. The easiest modo
of disabusing an ordinary mind, is to produce instances whcro
the same thing has been present without the same effect.
It adds greatly to the force of com·iction by this method, ns
well as to its genuine cogency, to combine cases of agreement
in absence with agreement in presence. Thus the effects of political liberty arc more fully certified by comparing a nmuLer of
countries where it exists with others where it docs not exist.
The other leading mode of establishing cansc nnd effect is
called the Method of Difference. 'Yhcn n mnn, in the fulncll.q
of life, is shot and falls lifeless, we know tlint tho 11l1ot killed
him, because that agency made tlio wholo difference between
his living and his dying. When fl rcd-liot wiro is immersed in
oxygen gas, it bursts into n 11ame nnd is rapidly consumed.
The contact with pure oxygen is tl1c only difference thnt wo
lrnve made in the circumstances of the wire, nnd that contact ii.
thereby proved to be the cause of tho comhuRtion. 'Vlum R
nation suddenly rises to prosperity on tho accession of n new
minister, like the British people under Chatham, no otl1er impor-:
tant change having occurred, we infer that he is tho cnuso
tl1e improvement.
The Method of Difference furnishes a more dcci1l<·il proof
of causation than the l\Iethod of Agreement. It jq hc11cc oRon
resorted to in argument, and not nnfrcq11c11tly nb11qc1]; being
pnt forward in cases where the difference is not reduced to tho
one single circumstance alleged.
A tl1ird mode of Inductive proof is a variety of tho foregoing, called the Method of Residues. 1Ne take away from a

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phenomenon the effects of all known agents, nnd nscribc the remaining effect to the remaining cause. Knowing the sentiments
and views of three men in n co-partnership of four, we can allow
for the actions that would result from them ; and, if there be
anything left unexplained, we attribute that to the fourth. This
method, so far as it can be carried, bas the force of proof, nnd
can accordingly be used in Argument.
Another important variety of the l\Ictho<l of Difference is
tlmt called the l\f cthod of Concomitant Vmintions; wherehy
wo infer cause mid effect from tho. proportionnto rise or full
of two accompanying facts. By the circumstance that an increase of temperature in any substance is followed by a proportionate increase of hulk, we prove that heat expands
bodies.
7
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hatcly, in his llhctoric, ]1as illnstrntcd this kind of Argument under the name of J>rogressive Approach. It is a strong
presumption in favor of increased toleration and liberty, that
their increase has been a concomitant of the general improvement of nations. So any mode of reasoning that falls into discredit as accurate knowledge is extended, must be loo]-:cd upon
as in all prohahilit.y fallaeio11P.
An argument of this kind is dcscriLccl by Cromwell as having decided the leaders of the Commonwealth to proceed to extremities against Charles.
At a co11fcrcncc at Hampton
Court, the officers in the Puritan army, on reviewing their
experience, were ngrccd, that i;o long ns tl1cy maintained uncompromising opposition to tl1c king, their military operations
prospered, but in proportion as they ehtered into diplomacy
with a view to reconciliation, i>rovidcnce was against them in
the field.

98. (3.) Ann.logy is mnch resorted to as a means of
proof.
vVhcn we argnc from one man to another man, on any common property of men, as their birth, growth, &c., we reason Inductively, they being the same in kind ; when we reason from
men to animals far removed from them in structure, or to· plants,

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ARGU1\1ENT FROM PI~OilABILITY.

we reason Analogically; there is a samcncsR, hut accompanied
with a vast amount of difference. It is an argument from Analogy, when we compare nations to individuals in respect of vital
constitution, 11nd infer that every nation will pass through tlic
successive stages of maturity, old age, and death. So, because
there is a certain resemblance between the metropolis of a
country and the heart, it has been argue<l that its expansion becomes at last a disease.
The existence of sensibility or consciousness in animals ls
proved by the analogy of their cxprcssio11, their actions, and
their organization.
Analogical arguments are not without rhetorical pla11flihilit.y.
They contain the foundation circumstances of all reasoning, n
resemblance of particulars; but the accompanying dispnrlt.y
limits their application.

99. (4.) Argument er proof is frccp1cntly no more
than Probable.
The nature of a probalile asflcrtion admits of being explnined
in a very simple form. Every cc1·tain inference tcf.pecting a
particular case, implies that there is a law of nntttro nbsolut«?ly
uniform applying to that case. It is certain thnt every grown
man now living will be dead within a hundred years. This inference reposes upon a natural law, authenticated by the universal experience of mankind. Ilut it is not certnln that A. B.,
born in 1830, will be dead in 1930, alt110ugh highly probnblc. .
It is not a uniform law of nature that every man dies beforo
attaining one hundred years of age, though it hnppens in a m.11t
preponderance of instances, the exact number being known by
the bills of mortality. Supposing, then, tlrnt of those nttaining
the age of thirty-six, 9,999 out of 10,000 die before n hundred,
A. B.'s probability of living till that age is 1 to 9,900. '11lll"i
whereas an inference that is certain rests on a universal tmth, or
an induction that l"nows no break, a probable inference rcst1t on
an induction of the form-most X's are Y's; and the dcgrco
probability is expressed by the number of X's that arc Y'&. ~r,
in a miscellaneous crowd of men, three out of every four waU

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tell the truth when asked, without an oath, tlJC probability of
the testimony of any one of them is 3 to 1, or .f. If the addition of an oath has such an effect that, on an experience sufficiently Jarge, it is found that 19 men out of 20 can be relied on,
that ratio is the measure of the vnlnc of a single testimony on
oath.
The rules for combiuing prolmblc i11fcrc11ccs to calculate
their approach to certainty are not difiicult of apprehension. If
two independent witnesses, whose separate testimony is valued at
i, concur in tl10 same statement., tho comhl11ed probnhilit.y is ! ;
if one is valued at !, and the other at f, the united value is 4Thc principle of computation may be roughly stated thus :-A
probability of i is the same as 2 to 1 ; now, two such probabilities are combined by multiplication into the product 4 to 1,
which is the same as -!- Again, to combine.§- and f, we must
multiply 2 to 1 by 3 to 1, which yields G to 1, or .q.. Hence,
on the supposition that two witnesses on oath were separately
valued at !-~, we should have to multiply Hl to 1 by 19 to 1,
and the product, 361 to 1, or lH, would be the value of their
concurring testimony; a degree of probability that, however
obtained, would be recciYcd as sufficient either in historical evidence or in a court of law.
Now, althongl1, as already said, we cannot expect to put in
exact numbers tho probability of the proofs in historical, legal,
and practical questions, yet we do always fonn some vagno
estimate of wl1at we consider the force of an inference that is
not certain ; and there would be no hann in stating to ourselves
· the figure that would come nearest to that estimate. Vv e use
adjectives to express the degrees of our confidenec,-as very
slight, slight, tolerable, considerable, high, very hig11, almost
certain ; and we should not make our estimate less exact by representing it by a number, being all tho time aware that this is
but a rude approximation, although not more rude than tlw
estimate without the number. And we might further revert to
the ultimate criterion of probability, as above stated, namely,
the number of cases out of the total happening in nature, whcro
the supposed connection holds.
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100. By the foregoing methods of proof, fully complied with, we may establish truth, and bring home conviction to a rational mind. There are, however, various
devices for stifling their influence, constituting ono department of sophistry.
(1.) As regards Deductive evidence, there arc forms of
bnguage containing error disguised as truth, the fallacies of tho
syllogistic logician. These arc not the most formidablc weapons
of the sophist, there being a tendency in men to suspect tho
dexterities of the formal reasoner. This sentence from Popo
has a plausible, and no more than a plausible nppcnrnncc : "Whoever has flattered his friend sncccssfully, must at onco
think himself a knave and his fri end a fool."
(2.) In the higher class of Inductive proof'!, where there i8
a unanimous concurrence of the Fonr ?tfcthodR, or enough to
establish a conclusion ns logically certain, it is seldom that ni1y
attempt is made to nullify the cvi1lcnce. The laws of motion,
gravity, heat, light., &c., nrc nllowc1l to pn!!R.
(3.) It is in Analogies, and in mere l'rolmbility, or in the concurrence of Probabilities, that success is most likely to attend
on sophistry and mystification. An argument fairly estimated
may liave a probability of two to one, or two-thirds; an opponent will bring out prominently tho exceptional cases, constituting the one-third ; will do l1is best to keep out of ,·icw
the majority; will cavil at and deny what ho cannot conceal;
and so make it appear as if the probability inclined tho other
way.
In a court of law, when a strong case of combined prolmbilities is made out, the opposing counsel will comment on tho
probabilities separately, showing their insufficiency in tho dotachcd state, and trying to prevent the jmy from 'ntteuding to
their cumulative force.

101. "\Vhen we make use of n. plnrnlity of nrgu.
ments, we have to consider how to arrnngo them for o(.
feet.
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ARRANGEMENT OF ARGUMENTS.

237

Besides avoiding the confusion of mixing up different topics,
we give to 1.mch a distinct local lial>itat.ion, whercl1y it abides
better in the memory; so that, if it be omitted in the reply,
the hearer is aware of the void. The designating of the arguments numerically udds to the separateness. This, however, is
a cooling application in impassioned address, and was seldom
practised by the ancient orators. The cumulative conjunction~
can be employed for the same purpose; a~, Again, then, now,
once more, &c.
As with principles brought forward in Exposition, so with
arguments, a terse summary or sharp epithet engraves them on
the mind.

102. Next, ns rcgnr<ls the 1rnml1e r n11<1 t.lio order of
the arguments.
Number docs not always give force. Not to speak of tho
danger of being tedious and prolix, it is better, in the prospect
of opposition, to leave out such as arc 1vcak, and such as an opponent could effectively meet.
The order may be various, provided a good position is
given to the strongest; in which view these may be placed
either first or last. Sometimes it is requisite to postpone
an unpalatable topic, until the way is paved for its introduction.

103. In REFUTATION, or REPI,Y, there are many things
to be considered. It is in this department that the train~
ing in logical method avails most.
The purely logical aptitude for detecting fallacious syllogisms,
unsound inductions, and loosely-defined notions, although not
immediately concerned in giving plausibility to a first statement,
is always efficacious in reply.

104. It is advantageous to set forth explicitly, nt the
commencement, all that is admitted on the other side;
and to un~old whatever important inferences are fairly
deducible from those admissions.
Damaging contradictions arc sometimes made to appear at

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PERSUASION.

once ; and, in any case, a foundation is laid both for refutation
and for argument.
.

105. If, in the original statement, the arguments wcro
mixed together, they should be disentangled by tho re- ,
spondent, and answered separately.
A speaker accustomed to separate ]1is own argmnente will
see the benefit of doing the same with his adversary's. In this
way, too, he will best encounter the practice alluded to in tho following remarks on the oratory of Fox. " If, as Is nll<>~ed, he WM
wont to repeat the same thoughts again and ngain in diflcrcnt
words, this might be a defect in the oration, but it wns none In tlio
orator. For, thinking not of himself, nor of the mies of rhetoric,
but only of success in the struggle, he Juul found thC>so tho m0&t
effectual means to imbue a popular audience almost imperceptibly with his own opinions. And he knew that to the multitmlo
one argument stated in five different forms i~, in ~cncrnl, helcl
equal to five new arguments." (Stanltopc's Life of l'itt, Yol.
I., p. 247.)

106. Refutation, or Disproof, ncccssnrily takes plnco
according to all the methods of Argument, or Proor. ·
Deducthre fa1lacies, or bad syllogisms, can, with or without
the help of Logic, be shaped and presented so that their fallaciousness shall be apparent. Somo parallel cnsc, dmwn Crom a
familiar subject, will contribute to tl10 rcfutntion.
The formal part of reasoning (trcntccl of in the Fomtnl or
Scholastic Logic) is less frequently at fault th:m tho prcmlk'S.
Insufficiency may attach to the Major Pr£>misc, wliii·h (In tl10
regular syllogism) affirms a general truth, or to tho ;\li11or, wl1lcla
declares that a particular case falls under tlic gcncrnllt y: In tbo
first cai~c, the refutation is purely Inductivt; in tho othff
case, the relevancy of the minor is closely rclntc1l to Dtfi1ti-

tion.
As regards the Major. The mode of refuting a gcnC!ral af.
finnation is to produce exception~, or other ndrnittcd prine\p&e.
contradicting it. The refutation is cffccth·c in proportion •

REFUTATION, OR DISPROOF.

239

these incompatible facts and principles are well known and understood. When any one affirms that all stimulants a:e ~ad,
the respondent produces ten, coffee, wine and brandy m std:uess opium as a medicine, and so on.
Earl Montague's defence of the Court of the L?rd High
Steward for trying Peers, is a good cxnmple of rcbnttmg n general charge by particulars.
"It would be easy to make out n ]~ng list of sqnireg, merchants,
J:iwycrs, surgeons, _yeomen, artisan~, pJouglun~n, whose blood, barbarously shc<l d unng the late evil tunes, crrns for. vengeance to
]maven. But wl1nt single member of your House, m our days, or
in the days of our fathers, or in the dnys of our grnndfathers, s_uffered death unjustly by sentence of the Court of the Lord High
Steward 1 Hundreds of the common people were sent to the gallows by common juries for the Rye Honse Plot and the Western
JnsnITection. One peer, nnd one nlone, my Lord ~clmn~re, Wiii'!
brought nt thnt time before the Court of the Lord II115h S~cwnrd,
and he wns acquitted. You say that the evidence nrpunst hnn ~vns
Jcgnlly insufficient.. Ho it so. But 1<0 Wll8 tho ~vull'nro ngn1118t.
Sydney, against Oorni8h, against Alice J,l8lo: yet it s1111icc~l to do:
stroy them. You say that the peers, before whom my L?1d Dela
mere was brought were selected with shnmclcss nnfmrncss by
King James and by Jeffreys. Be it so. But this only p~·ovcs t!int
under the worst possible King, and under the worst poss~ble Ihgh
Steward a lord tried by lords hns a better chance for life thnn a
' who puts lmnse
.
lf on lns
. coun t ry. ,,
commoner
Many doctrines brought forward in argument ~re not so
much false as confused, being made up of ill-defined, mcoherent
notions. The assertion that " Nature is a safe guide " is irrefutable because unintelligible. Yet we cannot stop to unfold
the ambiO"uitics of the word nature, so as to deprive the proposition of the force of a venerable name. vVe rather pany such
an argument, by admitting that ~ature, uncorrupt~d, left to he~­
sclf, or with fair play, is a safe gmdc, and by dcnymg the apphcation in the special instance.
Probably the best way of dealing with a mystifying and
confused opponent, is to select a specimen of 11is argnments for
a full and minute exposure. In controYcrsial warfan', opponents
of this kind are not uncommon ; and there are a few illustrious
examples of the method of replying to them. ·we may addu~e
Locke's controversy with Stillingfleet; Hobbes's defence of his

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240

ARO UMENTUM AD HOMINF..?tt.

PERSUASION.

theory of the vVill ngninst Bishop Brnmhnll; nnd, in our time,
the reply of Robert Hall to Kinghorn on the snhjcct of "Frco
Communion."
The relevancy of the l\Jinor enters into many <li!lputca.
Granting the principle, we refuse the application. ·whether a '
particular case falls under a rnlc is often a nice point to dett'rmine ; both legal nnd moral right and wrong involve such
questions. "Falsehood is wrong; is then the subscribing of
the thirty -nine Articles, without believing them, n falsehood l"
To show that the subject of the Minor docs, or docs
not, correspond with the snl1ject of tho Major (which is tho
meaning of the Minor), we must often rci:;ort to nn e:rnmlMtlon
of particulars, such as is required for Induction nnd for Dcfinl·
tlon.
People readily agree to such generalities ns "Ilelibrion WM
not intended to make our pleasures Jc.ss; " " Those nction1
indidduals that do not affect others Rhoul1l not he interfered
with l1y others;" but the carryin~ out of thcso into their npph•
cations will show the wi1lcst <li!lcor1lmwe 1 110 much M> thnt tlao
conceding of them settles nothing. Tho rent Lnttlo must be
fought on what seems the Minor premise, but i.9 in rue&. another
inductive generality.
·
The strict Jogicnl handling
tho110 q11c11tion11 (liowcv<?r do·
sirablc in itself nnd useful to the Rpcnker) is too roundnbout and
abstruse for popular address; the rhetorician must content him·
self with his usual resource, t11c starting of pnlpnhle contrn<llo·
tions j for which end it is, that he ]ins been nbovo rnjoirrnd to
master the admitted facts nnd principl~s of the other flitl<'. 1110
citing of contradictory instances always cfo;proves, nnd oncn
silences, both bad Inductions and bad Definitions.

or

or

107. It is sometimes shown that an opponC'nt is procluded, by something in his own special prn~ition, from
the benefit of a principle appealed to by him ; n ~pccinl
mode of Refutation hy Inconsistency, called tho Argumentum ad lwminem.
It has been customary to meet those sceptics that maintain ·

241

nothing to bo certain, by replying that the ve·i-y dcclamtion 0£
universal uncertainty must itself be 1certain. Cudworth, in
encountering Protagoras, who denied absolute truth, retorts that
Protagoras's own affirmation, "Man is the measure of all things,"
is given by him as absolute.
Earl Russell, writing to the Government of Saxony, on the
violation by the German Powers, of the treaties with reference
to Schleswig and Holstein, uses the ad hominem argument~
" Iler Majesty's Government is convinced that tho Court of
Dresden will understand that if such a line of argument [that .
ndvanced on the other side] were admitted as valid, every ex. isting treaty would become waste paper. [This is an argument
based on the common interest of nations ; what follows is special to the parties addressed.] I refrain from quoting cases in
point in which such a light and inconsiderate mode of interpreting treaties would prove seriously prejudicial to the German
Powers themselves."
We may also quote Hooker's interrogation, addressed to the
atheistic profane swearer~ "Is there a God to swear by, and none
to believe in, none to pray to ? " When any one merits the roproac11 conveyed in the comparison, "Satan reproving sin," he
comes under the ad hominem argument.
Tho reasonings against extending political privileges to women i.tre met by the fnet-a woman is on the throne.
But as every mode of error, or of alleged error, must involve
contradiction, or the appearance of contradiction, Refutation,
however variously conducted, must always end by bringing on
the clash of irreconcilable facts, principles, or opinions ; just as
Proof must resolve itself into setting forth the consistency or
agreement of facts or principles.

.108. Arguments from Analogy are refuted by exposmg the defectiveness of the similarity.
\V11cn a reason for the interference of government with the
private tastes of the people, is adduced from the analogy of the
parental relation, we deny that the two case$ resemble each
other to . this extent. Plato, in the Republic, constitutes a
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242

243

PERSUASION.

TACTICS OF DEBATE.

State on the analogy of the three constituent portions or tho
human mind, as laid down by him-Reason, Energy, Appctitt'.
Hostile critics deny the resemblance. Socrates put fo1ih tho
analogy between the practice of social duty and a special profession, both alike depending on knowledge or skill ; it is roplied, that the analogy fails in an essential point. Thero aro
sufficient inducements, in the shape of immedi11to rewnrd, to
make men exercise their professional ability ; there 11ro no corresponding inducements to social virtue generally.

burden of proof lies upon those that would exclude any class
from this privilege.

109. By far the most freqne!1t occasion of debnto ia
the case ofopposing Probabilities.
The nature of probable evidence has alrcndy been pointed
out ; and there is only one way of arguing the e1l.'1c, nnmely, to .
show that the amount of prohabilit.y contended for is no grentor·
than the proportion of the instances in adnnl experience. '1110
probability of a life rests on the statistics of mortality. '1110
probability that education at n p11l1lic i;cl1ool will increnAC tho
manliness (whatever thnt mca11") of a youth, i" t110 proportion
of those that hnvc been so influenced to thOAC thnt havo not.
If that can be ascertained with some nppronch to 11tatittlcal aocuracy, the probability is established ; and an opponent mm1t
deal with the .alleged statistics in order to <lo awny with tho
probability.

110. There are cases in which n <lclmtcr iH nllowoJ
to lay the Burden of Proof upon the other si<lo.
The Burden of Proof is thrown upon nny one prnpo11ing to
infringe other men's liberties, to inflict pains or pennltie11, or in
any way to restrain the pleasures of mnnkind. It iit thrown
also, although in a less degree, on whoever en<lenvorw to puU
down an existing institution, to expel nn nctnnl po~r, to
impeach a prevailing and Jong-sanctioned opini<>n. Jn th~
last cases, we have seen so many examples of the chnngo or Institutions, possessions, and opinions, thnt the prc1111mpUon la
favor of what exists is not necessarily very Rtrong. In nganl
to the extension of the political franchise, it is held tbd· U.. ·

111. There are various maxims appei"taining to the
Tactics of Argument and Debate.
When strong opposition is encountered, it is often prudent
to deviate from the strict methods of Argument. ·
·If a sufficiency of conclusive arguments can J>o had, those
of inferior force are not unwisely kepY back, because the refutation of any part of the case is apt to make an unfavorable
impression.
,_
A speaker contending against great odds, endeavors to carry
to the utmost point, and to set forth with effect, his agreement
with the other side.
Chatham, in arguing for conciliation with America, took
care always to show that he was not inferior to any one in zeal
for the supremacy of the British crown :-" Though he loved
the Americans, as men prizing and setting the just valde on
that inestimable blessing, Liberty ; yet, if he could once bring
himself to be persuaded that they entertained the most distant
intentions of throwing off the legislative supremacy and great
constitutional snperintending power and control of tl1e British
legislature, he should be the very person himself who would be
the first and most zealous mover for securing and enforcing
that power by every possible exertion this country was cap11ble
of making."
The same policy will suggest the surrender, on some occa~
sions, of positions fully defensible by argument;
It is desirable to state, or appear to state, in their full force,
~bjections that have taken possession of the minds of the hearers.
This was a characteristic of Fox. Whately remarks that, in
combating deep-rooted prejudices, and in maintaining unpopular and paradoxical truths, the aim should be to adduce what is
sufficient, and not much more than sufficient, to prove the con~
clusion. There is danger in urging too forcibly what the hearer
is not as yet fully prepared to receive.
The mistake of overdoing a case was committed in the im·

244

PERSUASION.

peachment of Warren Hastings.
Climax, p. 5 8.

Sec, as an example, Ilurko'1

112. III. We must now advert to the Oratory of tho
Feelings.
All Persuasion supposes that there arc some feelings or human susceptibilities to work upon. In Argument, no attempt.
is made to heighten or diminish the feelings themselves; it is
considered only how to bring n case under them.
The motives whereby human beings can be impelled may
come under five heads.
(1.) Present, or Actual, Plemmrcs nn<l Pain!l. Our 11cn11i·
bilities to pleasure and pain arc either the Senses (taken nlong
with Movement), or the Emotions, as, Tender Emotion, Power,
Self-esteem, Anger, Fear, Knowledge, Fine Art Emotion, Moral
Sentiment. Some of these; as the Senses, nre ultimate or fundamental ; others, as Knowledge, l'ine Art, Moral Sentiment.,
may be, in whole or in part, derived.
The resources of the orntor nre of little nrnil lownrtl11 tho
pleasures and pains of the scn11c11 ; but he CAD atimulnlo and
strengthen every ono oC tho emotions.
· 1•
(2.) The Ideas offuturo Pleasures and Pain11. Wo aro moYcd
by pleasure and pain to come ; taking etcps to BCCt1rc tho on~,
nnd to avoid the other. Now, to be 110 moved, WO m1111t. laavo
nn idea or notion of the pleasure or the pnin, obtained by adoquatcly recollecting our past experience of each ; a feeble recollection is inoperative on the will. Hence Pnidcncc is identical
with a perfect memory for past good and evil, wl1ich cnabk»
future good and evil to be effectively kept in ,·icw.
The persuasive art is capable of bodying forth tho (ulu1'9
consequences of our actions, so ns to urge mt fonYard In ODO
line of conduct, and deter ne from another.
(3.) Certain Objects representing Aggregates of Plcuun!ll
or Pains; ns, health, money, knowledge, profcMion, 'talion.
reputation, family, society, law, morality, and all tho aul>c.
<linatc institutions and arrangements branching out. from lheee.
The regard to these objects is an effect of their connectloa .""

ORATORY OF THE FEELINGS.

245

with our ultimate or immediate sensibilities, and their pursuit
accords with onr sense of this connection.
It is a part of our moral education to appreciate these several aggregate and intermediate ends at their true value, as
bearing upon the ultimate ends ; and the orator may act as our
instructor, raising our estimate when too low, nnd depressing it
when too high. His instrumentality is the depicting of man's
experience in all that relates to the connection between the two
classes of ends.
(4.) Impassioned Objects, or Ends. ;tis n. fact of our constitution, that we are often seized with
ardor of pursuit, or a
degree of aversion, 1111.ving no proportionnto regard to plen.snro
secured, or pain warded off. In general, it is some l1ighly exciting emotion that disturbs the even balance of the will ; such
as Fear, Anger, Ambition, Affcctio.n. In a state of terror, or
panic, people arc said to lose self-command ; they will even sacrifice pleasure and hasten towards ruin.
Oratory has here a commanding efficacy.
(5.) The Pleasures and Pains of others, or Sympathy.
V'le can take on, in a manner, the pleasures and pains of
others, and, in doing so, we nre moved to act for these as for
our own. This is the nature of pity, compassion, or fcllowfccling; and it is the main !'pring of social dut.y and goodness.
An orator can inspire sympathy and benevolence by representing in lively colors the pains of others.

113. It will be sufficient for our purpose to exemplify
the address to tho Feelings under these three heads : 1st, Our own Pleasures and Pains considered as remote;
which may include aggregate or associated objects or
ends; 2d, Sympathy with others; 3d, the Emotions and
Passions.
To awaken us to act for our future pleasures, these must be
described in adequate language, and with circumstances of credibility. If the pleasures nnd pains have been already experienced, we should need only to be reminded of them, but for
the predominance of some present state, which will not allow

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PERSUASION.

.AGGREGATE ENDS OF PURSUIT.

us to believe in their arrival. Feelings that l1ave not been ·experienced must be described by combining those that have •
attachment to an inanimate thing, as a house, a garden, or ~
locality, may be pictured by reference to affection for a person.
.
(See the arts of Subjective Description.)
· To _induce ' the belief that from a certain co.nrse of action
future pleas_ures or pains
ensue, it is requisite to appeal to
something parallel in the experience of those addressed or to
fire the imagination by means of lively descriptions. The c\'ils
of dis?bedience, or sloth, of mendacity, of intemperance, aro
made mtense by strong statements and lively coloring.
The incentives to industry are future comfort cn.c;e indc.
'
'
pendence, opulence, with all its train ; and the avoidance of tho
opposite evils: The means of securing conviction· are examples
of successful mdustry of a kind to make an impression on tho
hearers, and the working up of their experience so far ns it Jans
already gone.
·
The care of llealth is urged as being n prime condition of
all enjoyment, and as able to mnke n small circle of sthnulnnts
more satisfying than the greatest luxuries without it i whllo dieease _a nd an exhausted frame arc other nnme8 for pain and lifoweariness. The means to be employed arc temperance exercise
due re~ission of la~or, an~ the .like; nnd thc11e inc ·enforced
the weight ot expenence, example, and authority.
The motives to the pursuit of Knowledge nrd numcrous ·and
various. The applications of it to ·further all other ends tho
dignity it gives to the possessor, tho gratificat.ion of the nniuml
longings of the intellect., when urged in nil tho fulncss of detail
and expressed in graceful language, constitute some tho finest
specimens of oratory.
_The following passage,· from Sir John Ilcrschel, adduce~ 11
vanety of powerful incentives to the cnltirntion of knowledge
and literature : - ·
"If I were to pray for a tnsto which should stnncl mo in stctul
under every variety of circumstances, and be 11 sonrco of happlnCAB
and cheerfulness to me ,through ·life1 and a sl1ield against tte U1A,
however things might go amiss, an d the world frown upon mo, u,,'
would be a taste for reading. I speak of it of course onl1 as al';11t

worldly advantage, and not in t11e slightest degree ns superseding
or derogating from the higher office and surer nnd stronger panoply
of religious principles, but fill a taste, an instrument, nnd a mode of
pleuslll'able gratification. Give a man this tnste, nnd the means of
grntifying it, and you can lrnrdly foil •>f making n happy mnn, unless, indeed, you put into his hnn<ls a most perverse selection of
hooks. You place him in contact with tho best society in every
period of history, with the wisest, the wittiest, with the tenderest.,
the bravest, and the purest chnracters who have ndorned humanity.
You make him a denizen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages.
The world has been created for him. It is hardly possible but the
cl1aracter sl1oulcl take a higher and better tone from the constant
habit of associating, in thought, with a. class of thinkers, to sny the
lenst of it, nbove the average of humnnity. It is mo1·nlly impossible but that the manners should take a tinge of good breeding and
civilization from having constantly before one's eyes the way in
which the best-bred and the best-informed men have talked and
conducted themselves in their intercourse with each ('.her. There
is a gentle but perfectly itTesistible coercion in tho hnL. ~ of rending,
well directed, over the whole tenor of a man's chnrncter nnd conduct, which is not the loss effectual becnuso it works insensibly, atHl
because it is renlly the last thing he dreams of. It civilizes tho conduct of men, and suffers them not to remain barbarous.''

246

will

b;

ot

The gaining of Esteem, Friendship, and a Good Name, like
all other valuable ends, demands labor and self-denial. The inducements are the numerous benefits, direct and indirect, arising
from the favor and good dispositions of others; these are backed
and enforced by examples and nppcals to tho direct experience
of tho l1earers.
·Tho higher flights of wealth, power, and fame, that place a
man on a glittering pinnacle, .belong to the Impassioned Ends ;
there being no necessary corrc~pondcnce between tho labor th~y
cost and the hnppiness they bring. · ·
The Future Existence of man is the leading object of· Ueligious Oi·atory. Its nature; being unknown and unknowable,
must be shaped by imagination ; an<l the description of it has
varied in ditforcnt ages, being more or less accommodated to
the vie,vs and feelings of the persons addressed.
Almost all the Viitues have a self-regarding cficct, and in so
far may be included in the aggregate or associated ends. Truth
gains for a man esteem and reliance, enlarges his influence, and
facilitates his projects. Being · just to others tends .to ,makq

248

249

PERSUASION.

APPEAL TO TIIE EMOTIONS.

others just to us. Acts of kindness obtain for us kindneS& Jn
return. Our own security is involved in social obedience, and
in respect to law and government. This part of tho cnso in
favor of virtuous actions is always made prominent in tho Oratory of Moral Suasion.

sion. It is the mode of procuring the degree of self-sacrifice
. required in the ordinary obligations of life.
The appeal of pity was recognized in ancient oratory as the
argument ad misericordiam. It is the common resource in the
defence of criminals, and in saving people from the consequences
of their own misconduct.

114. Secondly, Sympathy with the Pleasures nnu
the Pains of others.
When we enter into the pain of another person, wo nro
prompted to work for the alleviation of that pain, ns if we ourselves were the sufferers.
Although the outgoings of thia
tendency of our constitution are often self-regarding, it must ho
viewed as containing a purely disinterested impulse; under IL
we absolutely give away a portion of our own labor, and rcalgn
a portion of. our own lmppiness, without nny return or
thought of a return.
The principle extends to pleasures nlso; the sight of nnothcr'a
liappiness would prompt us to ni1l in continuing the hliMful
state; and this without any view to our own ~0011. But tho
nlleviation of pain is tho rnoro nbAorbing lntcrcRt.
To rouse sympathy, or call into ucrciRe tho dulintcrt!9tcd
impulses, an orator presents n strong and Intelligible caso of dis.
tress, misery, or sorrow. It is not every descript.ion of snfl'cring, that will bring forth a pitying re~ponse from every cltUIS o(
hearers. Each one can best enter into the miseries t11nt ho hu
oftenest experienced and felt most; the pains that find unh·erul
sympathy are the pains of universal human nnture-lnmgar,
cold, physical disabilities, disease, poverty, danger to life, Joea
of objects of affection, public shame. If n misery unfi&miliar to
those addressed is to call for pity, it must be brought homo b1
comparison with something familiar and known.
The pleadings of philanthropy for the poor, tho oulca.t.
the neglected, tho degraded, arc a series of <lclincntiona
human misery.
The awakening of sympathy towards suffering is alao o(
avail in stimulating men to fulfil their dutie11 nnd cngngomentt '
to others. Hence this is a large instrumentality in Mornl a..·

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115. Thirdly, the Emotions and Passions; as, Fear,
Love, Self-esteem, Power, Anger, Ridicule, .LEsthetic
Emotion, Religion, the Moral Sentiment.
In one respect, t11ese may be viewed as pleasures or pains,
and as attracting or deterring us, according to their felt intensity, whether they be actual or anticipated. Such are the
pleasures of affection, of self-complacency, revenge, fine art;
and the pains of sorrow, humiliation, remorse. In another
aspect they take on the character of passion or inflammation,
disturbing tho fair calculations of the will, and inducing us to
act without reference to our pleasures or our pains.
,.._
(1.) Fear, Terror, or ]),·ead. Whatever pains us ~ ~ an object of nvoidance, according to our Renso of tho pnin. '!'his is
not fear, but the usual attitude of precaution against bann.
But, on certain occasions, pain in prospect is accompanied with
a tremulous and unhinging excitement, under which the powers
are enfeebled, and rational calculation is interfered with ; every
other interest being sacrificed to the morbid impulse.
Terror is a powerful agent in overcoming the contumacious
and self-willed disposition, and is made use of in government, in
religion, and in education. The passion may be excited by the
mere prospect of great suffering, but still more effectually by
imknown dangers, uncertainties, and vast possibilities of evil in
matters keenly felt by tho hearerR. The approach of unexperienced calamities is apt to engender panic; under n plague, or
epidemic, people may be easily frightened into measures, that
in cool moments they wonld rcptHliate. The Rick nnd the depressed can readily be inspired witJ1 religious and mornl terrors.
History furnishes many examples of political oratory sue•
ccoding through the excitement of tmTor.

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PERSUASION.

THE AFFECTIONS.

or

. The dislike to innovation nnd to relaxing tl1e severity
general rules, often takes the form of panic or dread, with ex•
aggcration of the consequences. Hence it is a usual <levico o(
Rhetoric, to paint future possibilities in cases where no gnsai
immediate evil can be proved. This is exemplified in the speech
of Brutus:.
" And, since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fnshion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities:
And therefore think him ns a serpent's egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell."

(2.) Love, Tenderness, Affection, Admiration, E ., lttm. 111e
outgoings of the tender emotion nd<l n new chnnn to wl1aL
pleases us, and we are then said to contract Jo,·c, or n(fccllon;
for persons or for things. A still higher mixture of npproving
sentiment leads to esteem, admiration, and reverence. To mlJO
onr affection or esteem for person~, tl1c orator labor.. to 11ct forth
everything that is amiable and nclrnirnhlc in their chnmctcr nnd
connections. Such eulogistic oratory l1n~ to ho 1ml'portc<l hr
evidence, embellished by suitable ilhu~trntion, and guarded
·
· ' ···· ·
·•
against the reaction of envy.
The following passage is a sample of the nrf: of' extolling b1
suitable circumstances. The theme is Greece. ·

h•

''The interest of Grecian history is nnex11n11stetl hn<l lnt'1J1a11J1t:
ible. As a mere story, hnr<lly nny other portion of nuthentlo
tory can compete with it. Its chnrncters, tt.s eituntlons, the •tcir1
march of its incidents, are Epic. Jt is an heroic poem, of which tho
personages are peoples. 1t is nlso, of all histories of which wo
know so much, the most abounding in consequences to m1 "'ho now
Jive. The true auceiltors of tho European nntions (it hn!! b<'Cn w.U
said) are not those from whoso blood they aro "Jmtng, but tho.e
from whom they derive tho richest portion of t 1l'ir lnhcrltanff.
The bnttle of :Marathon, even ns nn event in F.11gl111h hlttorr1 ~
more important thnri the battle of Ilnstings. If tho 11111110 o( u.u
day had been different, the Britons and tho Saxons mlghi etlll baYt
been wandering in tho woods."
· I
,
I

The ancients recognized, as a dcpnrtment o( orntory, O..
Epideictic; or Demonstrative, by which wns meant general 1~ .
commendation and its opposite, with no immediate nlrn c.iot~

251

to excite the feelings and perhaps cultivate the moral sentiments. . It was a kind of moral suasion, the nearest approach
to our pulpit oratory, and, like it, in close alliance with poetry.
The subject-matter of tl1e Epideictic addresses included both
gods nnd men. '!'he eulogistic funeral oral.ion was a common
example.
The impulses of pity, gcnerosit.y, or disintcrest,cdncss, nro
greatly strengthened, when the object of them inspires our love
or esteem ; while, on the other hand, they are neutralized by
positive bad qualities. Accordingly, the orator in calling for our
sympatl1y and l1elp, joins commendation of the sufferer to the
recital of his sufferings. The speech of Mark Antony is a skilful union of both modes of appeal.
To the present head belongs the stirring up of the strong
aflections of kindred or family, social fraternity, party, and
country. The influence of the family sentiments as an engine
of persuasion is seen in the memorable incident of the condemnation of the ten generals at Athens. (Grote's Greece,
Chap. 64.)
The love of country is addressed and inflamed by the polit•
ical orator. Bnt t]1is mmalJy appears under the much stronger
feeling of party ; the political attachments of individuals taking
the special direction of some one line of policy-couservatism or
improvement, aristocracy or democracy. Still, an orator thinks
it not altogether vain to tippeal in ~\ great emergency to the
pure sentiment of country. "Irksome as is my task this day,"
said the younger Pitt, in a critical moment of his career, "the
necessities of the country call upon me not to shrink from it;
and I confide in tlie good sense and tlie patriotism of tlie people
of England."
The sentiment of esteem, respect, admiration, or reverence,
towards any one, inclines us to defer to his opinions and views,
and is in that way a means of persuasion ; being called, in ancient times, the argument ad vererundiam. Great men in the
state acquire an ascendency over the minds of n ]arge number
of people ; and it is criongh; for ensuring n disposition favorable
to any measure, to cite W ~shington or Jefferson, Pitt or Fox.

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ANGRY FEELING.

When there is n hostile feeling, so strong ns to refuse n henring
to what is proposed, an appeal to venerable autl1oritics is or tho
greatest efficacy. Tho dislike to innovation is often soothed
down in this way.
The speaker's own authority counts as an clement. Ir ho
is held in esteem, his assertions have weight, apart from their
evidence, and obversely. A large proportion of speaking
and writing consists of unproved assertions, and, unless a
hearer's dispositions or his information be adverse, some cffccL
is produced by them. To this the tone or manner of thn
speaker, in respect of earnestness, emphasis, or energy, grcntly
contributes.
The religious sentiment, cm bracing fear, love, nnd wonder
or the feeling of the sublime, is nourished by appealing to
these several emotions in connection with the grent object of
worship. Pulpit oratory has varied the appeal in almost every
possible way; while many poets, as such, have adopted tho
theme.
The whole of the present ch.c;.q of emotions mny attain tho
height of passion, through mere natural intensity of feeling, excessive indulgence, or one-sidedness of chnrncter. 'Vo huo
frequent examples in tho maternal feeling, In hero-worship, in
party spirit, and in religion carried to bigotry.
(3.) Vanity, Pride, and the Sentiment of Power. Thcao
feelings are distinct but allied, and conjointly they make up tlao
egotism of the human character. The orator npponls to them
by compliment, praise, or flattery, regulated according to tho
susceptibilities of the audience; he also ohservcs n courtcoua
demeanor and the forms of politeness.
Oratorical flattery is administered tl1rough such commonplaces as the natural equality of men (addressed to thosc in an
inferior position), tho natural goodness and dignity of human
nature, the sound judgment of the feeling~ or tho hcnrt, tho
good sense of the common people, the ndmirnblc instincts of
women, the innocence of childhood.
The argument ad captandum is either an nppcnl
vulgar prejudice, or a strong dose of flattery.
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The extreme and impassioned form of the egotistic impulses
is called Ambition, to which human nature, and especially youth,
is easily inflamed hy examples of men elevated to fame or power.
lly the intoxicating idea of glory, mn11y, in nll ages, have been
tempted to incur the hazards of the profession of arms. Napo.
leon stimulated his troops by the ca1'1·iere ouverte,-thc laying
open of the highest rank to the hopes of the common soldier
The line of Homer,
aiev aptUTef!tlV Ka2 {J'Trelpo XOV fpp:vat aAAC,JV1

has been often recited to fire the ambition of ardent minds.
The high self-regarding sentiments of pride, dignity, foabpendcnce, self-respect, may operate HS aids to morality, anJ Aro
therefore frequently appealc<l to in tho oratory of moral suasion.
(4.) Anger, Indignation, llatred, Antipathy. Auger, or
irascible emotion, is a state snperadded to mere aversion, consequent on pain or suffering caused by some other sentient being.
The angry person is excited to unusual energy, and also derives
pleasure from retaliating upon the author of the pain. 'Vhcn we
contract a permanent disposition to inflict harm on those that
give us pain, we are said to entertain malevolent affection, or
Hatred. When the liatred is intense, and aggravated by fear
or disgust, it is called Antipathy. In all its forms, the malevolent sentiment is sufficiently powerful to demand tho consideration of the orator.
Dy representing persons ns having specially injured us, or
by attributing to them bad qualities, a speaker rouses ngainst
them the angry feelings of an audience. Vituperation, abuse,
depreciation, calumny, find a place in tho oratory of all ages.
Demosthenes, Cicero, Chatham, Fox, Burke, Pitt, Sheridan, and
John Randolph, of Roanoke, all wielded the instrument, and
probably to excess. In a jury trial arising out of the impeachment of Vv arren Hastings, Erskine describes the speeches
against Hastings as "anathemas of superhuman eloquence."
Besides craving the sweets of ordinary revenge, men arc
prone to special antipathies, by which they may be swayecl to

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PERSUASION.

THE

nets of violent hostility. Such were the sentiments of tho Jews
towards foreigners, nnd the antipathy in the Middle Ages to a
heretic or a witch.
Party feeling has, at various times, ns in the Roman Uepublic, and during the first French Revolution, reached a degree oC
virulent hatred that nothing but tho extermination of opponents
would satisfy. In that state of feeling, to denounce a man was
to ensure his ruin.
The most favorable aspect of the vindictive feeling is w)1at
is termed moral or righteous indignation. The orator nppcnla
to it by making out a case of aggravated criminality. Such
doubtless was the aim of Durke, Fox, and Sheridan, in tho 1IMtings impeachm~nt.
(5.) Ridicule, .Derision, Contempt. It is chiefly muter tho
malignant extreme, called Ridicule, that the ludicrous is inetnt·
mental in persuasion. Seeking out the mean nn1l dc11picnhlo
side of an opponent, with a view to weaken nrnl <le!ltroy ·J1iA
influence, the orator brings to Lear upon l1i111 n f1001l of degrading illustration.
The Provincial Letters of Pn!lc:il nrc nn cxnmplo of tl1t' power
of irony, humor; and ridicule hrought in nlll
Argument. B•lA
and Voltaire are perhaps tho two greatest mn11tcra 'or tho art.
Paul Louis Courier nnd Sydney Smith, Jinvo more recently di•
played powers of a ]1igh order in the entno <lcpnrtmo11t. It it
usual to combine, as in Junius, ridicule witlu·itupcrntion.
Comic and satiric poetry hns in nll ngc11 been 1111cd AA an
oratorical weapon, often more powerful thnn 11pccchc1'. Arir.tophanes had no smalJ share in the condcmnntion of Sor.rntet1..
Extravagance and Sentimentality me the 11at11rnl butt o(
derision and ridicule. \V c cannot wonder nt Frnnci!'l'll n·pJ1 to
Burke's passage on Marie Antoinette:-" Arc yon 1111ch a dototmined cham11ion of lJcnut.y ns to draw yonr 11worr) In do(onco of
any jade upon earth, provi(Jc<l she he Jrnnd11omo f"
(6.) The Emotions of Fine Art. 1110 clements o( POC!try
may be introduced to heighten the effect 0f oratory, whrn the'·"
orator combines the- genius of the pod~ 1110 poetic d1nnn or _
fascination thrown around a subject is f\ bribo to gnin OYtr

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255

audience to tho opinions of the speaker. A highly poetical
oratory may Le seen in J eremy 'l'nylor, Burke, Robert Hall,
Macaulay, Shiel, Chalmers, Carlyle, and many others.
The address to any of the feelings partakes of the method
of Poetry. The preacher, for example, who .has to draw out
and strengthen the religious and moral sentiments, must .proceed by appropriate descriptions, combinations, and narrations.
in the manner of an artist.
The laws that regulate the appeal to the feelings in a work
of Art, apply to an Oration .by which feeling is to be stirred, or
interest excited. The chief maxims are two :-first, to proceed
from the gentler to the stro!lger effects in the man.ncr of a. clim ax. and secondly to alternate the different emotions, or kinds
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of interest.
also Le a concentration oft11e .rnterest
at points, or stages, ns in the evolution of a story.
.
(7.) The ~Moral Sentiment. In so far as the sent11nent of
right and wrong is made up (as it must be to a large extent
through the kindred nature of the things) of our pt~d:nce. as
regards self, and of oi.u sympathies as regards o:hers, it 1s st'.mnlatcd by an appeal to th ose principles of achon: Anytlnng
that it may contain distinct or npart frnn.1 these, m tho sh~pe
of habits of acting according to the recogmzed rules of morality,
is brought iuto play Ly a reference to the rule in each case, and
to the weight of authority in its favor.
.
.
It is a species of indirect flattery, not without efiect., to assume in the hearers a greater sense of duty than perhaps actu~lly
belongs to them. Still, it is desirable, for the sake of kecpmg
np ·a high tone of address, never to lose si~ht of the moral sentiment in the choice of weapons of persuasion.
Much of the oratory of moral suasion operates chiefly in
presenting to the mind idcal.<1, ns in poetry ; there hcin~ no
serious care or endeavor on the part of the hcnrcrs to ndnpt
their conduct to the high-toned precepts of the orator.

116. There are certain things to he noted respecting
the management of the Feelings generally. ·
(1.) As regards the speaker's own. manifestations of foeling,

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it is better that he should restrain himself until tho nu<licncc,
begin to kindle, and then they will expect him to do tho same.
The orator's display of his own feelings is n chief instnnnoni
of infecting others ; but his appearing to restrain himself will
often make the hearers burst out all the sooner.
(2.) There are allied groups of feelings, and also opposition•
among them. Thus Sympathy, Affection, and Fine Art Emotion, conspire to produce a favorable sentiment. They nro opposed by ~h~ Egotistic class, by the different forms of Anger,
and by R1d1eule, these making a kindred group among themselves. There is also an opposition between Anger nncl Fear
rendering them mutually incompatible.
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(3.) T~rn orator will occasionally seek to divert t110 fccliugw
of the aud10nce already roused. Intense emotion <lemnnda it.a
appropriate vent ; indignation once excited requiree R victim,
and the only way of rescuing one is to provide another. A
·
burst of ridicule is met by returning it.
. (4.) There is understood to be in every nttcmpt nt pcn111ns1on a groundwork of nrgumcnt, or of the nppcnrnnco of llf},ria·
ment, whereon to rest tho appeals to t110 ptu18ionl'.

117. The DEMEANOR of the Spcnkcr inclu<le:J certain
points affecting an orator's success.
.
By the demeanor of tho spenker, arc signified Jiis tone and
manner in general, and, in particular, his choice hehrnen tl10
opposite methods of conciliation and vituperation, humility nod
assumption.
Conciliation is necessary in facing s strong oppo!!ition ; bnt
Lhe force of a conciliatory manner is much enhanced by tlae
known P?wer of the speaker to denounce with severity.
So. with regard to humility and deference, ns oppo..00 to usumption. There are times when nn orntor can with eafcty
'l.Bsume the oracular and tho self-confident tone, as WM 90 often
fone by Chatham and by the younger I'it.t. It is by mctlDS
l.more ~umble a?drcss, J10we;?r, that a speaker contcnd1 agaJna&
hfficulties, and rises to a position enabling lti,m to JlApcn1<> wl&h
mmility of demeanor.
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rcrsuasivc address, when called Eloquence, usually supposes
a certain energetic delivery and elevation of manner, which distinguish oratory from common f\pcech. The language and the
thoughts of the speaker arc more intense, and the hearer is
roused to the like impassioned pitch. Men's ordinary motives
arc increased in power, and their detcm1i11ations arc such ns
would not be arrived at in cool blood. In this impassioned mode
of address, the language becomes strongly rhythmical, approaching to poetry ; and is accompanied by the music of the voice
and the arts of Elocution.

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POETRY.

118. PoETRY has been already often referred to.
Most of the Figures of Speech Lave a poetical bearing. The
Arrangement and the Number of vVords are regulated in part
by the aims of poetry. Of the Qualiti es of Style, Strength,
Feeling, the Ludicr~tlS, Ilarmony, arc n11co11ncctcd with the
conveyance of instruction to the understanding ; and, when
combined with Exposition, are an avowedly extraneous interest.
Oratory likewise avails itself of the poetic charms.

119. Poet.ry is a Fine Art., operating by means of
thought conveyed in language.
Poetry agrees generically with painting, sculpture, architecture, and music ; and its specific mark is derived from the
instrumentality employed. Painting is based on color, sculpture on form, music on a peculiar class of sounds, elocution on
the vocal enunciation of articulate speec11, and poetry on tho
meaning and form of langnnge.
The definition now given snpposcs nn nndcrst.nndin~ of Fino
Art in gcnernl, or, ns it is sometimes called, the lleautiful in its
widest acceptation.

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POETRY.

The feelings of the Beautiful, or the Fine Art emotions,· nre
included among our pleasures, and the objects causing them
differ from other agreeable things in the following points : (1.) Their primary and immediate intention is Pleasure; nnd
Lhey are contrasted with intermediate ends, as life, health, money,
or worldly rank. · ·
(2.) Works of Art arc sources of pure or unmixed plerumrorLhat is, they are kept free from whatever would offend any o(
our sensibilities. They have thus a certain superiority over our
sensual enjoyments. Refinement consists in removing painful
adjuncts from our various sources of delight.
(3.) A work of Art, unlike the things that perish in ~iving
delight to one individual, admits the participation of a multi tuck.
A picture, a poem, or a fine building, can be enjoyed by succcs~ive generations of men It is chiefly what appeals to one or
other of the higher senses-sight and J1eari11g-thnt complies with this demand. Objects of gustatory sensibility · nre
consumed by the single user; odors nffcct n grcntcr number,
but are still limited; things that gratify the fcclinb!J of touch
and rnnscnlarity-a bed or a clrnir-nre monopolized for
tbe time. It is tho ennobling function of Art to drmv humnn
beings together in mutual s~mpathy and common enjoymcntl
instead of holding out occasions of strife a~d apples of discord.
To Art we should thus oppose tho Useful, as embodied in
objects of common industry,-food, clothing, houses, articles
of convenience, public security, &c. ·we should likewise oppose
science, or the pursuit of Truth, which is not genernlly nn end
in itself, and whose study to the mass of men is 1noro laborious
than pleasurable. The Ethical, or the Good, is nlso contrnstcd
with the Artistic, since duty is not necessarily plcnsurl', nnd
often the reverse. It must be noted, J1owe\'er, that tho Useful,
the True, and the Good, nre all capable of occnsionally lending
themselves to Art. The objects of the inferior 11cnses, when set
forth in idea, are exalted into the class of the diffusihle nnd the
free. The fragrant bosom of Andromache and Aphrodite finds
a place in Homer's poetry. Truth, when not painfully laborious, possesses the requisites of artistic interest. The Good, ot

TYrICAL FORM OF POETRY.

259

Duty, as a spectacle, or an ideal, is highly rosthetic. · Tho ex~
istonco of didactic poetry from tho earliest times (IlesiodW orks and Days; Virgil-Georgics, &c. ), is a proof that it -ls
possible to ground poetry on utility, and invest common occupations with artistic interest. All that is said about the poet
ns a teacher h:is sprung from ·the frequent poetic treatment of
communicated knowledge, and still more of duty.

120. There are certain subjects and a certain form
that are typical of Poetry. Many (so-called) poems depart from the type.

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The elcnicnts characteristic of poetry will nppear as we proceed. W~ may here indicate, as examples approacl1ing to purity, tho Elegy of Gray, the Faerie Queen, the plays and poems
of Shakespeare, the Homeric poetry, tho ..1Encid.
These may be contrasted with the various mixed kinds:
namely, Didactic poems, as the Ars Poetica, the Georgics, the
Essay on Criticism ; Moral poem!.l, as tlrn Night Thoughts, and
the poetry of Cowper ; Philosophical or Scientific poems, as
the 'work of Lucretius, Pope's Essay on Man, Darwin's Zoonomia; Satirical poems, as the Satires of J uvcnal, and the Dunciad.
The feelings awakened by the typical form of poetry arc tho
pleasures characteristic of Fine Art ; we express them by tho
namcs-·charm, fascination, delight; they incline to pnro feel~
ing, or to the passive susceptibilities of our nature. The "Lotos-eaters" of Tennyson, the "Endymion" and "Nightingale''
of Ke~ts, the "Cloud " of Shelley, arc extreme' instnnccs. · A
perfect example is seen· in the lines-·
"How sweet the moonlighl sleeps upon this bank!
· Here will we sit, imd let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillne::1s o.nrl the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica: look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with pa tines of bright gold ;
There's not the smnll('st orb which thou bchohlest,
But in his motion like o.n angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim."

When a poem kindles enthusiasm, fire; high and nobie as-

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POETRY,

EXTERNAL NATURE.

pirations, it has touched the springs o( action and booomo
eloq~ence. Much of Lyric poetry works in this mnrmcr. · The ,
quality of strength, or tho sublime, wl1ich confers tho elation ot , ,
sup~rior, might, being akin to nctivity, alwnys vorgce on ~ ,
suasion. The gre.atcst compositions arc, not tho puro ~
but ~hose th~t, without submerging artistic beauty, can both ,
exercise the mteJJectual powers and Rtimulate tho nctivo di.
positions of the mind.

poetry. The simpler grandeurs and. beauties of inanimate
nature, undergoing their characteristic movements or changes,
are freely made use of; day and night, seasons, tempests, light,..
nings, torrents, rivers, sea-billows, earthquakes ; but scenes laborious to conceive are necessarily avoided. (See DESCRIPTJON, § 1 '7.)
The personifying treatment of nntlll'o imparts, in
the first instance, a fictitious activity to objects in themselves
stationary.
Thus the visible objects of nature and all the sounds of
nature, possessing an original charm, arc open to the poet, and,
as occasion suits, he brings them to mind. He must farther include the circle of associated effects, by which the domain of
Art is greatly enlarged. Whatever suggests pleasing emotions
is freely adopted by the artist; the hue of rosy health, the transparency of the unpolluted stream, the qnict surface of the lake,
arc effects superaddcd to the original impressions on the sight.
The smoke of a distant cottage always affected Burns aoMd
ordsworth with home associations.
The suggestion of remoteness and vast magnitude imparts
sublimity to the Alpine prospect and th~ celestial expanse.
The associated effccts of sounds are likewise numerous; as
the moan of the wind, the dashing of tho torrent, the purling
of tho brook, the roar of tho sea, the boom of artillery, tho
merry note of the lark, the solitary cry of the owl, the deceptive voice of tho cuckoo (Wordsworth).
The associations of industry in tho streets of busy towns, of
rural quiet in the fields, of time, decay, and of past ages in
• crumbling and moss-grown walls, excite various and interesting
emotions, sufficiently pleasing to be admitted into Art.
These effects of outward things, whether intrinsic or associated, often chime in with feelings otherwise arising. Strong
light and intense colors harmonize with gayety of mind; gloom
and sombre hues are in keeping with depression and sorrow.
The sound of the martial trumpet suits hilarious excitement;
the quietness of the country is sought for in repose.
A susceptibility to the sensuous influences of nature, and to
the emotions suggested by them-,vhether inclining to power,

121. In explaining the Qualities of Strength Fool·
.mfS, H umor, and Melody, we anticipatc<l the lending
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stituents of Poetry. A fuller lrnndling is now <lcsirnblo.
I. Poetry, in the first place, selcct8 materials from
external nature; the selection being governed by rosthot,.
ic feeling.
. Wh~tever. intrinsically delights t11e eye, or t110 cnr, is admitted mto Fme Art. Pleasing color!', fonns, and sound"' aro
beautiful. These, which arc called the Rcn.,1toU8 properties or
the world, are the foundation and mntcrinl of 1111 tho Fino ArtA.
It must be Jaid down, in opposition to Alison thnt certain
effects of sight and hearing aro originally nnd int. ri~1dcnlly ~
abl~. Tlie effulgence ?f tho noon-dny, tho colors of sunset, tho
vaned hues of vegetation, the pellucid brook, tho lustre of tho
pear!,
youthful count~nance,-opernto upon tho primitiYo
sens1b1hty of the eye, cnusmg a sensation of delirrht. Hounded
forms are pleasing in themselves. So, thero nr~ sounds lntrin·•
sically sweet, ~hat is, p1crumrable. Tl1c painter, J1a\'ing color
and form for his material, appeals to the immediate scn11c, Tiio
~oet can o~Iy ~ugg~st them to the mind by the force of defteriptive art; Jus direct mstrumeut is language.
. The circm~stance that language is best ndnptcd to cxprc1111
a.ctwn, succession, or events, still farther limits tho poetic selco~10n and treatm_e nt of subjects. A vast and vnricgatcd scene,
m unbroken stillness, is suited to the painter, but not to tho
~oet. Such obje.cts as, from their simplicity or familiarity, aro
~n themselves easily conceived, when put in action or undorgo- .•
mg changes also easily conceivable, are tho. proper matcrinl of•·,

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POETRY,
INTEREST IN IIUMA....'l'ITY.

or t~ pathos-.must exist in a high degree in tho poet, nnd in a
considerable, if less, degree, in the minds of such as receivo dolight from poetry. And, as the poet's instrument or material ..
language, a feeling for Numbers must exist in addition.

122. II. Our interest in Humanity fa mado to enter
largely into Poetry, as into the other Fine Art:s.
··
Th? inter~st in human beings is various and complex, while
a certam portion of it extends to the lower animals. In so (ar
as available in Art, it turns chiefly on tlie following points:(I) The contemplation of miglit,, strength, grcntne8.." 11iper1onty, admirable .or shining qnalitics,-whcthcr in inrlividuals or in collective bodies. Tho frame nnd deeds of a llcrcules; the adroitness of a Ulysses; the skill of 11 grcnt politician,
general, or other expert in practical affairs; tho energy and. endurance of a strong will; creative originality in science and in
art; high artistic excellence,-raise in the mind
the beholder
that pleasurable elation already described as culminating in tho
Sublime. (SrnENorn.)
Mere superiority of good fortnn<', n.<1 shown in wcnllh, 11plon·
dor, rank, and power, fascinate the gaze of tho 11pcctntor • and
the representation of it may be a source of pleasure, ·
,'
The unrestrained worship of strength lends to the ndnlation
of great co.nquerors-~l.exander, Crosnr, Napoleon-and pro.
pares ~be mmd for receiving the maxim, "Might is right."
It is unnecessary to dwell again on the process of nttribating human energy to inanimate objects, whereby tho wholo (aco
of nature is rendered active, nnd overspread with nn advontl·
tious expre~sion of feeling. .Human sentiments nro suggcatud
to the poet m a thousand vanous forms. Thus in J..cnr : 0

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"I tax not you, you clements, with unkindnc11~;
· I never gave you kingdom, called you children I"

(2.) The displays of sympathy, tenderness, nlfcetion, devotedness, are a source of warm interest. Tho powerful nttmcliont
between hum_?n beings aro largely dwelt upon by tho poeL
The love of the sexes, parental tenderness, the nttnclunonta ol
kindred and of friendship, presented in description or in 1to11, ·-

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are capable of awakening rcspousivc echoes and interesting recollections in the hearer. (P ATIIOS.)
The picture of devotedness is always affecting. The interest
excited by it is peculiar, and not always free from self-regarding
considerations. One man's voluntary renunciation of good
. things is the conferring of them upon somebody else. Ascetic
self-denial is highly esteemed, partly from the moral energy
implied in the restraint, and partly from its leaving unconsumed
the individual's share of gratifications. On similar grounds, the
· rigid observance of all the laws and customs of society is pleasing to contemplate.
(3.) The littleness, insignificance, and worthlessness of lmman beings, when such as to arouse the emotions of the Ludicrous, give an interest to our observation of the ways of men.
Sec the Lumcnous.
Characters too hateful for derision may bo poetically interesting, provided our feelings of anger, antipathy, and detestation
can be gratified by their condign punishment.
(4.) Our moral sentiments determine us to look with pleasure upon those that fulfil their requirements.
,
From these various considerations, the portraying of character, and the representation of human beings in action, belong
pre-eminently to the poetic department, although appearing also
in narrative or history.

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123. III. Oonerctoncss and Combinatio11, ns opposoll

to the abstract and the isolated, are characteristic of
Poetry.
V'1 c have formerly seen that objects in the concrete, that is,
as they appear in nature to the senses, are easier to conceive
than their properties viewed abstractedly: a river is readily conceivable; the abstractions-gravity, accelerated velocity, liquidity, transparency-are notions laboriously acquired by scientific
study. The abstractions of science have a double disqualification for I'oetry; they discard in n great degree the sensuous
element of color, and entail intellectual effort.
In addition to concreteness, it is sought to multiply and

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POETRY,
HARMONY ESSENTIAL.

combine objects and effects; while science proceeds by separation, iimlation, or analysis. Combination, or Creatwn, has al-

ways entered into the notion of the poet (1TOt1]TTJ~, a maker).
In old English, the same idea nppears, Thus, in Spenser"And hath he skill to make so excellent-." As a painter groups
in a landscape as many objects as can enter into the general,
effect, so a poem is made to combine scenery, situations, circumstances, characters, and incidents, subject only to tho indiapcnsable condition of harmony.
It is enough, on this head, to refer to any known poem.
Observe in the successive stanzas of Gray's "Elegy " nn accumulation of e:x:amples bearing on the main theme, and in every example an accumulation of picturesque circumstances.
The Epithets applied in poetic description arc, in tho fll'Bt
place, designed to combine and accumulate interesting partioulars. They are farther expected to be harmoniously adjusted.
AnJ, in addition, their novelty imparts interest and freshness to
the object they are applied to. The Homeric poetry exemplifies
largely the process of combining by descriptive cpithcta ;the many-fountained, spring-nbou11di11g I<ln; stee<l-tamiug
Thrace; the white-armed, large-eyed Juno; tho clond-compclling, regis-bearing Jove ; winged words ; tho sea-bathed fort;
storm-swift Iris ; the fishy deep. The samo process has been
continued by succeeding poets.
Objects and situations occurring in Poetry arc beset with
circumstances and collaterals, provided by the genius of tho '.
poet. Sometimes they are happily selected from the complex. ity of the thing itself, as in the "Seven Ages." At other times,
they are added on from without. What follows under the next
11ead will embrace the present subject.

124. IV. A poem, or .other work of Art, cspccinlly
involves the production of Harmony.
A plurality of things affecting the senses or the mind together may be either in concord or in discord; the one gives
pleasure, the other pain. The pleasure of concord or harmony
is often intense; it is sought to be realized in all the Fino Art&

265

Music is sweet sounds made sweeter by harmony; painting .harmonizes color and form in the first place, and, next, the subjects
expressed by them.
. .
With regard to tho Language, or D1ct10n, of Poetry, considered as sound, we have seen (MELODY) that lang?a~e may
be both melodious in itself, and also expressive, that is'. m harmony with the feelings of the speaker. Both these eftects are
nimcd at by the poet.
.
(1.) In the poetic description of outward thmgs, all tho particulars selected the illustrative language, and the march of the
verse 1 must con~pire to support the emotion of the scene. Milton's Eden may be studied as 1m example; the "Seasons" furnish numerous instances. See, also, the Lotos-Eaters.
Pope's vVindsor Forest has been blamed as deficient in
scenic harmony.
In this and in every other department of Poetry, and of
Fine ,A.rt, the creating of harmony results from a keen sense of
the emotional effect of the images and the language employed.
Some writers are sensitive chiefly to the intellectual consistency
of the thoughts ; and others, having little feeling for either
effect, display at best the genius of mere profusion.
Numerous examples of Harmony have already occurred.
Sec
FrnunES OF Su.uLARITY, STRENGTH, &c.)
The following is
(
fth
"S
.
a short example from t lie openmg o
c
casons "·. "Com~, gentle Spring, ~thereal Mild"?css, come,
And from the bosom of yon droppmg cloud,
While music wakes around, veiled in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend."

(2.) Scenery is harmonized

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wit]~

incident. . In real life,
events }iave rarely nny suitable scemc nccompamments. The
battle of Wnterloo wl\!I fought on tho flat.R of .Bolgium ; mul tho
future of n nation may be settled in the monotony of n Government office. But the artist provides a background adapted to
the action of the piece. Sec the cxampb from Milton quoted
under Personification, p. 35.
Scott's Pirate is a well-known instance of harmony of
scenery and characters. Senior remarks:1

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2GG

POETRY.

THE IDEAL.

"Whnt could ho tlono for Zctlnn<l, 110 l1nR <lono : ho 1111.A pruntt'd
with his usual vivid accuracy the few natural objects wl1lch It at- '
forde<l,-the rocky promontory, the inlnnd sen, the fierccncsa o( I
northern ocean, nnd the caprice of n northern climate, with its mtst1
cnlm and irresistible tempest; and he has suited to it, with adrnl- ··
rable consistency, the habits and character of its inhabitant.'!. Tbo ·
promise of his motto is fully performed- -- - nothing of them
But doth suffer 11 sea-change.

Their furniture and their food are, nlmost wl101ly, tlte pro<lc.:.
or the gifts of the sea;-all their language and conversation ls In·
sular, and almost fishy; limited by the narrow experience, nnd full
of the maritime superstitions and associations, of their situation.
Jn his usual pursuit of national, ns well as individunl. contrast, ho
has described his Zetlanders before they became nssimilntcd in fooling to their Scottish proprietors and neighbors, and hns attributed to
them, in a mitigated degree, the hostility towards the new cowers,
which gives spirit to his Saxons in' Ivanhoe'."
(3.) The development of Character is rendered lrnrmonious.
The actions and sayings of each person have all a uniform bearing. The poet rejects not only the discordant, but also tho irrelevant or indifferent.
The Canterbury Pilgrims c:.n liar<lly be too much c:dolled
for the harmonious in character.
The invention of unobvious doings nnd sttyings in keeping
with each character is required in an epic, n romance, or a
drama.
( 4.) llarmony is observed in tho incidents n11cl plot or t110
Story. There is here, as elsewhere, an absence of both tho discordant and the unmeaning. Hints, prognostications, omen!',
dark intimations, are never in vain. The charnctcrs are suited
to the work assigned to them in forwarding the catnst.ropho
the piece. The names of fictitious persons echo their characters: Faithful, Hopeful, Despair, Bombast.es Furioso, Overreach, Surface, Broadacres, Windbag, Dryasdnst.
(5.) The outbursts of Emotion require harmonious cxpreAaion and accompaniments. All lyric poetry comes under this
demand. Milton lrns expressly designed two contrnsting -mllA'
trations in the odes called L' Allegro and 11 Penscroso. 'l'cnny•
son's Mariana and Lady Godiva arc strikingly hannonioua
throughout.

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267

Contrast is not a '·iolation of Harmony ; it is another
poetical effect, following its own laws. (See Figures of CoN:'l'RAST.)
The incongruity of the Ludicrous is likewise a different, and not incompatible, form of composition. In Carlyle's
splendid description of the Battle of Dunbar, this passage occurs!-" Whoever has a heart for prayer let him pray now, for
ihe wrestle of death is at hand. But withal let him keep his
powder dry." This is a painful discord, unless the author intends it for a stroke of ludicrous degradation.
.
The inost frequent failure in Harmony arises from the intro.
sion of the cold operations of tho intellect into the expression
of. feeling. . Seo Extract VI.

125. , V. The I<leal is aimed at in Fine .A.rt.
The adoption in Art of what is presented in Nature is controlled, in the first place, by the requirements of harmony just
stated ; and to harmonize is to idealize. ·
·
But farther. It is an object with the poet or artist to rise
above tl10 tnmeness of reality, to portray greater beauties arid
higher loveliness than we can find on earth. A poem is a sustained hyperbole.
In scenic delineation, besides completing the harmony, the
poet goes beyond nature in tho richness of tho accmnulation,
and colors the language with glowing illustrations.
Such are the chosen scenes of romance and of fairySand,
tl1e happy valleys and islands of the blest, the gardens of tho
Hesperides, the Elysian fields, aud tho pictures of Paradise,
The portraying of characters likewise undergoes the idcal1zmg process. Men and women are produced with larger intellects, greater virtues, higher charms, than life can afford ; it
being agreeable to contemplate such elevated natures. The
bright points of real character are set forth, with omission of
the dark features ; strong qualities are given without the corresponding weaknesses, and incompntiblo virtues united in the
same person. Lofty aspirations and practical sense, rigid justice and tender consideration, the fortiter · and the suaviter, are

__ :sec:

268

POETRY, AN IMITATIVE ART.

·-·- ,.. -

269

POETRY.

made to come together, notwithstanding the rarity of tho combinations in the actual.
The grace of the feminine character unitc<l to the Corco ot
the man-the manly, and not the mru1culinc, womnn-lu\8 OOH
a favorite ideal in all ages ; it was embodied in Pallas Atbcn6
(Minerva) and in Artemis (Diana), and is reproduced abundantl1
in our poetry and romance.
·
Seeing that human society labors under n chronic want or
disinterestedness and mutual consideration on tho part of ita
members, ther~ is a demand for select or heightened pictures or
love, devotedness, and sympathy, as an idc:il compensati0n.
The Ideal of story consists in assigning the fortunes and
destinies of individuals with greater liberality and stricter eqoit7
than under the real or actual. The miseries as well aa the Oatncss of 1ife aro passed over, or re<lecmed ; tho momenta or
felicity are represented as if they were the rule; J>oolio Ju11tlco
is supreme, and measures out to each rnnn l1is deserts j mixed
and bad characters are admitted nl o n~ with tho good, but aJI
are dealt with as the poet'11, wl1ich is also tho rcadcr'A, tenao
justice demands.
The severe and difficult \•irtucs of pntdoncc, judgment., a11J
calculation, are slighted ; and success is rnndo to follow lhc
generous and uncalculating impulses of tl10 heart.
Love, beauty, and innocence, are made triumphant 01'M'
brute force and savage ferocity; as in tbo "Una and tho Lion"
of the Faerie Queen.
·
·
Poetic representations may be utterly and avowedly remo1'od
from truth, as in the tales of fairy land, and tho romnncCA or
chivalrv, in which case the pleasure is purely idcnl ; or ll1oy
may c~lor so lightly as to be taken for truth and reality, a11d
then they im~pire belief nnd intoxicate with hope. Dreama o(
future bliss, for the individual, or for the race, founded on unguine feeling and plausible anticipation, cxl1ibit the Ideal al lhe
summit of its power. " The good timo coming.'' p00Ucall7
illustrated and melodiously sung, will cxhilnrnto tho mind in the
depths of depression. See Tennyson's Lockslcy llalL
Putting together the three features, ConcrctoncM and Co~..

or

bination (III.), Harmony (IV.), and !de:lity .(V.), we can
understand what is signified by Imagmat10n m the correct
meaning of the word. A poetically imagin~d scene, ch~ractc:r,
or event is concrete as opposed to abstractions, liarmomous m
.
its parts,' and, if need' be, idealized to satisfy the sentiments
an d
feelings touched by works of Fine Art.

126. YI. Poetry has certain limitations, as bEJing an
imitative art, that is, as deriving its subjects from external nature and from human life.
Music, dancing, architecture, and fanciful decoration, can
hardly be said to imitate anything, or to refer the mind to any
natural object. But in painting, in sculpture, and, most of all,
in Poetry, the subjects are derived from realities, and we cann?t
avoid conRidcring, nmong other merit. ~, t.110 agreement or d1snrrrccmcnt with tho oriO"inals. If artistic effects arc pnrclmscd
a~ the expense of a gre~t deviation from natural p.ossi~ility or
probability, although these effects are not less gcnume m themselves yet the work ns a whole is marred by tho offence given
to ou; sense of truth. And, on tho other hand, the skill shown
by an mtist in imitating or repres:nting objects o.f ~aturc, on
canvas, in marble, or in language, is a new and d1stmct effect
that excites pleasure and admiration ; trnth ?n Art is the~ a
name for minute observation, and the adaptmg of a formgn
material to reproduce some original. This makes the Realistic
school of Art; Hogarth and V/ilkie are examples in .Pai.nting;
iv Poetry, Crabbe is tho most notable im1tanco; wlulo m Romance, the modern tendency is all in this direction.
.
When Shakespeare is called the poet of nature, the meamng
is tliat he abides more than some other poets (Spenser, for example) by the limits of actual human life; although his rc~r~­
sentations arc, in many ways, far from being close to the ong1nals. It is essential to the interest tlmt he gives, and a part of
his greatness, to idealize beyond nature, in the intensity of the
passions portrayed, in the one-sidedness of the characters, and
in the intellectual power· of the dialogue.
It is a rule of criticism, on this subject, that the departure

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POETRY.

PAINFUL '.EFFECTS.

from nature should not extend to incompatibility, or contr8dio- '
tion of the laws of things. It would be censurable to dcl!Cribe
a moonlight nighi as following a solar eclipse, to introduce a
man 150 years old,
to assign to the same person the highca
rank as a poet arid as a man of science. Ilut rare and forta.
nate conjunctions may be made use · of, and even such conjuno.
tions as have never been actually known to occur, provided
they are such as might occur. Poetical justice is somctimce
realized in fact, and the only thing against nature would bo .lo
set it up as the rule. It was remarked by Hobbes :-" For u
truth is the bound of the historian, so the resem blancc of tnith
is the utmost Hmit of poetical liberty." "Beyond the actunl
-w:orks of nature a . poet may go ; beyond the possibilities ol
nature, never."
.
: ~
Sc,ott bas been blam~ci by · Senior for intr~dn~ing 1;1cky
. "coincidences'~ beyond all the bounds of probability and or
admissible exaggeration.
·
The dangerous tendencies of roetry being to ovcr-etimulato ·
"he passionate impuls.es, such as love nnd nmhition, to mako nA
dissatisfied with reality, to discourage tho cnlculn~ions or prn·
denc,e, ';'-nd. t9 give a distaste for the l!lcvcrity of 1!1Cicnti6c moth·
od,-its · cha~ct~r '_is improved ns these tendencies ~re · kepi
within control. · ·
··
·
'

The Drama contains a story, like the Epic; and, in its distinguishing peculiarity of the dialogue, gives addi~io~ml scopo
for animation of plot. The spectator of a play is mtent on
watching the action and re-action of the pers~nages.
.
The story is an important means of rousmg the fcchfigs:
we are familiar with tales of distress, of wonder, of devotedness,
of pcrsovemnco, of heroism. It being tho 1rntnro of all s1~c!1
qualities to involve action, a narrative is the mcaus of mnkmg
them apparent.

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127·. YII. Interest of Plot enters largely into Poetry.
The peculiar suspense induced by uncertainty as to somo
approaching end has a powerful fascination, muc11 sought after
as a means of amusement. · It is the interest of story, and is
obtainable through the narrative kinds of Poetry-tho' Eplo
and the Drama. The poet, in constructing his ideal nnrrntivcs,
considers best bow to bring out and StlRtain t11is kind or lntcl'est. His nieans . are ihc studious concealment of tho end,. the
introduction of circumstances to · foster uncertainty, · and .tho
delay of the final .issue by alternating the excitement or tho
.
.
way.
: .,
It is in the Romance, or Novel, that tho. manngcmcnt ol .
plot, or story, has been carried to the highest pitch.
· ;\
~·

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128~ YIU. Whatever painful effects are admitted
into Poetry should be fully redeemed.
A work of Art is meant to give us pleasure, and the occurrence of anything to cause pain must be justified or atoned ~or.
The chief example of the use of pain is seen in Tragedy, wluch
is a representation of dire calamity and ruin overtaking men
without corresponding ill desert on their part. Such events,
. of themselves would necessarily shock our sympathies and
offend our sen~e of justice. They are justified or redeemed in
various ways:(1.} They occur in actual life; and, although we expect
that Art should, M a rule, hold np t110 plea.<>inp; 11ido of thing11,
yet we do not wish it altogether to shut out painful realities from
the view.
(2.) The exerci~e of compassion is agreeaLlo within limits.
We are not indisposed to have our sympathies engaged ~ith
suffering and sorrow. We do not shrink from encountering our
fellow-beings, even in their miseries. The combined force of
sympathy and tender feeling is able to swallow up the pain that
the sight of calamity would cause us.
But thero is a line tliat divides pity from horror. That
line has been passed by some of the greatest poets ; M by
Shakespeare in Lear, if not also in Macbeth, Othello, and Ha~­
let; by Campbell in Lord Ullin's daugb.ter; in By~on's. Shipwreck. Senior's remarks on Scott's Kemlworth are m pomt :"It is o. fault porhnps of tho conclm1ion, lhnt it ls !·oouniformly
tragical. In' Waverley1' and the' Abbot,' the bnppmess of Rose

272

273

POETRY.

METRE.

and Waverley, nnd of Catherine nnd Rolnnd, is entwined, like tl11'
ivy of a ruined window, with the calamities of their unfortunnto
associates, and relieves ·us from one unvaried spectacle of misery.
And even in the 'BI'ide of Lammermoor,' our author relents frorn
what nppears to have been his earlier intention, restores Bucklnw
to health, aml pensions Oraigengelt, and suffers the whole weight
of the catastrophe to fall only on his hero and heroine. But in
'Kenilworth,' the marringe of Wayland Smith and Janet (nn event
which scarcely excites any interest) is the only instance of mercy.
The immediate circumstances of Amy's death, as she rushes to
meet, what she supposes to be, her husband's signal, almost pnss
the limit that divides pity from horror. It is what Foster calls it~
' a seething of the kid in the mother's milk.' All our author's
reiterations of Varney's devilishness, do not render it credible.
Tressilian, Sir Hugh Robsart, Varney, Foster Demetrius, Lambourne, almost every agent in the story, perisi1es premnturely or
violently. Elizabeth is reserved for the sorrows of disappointed
love and betrayed confidence, and Leicester for misery, such ns
even our author has not ventured to describe." (Essays on Fiction, p. 7'3.)
(3.) Calamity brings out the force and grandeur of tho
human spirit, and is thus ::m occasion of the sublime. Tho
great tragedies of the Greek and of the modern drama, are ex- ·
hibitions of lofty and heroic qualities of mind, endurance, daring, superiority to misfortune. Prometheus could defy, though
he must succumb to, the might of Zeus.
·
(4.) The representation of painful scenes is an opportunity
of showing the power of poetry. The influenco of plensuro iR
manifested in subduing pain. Tho charm of imagery, the flow
of numbers, and all the resources of poetic genius, are employed upon :fictitious misery, that they may be at band in real
distress. Tragic situations call forth the energies of the poet
himself, as well as of his heroes. It says much for tho horrora of
Lear, that the genius of the poet has not sufficed to redeem them.
roetry has especially endeavored to soften the terrors of
death. "Aft.er life's fitful fever he sleeps well.'' The Stoical
mode of regarding death took a slightly different, but equally
poetical turn ; it was a great, a sacred, an inviolable asylum,
beyond the reach of human passion and injustice.

Metre is an effect added to Melody; being, in our language,
tlie arranging of emphatic and unemphatic syllables on a measured plan.
Metre operates in several ways : (1.) In strong excitement, we ·arc unable to adnpt ourselves
to the varying exigencies of a prose rhythm, and accordingly
feel the simplicity of a poetic measure to be a great relief. The
greater the excitement, the more simple usually is the metrical
scheme.
(2.) In the cffu!!ion of intense feeling, the regularity of
metre may act as a controlling or moderating power. The
ebullition of excitement is made calmer and more continuous
by the adoption of a measured step ; so that, when the subject
is of an impassioned nature, the proper accompaniment is verse.
On an occasion of joy, the regularity of the dance protracts and
husbands the pleasurable emotion, which might otherwise be
soon exhat:.3ted by spasmodic violence.
(3.) In the recurrence of beats at me.asnred intervals, there
is a positive pleasure. It is the pleasure of time in music, and
of equal intervals in tho array of objects to the eye, as when
we place trees or pilasters in a row. . We may consider it as
an example of the principle of harmony, so widely diffused in
Fine Art.
·
Verse, although a frequent adjunct, is not tho essential distinction of Poetry. Many compositions in prose are of the
poetical type ; their design is to chann or please, and :Ot to
instruct or to persuade. Such is the Novel, or Prose Epic.
Such also nro many compositions having tho form of instmction or of persuasion, but using that fonn as n mere framework
History, criticism, the moral
for ornament and elegance.
essay, the delineation of life and manners, in the hands of a
man of poetic genius, may be written in prose, but they have
the effects of Poetry, and rank with it in the department of
Polite Literature, or the Belles-Lettres.

129. The form of Metre has been always considered
suitable to Poetry.

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274

BPEOIES OF POETUY.

SPECIES · OF POETRY.

LYRIO POETRY.

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130. Poetry is divided into three principnl spcciOI',
the Lyric, Epie, and Dramatic. These .nre marked by
certain leading peculiarities, although few poems ndhcro
purel! to any one type. In modern compositions moro
es~ecially, under whatever form, there is apt to be a
mixture of all the modes of poetic effect.
LYRIO POETRY.

131. This species is represented by Son~, Hymns,
and Odes. They are usually short, for which , ronson
alone th~y are commop.ly more concentrated and intense.
.The Ly~c poem i? an expression or ~ffusion or some intcnlM1
fcclmg, passion, emotion, or sentiment ; ns, <lcvotlon, love, mill·
tary ardor, &c. The metrical fonn deviates farthest from prose.
The word "Lyric" shows that these poems were originally sung
or pronounced with an instnimentnl nccompnnimenL Muilic
however, is an ~uxil!a~ only, ~n<l is commonly dispc~llC<l :will~
E;en th~ . vers1fi~ation . can ho dropp~d, and .tho conipOtitlon
still reta1? a ]~cal character. Tliis is Been in ' tho' highly·
wr~ught, 1mpass19ned prose of De Quincey (Conres8 ions o( ""
Opmm~Eater, ~nd Suspfria de Profundis); of Carlyle (Death
of .Mane An.tomette ii:t Tho Diamond Necklnce); of Richter;
of Lamenua1~ (Paroles d'u.n Croyant-an instance of a Jyrlcal
book); ~f Victor Hugo, Michelet, and others. The pnMngo
from Milton's .Areopagi~ica,-" Met11inks I sec in niy mind
noble anq pmssant nation. rousing herself like a strong mnn
after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks ; mcthink~ I llCO
her as an. eagle mew.ing her mighty youth, and kin<lling lier un~azzled eyes at th~ full mid-day beam; purging and unt1caling
'.l~r lo~f-abuse.d s1g?t at ~ho . fountain itself or heavenly m·
hance, &c.-1s Lyrical, bemg the effusion of intense feeling in
1trong, although unmetrical, language.

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132. J,,yrical poems may be classified as follows:-

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(1.) The Song. A song is usually short; simple in measnre ; broken up into stanzas, each complete in meaning, yet
falling into a place in the arrangem ent of the piece; modified,
according as it is to be sung or merely pronounced,-in the
first case being more abrupt and more metrical.
The varieties of the Song may be enumerated thus:I. The Sacred Song, or Hymn, expressing (a) awe, reverence, fear; (b) love, thankfulness, confidence; (c) supplication
and intercession; (d) self-abasement and contrition; or (e) being
hortatory (a departure from the strict poetical vein, almost peculiar to the Christian hymns).
The Psalms include all the varieties. The old Latin hymns
(Dies Irm, &c.) may also be referred to. Luther's hymns are
remarkable outbursts of his own personality ; as in the tone of
confidence displayed in-" A great stronghold our God is still."
Tho modern missionary llymn, " From Grccnlan<l'R icy mo1mtains," is an example of the hortatory kind. · Tho old Greek
hymns to the deities, generally sung by the choruses, are pure
·
instances under a, b, and c. ·
II. The Secular Song, corresponding to the more exciting
occasions of comnion life.
(a) The War Song partakes of the nature of eloquence; t.hc
means of persuasion being the impassioned exci tement and
burning words of tlie author. It may be composed for a special
emergency, or for nourishing patriotic sentiment at all times.
One need refer only to Tyrtreus, Burns ("Scots wha hae-"),
the lifarseillaise, Arndt's and Korner's German War Lyrics
(War of Freedom, 1813). The sentin1cnts bodied forth arc defiance of the foe, disregard of death, the dishonor of cowardice,
the miseries of defeat..
It is important to remark, however, that ·narrative or Epic
compositions, such as the ballads reciting heroic deeds of the
past, have probably a still greater influence in rousing military
sentiment. Dib<lin's songs havo tlie narrative, and not the
Lyric, form. It was to the Ballad of Chevy Chase that Sidney's faino~s saying was applied, " It stirs tho hcmt .like tho
!!Ound of a trumpet.'; The explanation has ·already been alluded

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276

LYRIC POETRY.

THE ELEGY.-THE SONNET,

to. It is in the unfolding of action nnd incident that tho fool.mgs
'
can be most surely stimulated. The Lyric is ndnptcd lo
a special want of the mind; namely, to give vent to, nod lo
moderate, feelings once aroused. Incidcntnlly it cultimtca the
feelings, but principally it gives them utterance.
(b) The Love Song. Used in the various fonns o( tender
feeling. ·First is the love of the sexes. To this, in nil ita 1i& •
nations, the song adapts itself. In ancient tinw"i 8nppho,
Horace, Catullus, gave choice cxnmplc11. Hen Jon1wn'A u l>rfok
to me only with thine eyes" is probably tllllltlf]>RMC<l. Shakespeare has numerous snatchm1. Suckling'11 11ongtii nro uqnlJJite..
Burns, Moore, Campbell, Bcrangcr, arc n few of tho hoet o(
composers of love songs.
The_other affections of kindred hnrn J1n1I tl1cir 11harc o( teJo.
bration. Burns has sung of friendship. Exprt'Mlon hu ~
given to home, country, and patriotic 11cntirucnt (Hail Columbia.
Rule Britannia, &c ).
(c) The Drinking Song. Sncinlity, ~cninl f.-clinsr, uJ tho
praises of wine, have been tho 1111l•jrct or l.yric• In holh udcol
and modem time11. Dums 1tnd Moore haYo tontribaa.J a ....
ber of these. 1110 Gcnnnn Durwcl1on Son"' ma7 U. be ........"fi·' .i!'t;· ,.
(d) Tho Political Bong; ae the Jacobl&e eoep, ucl ..... ·' '·'-~
bursts of party feeling.
·
· • . ·
·, 1 ·- : • •
(e) The purely Sentimental Bong: for e:umplo, TGDD,_.~ = ~
"Break' break' brc"k-"
·. •:•
·
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:1 ••
The Comic Song iR generally fl ludicrous narrath·a. llu7 ·~ .
so-called songs arc in fact Ballads.
· -~
.. (2.) ~e Ode. TI1is is tho loftiest effusion l~tonao
It is not intended to be sung. 1110 clabornto vcni6catlon tJaa& ·
constitutes its peculiarity, is intended partly to rn1tko up (or tJu.
disadvantage, partly to accommo<lnto tho trn1111itlon1 natural to
intense feeling. We mny give ns cxnmplc", Milton'• Jlymn on
the Nativity; Collins' Ode to Liberty; Orny's llard; Koat.•
Ode to a Nightingale, nnd Ode to Liberty; 'VordAworth'1 Intimations of Immortality; Coleridge's Ode to tho Deporting
Year. The "Ode to the Passions" h1 nn Odo only in fono ; 11
is not so much the display, ns tho description, o( feeling. •

or

foolJnt. .

277

(:l.) 'J'l10 Elegy, wit.It which wo mny comrncl., in 11011t.i111011t
at least, the Dirge. In the original form, in Greece, this was
the expression of plaintive, melancholy sentiment, for which
was devised that modification of the heroic metre known as the
Elegiac. It is now connected chiefly with the expression of regret for the departed, removal by death being the pre-eminently
mournful incident of humanity. Milton's Lycidas is a typical
instance. Gray's Elegy is a diffused expre;;sion of feeling on
mortality in general, nnd also n sustained poetical exercise. Tho
Adonais and In Memoriam interweave ethical nnd theoretical
views with the images of the main sentiment.
( 4.) The Sonnet. This is sometimes descriptive, but most
commonly a concentrated expression of a single phase of feeling; the reference may, or may not, be to something cxtemnl.
Shakespeare's Sonnets arc in a connected thread, being, as is
supposed, the successive effusions of his own feelings growing
out of a sentimental relationship. Wordsworth's Sonnets arc
perhaps his most peculiarly Lyrical compositions.
(5.) The simple or nondescript Lyric comprehends a variety
of effusions, wanting in nny of tho specific aims nbovo men~
tioned. Many of them arc mere utterances, designed to support
poetic ornament. Reference may be mndc to Burns (The Moun~
tain Daisy), Tennyson (St. Agnes' Eve), ·wordsworth (To tho
Cuckoo ; "0 blithe new comer"). Some have an ethical pur·
pose, as Goethe's ode (translated by Carlyle):-

i

(

'

1I.>):

'l'I
i .1

I
I

:.I

I; II
1

'

II

I'.

i·

I
1

Ii:
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!

" T11e mason's wn.ys n.re

A type of existence,
And his persistence
Is as the days are
Of men in this world," &c.
]~PIO rot~TRY.

133. The Epic, in contrast to the Lyric, is a nnrrnti re
of outward events contrived for poetic interest, by plot
or story, scenery, ch::mi.cters, langnagc, &c. The author
appears in liis own person; lays the scenes, introduces
the actors, nn<l narratea the events.

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EPIO POETRY.

Of all the fonns of Poetry, tho Epic hns tho wi<lcet compass; not only is verso unessential, but thcro arc varieties ot
story, genuiiiely poetical in tl1cir interest, mid yet exprcasl1
suited for prose. Such is the N ovcl.
The Epic is also the longest of all poetical composition&
Its many alternations and windings allow it to bo protraclod
without exhausting the interest.

134. The leading forms of Epic Poetry n.ro thcoo : (1.) The Great Epic.
This is the Epi~, in which supernatural agency i11 pennitl(?d,
with a view of controlling the events according to tho Lighctt
moral government of the world. It is mixed up therefore with
Religion, or else with the ·great personified nbstrnction8 called
Destiny, Fate, Justice, Right, the Evil Principle, which aro supposed to take events out of mere human hands.
The division into Sacred and Heroic is scarcely tenable j tho
Greek Heroic Epic was thoroughly religious. Tho only irn·
portant difference in this respect is between tho Pngnn aud tho
Christian, and between theso nncl the kin<ls that eliminate more
and more the supernatural control.
The conditions imposed upon the Epic in ~pcct or subject,
place::, and time, are resolvable into tho noeo88itle8 or tho story
or plot, which must be intclligihly started, and conducted to "
definite termination. Tho plot being for · tho most part, al-.
though not necessarily or universally, the clement of highc11t
interest, it must govern everything else ; or, at all events, bo in
harmony with the scenes, tho characters, the sentimcnt11, nnd
the diction. Thus, the Trojan Vv ar was a 11ubjcct for History;
the wrath of Achilles was selected and treated M an Epic.
The high Epic demands a metre, of a less marked kind than
the Lyric, although more marked than the Drama. Such "'ll8
the Greek hexameter, and such arc our English Epic metres, M,
for example, the blank verse of Milton.
The usual examples of the. Great Epic arc:The Iliad nnd Odyssey.
The ~ncid.

TIIE ROMANCE.-THE TALE.

279

The Nicbclungcn Lied.
The Divina Comedia.
The Lusiad.
J erusalcm Delivered.
Paradise Lost.
· The Pharsalia of Lucan is }1eltl up by critics ns n warning
beacon against the tendency' of the Great Epic to degenerate
into bombast, mere 'oratorical display, and prosaic feebleness.
Pollok's Course of Time is an Epic of the high class.
The real or serious Epic has a counterpart or parody in the
Mock Epic, as " ·T he b'.1-ttle of the Frogs and Mice," " The Rape
6f the Lock," &c.
.
· ·
(2.) The Romance, or Narrative of Adventure, under~ moro
purely human control. Supernatural personages are still occasionally admitted, but with a lower function. The clement
of love, repressed in the Great Epic, is now allowed greater
.
.
scope. The metre is of a lighter cast.
.AJ3 examples we haye the poetry of the Troubadours ; with
which we may c~mpare, as modern instances, Scott's Marmi.on
and Lady of the Lake. The Faerie Queen, in its narrn.tive
handling, abstracted from the didactic pn~posc, is a Uom~ncc,
retaining the modified supernatural machmery of the Middle
Ages. To the sumo class belong l~n.dibrns m'.d . D on Junn i
their peculiarity consisting in the addition of satire.
(3.) The Tale, with complete story and denouemen~, lo:o
being predominant. Many of Chaucer's Talcs (the Kn 1ght s,
1
&c.) might be cited. Also the Rape of .Lucrece; Byron s Corsair, Giaour, '&c.; Wordsworth's 'Vlnte Doe of Rylst?n~;
Keats' Lamia and Eve of St. Agnes; the Talcs of Crabbe, d1stinguish~d by l1is realistic manner; Enoch Ar~cn; Longfellow's
Vl ayside Inn. In t~ie light and humorous v~m, we l1ave cxa~. pies likewise in Chaucer. The p~esence
mtcnse .humor dt.spenses with the love-interest, as m Tam o Slianter, a rcmatk
of still wider application.
..
. '
(4.) The Ballad, gcncrn11y mndc short nnd ~1mplc, by rapidity in the. succession of incidents, and
leavmg many, thmgs
merely suggested; hence less discursive than the Tale; .. ·The

o!

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280

EPIC POETRY.

examples are Chevy Chase; the Heir of Linne; 'Vor<lsworth'•
Ruth; Hood's Eugene Aram; Lord Ullin's Daughter; Macau·
Jay's Lay of Horatius; Burial of Sir John Moore; Loss or l110
Royal George; Bayard Taylor's Pnso dcl Mar; Schillcr'a
Diver; Goethe's Bride of Corinth. In a lighter vein, we havo
the otherwise-designated Comic Song; Thnckera y's Ballnda;
Hood's comic pieces ; Horace and Jam es Smith's parodies; tho
Mock Heroic-Alonzo the Brave and tho Fnir Imogen. In
American literature, the comic poems of Saxe and Olh•cr 'Ven·
dell Holmes are worthy of mention in this department.
(5.) The Historical Poem, or Metrical History, might bo
called a Narrative Poem, with a didactic purpose : Barbour'a
Bruce ; Blind Harry's W allacc. The Ann us Mirnbilis of Dryden contains much that is properly Lyrical.
( 6.) The Mixed Epic : having a slight epic eharnctcr, willa
a mixture of sentiment, satire, moralizing, and other reflections.
Childe Harold is destitute of plot, and consists of n string oC
descriptions, reflections, and lyrical outbursts of the author's
personality. Shelley's Revolt of lRlam contains an unbrokun
narrative, of the nature of tho Ilomnncc, but with a 1mporabun·
dance of Lyrical effusion.
(7.) The Pastoral, Idyll, &c. '111cso laavo jmt aulllciont
traces of narrative to bring them under the Epic dirision; but
they are distinguished by the prominence of p:>etic description,
and this, either of external nature or of manners. In aomo,
the narrative is still supreme. In tho Endymion or KcntA, A .
mythical story connects a series of descriptions of nnturc. Wo
may add Beattie's Minstrel, the Cotter's Saturday Night, llao
Gardener's Daughter, the Idylls of the King. In olhcf8, llacro
is still continuous narrative, but only to furnish subjects for tho
description; as, the Excursion and the l)rinccs..,, We might
perhaps place the Minstrel here. A third class contrun naJ'o
rati\'e only by way of episode to the description, and tl1nt of\cn
in a small and vanishing quantity. Such nre L' All<'gro nnd II
Penseroso. In Thomson's Seasons, the course of the year le
the only succession of events. Cowper's Task is comp<>f'ito in i~
nature ; description alternates with didactic and Mtirical elroket. · .,

THE PROSE FICTION.

281

It might seem requisite to devote a distinct head to Degcriptive Poetry; in which case, we should have to trace its
subdivisions according to the varying connection with Narrative. But this would only give the previous classification in an
inverted order; and, moreover, for reasons more than once
given, there can be no poetry of continued Dcscript.ion in the
strict sense of the word. Action and succession must predominate; and it is, therefore, the only proper course to make
Narrative the genus, and Description the specific difference.
The Task and the Night Thoughts conta.iu much description,
and little narrative, but it would not bring out their distinctive
character to term them Descriptive poems.
(8.) The Prose Fiction. This is a prose version of all tho
previous kinds, except the Great Epic, wl1ich, from its nature,
is rarely attempted, and demands the metrical adjunct.
From the exceeding variety of the Prose Fiction, it is difficult to assign well-marked types. The Religious Allegory of
Bunyan is a distinct kind. Other species are the Pastoral
Novel (Sidney's ..t\rcadia), the Sentimental Novel (Richardson,
&c.), tl10 Satirical Novel (Swift), the Comic and also Satirical
(Fielding, Smollet, Thackeray), the Historical Novel (Scott,
Bulwer). But each writer of Fiction usually embodies all the
kinds of interest suited to his·genius, with slight reference to a
type. There is a real difference made in choosing the subject
from tl10 present or from the past; the one tends to imitation
and reality, the other to idcality. A didactic purpose, nlso,
gives a character to the . uovcl. The Supernatural is rare in
prose fiction, and, when attempted, is considered a doubtful
experiment.

·-

DRAMATIC POETRY.

135. The Drama is so constructed as to admit of ite
being acted on the Stage. There is a story as in the
Epic, but the author does not narrate, nor appear in his
own person. He appoints and groups the characters,
lays the scenes, and provides the dialogue ; and, in the

~82

DRAMATIC POETRY.

,

283

TRAGEDY.

dialogue, aided only by stage directions, the whole action of the piece is contained.
An epic poet· like Homer, who reduces his nnrrntivo to tho
smallest dimensions, and gives a large E1pace to the dialogue,
brings the epic close upon the drama; while the placing or an
explanatory prologue, at the beginning of each net (ns iu Henry
V. ), makes the drama approach to tho epic.
The peculiarly dramatic interest consists in wntchtng tho
turns or the dialogue, the action and reaction of the speakcni.
The merits of the composition lie in the vividness of tho imprcasion that one personage appears to make upon nnotltcr. Soliloquy is irrelevant, unless it grows out of the nction or prcpnrea
for it.
There is no kind or poetic ornament or effect tlmt tho Dmrna
does not admit of! in proportions suited to its nature.

136. The division of the Drama iuto Tragedy nn<l

Comedy, is much more mnrkc<l thnn tho subdivisions of
the Lyric or the Epic.
(1.) Tragedy. This, according to Aristotlo'11 definition, wu
the representation (as opposed to the narration) or a completed
action, commanding or illustrious in its clmractcr; tho langungo
being poetically pleasing ; and with the moral effect or purifying the passions generally, by means of tho two special pa&sions-Pity and Fear.
•
The action in Tragedy was originally taken from those calnm·
itous incidents of human life, which arc attended "'ith a degrco
of suffering wholly' or in part undeserved by tho actors. '1110
painful effect of tl1is spectacle was redeemed, in 'l'rn~edy, Ly
poetic arts ; by theological explnnations j by tho di11plny11
humari nobleness in enduring calamity ; by inspiring pity j hy
the moral lesson of fear, circumspection, nnd submiASion j an<l
by selecting incidents not too 11orrible to be so redeemed. In
commenting on the definition of Aristotle, Karnes remarks, thnt
tho happiest subject of a tragedy would be a man of intcgrit1,
falling into a great misfortune by the committal of some inn~

or

cent action which he is led in some way to suppose criminal.
· The hero ;ould inspire pity to the full, while his misfortune
would stimulate a salutary dread of evil possibilities.
Aristotle's definition applies best to what is called tho High
Tragedy-ancient and modern ; as, ffidipus and. Lear.. The
ancient Tragedy had a Lyrical mixturc,-the chonc port1o?sbut distinct throughout, and not interwoven with tho action j
being uttered by the chorus in the capacity of spectator, and
giving vent t_o the feelings inspired by the action in its p~ogre~s.
This disappears in the modern drama ; the lyrical portions m .
Shakespeare are incorporated with the piece. Alfieri, who, of
all tragedians, kept most within a rigid type prescribed by himself, wholly rejected the lyrical ingredient. G~etho makes
great use of it in Faust; and Byron, as we might expect,
brings it into especial prominence. The be~t modern reprod.uqtion of the classical type is Samson Agomstes. In tho ll1gh
Tra<Tedy
the purpose is to show how men must bend to the
0
stringent' conditi.ons of humanity, and t? the d'ispensat'ion of
the higher powers; conseqliently, there is no care for a happy
termination.
The more moderate Tragedy, while retaining tragic elements and situations, allows happy conclusions, when the acdto~s
have been sufficiently immersed, nnd all but overwhelme , m
trials and dangers ; thus permitting scope for poetical justice ;
as in the Winter's Talc, Measure for Measure, the New Way to
pay old Debts, &c.
.
.
.
.
The subjects of Tragedy arc as wide as the Epic snhJect<;:
-the high ideal, the romantic, the historic,_th~ common-life
tragedy.
.
· .
(2.) Comedy. Comedy is admitted on all hands to be the
adaptation of the Drama:ic form to yield tho ple~snres .of tho
Ludicrous, in company with fl.Cl many other plcnsmg e~cct.s ns
are compatible with it. This was substantially the view of
Arist~tle, as it is the practice of all comic poets.
·
The Old Comedy among tho Greeks, the earliest form of it.,
was coarse invective, broad farce and caricature, highly personnl, and turned to political purposes. The Middle and N cw
,....--::~~

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DRAMATIO roETRY.

Come<ly dealt with characters and manners by types, cWeet,
or ranks ; a form repeated in modern times, being well cxcm· ·
plified in Moliere and in Ben Jonson.
. The C'l:>mic personages of Shakespeare arc men rather than
class-representations. · Among tltc recognized varieties of Comedy, are the Genteel Comedy, the Low Comedy, the Farce, tho
Travesty or Mock Heroic.
The English Drama has allowed the mixture of Tragc_dy and
Comedy in the same piece.
Another variety of tho Drama ls tho MMk; or UomanUo
Adventure, with supernatural pcrsonnges-fniries, ginnu, monsters, &c.
The Opera constitutes n distinct species modified by lta
being sung.
. The Dramatic element nppcars wherever tho pol"80nap of
a piece are in earnest, energetic, nnd rc!!pom1ivo communication ; and when the poet is able to mnke thi!I npparonl in a 'NWf
marked way. An animnt.ccl <lcbntc in n publio A#Clmbly, a polemic through the press, wherein tl10 contending pa.rtle. d«ldedly act and re-act npon one another, to penuade, lo ooocm.ate, to · terrify, to eoragc,-cootain tho tllleDCO ot ~ ~- • t"" •

Allusion bas been mado to D1DACTJO Posnr, or poeme ~ ·
signed to convey im~truction or inculcate moml dutr. 8Anaa, :·;:.
or Satiric Poetry, is allied with Eloquence, tl10 Intention W,. '
to vituperate, to vilify, to lnsh, or it may bo also to reform, &he · ··
victims. The Satirist of antiquity conceived himeclr to ·be· a
moral preacher or rcror.ner, Jifting hi11 voice again11l lbe ricet
of his age. Such wero lloraeo nnd Juvenal. HrMmUI and
Buchanan had large scope for sati!O in the ~e or tho Reform ..
tion. .Many of our recent poets havo plied tho WN1pon. 'Vet
need but name Butler, Dryden, Swift, Pope, Arbuthnot,
Churchill, Burns, Byron. Tho suhjccts aro vnriou11; rcllgioua
hypocrisy, political dereliction, literary prcten.eions, nod lb•
failings of mankind generally.

285

METRE.

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VERSIFICATION.

137. The true metrical character of English poetry
depends upon the regular recurrence of similarly accented syllables at short intervals.
It is not improper to describe as metrical the much used
arts of Rhyme, Alliteration, &c. ; but, not being to the same extent indispensable to the poetic form, these are better treated
apart and in subordination.
METRE.

138. In Greek and Latin, the general rhythm of the
language, and the recurrence of emphasis at definite intervals constituting metre, were to a great extent determined according to the length of the syllables. In
English, the classical rules for fixing the length of syllables do not hold, or in any way affect the place of the
accent in pronunciation. When the accent is found to
occur at regular intervals within a number of words or
syllables, as in these examplesIle plants' I his foot'jstrps in' j the se:i.'What' though you I t~n· me each I gay' little

I rover-

each of the groups receives the name of a Measure. We
have different measures, according to the extent of the
groups and the place of the accent within them.
B etween t.wo accented syllables in English words, there can
lie one or two, but not more than two, unaccented syllables.
This applies either to single words or to successions of words.
Consequently, under any arrangement, the first accent must
occur not beyond tlie third syllal>le; and, if only one unaccented syllable intervenes, not beyond the second. Within
these limits, five distinct positions, giving rise to five measures,
are possible; two, where the accent recurs on alternate syllables-three, where the accent recurs on every third syllable.

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286

These positions and measures get the names Dissy11ahic and
Trisyllabic, and m·e typified by single words like thesc-(1)
a'ble; (2) ago'; {3) pret'tily; (4) disccm'ing; (5) rcprimnnd'.
The various regularly accented groups, or measures, which
involve these different recurrences, are repeated to form vtrtt,.
A verse (which commonly assumes the form of a single lino;
though not always) is determined in length according to tho
number of ·the repetitions. These, for practical purposes, aro
seldom less than two (the dimeter), or more than eight. or.
ten, in the case of the 1st and 3d measures, in which the accent
falls on the first syJlable, the last measure of tho Ycrso is shortened by the omission of the unaccented pnrt ; in like manner,
the closing unaccented syllable of the 4th measure may ho
dropped. On the other hand, the 2d and 5th, accented on
the last, may be supplemented at the end by an additional un.
accented syllable forming no part of any new measure. Licenses are admissible in all. Occasionally it happens that ono
measure is introduced into a verse made np of another,' variety
and greater emphasis being therehy obtained ; Cor example, tho
1st and 2d may be thus interchanged. This liberty ia taken
stiJl more frequently in the trisyllnbic measures,"whorc, too, tho
dropping out of unacoented syllables and tho insertion of supernumeraries in any part of the verse, are far from uncommon.
The interchange of dactyls, anaprests, and spondees in certain
of the classical metres, is a parallel case.

139. Here follow some Examples of tho most com~
mon verses in the different measures. 'I1110 uso of tho
ancient descriptive epithets is abandoned, becauso of
their evident incongruity, except to designate in a goneral way the measures themselves.
I. IJissyllabic Measures.

I gore'-

And' t.ho I ro.'vcn, I ncv'cr I flit'tlng,-still' Is I si~'ting, I stilt'. Is I sit'ti~g
On' the I po.l'lid I bust' of I Po.l'las, I just' ajhove my I cham her I door-:-

Thc trocliaic measure has !\ light tripping movement, and 1s
peculiarly fitted for lively subjects, although the exampl?s n.ow
quoted are of a different kind. It is employed largely m simple nursery rhymes.
2. The Second, or Iambic, Measure.
The strains' I decay'
.And melt' I away'For in' I my mind', I of all' I mankiml'
I love' I but you' I alone'0 Cal'ledon'lia, stern' I and wild'And found'

I no end'~

in wan'ld'ring ma'izcs lost'-

I crea'jtion's dawn' I beheld' I thou roll' lest now'spa'lcious fir'lmamcnt' I on high', I with all' I tho blue' I cthc'lrcnl
Such' as

Thc
sky'-

•

.

The lam hie measure, being the least elevated, 1s. most e~1l:f
kept up. It is therefore in very common use, and 1s pecuhar11
adapted for long poems.
'
II. Trisyllabic lJfeasures.
1. The Third, or Dactylic, Measure.
Tnke' her up I tcn'dcrly
Lift' her with I care'Thou' who art I bear'ing my I buck'ler and I bow'Strong'ly it I bears' us allong' in I swell'ing and I lim'itless I bill'owL
The black' bands I came o'ver
The Alps' and I the snow'My cour'sers I are fed' with I the li~ht'ning,
They drink' with I the whirl'wind's I stream'-

I

There came' to the shore' a I poor ex'~le I of E'ri~,,
The dew' on I his thin' robe I was heavy I and chtll -

.J ,

To the fame' I of your name'See the snakes' I that they rear',
How they hiss' I in the air'Shnll vic'jtor exult,' I or in death' I be laid low',
,
With his back' I to the field', I and his feet' I to the foe -

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2. The Fourth, or Amphibrachic, Measure.

3. The Fiftl1, or Anaprestic, Measure.

1. The First, or Trochaic, Measure.
Hope' is I ban'ish'd,
Joys' are I van'ish'dGen'tle \ riv'er, I gen'tle I riv'er
Lo' thy streams' are I etain'd' with

287'

DISBYLLA.BIO MEASURES.

VERSIFIOA.TION.

.

288

ALLITERATION.

VERSIFICATION.

All the Trisyllabic measures have n quicker mo\"emcni thu
the Dissyllabic, owing to tho greater number oC unncccmt4!d
i;yllables; they are characterized in the main by rushing imptl.nosity. :Mention has been already made of their rcndinCll to
admit irregularities, and to change places. Indeed, they can
scarcely be called distinct measures ; tlrns the fourth, for c1ample, shows clear traces of dactylic rhythm. 'Vo might ecnn tho
last-quoted specimen thus:There I came' to the I shore' R poor ex'ilo of! E'rin
The I dew' on bis I thin' robe wRS I 1c11v'y and I chni·ma'king tl1c first syllable of tl1e lines tmcmphntic, on the principle of the anacrusis, or back-stroke, of tho cl11Micnl mctrN.
We have then verses of properly dnctylic mcruiurc, tho ono Uno
leading continuously on to tho next. Tho rnrity of tho pure
dactylic measure in English is no lon~cr n matter of wonder,
seeing it is thus found so often disgniscll.
Coleridge's Christabel, nn<l eomo of Byroi' '11 rocm.a, uo
written in a metro di~poscd in linc11 ,·nrylng In h·nicth
seven to twelve syllabics, but nhvnp containing four acttoltd
positions ; thus,
I won'lder'd what' f might all' f the bird' t
· 't_, t "°

l

rrom

For no'jthing near'J It could' f 1 lef',
''.
~ ' ' ··
Save the grass' I an green herbe' I underneath' I t.beoW tntl.

Though Coleridge called this a new principle, the 0011
new was the systematic execution.

thing~

'

Alliteration.

_.

289

iine, and one word in the next., began with the same letter ; as
is seen in this extract from the well-known poem of the 14th
century, Piers Ploughman : "There preached a. pardoner
As he a. priest were ;
Brought forth a. bull
With many bishops' seals."

Althourrh
the effect
of alliteration cnnnot well h:wo been eono
.
sciously sought after in later English poetry, it is curious to
note how often it is found, even to perfection, in the verses of
Milton, Coleridge, Shelley, Tennyson, &c. A few examples
may be given : " Of mo.n's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste--"
"The fair breeze blew ; the white foam f !cw
· The furrow followed free."
" Like a glowworm golden
In a dell of dew-"
"And on R sudden, lo I the level lake
And the long glories of the winter moon."

That there is something naturally pleasing in such conjunctions, is evident from their frequency in current sn.yings and
proverbs. For instance: "Life and limb," "Watch and
ward," "Man and mouse," "Far fowls have fair feathers." An
extreme case of alliteration is found in the line,
"Le~ lovely lilacs line Lee's lonely lane."

Rhyme.

140. When Metre is understood in its most comprohensi ve sense as "the recurrence within ccrtnin intcr·vals of syllables similarly affected," Allitcrntion, which
means the recurrence at short intervals of tho snmo
initial letter, may be described as a metrical ornament.

141. Rhyme, also, can be called metrical in the wide
sense as determining a recurrence of sound in the closing s;llable or syllables of different verses. It is a poetical ornament peculiar to poetry subsequent to the clas~ical period, and by no means universally employed.

Attempted, more or less, in the poetry of almost all lnngungcs,
alliteration was especially used, as the mnin fcntnro of vcrslficn·
tion, in the Old German, Anglo-Snxon, and Scnnclinavinn pootry. According to strict usage, two or three words in ono

Blank verse, in which so much of English poetry is written,
discards rhyme altogether. Possibly it was a sense of the comparati vo pRncity of English rhymes, as well ns veneration for
classical models, thn.t caused Ben Jonson, Milton, and others,
13

..
2JO

VERSIFICATION.

KINDS OF YERSE.

to rebel against its fetters. Hhymc, however, i3 so plensiug aucl
so easily understood, as to stand higher than nny other ~tlcal ,
artifice in popular estimation. The existence of so-ealle<l doggerel verses is a rude testimony to its power.
Three conditione arc required in n perfect rhyme o( lwo
syllables.
1. The vowel-sound and whatever f-.>Hows it, mu11L bo \he
::iamc in both: long, song; sea, free.
2. The articulation before tho rnwcl-110111ul m1111L La dUJ'o,.
cnt: green, spleen ; call, fall, nll. The letter/, is not co1Ulldorvd
a distinct articulation; heart, art, nrc improper rhymcA.
3. Both must bo accented: try', 11i~h'; not Ir!/, brightly.
As rhyme depends upon sonn<l only, tho P1pelli11g i" o( no con·
sequence: bear, hare, arc rhymes; uot so, bcnr, fcnr.
Rhymes arc Single; m1, plain, grnin :-1Jo11bl1; IU, glo-ry,
sto-ry :-or Triple; as, rcad-i-ly, stcn1l-l-ly. In douLlo ancl
triple rhymes, the last syllabl<•s nrc nnncccnlc•l, nnJ aN' ~17
appendages to the true rltymin~ 1101m1l, which nlono (ulfllt &bo
conditions laitl down nhm·c: c11l'mi11nl<', /ul'mlnntr.
Rhymes nro not confined to tho clOM! of _,,.ra&o • ....._""'
are. sometimes found in the middlo and a~ lhe end ol U.. .. .I'·~
verse. Somo lines from Sbelloy'• Cloud 11'111 i lD...,... .~/s.. ..
cases ;_
·
• • ·. ~· ' l · •-"' "

.

;.~·Jl
~

" I bring fresh 1howtr1 for tho lhlr9llng}olM'I
From the ecM and the rlrtam• ,·
I bear li~ht ahad~ for the lcncs when ltricl
In thmr noon-day drtanu."

~

..

Repetitions of like vowel-sound!\, where other Cl)nJitlona ot
perfect rhyme nro neglected, get tho nnmo
Auonancoe. ·
These liave no regular place in English poetry, M tltoy ban la
some other languages, but tltey nre occnslonnlly (ound inltead
cf rhymes in old ballads. For example:-

or

11

Ancl Clo11dci1ly lny rcnrly there In ft c.'tut,
.Fnst bound, both foot nn1l lia111l:
And n. strong rope nbont his neck,
All rendy for to hang."

'

~.

' .

Two Jines or verses rhyming together in 811CCCll.'llon rorm • ' .
couplet; three, a triplet or te1·cet. Groupe or four llneta, which ...
may rhyme in varic. us combination!!, nro called qualralnl. •.. A .

291

stanza is the least group of lines involving all the peculiarities
of metre and arrangement of rhymes characteristic of the piece
containing it.
KINDS OF VERSE.

142. The elements for constructing the various kinds
of verse common in English poetry, have now been mentioned. They are the five measures repeated in lines
of varying length ; not seldom compounded with one
another ; occasionally made harmonious by alliteration ;
nnd in most kinds of poetry fitted with a rhyming close.
The Rhyme, by its very nature, demanding at least
two lines or verses, practically determines wha,t special
forms the versification shall assume ; in the abs~nce of
rhyme,
the versification is complete within the sinrrle
.
0
1me.
This last cm;c, of simple unrhymcd metrical com binatior. is
best disposed of by itself, before the more intricate rhy~ed
forms are noticed. It is the Blank Verse, called also Heroic,
and belongs to English literature. The name Heroic arises
frnm its constant employment iT the High Epic, where it takes
the place of the classical hcxrmetcr. It is composed of five
Iambic measures, as seen in the appended extract from
Milton:High' on I a throne' I of rny' jal state', I which far'
Out shone' I the weaith' I of Or'jmuz end' I of Ind'
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hnnd
'
Showers on her kings bnrbnric penrl nnd gold.

Young, Thomson, Wordsworth, and Tennyson, also make
dse of Blank Verse, although the lines of each have a distinct
ring or rhythm, dependent for the most part upon their management of the natural pnnses.
In the Drama, a somewhat looser form of Blank V c1'Se is
in common use, varied occasionally by rhyming couplets.
Frequently the verRe is hypermetrical by one, or even two syllableR. Thus : Most poltent, grnve,
My vejry nojble and

I

and rev'jrend Silgniors;
npprov'd I good maslter!.

..

t
It

~

li!
1,

I

··-...

292

DIFFERENT KINDS OF VERSE.

293

VERSIFICATION.

· 143. The combinations thnt nre fonnccl to mcet·the
necessities, or gain the advantage, of Rhymo, nro so OX• ·
ceedingly numerous, that it will be irnpos!!ihlo to alludo
to more than a few of the common formfl, nssoo.iatod
with well-marked kinds of composition. In thceo tho
Iambic measure is found largely to prcpon<lcrnto.
Iambic . Octosyllabics, of fonr mca.•mrcs, or eight 11yllab~
in couplets i·hyming at the close. As,
·
·•
Lord Mar' lmion tum'd', I well' wn!I I hi!! need',
And dash'd' I the row'lcls in' I his steed'.

'II

• ;·

This form is· employed in Ilyron's Tnlcl', ln II 111liLnu, &a.
Scott varies it often by lines of six syllnLlc!!, or runs lL lato
triplets. Other poets write triplets in atanzas. Quatralnt 1la
stanzas, rhyming by couplets or nltemntcly, nro 01c~7
common.
Heroic Couplets, 1h·e inmLic mcn.~urc!I rhymed.
Know well I thy11clr, I (lrH11mcJ n<>t Oo.I I to
The propler 11tudl1 o( I manldn I la awa.

'"8

s

Chaucer, Dryden, Pope, Cowper, &c., UM lb.la DM&n.,,.;,J.11&1·. .
last, it is occasionally run Into triplet.I, which lflf&T foma .,C A1 t
Several more · ·complex combinatioae 'an formed Of' of
r11ytning heroics.
·•
.
A stanza of four lines, rhyming nltcrnatcly, I. tho Elegllo
Metre, found in Gray's Elegy, Dryden's Annu1 .Nira6ilil, &~
Let not I Ambiltion mock I their use rut tol~
. :
Their homelly joys, I and dcsjtin1 ob8curo;
Nor granjdeur hear I with a I dh1daln f11l 11mlle,
The short I nnd slmlplo anlnnl11 of tho poor.

Reven heroic lines, the first five rhyming nt intcrTRI• and
the last two in succession, give the Rhyme Uoynl o( Chaacot
and th" ElizabcUuin writers.
But, ob I the dolelful sight I that then I we 11co I
We turned our iook, and on the other 11lde
A grisly shape of Famine mought we see :
·
With greedy looks, and gaping mouth, thnt cried
And roared for meat, ns she should there liavo died:
Iler body thin and bare as any bone,
Whereto was left nought but the case alone.

EiO'ht heroics, the first six rhyming alternately and the last
two i~ succession, compose the Italian Ottava Rima. This
combination is found in translations, and in Don Juan.
The othler fojthcr had I a wcakllicr I child,
Of a soft check, and aspect delicate;
Dut the boy bore up Jona, and with a mild
And pntient spirit held aloof his fate .t
Little he said and now and then he smiled
As if to wi~ a part from off the weight
He saw increasing on his father's heart,
With the deep deadly thought that they must part.

The Sonnet consists of fourteen lines of ten syllables with a
peculiar arrangement of the rhymes, not, however, always strictly observed.
.
.
The Spenserian stanza of Spenser, Bcatt1~, and ~yron, is
an English combination of eight heroics rhymmg at mtervals,
and followed by a rhyming Alexandrinc of twelve syllables.
The lijon would I not leave I her tlcsjolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard :
Still when she r>lept, he kept both watch and ward ;
And when she waked, he waited diligent
With humble service to her will prepared;
From her I fair eres I he took I commnnldement,
And evler by I her iooks I conccivlM her I intent.

Tho Alexand1'ine, of six iambic mensnrcs, nnd rhyming in
couplets, is employed by itself in Drayton's Polyolbion.
Seven iambic measures, rhyming in couplets, form the common metre of psalms and hymns, and also the Ballad metre.
Lord, thou I llltst been I our <lwcl lling pince II in ~en\er~ltionsnll,
Defore I thou evjer had'st I brought forth II the moun tams great I or small.

As the pause falls regularly after the fourth measl~re, it is
custornnry to write the couplet as a st:mza of four Imes; in
the following example, t11c first and tl1ird lines arc made to
rhyme:" Soft as the dew from hcnven descends,
His gentle accents fell;
The modest stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell."

294

VERSIFIC..1.TION.

A single example of Trochaic combination m:iy bo quo~!
"Onward, onward may we press
. Thro.ugh the path of duty ;
Virtue 1s true happiness,
;Excellence, true beauty.
Mmds are of celestial birth.
Make we then a heaven of ~arth."

Gre.at as is the number of existing models, EngJisb pocla
ha\'e still large scope for new and original combinations.

APPENDIX.

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

ExrnA.cT T.-The following (from Forbes's Travels through the
Alps) is n striking cxnmple of tho A.llogory, or protrncto<l compnrison (p. 37). I shall employ it farther in illustmting other points
connected with style, and, in so doing, will suggest certain improvements in the expression. There is unavoidably a frequent repetition of 'it' and 'its'; hut, in several instances, n slight alteration
of structure will allow them to be omitted.
1. " Poets and philosophers have delighted to compare the
"course of human life to that of a river; perhaps a still apter sim" ile might be found in the history of n glucier." This sentence is
well constructed for bringing out with emphasis the main subject-the glacier; the first half is preparatory, and properly ends with
the balancing subject--a river. A few minute alterations might be
suggested:-' Poets and philosophers' are somewhat too prominently placed, considering their subordinate position ; nncl the clumsy addition' that of' may be dispensed with. "It has heen the
delight [custom, habit, practice] of poets aml philosophers to compare the course of human life to a river, &c."
2. "Hean~n-descended in its origin, it yot takes its mould nnd
"conformation from the 11iddcn womb of the mountains which
"brought it forth." Or:-" In origin heaven-descencle1l, it yet
takes mould and conformation from tl10 hidden womb of the mountains that brought it forth."
3. "At first soft and ductile, it ncquircs n character nntl firm" ness of its own, ns an inevitable destiny urges it in its onward
tnreer." "At first soft ancl ductile, the ma!IS _a cquires a special

236

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

(U. L

character and firmness, ns inovitnhlo destiny nrgcs itJI on.•anl
career."
4. "Jostled nod constrained by the crosses nnd incqunlltlN e>t
"its prescribed path, hedged in by impas~nble bnrricrs which fb
"limits to its movements, it yields groaning to its rntt' nrul •Ill
"travels forward seamed with the Rears of mnny n conflic; with op''.posing obstacles." An example of strength through tho dl'MTl1>t10n of vast forces at work, rendered impressive by npt and unhark.
neyed metaphors. The pnrticipinl construction Is ngnln lt•p11U7
made use of. The Inst words ' with mnny oppoidng ob!ltnrll'f\' 11ld
to the power of the passage, only on tho supposition thnt tho pro.
~10us
wor d '· con fl"rct ' d.o.es not suggest tlio mnltiplidly nnd rnan1•
sidedness of the opposrtron tl1nt i~ c11co1111terc«l.
5. "All tliis while, although wn .. tinir, It l.11 n•rum·t... I by an Un•
"seen ~~wer-it c.vnpornte!'I, but i~ not ro11C111111etl." It might ti.
J1ypcrerrt1cal to obJect to tho mixed mctnpl1or, 1 consumtcl.' '"'""
that tlie original meaning is seldom thought of b lt11 multlfarium
npplicntions; lhcro is, howe\'cr, n certain di scord In Joi11ln1t It with
the scientifically literal word 'crnporntc.' In other ~ the
clnuse is nn ngreenblo iteration, nntl flll" up tho t'ftf!~nC'O o(
sentence.

aa..

6: "On it.'3 s11rfuco It hen,,. lite "l"'ll.!1 wl1ld1, darior the"""'•
of its existence, It hns mftdo lt11 own ;-oncn •tlpt7 .......... ~· ·
"void of beauty or vnlue,-nt tlmM prC!'Cloot rn_, ....,.........; ·
"gems or with ore." A now cf rcum9tance· to helgblftl tW la.._",.
of the description, and add to tho pnrtlonlan or the tOmputlon. l•~ ... ~
the first part, some changes might ho mndo to save tho l"fJ>l'tltJoa ot
·
the pronoun. " On its surfnco nro tho spoil! appropriated IJl &ho.
progress of its existence." Tho secoml pnrt fl?u"tmtC'9 ono lm,,O...
tant use of the apposition cJnu"e, nmncly, to give spccllll o.umpk..
of a previous generality; it being desirable to inclmlo 1mcb partlca.
Jars, if possible, in tho snme sentence ns tho general.
·· ; •
11
7. Having at length ntta~ncd its greatcet width nn1I utcntdon.
"commanding admiration by its bcnnty nnd power, "'nr.to 1u·cicloml·
1
' natcs over supply, tl1e vitnl F1prings h<'gin to fitll ; It stoope Into
"an attitude of decrepitude ;-it droJlS the hnnlens, ono by ona.
"which it had borne so prom1ly nloft; its dis'lolntion l11 inovitnblo."
The Jnngunge is well chosen for maintaining the strength
tho do.
scription. Still, there is n certain lom~enoss thnt might · bo remodicd j and tho flllthor hns not C!!Cnped tho fmnro, ln grmnnUU~ O( lJtt
participial construction. 11 At length attaining its greatest' ampU..
"

or

FORBES ON TUE GLACIER.

EX. I.]

29'7

tmle, commanding admiration by its power nnd henuty, it begins to
decline ; the vital springs fail ; waste predominates over nourishment ['supply' is too literal]; it i;:toops into decrepitude,-'-drops,
one hy one, the burdens it had borne so proudly aloft,-appronchcs
to dissolution."
8. "But as it is resolved into its elements, it takes all ot once, 11
''new, nnd livelier, and c.lisembarrnssed form :-from tho wreck of
"it3 members it arises, 'another, yet tho same,'-n noble, full,, bodied, orrowy stream, which lenps rejoicing over the obstacles
"which before had staid its progress, and hastens through fertile
" valleys towards a freer existence, and a final union in tho ocean
" with the boundless and the infinite." The force of the description is here more remarkable than tho suitableness of t110 comparison. A few minor nmcndmont.s may be suggested. " In being resolved into its clements, it tnkes of a sudden, a new, a disembarrassed, and livelier form :-from the wreck of its members it arisei:,
'another, yet the snmc;' ns n. noble, full-bodied, nrrowy strenm, it
leaps rqjoicing over tho ohstncle!'I thnt hnd on~e J1e111111ed it in, n111l
hastens through fertile tracts ['valleys' too literal] towards a freer
existence, and a final union with the clement [' occnn 1 literal] of
the bonndless and tho infinite."
The laws of the pnrngraph are here fully compli~d with. TI1e
opening sentence brings forward the snhject. The other sentences
nre arranged on the parnllel construction, the requif1ite variety being
obtniued without inverting the subject nnd predicate. The close of
ench sentence is occupied with a phrnso suitable to tho pince of emphasis. The whole parngrnph moves on to n climnx.
ExTRACT 11.-The following is part of Locke's illustration of the
decay of our mcntnl acquisitions. It exemplifies figures of Similitude profusely applied to the mind; the production of Feeling or
Pathos, so as to impart hnman interest in scientific exposition ; and
vnrions minute points in the structure of the sentence and tho
paragraph.
1. "Tho memory of some men is very tenacious, eYcn to n
"miracle [slightly l1yperbolicul]; * (but) yet there seems to ho a

* A pn.renthesis occurring in the quot.n.t.ions mcn.ns thn.t the word or
words enclosed mi~ht be left out. The word:\ in sinJ:(le inverted commns
nro wordR propo11ed f.o bo ln1m1·toll, l!linnutlmes In tho room of ot.lrnr11 · to bo
left out, nnd 1iometimes ·R!I B pure addition. 'l'ho" orlginul tll.xt will. ho
known by including the words in parenthesis, nnd omitting t~osc in in13

*

208

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

(u:.

IL

"constant decay of nll our itlens, even of those (\vhich nrc) struck
"deepest, 0.111] in minds the most rotent.ive; (so thot) if thc1 bo n°'
"sometimes renewed by repented exercise of tho senses or 1 b1'
"reflection on {those kinds of objects which) 'on tho objootA thaL'
"at first occasioned them, tho pri11t woarR ont,, nrul nt IMt thtro
" remains nothing to be seen [pleonnstic ; omit Inst clnusc, or u7
" 'o.nd at Inst nothing remains ']."
Here we have o. variety of metnphors for descrihing the lutcllootual function called memory. Tho second 11nlf of the 1!('11l«'nra.
commencing after the semicolon, is n mere itcrntion of the otbor
half, nnd should not be introduced by n conjunction cxpr~h1g
consequence ('so that') or by nny conjnnrtion wltntever.
2. "Thus the ideas, ns well ns 'the' children of onr youth,
"die before us; and onr minds represent to us (tl11~ tomb. to
1
' which we o.re nppronehing) 'the tombs we arc approed1lng,•
11
where though the brass. (nnd) 'or 1 mnrblc rcmnin, C1ct) tJ10 In·
"scriptions are effnccd by timo, nn1l tho lmngcry mouMcn away."
An admired stroke of feeling. It fnlflls nil the rondilloru1 or ofl'eotive pathos. The allusion is to tho pcrcnninl "uhjcct of Jlfttl10t; It
is an original, or nt least nn 1111hr1rkncycd comparl.110n; and tlM
Imrmony or keeping is perfect. 'An1l' mlirht bo di•11('n-1 a Ith,.
both after the semicolon and bcforo tho conclndln1 daUC"1 oo &a..
ground of iteration.
8. "Pictures drawn In our mlndi11ro lnltl ln tlldlnroolnn, .... .
"unless sometimes refreshed, vanish ancl dlMpl*I' (taatulotJ1).• ',
An additional illustration ; tho keeping or the motaphon Mina .:
still preserved. The comma nftcr ' colors' might bo a 10mlooloo '~
the 'and 1 being omitted on nccount of iterntlon.
4. The concluding long sentence pnMes off Into n ph111loal ei: ..
plnnation of the fnct of decny. Being n distinct thomo, or groaL
importance and difficuUy, It Rhould hnvo hl'on tho 1111l~cc·t or • NP.
nrate pnrngrnph. "How much tho constitution of our hocllCI', and
"the make of our nnimnl spirits arc concerned in th!,, nn<l wholhe?r
" the temper of the brnin makes this difference, thnt in 11<>mc It ro"tnins tho characters drnwn on it like mnrblc, In othent llko ~
"stone, :md in others little better thnn sand, I shall not hero In·
"quire; thongh it may seem probable, that tho constitution
tho

on,.n

I

or

Terted commas; the amended text, by lcnving out tho words In parcnlhHea,
and reading those in commas. Brackets aro used for enclosing a pualn1
critical remark.

EX. II.]

LOCKE ON MEMORY.

299

11 body avM sometimes influence the memory; since we oftentimes
"find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and the flames
" of a fever in o. few days calcine all those images to dust o.nd con:c fusion which seemed to be as lnsting m1 if graved on marble."
1
fhoro nro vnriomi clofcct.s 111 t11iR 11011hmc('. lt. contuins mnttor for
two. " I do not l1ere inquire how for 011r botlily constitution ntul
animal spirits [tautology] are concerned in the effect, or whether
the temper of the brain is so various that in one man it retains the
characters drawn on it, as if on marble, and in another no better
than on sand. We may, however, consider it probable tha~ the
constitution of the body to a certain extent influences memory ; for
we often observe that a disease will strip the mind of all its tdea.ci,
and the flames of a fever in a few clays calcine to dust aml confu9ion images apparently as lasting as if graved on marble."

ExTRAOT JII.-Tn tho Philosophy of Rhetoric, Campbell gives a
good examplo of tho Allegory, ns it mny bo ndmitted into modern
composition. The passnge mny also be used to exemplify other important featlues of style.
·
1. " These two qualities, therefore, PRoBAnILlTY and Pu usrntL" tTY (if I mny be indulged n little in tho n11cgoricnl gty 1~), * I slrnll
"call sister-graces daughters of the same father, E:cperwnce, who
,
. f CT
"
TI .
"is the progeny of Memory, the first-born a.nd l1eir o. u~nse.
. ns
sentence commences properly with whnt 1s tho prmc1pnl s11bJect
both of the sentence a.ml of tho entire pnrograph. The ending is
not 80 gootl · tho two conclmling clauses do not give tho prominent
, predicate (' sister-graces, daughters of E'..xper1enco
.
') ,
feature in the
but certain subordinate or explanatory facts. It might not be easy
to remedy this entirely, but the following amendment goes n certain
wny :-''I shall call sistor-grnccs, dnughtors of tho snmo father F.xperience, liiml1elj tho progeny of Memory, who wns the first-born
and heir of Sense." As the two clauses are nt present constructed,
the second seems as if in apposition to the first. If it wero not for
the objection to multiplying parentheses, the two clauses might ho
caRt int.o the parenthetic form, so as still to leave tho place of cmvlrnsis to the essential part of the predicate.
2. " These daughters Experience had by different mothers." A
suitable inversion to maintain the principal subject in its place; also
a form of explicit reference (p. 147).

*

Author's pnrenthcsis.

-~

300

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

[EX. llL

8. "Tho el<ler is tho offspring of Reason, the yonngC'r is the chiltJ
"of Fancy." The v:uiation from 'offspring' to 'child,' l!O ob\rlously mnde for the sake of variety, might hnve been nv'>icletl ; moro:.
over, there is a defect in not stating which of tho two,-Probnblllt1
or Plausibility_.:_is the el<ler; the render is left to infer tho nuthor'•
intention from the fuct that Probability is named first. Wo mlgh&
say, "Probability, the elder, is the child of Reason ; Plausibility,
the younger, the child of Fancy."
4. ''The elder, regular in (her) foatnre!I, nnd 111:,le!!tlo hoth In
"ahnpe and 'in' mien, is ndmirnbly titted (for cornmnrullng) 'to
"coinmnnd' esteem, nn<l even (n religions) veneration; tho yotmit..
"er, careless (?), blooming, sprightly, is (C'ntircly) 'altogether'
"formed for captivating the hen rt nn<l (engnging) 'in~plring' lol'l'."
The word ' careless,' ns plnce<l here, is ont of hnrmony; lt wonltl
perhnps be better as n contrnst or reservntion ; 'tho younger blootn•
ing nnd sprightly, but careless.' Were not tho two concluding H•
pressions tautological (nlthongh an ailmi88ihle tautology), 'cnpg·
ing' should be preceded by 'for.'
15. "The conversation of e:wh is C'nlertnining nnd ln1lructh·o.
"but in different wnys." Otherwi!«', 11 Both nro ln conninalk11t
entortnining and instructive, h11t In different WAY• i" rlio rrihC'l1..1
subject is' both,' nod 'convonmtlon' oolonp to Uao 11nidica1.. l
conceive, however, thnt the omphnUo part of the pr"llCll&e¥1e·•,.,. .
tertnining and . instructive,'· which . ought, therefore, ttO ,~ ....... ~.'~·
Jost. {SENTENOE, § 1154.) ·
.
·" • • · - 't
•' •. f ·
6. " Sages seem to think thnt there Is more lm1tn10Uon to. be
"(gotten) 'got' from the just observations of the elder; AlmOlt. all
"are ngreed that there is more entertainment In tho llvcly 1alllm
"of the younger." There is nn inversion of the order,· In opj»0sition to the Second Rule of the Paragraph, evidently for tho eake
of variety. To make the matter worse', the pince of honor nt 010
beginning is occupied by a subordinate wor<l. 11 It seems to oo tho
opinion of sages, that the just obscrvntions of the cl<lcr contributo
most to our instruction ; it is ngreed by nlmost all, thnt tho llvol1
sallies of the younger hnve more entortninmcnt." 'Eltler.' and
'younger' are still in the place of prominence.
7. "The principal companion and favorite of the first is Trut/,,
" but whether Truth or Fiction shnre most in the favor of the 8CC·
" ond it were often difficult to say." The 'one' and the 'other,'
should be used, before having recourse to the 'first' nnd tho '&e0ond.' Or it might be now nllo,\·nble to repent the names, which

EX. III.]

301

ALLEGORY BY CAMPBELL.

would make it easy to amend the order. "Probability's principal
companion and favorite is Truth; but it is often difficult to sny
whether Plausibility prefers Truth or Fiction."
8. "Both are naturally well-disposed, nnd even friendly to
" Virtue, but the elder is by much the more steady of the two
" [Redundancy : •much t.he steadier'] ; tho younger, though per" haps not less cn.pable of (doing) good, is more easily corrupted,
"nnd Jin.th sometimes basely turned proenress to vice." The order
here is unexceptionable.
9. "Though rivals, they have n sisterly affection to each other,
"nncl love to be together." 'To each other' appears pleonnstic nfter
1 i11terl.y affection.'
ThiA sen ton co is n. gooil exn.mplo of vnrintion of
8
form attained without violating the proper order of the pn.rts.
"Tho elder, sensible thn.t (there nre but n.) few (who) cnn
" for any 'long' time relish her society nlone, is generally anxious
" thnt her sister 'should' be of the party; the younger, conscious
"of (her own) superior talents (in this respect) 'for amusement,'
"can more easily dispense with the other's company."
11. "Nevertheless, when she is discoursing on great and serious
11 subjects, in order to add weight to her words, she often quotes
II her sif;tor'S testimony, WhiCh ShO knOWS iS hotter Creditecl thftil
"ho1· own, n colnpliment that is but sparingly returned by tho
"elder." This sentence is a continuation of the second member
of tho previous sentence, a.ml ::-honl<l 1rnve ma.de pnrt of thn.t member. It~ ns the n11th01· probubly fdt, it was too much to n.ppew.l in
that way, tho alternative wns to commence n. new sentence with
t1 1e second part of the previous one. There is no hnrm in occt1py·
ing two successive sentences with a balanced comparison or contrast; while the present arrangement contains an am bignous reference, and introduces a sentence not co-ordinate with the others.
Taken by itself, the present sentence is well arranged. A subordinate clause precedes the principal. The quaiifying phrase 'in
order to add weight to her words,' precedes in close proximity the
cln11:3e to be qualified. TJ1c rellltivo clauAo 1 which she knows is
better credited than her own,' although n loose addition to tho
predicate, yet contains the gist and force of the assertion, and
therefore properly comes l:u~t. Tho finn1 clause, I I\ compliment
that is but sparingly returned by the elder,' is eqnivn lent to n sepRrnte member-' while t110 cl<lcr but spnringly retiuns the complimcnt,'-import:mt to be ndded, a.nd, in its p~esent fo1:1n, given w.i~li
a certain careless ease. ·
·
· · · 1 • ' · · " .. · ·:.
J '~

10.

=

': ••

302

EXTRACTS .ANALYZED.

[Kx. m.

12, 13. "Each sister hath hel' ndmirers. Tho"o of tho yonng1'r
"are more numerous, thoso of tho elder more conslnnt." '1110 con·
!"truction 'that of,' 'those of,' sh on Id, in my opinion, if possible, be
dispensed with. Moreover, it is not desirable to invert, ns in tltl•
and in the following sentences, the order of nnming tho two siston.
"Ench is admired; the elder with grenter constancy, the youngcir
by tho larger circle."
14, 15. "In tho l'etinue of tho former, yon will find tl10 younir,
"the gay, the dissipated; but these nro not her only nttcn<lnnt&
"The middle-aged, however, nnd tho thoughtful, rnoro cmn111onl1
"attach themselves to the latter." Thero is no hnrrn In occupying
two sentences with the comparison; hut, in tho prc!lont ln 11 tnncio,
one would not liavo been too prolix. Wo now ~co tho c"IJ olToct
of invel'ting the order; it tnkes n i;pecinl nn<l necdle1111 l'ffi>rt
at.
tention to interpret 'former' ns the younger, nnd 'Inlier' as tho
elder. Besides correcting this mistnko, we mny nrncncl tho onJor
in other respects. ''The ono Jins nmong her rctlnno, tho younJ.
the gay, the dissipated (nlthongh not them nlonc) (nn nwkwan)
nppendage, making tho sentence loo~<.', nrul ocrupylng tho pLtco ot
emphasis without being tho most lrnportnnt fnl'f J: t11 tl10 other, are
more commonly attached tho miclcllc-nj!t'<I nnrl tl10111flttft1l."
16. ''To conclude; (ns sonwthl11g mny 110 lt>nmCltl of c~)
" 'as characters mny in some degree bo known' from tbt
" of enemies, as well as from tho oncornlurn1 or frltnda, thaet.wt.o ··"..:..n1™m.~~
"have not judgment to di!~ccm tho good qunlltlc.w ot tbo ft•bona
"[an elegnnt variation] nccnso lier or (dulncll'I, tlt'tlont"1, and ltJd'.
"ness) 'stiffness, pedantry, nnd dnlocss; ' thO!IO who hnTo no& '
"taste tOI relish the charms of tho second (docs not tnlly with• ft~
" b?rn, '] charge lier with (folly, levity, and fnlscncff..'l) 'lc\'ltf, folly,
"und falseness.'" It wonJd bo more in confonnlty with tho ta ...
of the sentence tJrns :-"tho first-born is nccu11c<1, hy 11n<'h "" baTo
no jmlgment to discern her good qnnlitics, or 11tiffnC!1.9, J>e<lant"1,
und dulness; the other is charged, by those unnblo to relish bu
charms, with levity, folly, nnd falseness."
17. "Meantime, it appears to ho tho uni nr~nl [n word of too
"much emphasis for Jight composition, Rny 'gcncrnl,' or' common 'I
"opinion of tho impnrtinl, and cof' such ns (hnvo been) 'nro' 00.&
"ac<prnirtcd with both, thnt though the ntt rnrtions or tho younger
"(be) 'nre' more irresistiblo nt sight, tho virt.nes of tho clclt>r wlll
" be longer rem em be1·ed." To bring out n cllrnnx, tho hn·cr11lon
of tho two sisters may be hero excused, espccinlly when the dotlg-

or

la....,...._

EX. III.]

.ALLEGORY DY CAMPBELL.

303

nations nre unmistakable. Tho onlcr oft.he scnt<.'nco is that recom
mended above for 6 and 15.
The passage, as a whole, rerrJizes most of the laws of the purngrnph; tho main suhject is clearly stntcd at the outset; hy n few
amendments we can bring out the parallel construction ; the strict
adherence to the main theme realizes unity. Tho only point to be
considered is whether the purticulal's have n natural nnd easy contiguity, such as to nid the memory and tho comprehension of the
whole; or whether, in any case, there be dislocation. The order
~f topics is,-(1) Parentage, (2) outward appearance, (3) conversation, (4) choice of companions, (5) mornl charactel', (6) sisterly affection and mutual deference, (7) characters of tho ndmirers of ench,
(8) nllegntions of enemies, (9) intended summary nnd climax. Tho
chief insto.nco of dislocntion is pcrlrnps tho mornl clrnrncter (n),
which is placed between choice of companions and sisterly affection; o. better situation might be between 7 nntl 8, nftcr socinl
qnnlities, and before tho ollcgations of enemies. It might al~m be
advisable to place sistel'ly .affection em·lier, sny third (after outward
appearance); the pnrticulnrs connected with the socinl qualities
generally, 31 4, 7, would then be brought together.
EXTRACT IV.-The next extract is from Cowley's Essay (lfl
Cromwell, and illustrnt9s various rhetorical peculiarities. It is
made impressive by the form of Interrogntion, to \Yhich tho only
objection is tho length. Tho opening clm1se is nn exnmplo (lf
strength or elevation produced by nn effective contrast nnd n powerful circumstance ('destruction of one of the most ancient, &c. '); it
contains also an elegant condensation. Clanses 2, 3, 4, lmvo tho
same union of contrast and circumstance. Clnnso 5, ' to trample
upon them too; 'powerful metaphor; n strong term ('spurn') aptly
used (STRENGTII § 95). In 6, 7, we have k eeping of metnphors, aml
these of a powerfnl kind: also elegant periphrasis ('to set himself
up,' &c.). In 8, 9, 10, additional particulars aggmndize t110 picture,
each contnining a balanced statement. (11) 'To be feared and
courted' illustrates the vocnhulory of strength (p. 91); the two expressions al'e tnutologicnl, bnt odd to tho impression; tlrn second
being a fignre for rai:-;ing tho power of the first. (12) Strength by
:Metonymies. (13) A notlier striking eont.rnst, illni;t.rnting tho Protector's grontness. (14) Tho sn1110: 'nohlo nn<l liberal,' ndllli!'siblo
tautology. (15) Tho passage is now brougl1t to · a climax; the
three remaining clauses rise in strength and grandeur of ideas nnd

304:

EXTRACTS AN AL YZED.
EX.

language to the close, and body forth in well-chosen terms tho 'ob.
lime of human greatness-reputation and immortnlity.
Irrespective of the rhetoric, the langunge is highly i<liomntio ·nnd
choice. It is also musical, and might be studied in .connection with
the l~ws of Melody.
. ..
ci

What can be more extrnordinnry thnn thnt n r,orson or .mean

1 birth, no fortune, no eminent qnnlities of bo< y, which hn\"O

sometimes-or of mind, wl1ich have often-raised men to tho
highest dignities, shoul<l have the cournge to attempt, nn<l tho
happiness to succeed in so improbable n design, ns tho dcstruotion of one of the most ancient nnd most solidly-fuundc<l mon2 archies upon the earth 1 that he should hnve the power or boldness to put his prince and muster to nn open aml l11rnrnotV1
8, 4 death ; to banish that numerous nn<l strongly-nllictl fmnily ; to
5 do all this under the nnme an<l wages of a pnrlinrncut; to trample upon them, too, as he pleased, ttnd spurn them out of doors
6 when he grew weary of them; to rniso up n ne\v and nnhcartl7 of monster out of their ashes; to stifle that in tl10 l·cry Infancy,
and set up himself above nil thing!'! thnt over wero cnllod llOYCr8 eign in England; to oppress nil his enemies hy nrru!\ nnd all hit
9 friends afterwards by artifice; to Rcn'o nll parties pntic11tly for
10 awhile, and to command them victoriously nt ln.'lt; tu on~mm
each corner of the three nntion~, nr11l o\·crcome with cqnnl
cility both the riches of the south nntl the poHrtr of tho north;
11 to be feared and courted by all foreign J>rillce!ly and 111loplGd a
12 brother to the gods of tbo cnrtb i to ca.I ~other parlWaoa&a.
with a word of his pen, and scatter them
n with Lbe breaLb
18 of his month; to be humbly and daily potlt oued, tliat ho woa~
please to be hired, at tho rnto of two millions n ycnrl to be tho
master of those who had hired him before to bother llCM'ftnt;
14 to have the esto.tos and lives of three kingdoms ns muoh at hla
disposal n.~ was the litt.le inheritance of his father, and to ho as
15 noble and liberal in the spendin,,. of them; and lastly (for thoro .
is no end of all the particulars of his '?Jory),• to bequeath all thl1
16 with one word to his posterity; to dto with pence nt homo, nm]
triumph abroad; to be buried nmong king'!l. nn1I with moro thnn
17 regnl solemnity; and to lcnvo a name behind him not to be C!X·
tinguisbed but with tho whole world; which, as it ls now too
little for his praises, so might have been, too, for hi!! conqttC!!UI,
if the short lino of liis human life could have been etretcho<l out
to the extent of his immortal designs 7"

r"-

EXTRACT V.-The following pasimge from Ailllison lin8 onen
been commented on : 1. " Our sight is the most perfect nnd mo~t delightful of nll our
•Author's parenthesis.

"'

v.J

ADDISON'S PLEASURES OF TIIE IMAGINATION.

305

ci senses"
As sight is the subject of the paragraph, it properly occupies tiie place of prominence at the beginning. The predicate is
mere vague commendation; such as it is, however, the stress does
not fall upon the closing words call our senses,' but upon the previous epithets. Hence a better ·order would be, "Our sight is, of all
our senses, the most perfect and the most delightful," or better
still:-" Of all our senses, sight is the most perfect and th~ most
de1ightfol." Moreover, this would be n good cuse for throwm~ the
subject to the end of the sentence:-" The most perfect nnd delight.
ful of all our senses is sight."
The sentence as it stan<ls in th.a original is highly melodious.
The melody is owing, first., to there being few abrupt co~sonants or
harsh combinations. It arises, secondly, from the vanety of the
vowels. Thirdly, it depends on the rhythmical construction; or tho
alternation of long and sho1·t, emphatic, and unemphatic sounds.
Between every two emphatic syllables, there are two or thre? unemphatic to relieve tho voice, while some of these mny recmve ~
partial emphasis at discretion. And, fourthly, the word c senses
makes a good foiling close. The word 'all' might be dispensed
with as far as concerns the meaning; but it is a great addition to
the :nelody having a liquid consonant as well as iJ. vowel not already cont~ined in the sentence, and supplying the wnnt of a l.ong
emphatic syllnble. 'Our' is not strictly required by the me~nmg,
but it helps the sound, and gives o. slight unction of personnhty to
tho subject.
·
.
.
2. "It fills the l.nind with the largest vanety of 1<leas, converses
" with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the longest
"in action without being tired or satiated with its proper. en~oy­
" monts." The principal subject. is in its place, at the begmnmg.
The throe pre<licntes nro n series of bnlanced clauses, nl"l'nngcd ns n
climax· the greater length of the Inst is one of tho marks of its
superio~ import:ince. The sentence explains and amplifies the foregoing and needs no conjunction to introduce it; the parallel ~on­
struction makes the reference easy; t11e 'it' has only one poss1ule
:rntcccdent. Tho words nre for tho most pnrt aptly chosen. As o.
metapl1or for the occasion, 'fills the mind' is good nnd exprm;sh'e;
'largest variety of id ens' onght in st~ict~css to. be 'zr~atest. variety,'
or 'largest number.' c Converses with its obJeets 1s n slight per- ·'
1mnificntion. The concluding phrase, if rigidly scanned, shows tnu~·
tology-' tired or satiated,' nnd re<hm<lancy....:....' 'With its proper .en·
joyments.' ·

..,,

-.

306

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

(EX. \'.

The melody may nlso be remarked on. There is n stu<lic•l
vnriety in the sound of the balanced clauses; the verbs aro 'fills tho
mind,' ' con verses with,' 'continues in action; ' the only fnult is tho
sameness of 'converses' and 'continues.' The nouns-' i<lens, 1
'distance,' 'action '-are sufficiently varied. The closing wor<ls nro
an easy cadence-' its proper enjoyments.'
3. "The sense of feeling can indeed give u-':-t notion of oxten" sion, shape, and all other ideas that enter at tho eye, except colors;
" but, at the same time, it is very much strnined, nml confine<l In
"its operations, to the num her, bulk, nnd distnnce of its particular
"objects."
This is a contrasting or obverse statement, so much vnlucd in
exposition. Sight has been previously declnred the most perfect of
the senses; nnd the affirmntion is now itcrnted by putting forwnrtl
one of the less perfect in contrnst. Jn such obverse iterntion, tlJO
rule of parallel construction still holds: 'feeling' receives tho plnco
corresponding to 'sight.' The connecting word 'indeed' is not n
conjunction, but an adverbial qunlificntion to prepnro tho wny (by
n certain amount of admission) for repenting the mnin tl1esis on tho
obverse sitle. It is, however, misplaced ; it should follow 'Tho
seuse of feeling.' The whole clause might run tl11rn: "Tho Bl'll~O
of touch, indeed, can give us tho notions of cxtcn!lion, 11hnpe, nrul
nll other ideas that enter tl10 eye, with the exception of color."
The author's phrase ' except colors' is too short for tho importnnco
of the exception. The preposition 'of' should in strictness bo repented before 'slrnpe,' and before 'nll other ideas; ' but this woul«il
be too cumbersome for Addison's taste. In such instance~, it Is
we11 to evade the difficulty, by adopting a form that docs not need
n preposition ; as, " The sense of touch can impart extension, slanpc,
nnd all other ideas;" in which form, however, tho cxpre'!Rion is
Jess accurate, as it is the notions, nnd not the properties that ore
imparted.
To pass to the second member. The wor<ls 'but nt tlao 1m1110
time ' are the correlative or answering phrn~e to 'in11co11.' We
have many such couples: ' True ' is answered by ' still; ' 'nit hou~h '
by' yet,' 'nevertheless,' &c. In the words, 'it is very much strainu1l
and confined in its operntions, '-the last phrnse is linppy; Lut
'strained' is not an admissible tnntology, being unsuited to the
meaning. The words that follow, 'mtmbcr, buU:, nn<l di~tancd
its particular objects,' constitute n. series of ahstrnctions cl0110 together, which, although unavoidable in scientific style, is ncce!IS4•

or

EX.

'

v.J

ADDISON'S PLEASURES OF THE I:M.A.GJNATION.

301

rily difficult to comprehend, and therefore unsuitable in popular
composition. The clause might have been dispensed with; or a
little more amplification might have been given to it, so as to afford
time for realizing the abstractions: "confined to things few in
number, small in size, and (near) 'limited' in distance." As it
stnnds, the palliating circumstances are, tho great simplicity of the
abstractions, and the iteration and expansion of them in th(I next
sentence.
4. " Our sight seems designed to supply nll these defects, aml
"may be considered as a more delicate and diffusive kind of touch,
"that spreads itself over an infinite multitude of bodies, compre" hends the largest figures, and brings into our reach some of the
"most remote parts of the universe." This sentence returns to the
principal subject, and works up the contrast point by point; also
rising to a climax. After 'diffusive kind of touch,' we might hnvo
n semicolon; what follows is an explanatory opposition, and would
be better commenced, 'it spreads itself:' the relative 'that' is not
suitable to the case. A few verbal changes might be suggested:
" and may be considered a more delicate ancl diffused touch ; it
spreads itself over an infinite multitude of bodies, comprehends tho
greatest nmplitmles, nml brings within reach tlJC remotest parts of
the universe." I omit 'some of the remotest,' because rigid qualifications have a crnmping effect when tlrn feelings are to be roused.
Tho author's tcnm1 nro WC'll cl1o~C'n, f.110 vnricty in f.ho hnlnnccd
phrases, as well as the r11ythm of tho whole, contribnting to the
melody.
5. "It is this sense (which) 'that' furnishes tho imagination
" with its ideas; so that, by the pleasures of the imagination or
"fancy (which I shall use promiscuously),* I hero mean such as
"arise from visible objects, either when we have them actually in
"our view, or when we call up their ideas into our minds by
''paintings, statues, 'or' descriptions, or any the like occasion."
W o hero see the uses of onr idiom 'it. it=1,' in imparting omplrnsis to
n principal subject, aml in varying tho form of t110 sentence, so ns
to save the parallel construction of tho pnragrnph. The 'so that'
is too abrupt an inference: the transition might luwe been smootlrn<l
thus:-" so much so that when we spcnk of the plcasnres of tho
imagination, we really mcnn such ns ariso from visible objects."
The parenthetic dnnso wonld be better thns :-"imagination or
*Author's parenthesis.

308

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

(EX. V.

fancy (I here use those terms promiscuously)." . The concluding
portion may be slightly changed! "either when we have them acttmlly in view, or when ~call up the ideas of them by painting,
statues, or descriptions." ' Them ' and ' the ideas of them' are o
better balabce than 'them' and 'their ideas.'
6. The next sentence is not well connected with the previous.
" We cannot (indeed) have a single image in the fancy that did
"not make its :first entrance through the sight; but (we hove)
"'what w·e have is' the power of retaining, altering, and (com" pounding those images, which we have once received), 'compound" ing the images once received,' into all the varieties of picture and
"vision that are most agreeable to the imagination: (for) 'so that'
" by this faculty a man in a dungeon is capable of entertaining
"himself with scenes nnd landscapes more beautiful than any that
" can be found in the whole compass of nature."
This is an explanatory or amplifying iteration of the first member of the previous sentence (' It is this sense that furnishes the
imagination with its ideas ') : the intervening portion is dislocated.
13ut to suit the plan of the present sentence, the one preceding
should havo been commenced thus, " Our imngination derives its
ideas from this sense." The drift of the new paragraph is no longer
to illustrate, as a prineipal subject, sight, but to explain imagination
by a reference to · sight; · ·This being supposed, the sentence now
quoted is a suitable expansion of the theme. The dislocated portion
of the 5th sentence might be put at the end of tho 6th, ns nu inference or application, thus:-" When, therefore, we speak of the pleasures of imagination or fancy, we mean such as arise from visible
objects," &c. The two sentences would then be a continuous paragraph, according to the author's intention.
·
The last member of the sentence is an Example, under tho theme
of the paragraph, made forcible by contrust, and altogether cnlculated to impart pleasure, elation, and surprise.
EXTRACT VI.-The present passage is from Robert Ifoll's scnnon
entitled Reflections on W nr. It illustrates various figures, thf'
structure of the sentence, and some of the conditions of strength
and of pathos.
1. "Though the whole race of mnn fa doomed to dissolution,
"and we are all hastening to our long home; yet, at each succes··
"sive moment, life and death seem to divide betwixt them the do'' minion of mankind, and life to have the larger share." A prepo.-

EX. VI.]

ROBERT IIALL ON WAR.

309

ration by contrast for what is to follow. The iteration in the first
member, 'doomed to dissolution,' 'hastening to our long home,' is
intended to work up our pathetic feelings; the effect depending not
upon originality, but upon suitnbility to tho oc0asion, nnd on variety or our not having had the thought in our mind for some time
prevlous. The second member might be slightly c~rtailed and
more emphatically concluded: "yet at each (successive) moment
life and death liold a divided dominion, and the larger share seems
owned by life."
2. "It is otherwise in war ; death reigns there without a rival,
"and without control." Better perhaps thus: ''In war it is otherwise · there the reigning and uncontrolled power is death."
a.' " War is the work, the element, or rather the sport and tri" umph of death, (who glories) 'enabling him to glory' not only in
"the extent of his conquest, but in the richness of bis spoil." This
sentence is well formed for strength, in the choice of tho words, in
the variety of the sound, and in tho alternation of the abrupt prod·
icates at the commencement, with the lengthened clauses that
conclude.
It should be observed on these last two sentences, that, while
the author probably intended pathos, he really produces strength.
Death is personified as a vast power and a great conqueror, and if
we fancy ourselves out of the reach of his operations through war,
we are little affected by terror; hence the picture to us is pure
aublimity (Srn1rnom, § 84).
4. "In the other methods of attack, in the other forms which
"death assumes, the feeble and the aged (who at the best can live
"but a short ti.me), are (usually) the victims; here it is the vigor" ous and the strong." The sentence is intended to be a contrnst
· in itself, but it is wordy, and full of prosaic limitations, while the
antithetic members are carelessly unbalanced. "In the other forms
of death, tb0' victims are the feeble and tho aged; hero they arc tho
.
vigorous and the young."
5. "Ii; is remarked by the most ancient of poets, thnt in peace
" children bury their parents, in war parents bury their children ;
"nor is the difference small." The interruption here is not out of
keeping, and it cletnins the mind from hurrying too fo~t to the elimax. It contains a good exnmplo of Ilnlnnce coupled with true Antithesis. The mention of the 'most ancient of poets' adds nothing
to the force and is somewhat formal; "It has been said," "It was
anciently remarked." The concluding member would stand better

310

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

EX. VI.)

ns a new sentence. Tho curtness is a good Yarlct;.
ence is not small."
6. "Children lnrnen.t their pnrcnl11, sincerely lr11loecl, but wlUI ·
"that mo<lerato and tranquil sorrow, which It Is natural
U.O.
"to feel who are conscious of rctnining rnnny tcnclcr
1
" nmm.a
. t'mg pr?spec t s. " 0 t I.•crw1so
' : -11 ~hildrcn Inmont thclr,.,..
1
ents, s1.ncerely m<leed, but with a trnnq111 ·:;orrow, lx-comlnr LboM
that still own many tender tics, mnny animnting pt~JIC!Ct.. "
erate sorrow' gives the unpleasant effect of o 11ti11tl11g a:uJ pcrf'lge.
tory duty.

rur
u...., ..,..

•JI•

7. We have now a sentence', tho oh\·cr110 or tho nntltl1ollt otllN
former, full of pnthos. "Pnrcnts mourn for thulr chlM~ wllh llN
"bitterness_of despair; (tho n~cd pnrcnt), tho wldo•ed motW,
:: loses, . when she is deprived of lier chllclrcn, crcrythln« (bat
capacity of suffering) ; her l1enrt, withcrcd ftncl d~la&• ........
"no other object, cherishes no other hopc." Tho ftrwt ..;._.._. II
powerfully expressed. Tho secorul 1~ hnr1ll'n~I with the ,........_
'aged pnrent,' which is unnhlo to ncld pntl1ctlo ron:-o to • wldowwil
mother;' 'nge<l father' migl1t hnvo <l1111c 110, but tf1t. woaM a.... ,
chn.nge<l the <lesign of tho flc11tt•11rt•. It mar be J11al>1...t • ......_.
th~ phrnso 'but tho cnpncity of 11111fc•rlnir.' ,."111 add• to aa.. .-.Ct
it is too subtlo nnd enhjeetlYo to tonc~h U1erHllDA ..._
occnsion to bring In tho tenn 1 1Uft'orlnr! The
is intensely pathetic. Tho Tocabnl41"1 of fotllDf le WtD .......;
in this sentence; with tho pcc11llarlt1, to he ..,... ....... la ........
follows, of a 1'eliemen~ sorno\vhnt too great (or the ht,IM.t ......... . i ~
8. "It is Rochel weeping for her chlld~n and
"
"
d b
'
..... ____ .
comtorte , ecnuse they nro not." A climax on tho ""911 fl ''
the spocinlity, or concrotcnes11, nncl nl110 n11 rltlng the lil1rl1e11t ....... w
ity. Tho effect would ho still helter, Ir tho word •ot1Udna t 61
not occur in the previous sentenre.
The author properly conside!'!'I J1i11 pnrngrnpb nn• ftJatploe-.
The next pnrngrnph tnkC's up liis theme on a new point, .,,.._,.,.
a different phase of tho miseries of wnr.
1. "But to confino our nttcntion to tho nnmbcr or the ....... ,
" would give us a very inndcqnnto l<lt•n
tho raYaftte ot ...
"sw?rd." . Too intelle~tnnl nn<l lntinlzccl; too much Oil the pa..
of ar1thmet1cnl numeration, which Is n eolcl bnslruw Pl'O<!eM, Inhale
cal to feeling. Scarcely n th.igo of pnth~ nttnohH to any of the
words; 'the rnvnges of tho sword ' i!l, if Mythln@', a figure ol
strength, and m:iy excite torror an<l revul~ion, but not pathoe. · · ,

a..:

"11ht.11

-•II Ills•••

_,_._lo..
. -'·

or

ROBERT HALL ON WAR.

311

2. "Tl10 Jot of t110se who perish instantaneously may be consid" ered, apart from religious prospects, us comparatively hnppy, since
"they nre exempt from (t.hose) lin gering clison.scs nn<l slow tor" monts (to which others are Jinblc)." Tho first cln.use is not well
selected for feeling; 'instnutnneously ' is n long unpronounceable
wor<l used only in science or in business. '\Vo might say "The
lot of those stricken in a moment." The qualification, 'apart from
r eligions prnspects,' is unfortunate, being clon.rly official, ~o save
objections. Either it should be left out, and tl1.e w ~10le given. ns
merely t110 terrestrial side; or it should be put m with becommg
emphasis, 11 if we were n.ble to put out of view th?ir e~emal. prospects." The clause ' since they nro exempt from lmgermg d1sonses
tmd slow torments' is better without the rolativo clnuso 'to which
others nro linblo.' It is like tho r est, cnergoticnlly pathetic. Tho
tautology is admissible for impressiveness.
3. "We -connot, r:;oc on in11ivi<111nl expire, though n At.rnngN' or
"an enemy, without being sensibly moved, and prompted by com" passion to lend him every nssistnnco in our power." 'Individual'
is not n nnrne in the vocnbulury of feeling; ' expire ' has not tho
pathos of 1 <lie.' 'Sensibly moved' and 'prompted by compassion'
nre not touching phrases. Moreover, it is schlom thn.t general
maxims of human nature, so frequently invoked in prenching, contribute to strength of emotion. Tiiey have tho double <lisquulification of subjecti vity nn<l generality. We should rather state the
truth in tho concrete, or ns nn individual fnct: "Stand by t11e
death-bed of one human being, and behold the throes an<l struggles of a closing career. A stranger, or even nu enemy, melts you
to compn.ssion." Tho prosaic limitation 'to lend him every assistance in yom pow or' is cnfochling.
4. "Every truce of r esentment vanishes in n moment; every
"other emotion gives wny to pity nnd terror." Tho snme objectionable generality. 'Every trace of resentment vanishes,' might
be changed to ''your hntre<l ns ~n enemy is subdued at once;"
"your enmity disappears." The terms in the second clause are
well chosen.
5. "(In these lust extremities) 'At such n moment,' we remem" ber nothing but the respect nnd t end erness dne to our common
"nature." It is now requisite to consider tho nnthor's lnngunge ns
oratorically contrived, and not ns the pure charm of pnthos, which
he does not often realize. The present sentence is an oratorical appeal for pity or sympathy on the ground of our common humanity.

312

EXTRACTS .ANALYZED.

(a..Tt.

6. "What n ACeno, then, must n field of hnttlo pr~nt, whe,.
"thousands are left (without) 'with no' nssistnncc, nutl (\\·IU1oat)
"'with no ' pity, (with) their wounds exposed to Uio piercing air,
"while the blood, freezing ns it flows, hinds them to tho earth,
"amidst the trampling of horses, nn<l tho insults of (nn anralt'C))
11
'the' foe." Out of many possiLlo wnys of giving fonn to Ude
most terrible of subjects, tho nuthor has sclcctc<l n few lmprttlltll ...
points. The particulars nro coherent wi•'-!' tho CXC<'ptlon or lht
last, which, although sufficiently strong to suit tho clhnu, II a
change of the figure, nnd might hnve been oxpnndcd ns a dlltlnd
element of the description. Tho phrnso ' their wounds cxpoeed I•
the piercing air' is probably less suggestive tl1nn u their wounclt
exposed and unstouuched."
"l. "If they ore spored by tl1c humnnit.y of tho cncm1, ancl ear"ried from the field, it is but n prolongntion of tonncnt." "Jr
they nre spared to be taken from tho field, it Is hut to prolonlJ tl1~lr
sufferings." "If they are spared by tho enemy, it ls but to prolong
their tlufferings."
8. "Conveyed in unen.ciy vehicle!'!, often to n remote cll11tan~
"through roads almost impnssnhlo, they nro 10<lge<l l11 111-prcpar'l"tl
"receptacles (for tho wounded nncl tho sick), wl1cro thn urlct1 of
"distress baffles nil tho efforts of hurnn111t1 and 11kU~ nod rcotlon
"it impm1siblc to give to each the attention ho domtuull." " Tbo
variety of the participial comm~ncemont 111 here well-Urned. • Tbe
first member contains pertinent nnd impressive clrc1imstan~ but
I remote distance! is tnuto}ogicn); tho f:ICCOlld member ca Where lbO
variety of distress') is powerfully worded, but tho Jnst clauso la an
anti-climax. "Conveyed to a distance in nncnsy vohiclos, lho1 aro
lodged in unsuitable tenements; nnd tho vnriety anti amount ot
the distress nrc such os to bnffic tho skill, and overpower tho energies of the physician."
·
These two sentences nro pnrely orntoricnl. Dy R strong plo- .
ture, containing nothing to rcdeom tho horror, they strip wnr or It.
glorious pomp and circumstance, nnd substitute n feeling of energetic revulsion.
9, 10. We have now tho ]angungc of gcrrninc pathos. "Far
11
from their native homo, no tender nssiduities of friendship, oo
''well-known voice, no wifo, (or) mother, or sister, Is near to
"soothe their (sorrows) 'agonies,' reliovo their thirst, or cl09() lholr
"eyes (in death) 'nt Inst.' Unhnppy mnn I nn<l must you ho swept
"into the grnve unnoticed and unnumbered [Y], and no frlcndlf
0

EX. VI.]

ROBERT .IIALL ON WAR.

313

"t.ear be shed for your sufferings, or mingled with your dust Y"
The figurative turn of the last sentence is well-timed for varyin~
the lnnguoge and constituting a climax, where it was hardly possible by increasing th1:. strength of the phraseology.
The next paragraph changes the subject to the ofter-scenes of
war and riots in the author's strength of language.
"If we consider the maxims of wnr which prevailed in the
1 ancient world, and which stjll prevail in (many) barbarous nations,
"we perceive that those who survived the fury of battle and the
" insolence of victory, were only reserved for more durnbls co.lam" ities · "-The forms, 'if we consider,' 'we perceive,' are unnecessary. '"According to the maxims of war prevailing in ancient
times, nnd among barbnrous nations nt tho present time, those that
survived the fury of battle nnd the insults of victory, were but reserved for calamities more· enduring."
2. 11-swept into hopeless captivity, exposed in mnrkets, (or)
1
"
and' plunged in mines, with the (melancholy) distinction be" stowed on princes and warriors, nfter appearing in the triumphnl
"procession of tho conqueror, of being conducted to instnnt 1fonth."
11
swept into hopeless captivity, exposed in markets, and plunged
in mines, while to princes ond warriors were accorded the distinction of appearing in the triumphal procession of tho victor, to be
then conducted to denth."
3. 11 The contemplation of such scenes (as these) forces on us
"(this awful) 1 the' reflection, thnt neither the fury of wild beasts,
" the concussions of the earth, nor the violence of tempests, are to
11
be compared to the ravages of arms; "- 11 the ·reflection that the
fury of the wild beasts, the violence of the tempests, the devastation
of the earthquake, ore not to be compared with the ravages of
war:""-and that nnturo in her utmost extent, or, more properly,
"divine justice in its utmost severity, has supplied no enemy to
" man so terrible os man." !teration and summing up of the idea
to form n climax; 1 utmost extent' is an inharmonious union, nod
might be changed to 'in all her extent,' 'in her widest compass ; '
'divine justice in its utmost severity' is n somewhat questionable employment of divine justice; tho conclusion echoes 'tho
proper study of mankind is mnn,' nnd is l1ighly cffcctlvo in its
melody.

l.

ExTRAOT VII.-1 now give n passage from Gihbon, to exem·

314

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

[a. vu.

plify Description, nnd inci<lentally the laws of the scntcnco, Md of
the paragraph, ns well ns minor points of style.
1. "In the vncnnt SJ)llCe between Persin, Syrln, Egypt, and
"Ethiopia, the Arabian peninsula mny be conceh·otl as n (t.rlangle
11
of epncious but irregular <limensions) 'spacious nnd lrrcgulnr trt•
"'angle.'" The prefatory expression fixes the position of Arabia.
nnd the words 'peninsula' nod 'triangle' ~Jrnish tho cornprohen•
:ive type.
•
2. "From the northern point of Bclcs on the Enphrnte~ a lino
!I of fifteen hundred miles is terminated by tho Straits or Dabc?l" mandel and the land of frankincense." Tho statement of tho
length is sufficiently expressive to those renders ncquninkd with
the points of reference ; it would, however, Jinve heen prercraMo
to say, " The length from nortJ1 to south-from Bek•!! on tho Et1·
phrates, to the Straits of .Bnbclmandcl and the lnn1l or rrnnklnct'nlC.',
-is more than twice the length of the British isles." Tho 11-0ntenco
is intended to follow up, with the detailed enurncrntion, the comprehensive type, given in the previous sentence. The lnnd or' frankincense' is an expressive circmnstnnce to anirnato tho cold mnnetical estimate. A concrete comparison is suggc1:1trd, aq, ln thC90
large numbers, prcfcrnblo to figurcR.
8. "About hnlf this length mny ho nllowetl ror Uao mltldlo
" breadth, from eust to west, from Bns.'!orn to 8uc7, from U10 Per"sinn Gulf to the Red Sen." Tho subject J1ero Is not 'length,' bul
'middle breadth,' tho second point in tho enumeration or dcl4ll11,
and the order should be differmt. "The mi1Jdlc hrendth, from
enst to west, from Bassora to Suez, from the rerslnn Gu1r to tho
Red Sen, is about hnlf tl1is length."
4. "The sides of the triangle are grndunlly enlarge«il, an1l tho
"southern basis pre~mnts (n front of a thommnd miles to tho lntllan
"Ocean) 'to the Indian Ocenn, a front of n thousnml mil~.'" · Tho
first clause is hardly intelligible. Ile mean!!, "Tho breadth Btcadll7
increases, in accordanco with the triangnlnr sJ1npo-". Tho mention of the Indian Ocean gives n support to tho dcAcrlptlon (p. 100),
hsides being a picturesque feature.
5. Position, outline, and size being thus determined, 110 procff«lt
to the surface. "The entire surface of thl) pednsnln [well to ro"peat the type] (exceeds in n fourfold proportion thnt of Genn1n7
"or France) 'is more than four times the extent of Gormnn7 or of
" France;' but the far greater pnrt hns been justly stlgrnatlnd
"with tl1e epithets (of the) 3tony nnd the 3andy." Tho author

EX.

vu.]

GIBBON'S DESCRIPTION OF ARABIA,

315

here employs the method of concrete comparison ; "more thnn
double Germany and France together," would perhaps be still
neater. In passing from area in tbe first member, to quality of surface in the second, the break or transition is such ns to demnnd a
new sentence; more especially as several succeeding sentences are
intended to amplify and illustrate the peculiarity of surface now
stated. " By far the greater part, however, bns been justly stigmatized," &c.
6. The features indicated are now to be shown in detail. The
present sentence gives an illustrative contrast. "Even the wilds
" of Tartary are decked, by (the hand of) Nature, with lofty trees
"and bxuriunt herbage; (and) the lonesome traveller derives a
"sort of comfort and society from the presence of vegetnble 1ife."
The 'and' within parentheses is proposed to bo left out ns coming
close after another 'and' used to connect two phrases ; it is better,
in such cases, to leave the connection of the two membe1·s of the
sentence to be indicated by n semicolon pause.* The second member merely iterates the first, and is somewhat feeble from wordiness : "the lonesome trnveller is cheered by the sigl1t of vegetntion." There is nn omission in not explaining wherein the wildness consists, if abundant vegetation be the characteristic of the
country
7. ''But in the <lreary waste of Arnbiu, n boundless level of sand
" is intersected by sharp and naked mountains ; and the face of the
"desert, without shade or shelter, is scorched by the direct and in,, tense rays of a tropical sun." The main subject is in the pince
of prominence, although not ns the subject of the verb ; this is one
of the means of varying what might be considered the monotony
of the parallel construction. The comprehensive feature is well
given in tho mnin clause, 'n boundless level of sand intersected by
sharp and naked mountains; ' 'nnked' is a highly suggestive epithet. The second member is also good in continuntion; 'face' is a
comprehensive figure; 'direct and intense, has no fault but an ac-

* Ambiguity mny nrisc in ibc reference of n conjunction within a sentence. Byron says,
"Restore me the rocks whc1·e the snow flnke reposes,
Though still they nre sacred to frceclom nnd love."

He menns 'though' to qunlify the subordinate clause •where the snow
flake reposes;' but it is more naturally referable to the principal clause,
•Restore me the rocks!

316

EXTltACTS .AN AL YZED • .

[u. TIL

cidental similarity to the common pl1rnse 'direct nutl lnnno;'
'the intense rays of n tropical sun' is quite enough.
8. The author adds new circumstances to tho picture of tho deeort.
" Instead of refreshing breezes, tl1e winds, 11nrticulnrly from U..
"south-west, diffuse a noxious and even deo.<lly npor; tho hUlocb
11
of sand which they alternntely rniso nnd flCatter, nro compared to
"the billows of the ocean, (nnd) whole dt-nvans, wholo ann18"have been lost and buried in the whirlwind." TI10 conlrutln1
phrase, I Instead Of refreshing breCZCS l is not here roqalrod; the
main expression 'noxious and deadly vnpor' is enough ; tho qoall•
fying expression-:-' particularly from the south-west '-111 a pl~ of '
extra information that noway fits into the picture. Tho M)CC)nc)
member of the sentence, I the hillocks of snnd, I &o., is not In Ila
pince; it belongs to the description of the surface, and tho conneotion with the wind regards mechanical violence nn<l not po180DOOI
qualities. It' t11e point must come in here, it should ho In full au)>.
ordination to the main subject of the sentence, tho winds;" nch
too is their violence, thnt the l1illocks of sand nltorilntely rnl~ and
scattered by them, are compnretl to the hillowe of tho ooenn i wholo
cnrnvans," &c. Properly, this eh on hi hnvo 11rccc<lecl tho olhor
member of the Hentcnce.
9. " The common benefll'I of wnter nro nn object of d09lro anti
" contest; and such ls the scarcity of wood, that eorne art I.I roqul" site to preserve and propngnto tho elomont or flro. h Or, "Wator
is an object of contest; nnd wood is so sonroo," &o.
· ExTRAOT VIIl.-1 quote, from Sir W niter Scot~ throe short
passnges, also bearing upon tho Descripth·e Art.
The first is a description of Stnffa.
1. " We visited Staffa nnd Iona. (The former) 'Staffa' is one
"of the most extraordinary places I ever beheld. It is n cathedral
"arch, scooped by the hand of Nnture [this stock mctnphor hae
11
here a certain keeping), equal in dimensions nnd in regularity to
"the most magnificent aisle of n Gothic cntbedrnl." This ls a
stroke of comparison thnt gives the general view nt once.
"The sen rolls np to the extremity in (most) tremendous majee.
"ty, and with a voice like ten thousnnd giants shouting st onoo."
A very powerful description, both to the eye and to the enr.
" It exceeded, in my mind, every description I had henrd of It i
"or rather, the appearance of the cavern, composed entirely of ba"ealtic pillars as high as the roof of a cathedral, and running deep

EX.

vm.]

SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DESCRIPTIONS.

317

"into the rock eternally swept by a deep and swelling sea, and
'
' t10n
' ,.,.
"paved as it were
with ruddy marble, bnffies alld escrip
This is ~ repetition ~f the sketch, with new particulars, making t11e
description as 11 whole somewhat loose, although redeemed by the
effectiveness of those particulars. Subjective effects are largely
made' use of. The ·author might have combined the two separate
descriptions into one compact picture, such ns tho render would
more eit.siJy realize and remember, instead of the~e desultor~ ~ashes.
· ·" Yon cad walk nlorig the broken pillars, with · some difficulty;
"nnd fo eome places witli a little danger, as far as the farthest ex" tremity." · The' broken pillars' are made m?re vivid to the fan~
cy, by the individualizing circumstance of walkmg ~pon tl~em. .
"Honts also can coine in below when the sen is placid, winch
"is seldom ·the case." .Another individualizing aid to the description. This sentence would be improved by 11 periodic arrangement,
which would also. pince the qualifying clause first. "When the sen.
is placid, . which is seldom, boutS also can come· in below. "
· 2. The neit extract is n pnnorami<l sketch of Edinburgh.
·
"If I were to choose n spot from which.tlJC rising or '~ho' sot·
"ting sun could be seeri to the ·gt·ent~st p~ssible advanta~e; it wcmld
" be that wild ' path winding . round tho foot of the high belt of
" semicircular rocks,· called Snlisbuty Orags, and marking the verge
"of the steep descent which slopes down into the glen on the
"south-enstern side of tho City of Edinburgh." Tho separate features in this" description,' ' wi1<1 path,' 'winding round,' 'high belt,'
&c., are vividly expressed, bht tho nrr:mgement · is not s~ch as · to
put the reader fo possessidn of a definite picture. · Defore mtroducing a' wild path,' it was l'eqllisite' to assign its whereabouts. So
with neai'ly nll the other particulars ; · they' nre here set up in a vacuity and we have to wnit for what follows to give them a plnce.
The ~uthot should have started· from tho ground where Edinburi_~h
is built given ·the relation ' of Arthur's Seat ' to the town and · the
surrou~dings; he might then b1mdigureclthe"J1ill, and, in the oyder
of detail, he would have come upon Salisbury Crags and the winding path. •
··
.
"The ptospcct, in its general outline; comm:mtls n close:bmlt,
"high-piled city, stretching itself out ·beneath in a form, wluch to
"a romantic imagination . [the -nnthor's own] mny be supposed to
'' resembl(l (that of) a ·dragon ;~now a. noble arm of the . ~ea, with
"its roeks, isle~,· ·distant shores; arid · boundary .of mountnms; and
"DOW B fnfr : fertile ccinntryr'Vo.tied with hill, df1le, and rook, and

318

EX. VIII.]

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

"skirted by the picturesque ridge of the Pentland lloaata1a• '..
1:he same re~arks apply hero; the individual features aro ltrlkletlr ,~·
given, but with an absence of cohering plnn. TI1e Tlcw le DOla:
'prospect,' but B panorama. Tho author begins well from ldla:..
burgh itself, and sketches its nspect with liis usual bnppy toam.,
The language that follows is suited to a mountain-top proepect, the'
spect~tor remaining still, and allowing his gn.·--to wander hero ....
there irregularl~. The reader is left to infer, by putting all tblnp '
t~gether, w ~at is not . expressed, thnt, in following tho r-tb, U.. ·~
view of E?mburgh disappears, and Is followe<l by Uio Flrtb of · .
Forth;. while,. by moving still farther, tl1e J>rospcct Is changed &o «'f;
the vaned plmns on the south, terminating in tho PentJand11.
r
"But as the path gently circles around the bn!IO of tho cllfr. tbe
"prospect, composed as it is of these enchanting nnd 1111blhn; ob". t.s' ch anges at every step, and presents them bfondccl with, OI'
"J~C
divided from, each other in every possible variety which can
"gratify the eye and the imngination." It is l1nrd to divine the
author's purpose- in writing this sentence. It may be that to tho
actual Bpectator, the blending of the scenes, or the Tariety of tho
groupings, gives pleasure; but no description can trnn11f<'r to &be .
readers such a. conception ns to ennhlc t11l'rn to tllin} of It with
pleasure. It is a. mistake In art to &upposo that U1e ploulng td'MU
of description can be producccl by means or tho langt1119 ot ..,..
ciated feelings, withont a. basis of vMd lntcllcctunl concei1tloa.
·
" When a piece of scenery so beantlfal, yet so varted,--eo q .
"citing by its intricacy, and yet so sublime,-is lighted by tho tint.
"of morning or of evening, and displays nll tl1e vnrlety of 11hadow7
,."depth exchanged with partial brillinncy, which gives chancter
·even to the tamest of landscnpes, the effect nppronchM nou to
"enchantment." The same criticism is npplicnble hero. H ls Im.
{'ossible, by the help of the language given, to rcnllzo tho 11eeno IO
as to be affected in the manner statet1. Morning tint.~ shn<low7
depth, and partial brilliancy, abstracted from nny real eceno In U1e
mind's grasp, cannot be expected, by the mere mention of them,
to cause any encl1antmcnt; nor docs it supply t.ho dcflclcnoy to raay
that if we snw the reality we should be enchanted. 1110 author
has ventured into the province where the painter operates with
ease, and the poet with difficulty-the province of minute landscape description ; and he has neglected the precautions whereby
alone a poet can hope to attain the success possible to his nrt.
·• .
8. We shall give another quotation from Scott; the vivid d~.\: >
'

~ ~~
-i.?-~

SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DESCRIPTIONS.

319

scription of nn Interior hy the help of individualizing circumstance!'.
It is n hovel, the retreat of Balfour of Uurley. The principal nim
of the passage is evidently to delineate Balfour himself; but, in so
doing, the author sketches, with grent force and distinctness, some
parts of his chamber.
· "Upon entering the place of refuge, he found Balfour seated on
"his humble couch, with a pocket .Bible open in his hand, which
"he seemed to study with intense meditation. His broadsword,
"which he had unsheathed in the first alarm, at the arrival of the
"dragoons, lay nnked ncross liis knees, nml the little tnpor thnt
"stood beside him on the old chest, w 11ich served tho purpose of o.
"table, threw a partial and imperfect light upon those stern nnd
"harsh foatures in which ferocity was rendered more solemn and
"dignified by a wilJ cast of tragic enthusiasm. His brow was that
"of one in whom some strong o'ermnstering principle has over" whelmed nU other passions and feelings,-liko the swell of a high
"spring-tide, when the usual cliffs and breakers vanish from the
"eye, and their existence is only indicated by the chafing foam of
"the waves that burst and wheel over them."
The objection urged against the previous passage bolds, to some
extent., against this attempt at portraiture. There is very little of tho
nctunl outline, shape, and complexion, of Balfour's face-the visual
rcprescntntion ; too much being left to tl10 Jnngnngo convoying his
expression to the beholder-ferocity, enthusiasm, over-mustering
principle, &c. The closing simile is in itself striking nnd powerful;
hut tl1e thing compnred is shndowy nnd uncertnin, nnd 1lemnrnlcd a
similitude to enligliten the understanding, rather than one solely to
stir the feelings.
It will be seen, from our next example, that t11e defects of Scott,
in description, may be avoided by n man little, if anything, his inferior in the poetic accompaniment of the art.
IX.-The present extract is a Apecimen of Onrlyle's descriptive method. lfo; peculiarities nre, to bring forwnrd in strong
relief the comprehensive nspccti:1, to impress t.hcso by it.ernt.ion nncl
by picturesque compnriR011s, t.o nsc Ihe ln.ng11ngo of tho nflsocinkd
feelings(' beautiful country,' 'lonesome pine woods'), and, in the
shape of harmonious groupings ('multiplex inclnstry, hesung by
rushing torrents '), to introduce some of the elements of poetry.
"Schlesien, what we call Silesia, lies in elliptie shape, spread
on the top of Europe, partly girt with mountains, like the crown or
ExTRAOT

I

: I

l j

320

EXTRACTS ~\NALYZED.

crest to !hat pnrt of tl~e Enrth-higltest table-lantl of Germut or
of the Otsalpme countries, and sending rfrera into all tla~ Ha. ·· 1\
"The summit or highest level of it Is in tho south-wt'flt 1• JonpA
diameter is from north-west to south-cnst. From OroS!Mln whJ&btr
Friedrich~ now driving,, to tho Jablunka Pnss, "·111c)1 f~IN bJ'O'I
Hungary, ts ab?ve 250 miles; tho axia, therefore, or longcitJt dlame..
eter! of our .Ellipse we may call 2u0 Englif' ·. ·miles; IL" ihortNt Ott
conJugate diameter, from Friclllnnd in Bohemia (Wnlfcniteln'• old
Friedland), by Breslnu, ncross tho Oder to tho l'ollsh f'ronU~ lt
about 100. The total area of Schlesion Is conntc<l to bo ~.
20,000 square miles, nearly the third of England Proper.
'
. "~chlesien.-will the render learn to cnll it by thnt nnmo, oa
occns1on? for m these snd Manuscripts of ours tho nnmcs altemaC.
-is a fine, fertile, useful, and beautiful Country. It Jcnns 1Joplnr.
as we hinted, to the East and to tho North; a long curved bultl'Ollll
of Mountains · (" Rieaengebirge, Giant Mountains," Is their' bottknown nnme in foreign countries) l101lling it up on ll10 South and
West sides. This Giant-Mountain Hnngc-which ill n kind o( oortinuation of the Snxon-Bol1eminn "Mctnl Monntnlru1 (F.rzgehirgt) tt
and of the straggling J_,nusitz 1tfonntnin!l1 to WO!ltwnrd o( th~
shapes itself like a bill-hook (or elliptirnlly, n11 wM 1111fd): J1andlo
nnd hook togetl1er mny be somo 200 mlleit In length. 1110 prwlpl·
to~s side of this ie, in ~e~ernJ, tu moo outward, to".'arda &bmen,
Muhren, Ungnrn · (Bohemia, MornviB, Jinngnr;T, lri our dlaJecta):
and Schlesien lies inside, irreguJnrlY 11loplng down towards th9 JJa].
tic and towards the utmost Enst. From the Uohorninn 11ido or th"° .
Mountains there rise Two Rivers-Elbo, tending for tl10 Weeti
Morawa, for_ tho South : :Morawa, crossing Mornvin, gets Into Uio
Donau, and thence into the Blnck-Scn; while Elbe, nllor lntrlc11to
adventures among the mountain!'!, nnd then pro!lpcrouely nCl'08.'I tho
plnins, is out, with its mnny ships, into the Atlnntio. Two rtn,...
we say, from tho Bohemian or steep side: and ngnin, from tl10 Sllesinn side~ there rise other Two, t11e Oder and tho Woloh11el ( J' U.
tula); which start pretty near one nnoU1er in tho 8011tl1-0811 t, and
after Wide Windings, get both into tho 1311ltic, nt R good dl11tao~
apart.
·
"For tho first thirty, or in parts, fifty miles from tho Monn.
tains, Silesia slopes somewhat rnpidly, and is still to be cnllro 1
Hill-country, rugged extensive elerntions diversifying it; bot after
that, the slope is gentle, and at length insensible, or noticenblo onl1
by the way the waters run. · From tho central pnrt of it, Boblosloa

EX. IX.]

CARLYLE'S DESCRIPTION OF SILESIA.

321

pictures itself to you as n plain, growing ever flatter, ever sanllier,
as it abuts on the monotonous endless sand-flats of Poland nnd the
Brnndenbnrg territories; nothing but Boundary-Stones with their
brass inscriptions marking where the trnnsition is, and only some
Fortified Town, not far off, keeping the <loot• of the Country secure
in that quarter.
" On the other hnnll, the mountain pnrt of Schlesien is very picturesque; not of Alpine height anywhere (the Schnee-Koppe itself
is under 5,000 feet), so thnt verdure nntl forest wood foil nlmost
nowhere nmong the Mountains,· nnd multiplex industry, besung by
rushing torrents and the swift young rivers, nestles itself high up;
and from whont-hnsbnndry, madller and mnizo husbandry, to dnmnsk-woaving, metallurgy, charconl-bnrning, tar-distillery, Schlesi.en hns many trades, and has long been expert and busy at them
to a high degree. A very pretty Ellipsis, or irregular Oval, on the
summit of the European Continent, ' like the pnlm of a left hand
well stretched out, with the Riesengobirge for thumb I' said 11. certain Herr to me, stretching out his nrm in that fashion towards the
north-west_:_Palm well stretched-out, measuring 250 miles, and tho
cross way, 100. There are still beavers in Schlesien; the Katzbnch
River has gold grains in it, a kind ·of Pactolus not now worth work.ing; and in the scraggy lonesome pine woods, grimy inllividunls, with
kindled mounds of pine branches nnd smoke cnrefnlly kept down
by sods, are sweating ot1t n substance which they inform yon is to
be tar."
EXTRACT x.~An extract from Robertson's Chnrlcs v. will
11.flord examples of the rules of Narrntive composition.
1. "While the Christian princes were thus wasting each other's
''strength [reference, by summary, to whnt went before], Solyman
"the Magnificent entered Hungary with a (numerous) 'lnrge' army,
" and investing Belgrade, which was deemed the chief barrier
"of that kingdom ogninst tho Turkish nrrns [explanatory clause in" tcrwovon with the nnrrntive], Mon forced it to surrender." Thero
are here three sepnrnte facts, in imfficiently close connection to be
included in one sentence. Tho structure of the sentence is in every
way excellent. The pnrticipinl phrase 'investing Delgrnde ' con·
tributes to the elegance, and aids in the periodic structure.
2. "Encouraged by (this) 'his' success [demonstrative refer" ence, p. 147], he turned his victorious [epithet giving strength
"from suitability to the fact] nrms against the island ·of Rhodes,
14*

322

EX.

EXTRACTS ANAf,\"Zlm,

s....•

"the seat, nt thnt time, of tho Knight.'! of St. John of Jero ..
A well-turned senten~e. The pnrticipinl form 111 omplo1od to ......
the sentence; there 1s only one fuct stnted, room being .-anted All
the concl~ing explanation.
3. "'ih.~ small state [reference by dernon11trntho phf'Ut\ t'Oate
"bined with inversion] he nttnckcd with 1mch a nurncrou.e ann1 M
"the lo1·ds of Asia J111ve been nccu!ltomed, In cvcr1 lllft' to briaf
"into the flel<l." This sentence serves only to lntlrnato
fact that the conquerors of Asia were nblo to mu 11 tt.•r cnonQOOI .,_
mies; which is a mere 'a~ido' in tho prc11cnt nJUTath·e. TW
Solyman attacked Rhodes was sufficiently 11tnt('(l 1>1 tho wotdt
'turned his victorious anns i ' nrul tl1e 1117:0 of tho nrm1 .. ., ,.,..
~efore by the same adjective' numerou!\' and la to LG gifCIQ . . . .
m exact numbers.
4. • "Two h1indred thousnnd men I nnd n nect of 400 .all ·
--•
Cl
.... . - - ag:unst a town defended hy n garrison c<in11lstln!f of~ ......
"and 600 knights, [hero ho mnkc!I n 11tcnlth1 tr•n,ltlonJ andtt" ...
"command of Villiers do vr~Jo A1lnrn, tho pa111l muttt wa... .
" w1suom
. -~
an<l vnlor rendere1l liim worthy of tf1al •14tlon a&• ..... a .
"dangerous juncture." Tl1e flr11t 11l1111.'111crit o( tf1I• l(!ftlt'tM!!f .......
J1avo filled up tho cml_'tine~" of tlio r•rc•<·t'fllnr
1--" II• ........
a force of 200,000 men an1I 400 sall n:fftllUlt the 1.;,•a... n., _. ·
notable d~fect, however, Is tho JIQ#lnr onr ~ U.. lltd: ......
defence without stop or brcnk (p. 171). A...,.. ..,.,..,.... ......
hnve been devoted to tho operations of tho bciet~
town was defended hy I\ gnrri."Jon of l'SOOO 11<>ldlcn. aad IOO ~I
the commander wns Villiers de J:blo Adnm 1 Uio gT"IJMJ ......-. ·
whose wisdom nnd vnlor," &:c.
.~
' ·. •
5. "No sooner did lie begin to su~pcrt tho dc!rtlnatlon ot 8ol1"man's vnst nrmnments, thnn lie d~pntchctl me.cngen to all the
"Christion courts, imploring their niil ngnln't the common ,,_,...
In 'he,' the reference is not to tlio principnl cla1111e or tho p....tJoi
sentence, but to the subordinnto clnuso nt tho end; another,_,.
fur the division of thnt sentence. Tho conchu11ng phrlUI(\ 'the oontm?n enemy,' is n good cxnmplo of rnrying nn orprtwilon (p. ti).
with nn apparent renson besides tho mere vnricty. Solrman.
U..
purpose of tho sentence, wns tho common enemy.
6. "But though every prince in thnt ngo llrknowloclgod R"°""
"to be the great bulwnrk of Chrh1tenrlorn In tho }';allt, and 1'1111hd "to the gaJlnntry of its knights ns the best securit1 agalna& U.. •
"(progress of the) Ottoman arms; though Adrion, with a lell

tho .......

°""

th•,_.._,..

'°"

x.J

NARRATIVE EXTRACT FROM ROBERTSON.

323

"(which became) 'becoming' the head and father of tho cliurch,
"exhorted the contending powers to forget their private quarrels,
" nnd, by uniting their arms, to prevent the infidels from destroying
'• n society (which) 'thnt' did honor to the Christian name i yet so
·'violent nud implacable was the animosity of both parties, that,
"regnrdless of the danger to (which they exposed) nll Europe, and
" unmoved by the entreaties of the grand master or the admonitions
11 of the pope, they suffered Solymnn to carry on, 'unmolested,' his
ti operations against Rhodes (without disturbance)."
A good example of o. period, formed by placing qualifying clauses be~ore _what
·they qualify. As narrative, it is a sentence of explnn~t1on, mt~r­
rnpting the main action by collateral circumstances beo.nng upon it.
The next sentence resumes the thread.
7. "The grand master, after incretlible efforts of courage, of
"(patience) 'endurance,' and of military contluct, du~fog .n siege of
"six months, after sustaining many Mtmnlts, and d1sputmg every
"post with (amazing) obstinacy, (was obligocl) 'hnd' at Jast to
"yickl to numbers; and having obtained an honorable capitulntion
"from tho sultan, who ndmircd (o.nd respected) his virtue, he sur" rendered the town, (which wo.s) rc<lucod 'as it was' to a heap
"of rnhbish, and (<lestitute of every resource) 'in a state of utter
"destitution.'" Tho subject 'grnml mn.stor,' need not hnvo been
after
separated from its verb :-" After incredible efforts
1mstaining . . . the grand master had at hu'lt to yield to numbers; obtaining an honorable capitultttion from the sultan, who admired his virtue, lie surrendered the mined and destitute town."
8; " Charles and Francis, ruihamod of (having occasioned) 'occn" sioning' such a loss to Christendom by their ambitious contests,
"(endenvored to throw) 'tl1rew' the blame of it on co.ch other i
"(while) all Europe, with greater justice, (imputml it equally to)
" ' threw it on ' both." A good specimen of the narrative sentence, ns containing a distinct action, although mo.de up of several
parts.
!J. "(The emperor) 'Charles,' by wny of reparation, granted the
"Knights of St. John the small islnnd of Malta, in which they fixed
"their resi<lence, retaining, though with less power nnd splcmlor.
" their nncient spirit and implacn.hle enmity to tho infirlcls."
Short.er:-" By way of rcparntion, Charles ~rnntctl the Knights of
St. John, for residence, tho islnml of Mult.n, whorn, in diminished
power nnd splendor, they retained their ancient spirit and implacable enmity to the infidels."

I
I

324:

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

[u. n

ExTnAoT XI.-Tho present extrnct from Hobbes, nnd U.o loot
thnt follow, will be exnminecl chiefly with a view to E:spoeltJon.
The rules of the sentence, ancl of the pnrngrnph, will nlso bo nttend·
eel to.
l. "There' is 8 passion thnt hnth no nnme; but tho sign of It h
"t~at distortion of the countennnc~ which we onll lnnghwr, which
"is nlwnys joy; but whnt joy, whnt we think nnd wherein we trt.
"umph' when we laugh, is not hitherto cloclnred by any." An
awkward and cumbrous sentence, olthough lntclligiblo enouib.
'There is 8 passion that hnth no nnmo,' might be 1 a p1U18lon without a name;' the emphasis in 'hntl1 no nnmc' Is too 11trong for the
occasion. In the next memhor 'but tho Algn of It,' 'but' la not lite
proper conjunction. Amend the whole thus : -0 Tho onl1ranJ 1lin
of it i8 that distortion of the connknnnco cnllc1I lnnghtcr, whk-b ..
always an expression of joy." Tho concludin~ member lt lbrdbl1
put; we might, however, modify it slightly:-" but '"·haL Jo1, wbal
we think of, and what we exult in, when wo Jnnfth, hu 1fl ·lo be
determined." The firl!t member might hnvo been mado a cllt&inct
sentence.
2. "Thnt it consisteth in wit, or, n!t thc1 crul It, In tl1e ~ H•
"perience confnteth; (for) mon lnugh at mUicJaanOO!I anti tndeeea
"cies, wherein there llcth no wit nor jeflt at all.., Ao let'"'- ot
the same nnturo ns ln tho Inst member
the P"""'- ...... 1"' , ·
not 8bso1ute1y necessary.' The author'• plan ll · lo
the · mmal explnnations · bt'foro putting fonranl blt .. on1•<.,... ..
should have disentangled tho t\vo oporatlon11 moro totapletelJ .._
he hns done; each should have been distlnot11 announeecl i and
handled in a paragraph, or n series of pnrRgrRphs, Rf>arl. · , We gift
an amended version of the sentence. "It ls Mid to OODmA In Wit.
or jest, bnt tbts is not in accordance with e:rpcrlcnco i tntn laa,dl al
mischances and indecencies, in which there Is neither wlt nor J•L"
The hist member might nlso be turned thus:-" thcro It nolU1er wlL
nor jest in mischnnces and indecencies, nnd yet men lnugb at theee."
The form 'men lnugh ' is somew lmt ontiquntod, but ought to bo retained, a8 one of tho forms of nnnonnolng trutl111 of human .nature
from i:m objective sido ; the other form11 nr() 'tctl lnngh,' '4J pnwra
laughs,' 'one Jaughs,' 'people laugh,' 'there is a di~itlo1a to
laugh' (suhjective).
8. "And forasmuch ns the snme thing is no (moro) 'longer'
"ridiculous when it groweth stale or nsunl, whntaoevor lt be that - •
"moveth laughter, it must be now (and)' or' nnoxpoo~.~' 1 ,.. 1'141•

or

It.a.... ·

EXPOSITION.--HOBilES.

EX. XI.]

325

sentence begins tho n11tJ1or's own mcthoil of nppronchlng t110 inquiry, namely, by an inductive process, and shoul~ not have been
joined, by n cumulntive conjunction, to the prece<lmg. He would
have done well to start I\ new parngrnph, thus:-" J,et us now examine the various occasions of laughter. In the first place, anything
stnle or common, ceases to be ludicrous; ,,ill other wor<ls,
. whnt
d
causes laughter must be new or unexpecte . ·
4. " Men laugh often (especially such as are greedy of applause
"from everything they do well) at their own actions performe.d
"never so little beyond their own expectations; ns nlso nt th01r
"own jest.'3; and in this case it is manif~st tbnt the po.ssi.o~ o~lnu~h,
" tcr proceedeth from a sudden conception of .some ~b1hty rn h1m" self that laugheth." lle now comes to the gist of lus own theory,
nn<l should have given a <led<led intimation to that effect. · "The
essential circumstance, however, in the production of laughter is
found in such facts as these~ Men limgh (the more so, if they nre
greedy of npplanse) nt everything they do well; at their own actions, &c.; in all which cnses, it is nppnrent that the lnnghter proceeds from n sudden conception of some nbility in the laugher's own
self."
5. "Also, m~n laugl1 at the infirmities of 'others, by ·comparison
"wherewith their own ·nbilitie~ nre sot off nnd ilhu~t.rntml." An nd<litional fact in favor of the inductive inference of the previous
sei1tence.
6. "Also, men laugh at jests, the wit whereof always consisteth
"in the elegant discovering nnd conveying to our minds ~o~e ab" surdity of another 'man' ; nn<l in this case_ ru:o tl~e ~ass1on of
"Jangliter) 'laugh ' proceedeth from the sudden imagmnt10n of our
"own (odds and) eminency; for what is else the recommending of
"ourselves to our own good opinion, by compnriso11 with another
"mnh's infirmity or absltrdity 7" Might be atnended thus!-" Further men laugh at jests. Now tho wit of a jest nlways consists
in elegantly suggesting some nbsurdit.y in another person; in which
cnse also tho laugh proceedcth from (\ snddcn perception of our
own snp~riorit.y; for whnt ifl I.ho effect. of compnring oursoh·os wit.h
another inn.n's inf\rmity or absmaity, but to rnise our estimate of
self?"
'T. "For wl1en ' n jest is hrokcn npon onrselves, or friends, of
11 whose dishonor we pnrtl.cipnte, we never lnngh thereat." A confirming fact from the obvers~ side, the situation wh~rc~n; · i~steiid
of laughing,
are laughed nt. The nrrnngement 1s imperfect.

we

326

EXTR.iCTB .ANALYZED.

Jtx. xn.]

" On the other hand [or obversely], we never Jnngh nt Rj08L brokca
upon ourselves, or upon our frirn<lA, in wlioso dishonor wo .,.,ualpate." This restores the pnrnllcl construction.
·
8. "I mny therefore conclude, thnt the passion or laughter .. · . '
"nothing (else) but sudden glory nrh•ing from n 11uthlcn conceptloe
"of some eminency in ourselves, by compnri!lon \Vith tho lnOnullt
"of others, or with our oicn formerly ,· for men laugh nL llut (ulU•
"of themselves pnst, wl1<.'n th<'y come Rnrldcnly to rcmc-rnbranc... '
"except they bring with them (nny) pr<'!lcnt dl!ihonor." Tblt ..
the summing up of the facts in tho genernl doctrlno, whlrh, ho••
ever, was announced in connection with tho fir!lt. instanco adtltlt'C!d. ·
It must, therefore, ho h<.'J<l as nn nllownhlc, or e\'l'll commonclat.k\
iterntion of the doctrine, after nil the facts hn,·o bcC'n g\Tcn. W•
must remark a smious dislocation in tho wny thnt tho )llJlt mcmbtt
comes in. The expression 'or with onr own fonncrly ' L" an aR.rthought; it was not present to the author's mintl when ho 1w~
or throughout the <letaiJ ; nnd he has not tnkcn tho 11n.l1a. to. go
back and embody it in the previous exposition. 1110 no"' t.c.
should have found its plnco nmong the other fnctA, tho prindple
being qualified so n.q to admit it.
9. "It is no wonder, therefore, tlrnt men tnkc h··lnmtt!1 to be
"laughed nt or derided i thnt II', triuml'h«'41 OYt'f." Jn the
of Exposition, this would Lo cnllcd an a1111llcatloa ol lho .,,........
and mig~t hnve been ~xpnndcd In a 11epnrate parqnph. ~ ~,
ns a passmg remnrk, 1t may ho pnt thn11 :-11 No wunclcr 1IM8 tUe '
offence at being derided, thnt is, triumphed over."
10. 11 Laughing without offl'nce, mm1t bo nt nbtlonllUot and IJa.
11 firmities abstracted from persons, nnd when nll tho oom1>an7 ma,
"langh together ; for laughing to one's 11etr pnttot.h all tho ran. Jnlo ·
jealousy nod examination of themselves." A now nml dlfficu)L p.
pect of the subject (Humor), demnn<ling nn oxnminntlon apart. A
serious defect attaches to the present arrangement of tho 11entonoo.
The second member, insteml of qnnlifying tho mnin 1mhjoot or tlae
firgt member, qualifies only n subordinnt,o clnuso (' when ftll the
company mny laugh to~ether '). Tho rernecly for thl11 ~ to constitute three distinct seutoncos. " Lnnghing without offenoo mUJtt.
be in such circumstances ns these. It must bo nt nbsunlltlcs ancl
infirmities npnrt from person;;. And fnrther, it mu~t btJ tclam all
the company may laugh together,· for laugldng to ontJ'• aelf
11,ll the rest into jealousy and examination of themaelt!l'a."·
11. "Besides, it is vain glory, nml (nn nr~mnent of littlo worth) · ~

1e1a....

1'""''"

DRYDEN ON SHAKESPEARE.

327

"'argues a little mind,' to think the ihthmity of another suffici~nt
"matter for (his) triumph." This sentence seems connected with
the first of the two modes of laughing wit11out offence,-' at nb1:1urdities and infirmities apart from persons, '-although completely
dislocated from it. It is unnecessary to take the trouble of restoring the connection.
F.xTnAOT :Xll.-Tho next extrnrt is Dryden's criticisms of
Shukespcnro nnd Ben JonAon.
]. "To begin, then, with Shakespeare; he wns t110 mnn, who,
c1 of all modern, nnd perhaps nncient poets, hml the largest and
"most comprehensive souJ.'' A full stop should have followetl
Shakespeare. Tho other membm· needs amendment. "Ile wns
the man that of nll modern poets, perhnps of nil poets, ancient nml
modern had tho largest and most comprehensive soul [mind, .intellect?].,,' Tho first of these two sentences propounds the imhjHit;
the second announces what is evidently the lending predicate, or
"'enerul view that the author takes of Shakespeare's intellect.
0
2. "All the images of nature were still present to hit~, and he
'·drew them not laboriously but luckily j when he describes any· you feel 1t
· (too)"
.
"thing you 'more than see 1t,
. A p1ace of pronnncnce ~hoi1ld be given to 'tho images of nature,' but it should be
the place of the predicate and not of the ~ubject. ~ e might sny:
-"There were (still) 'ever' present to )nm nU the mrnges of nature," &c. Tho Hecond momhcr exomplif1cA tho nhscnce of tho conjunction from clauses of explanation. (SENTJ.:NCJi, § l~G.) .
.
3. "Those who nccnse him to hnve wanted learnmg, give lum
" the greater conunendntion; ho wns llntmn11y lonmc!l; 110 needed
"not the spectacles of books to rend nnture; he looked inwards
"and found her there." The first member should be a sentence
apart. The prominence of the subject is overlaid by '.those who
accuse·' better perhaps say:-" To accuse him of wnntmg learning is t~ give him greater commendation." The remaining members
will constitute n new sentence, explnnntory of the other, and not
needing n conjnnction. " Ho wns learned hy birthright i he neede<l
not to rend nature through tho spcct,nclcs of books; ho snw lie~ by
direct vision." The occurrence of 'nature' in two senses is obJCC-

tionnble.
4. "I cannot sny he is everywhere alike; were 110 so, I sl~onl~~
"do him injury to compare him with the gre~test of man~md.
The phrnseI 'I cannot sayI ' scarcely interferes with the prommence
.
of the chief subject.

.,

328

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

[n:.

XU.

5. "He is (mnny times) '·often' fint, insipid; his comic wit do!• genernting into cJenches, his !lerious sweJling into l10111bnst."
The
seconcl member explains or amplifies the first, and the participial
construction is an elegance. · .
6. 11 But he is always greut, when some great occnsion Is pre"sented to liim." 11 But he is always great, on groat occasions."
."But on great occasions, he is always great."
With the few slight amendments above suggested, tho laws o(
the paragraph are here fully complied with. · Also, the succcsmon
of particulars i~ in the main orderly, which cannot bo said of the
next passage.
.
'
1. "As for Jonson, to whose character I (nm) 'hnvo' now nr" rived, if we look upon 11im whilst he was himself....:-for his last
11
plays were (but) his dotages-I think him the most learned and
11
judicious writer (which) 'that' any theatre ever had." Although
a little cumbrous, this sentence is unobjectionable in · nrrnngomcnt.
The principal subject of the paragraph is in the place of prom in coco
at the beginning, and the principal predicate at the end. · " As for
Jonson, who comes next,". would have been n simpler commence. ment. The two epithets 'learned' and 'judicious' are intended as
the comprehensive designations, to be unfolded in llctnil. It wiJI ·
be seen, however, that ho begins tho detail with what refers to
'judicious.'
·
.' I . ,
·
·
'' ·
.
.
2. "He wo.s a most severe judge of Jiimself as welJ as othoril."
"He judged both himself and others very severely." ·
8, 4. 11 One cannot sny he wnnted wit, but rather. that 110 wn~
"frugal of it.. In his works you find little to retrench or niter."
The order of these . two sentences ought to be rever~ed. 11 Jn his
works yo_u find little to retrench or nlter. Without being devoid
of wit, he was frugal of it."
5. "Wit nnd language, nnd hnmor nlso in somo measure wo
.
.
'
"had before him; but something of art wns wanting to tho drama
"till lie cam~." The principnl subject is supplanted needless!.>.
"Before him, we had wit and language and some measure of humor
nl~o; but, until. he came, there was n want of nrt."
6. ''He managed his strength to more ndvrintage than nny (wl10)
"' thnt' preceded him:"-" than any of bis predecessors." A suitable remark in further illustration of his judiciousness.
7. ''You seldom find him making love in any of his flCP.nefl, or
"endeavoring to move the passions; his genius was too sullen and
" saturnine to do (it) 'either' gracefully, especially when he · know

EX.

xu.]

329

DRYDEN ON DEN JONSON.

r · tn d both to such n
" thnt ho cnmc after t 1lose w h o h ad per1or
e
''height." This remark belongs to a distinct fenture.
Jonso~
not inclmled either in his learning or in his jndgment; it is properly his genius, as distinct from either of those qualities, and deserves
to be specified and handled by itself. The next sentence nlso benrs
,
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upon it, after which the author passes to J~nson s cnrm.ng.
. .
8. "Humor was hiEI proper sphere, nnd m that he dehghted most
"to represent mechanic people." "His proper sphere_wils Humor;
and his delight was to represent artisans." · · ·
9. "He was de~ply conversant in the ancients, both Greek and
"Latin and he borrowed boldly from them; there is scarce n poet
''or bi~torio.n among the Roman authors of (those · times) 'antiqui" ty' whom he · has not translated in Beja.nus ~nd. Ca~iliue.:' . _A
sentence with two members; the second a spec1fymg iteration of
the first (p. 136).
. .
, ,
10, 11. "But ho l1ns (lone his roliberie~ (so) opc11ly1 s.o that
"one may see he fcara not to be taxed by any law. Ile mvades
"authors like a monnrch; (nnd) what would be theft in other
"poets, is only victory in him." . T~cse .t ;vo . sente~ces nre nn
agreeable play upon Jonson's pecu!ianty; .bemg the ki~d of style
whereby criticism becomes itself Fme Art; The la~t m.e mMr ~d~
mits of another nrrnngement to preserve the pnrallehsm, and to mcrense tho closing emphasis:-" wha.t in other poets woukl be theft,
is in him victory."
· 12. "With the spoils of these writers he so represented ol<l
"Rome to ns, in its rite!!, (ceremonies,) and custom!!, that i.f o_ne of
" their poets bod written either of bis tragedies, we hnd ~een 1.ess
"of it than in him." He deVintes once more to the cons1dernt1on
1
of his genins. .The sentence is not well poised~ Vn~ious wny11 of
improving it might be suggested. Under pr~test. ngm~st _t11e man:
ner of briitging in tho subject; we may express Ins menmng thus :
_:_11 No one of Rome's own poets, writing his trngedies, could b1tve
so thoroughly represented the Roman rites ntid customs as he lms
done~"
·
·
·
·
·
.
13. "If there wns m1y fnnlt in his Jtin~nn~e, 'twns thnt he
''weaved it too closely nnd lnborioiJSly, in his comedies especially;
" perhaps too · 110 uid n . little too much Romanize onr tongue,
'
'
,
hL ~tm
. as
i1 leaving the words which he translated, nlmrnit ns muc
· "be found them; wherein, though he learnedly followed the1.r Ian" guage, he did not enough com~ly. with tlie id~om _of our~·"'. ' ~~i!J
.would come under the head of his Judgment, or else form a d1stmct

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[u. xn.

EXTRACTS ANAt.YZF.D,

theme, the conl:jldttt,tion of his diction. It ls hronght In U(Mlll no
pl"inciple of nrrnngement, hut merely on n cns1111l 11.!l!IOClatlon wltJa .
l1is following ancient nuthors, nnd choosing nncient 1111t~ectA. Tbe
sentence is looso to an excessirn degree. There Is nusltcr for &wo
sentences.
14. "If I would compare him with Slinkctipcnro, I mUJ•t w"knowledge him tho (more correct) 'correcter' Jloet, hut Sbak•
"penre the greater wit." A perfect hnlnnco.
15. "Shakespeare wns tho Homer, or fnlltrr or our dramatle
" poets ; Jon son was tho Virgil, tho pnttem of clnbornte wrillnss
" I admire him, but I love Shnke!lpcnre." The chnniro of ordtt
here, in so simple and obvious n co111pnri1<on, d<l('!I Jillie barna i lt
was probably necessary to cito Homer hefore Vl'lfll. F.11uall1 ...
missible is the inversion in the concluding mcmt~r, alth<>a«b lN
para1lelism might still havo heen mll1ercd to, without dbal"fMW.
monotony. " He raises ndmirntion ; 8hnkf.'f!J•corc lr1'J•lmt loft.•
(EXPOSITION, § 65.)
The grentest fault of tho pn!;!'lngo i' the di!!IOC!ltion or tho lop&N.
The force of the writing would ho in no d('Jm'O lmf'•ltttl b7 observing I\ strict method in lnying out "'"' llluctratlni the aUrl......
commented on; wl1ilo tho renill•r'11 11owcr of t'tlfn!J"1bead1. .·. .
remembering the crlticbrn wouhJ be mo.t malerial11 nhtu.....
. , I

·' •

:4" .

XIll.-Thc next E1~ltor7 F.1traet W&oal . ...... :
Essay, by Mr. Samuel Dailey, on "Some point. OOQDNCfd , wtda
Education." It expounds certain doctrlnOl', chled7 with
practical appJications (p. 20'T). It nl•m exhibits tho ca..ce la wblala a .
principle is unavoidably burdened with qunllfylng clnn9".
1. "Ohildren without any design Imitate tho longt1ftgt\ lb• loae.
"the pronunciation, the looks, tho gestnr<?l\ tho gait, the ~
'' ments in general of those (with whom thoy live) 'they Jlyo wl&b; •
"and if the imitation be continued eufliciently long, no ofrorta lft
"after-life can overcome tho effects of it, tho ftcxlhlllty, or docllla,,
"so to speak, of tho tissues or organs <'Oncnncd sccmlng lo dl"minish rapidly with tho approach to mnturity,· or ll10 OCMAllon o(
"growth." As the enunciation of n principlo, tJ1'8 appcan a long
and burdensome stBtement; when exnminerl, however, It lt lffll lo
contain the principle (undesigned imitntion), R series o( Ol&mplN
(imitation in tone, &c.), and n consequence or nppllcntlon. n,.
principle ts, as it were, at once embodied in · its lending tllamplol.
This mode is adapted to a practical treatise. -If U10 lotcnUon had
ExTRAOT

a..._, .. "

EX.

xm.]

E;XrOSITION BY APPLICATIONS.

331

been more purely tbeoreticnl, the proposition would. h~Ye be:n
stated in general language, nnd the examples dwelt !1pon m detml.
The author might have made a semicolon pause after overcome the
effects of it· ' what follows -'the flexibility, or docility, so to s~e~k,
of the tissue~,' &c.-would then be a participinl member contnmmg
a reason or explanation.
.
.
2. "This unintentional imitation [Demonstrati;e reference] is
"commonly mixed with (that which) 'what' is designed; and sep,, orate or together, they lend the child to n high degree of perso~al
"~ssimilation with those (who have the immediate char~e of h.1m,
" or in the midst of whom he grows up) 'thnt have the immedrnte
"charge of him [it?], or that he grows up nmong. ' "
,::,
This adds another mode of imitation to what was pre':ously
stated, with the view of making n conjoined totnl to be apphed to
practice. In the subsequent exposition, the author keeps .them for
n. time separate, nnd then drops the second to confine lnmsclf t.o
the first. It is a somewhat trying operation to carry on the exposition of two principles together. The conclntling clause-' they lend
the child to a hirrh degree of personal assimilation, &c.'-is a summary, or short lterntion, of what goes b~for~, and is the ~orm intended to be u 5ed in the subsequent applications to practice. In
this view 1 it might have been shortened with ndvnntage (on Whate- .
ly's principle, p. 194), or a shorter form might have been ndded~­
something aphoristic or epigrnmmntie. Tho next sentence begms
another short pnrngrnph, devoted to distinguishing still more closely
the two kinds of imitation.
1. "Although we cannot always discriminate the effects of u~­
'' intentional from those of intentional imitation, yet the predom1" nance of either may in many coses be readily d.istingnished."
"y ct we may in many cases distinguish tho prcdommanco of one
or ot11cr."
·
2. "In the partieulnrs (which I have) mentioned a~ove [phrase
"of reference] unintentional imitation ohvionsly pre~ml~."
A new parngraph. 1. "The }lersistcnce of hnh1ts thus m~11o­
" signedly acquired, so as scarcely to be affected by lnp:o o~ tune
"or change of circumstnncei;i, may be observed very plamly m na" tional and 'in' provincial peculiarities, aml is in nothing mor? r:" markable than in speech."* A new O.<Jpect of the genernl prmc1-

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There is here n license onen unnvoidnble-n verbnl aoun qualified by
an adverb, ns if it were a verb-' persistence so as.'

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EXTRACTS ANALYZED,

•

(EX.

XIU.

ple is now propounded for exemplification, and is tl1e aspect that
brings the author to his prnctical applications; namely the irrosistible force of habits acquired by unintentional imit~tion. Jn
this sentence, he states tho examples generally, nod in the following
'
.
.
'
sentences becomes more specific.
2, 3. "Every nation hns modes of utterance impossible for the
"roost part to be shaken off, and as impossible to be acquired b1
" foreigners. A child brought up in Scotland till the nge of BCvcn
"or eight, will scarcely ever be able in after-life to get quit of the
"Scotch accent." The 'ever' in the pl1rase 'will scarcely ever be
able,' really qualifies the whole sentence, and ought in strictness to
be at the comniencement :-"It scarcely ever happens, that a child
brought up in Scotland," &c.
·
The author · now pilsses, in another pnrngraph, to a ·new pl1aso
of the operation of the principle. l. "In such cnses, we sometimes
" see a sort of antagonism between intCJntional and · unintentionni
"imitation." Here he states the general doctrine; in the next sentence he repents it in 8.n embodied or concrete form. ·
. 2. "The mature inab, in the desire to get quit of [vary tbo
"phrase, 'overcome'] a. national or provincial peculiarity, attempts
"nn imitation, in which he is p ... evented from succeeding by the
"Jastirig consequences of t110 UI'\ntentionnl imitation into which
"he had glided when n child."
·
· ·
' 8. ' "The same truth may be shown by (converse} 'obverse' in·
"starices;" · He now proceeds to give examples of the difficulties
of the late learner.
·
· · 4. "A German educated at home rarely learns to pronounce the
"th in the article the, nor does im Englishman, confined till man" hood to his own island and his own tongue, succeed better with
"the guttural in aich or tag."
Then follow his practical applications; and by these, the nuthor
farther elncidntes the general principles. We quote only a port.
"From these familiar.facts, illustrating the irresistiblo tendency
"to personal assimilation mid the durability of its effects, we mny
"dednce the bigh importance of placing children with people who
"are easy, natural, and graceful in their deportment, who spenk
"with correctness and purity, and are free from objectionnblo
"habits.
"No Dominie Sampsons should be pennitt~d where it is pose!" ble to exclude them. The once prevalent practice of committing
"children to the care of the lf!me, the deformed, the ro11gh, the

EX.

xm.]

EXPOSITION BY .APPLICATIONS.

333

"uncouth, the ungainly, the rickety either in body or mind, is now
" indeed generally abandoned. It is becoming understood tl1at an
"instructor is all the better for being a favorable specimen of his
"own race, even in physical qualities and accomplishments.
"As a rule, do not confide your children to any one whose
" habits, manners, speech, pJay of countenance, nnd deportment,
"you w1Juld not like .t hem to imitate. It is doubtless extremely
"difficult to act on such a rule; a compromise between welcome
"nod unwelcome qualitie!!I is, in general, the only practicable re" source."
It will now be seen what is the expository value of practical
npplicat.ions of principles. It mny also be seen, that., as exposition
is not the chief end in vil\w, the practical writer does not confine
himself to following out any single principle, but introduces allusions to every doctrine that lie thinks has any bearing on his subject. It is not often that practical discussion contains BO much
clear elucidation of general principles, as is contained in the present passage; for, although the author lays down four or five different generalities, he provides a certain amount of methodical exposition for encb.

a

ExTnAcT XIV.-The following passage, froin Macaulay's History, is nn e:xpo3itory nnd moralizing epis~de, occurring nftcr the
intimation that the Revolution was accomplished.
1. "It is the nature of man to overrate present evil, and to un" derrate present good; to long for what he has not, and to be ~is~
"satisfied with what he has." The announcement of a doetrme
of human nature, with obverse statement; iteration, and balanced
structure; The subject of the paragraph is thrown to the end of
the sentence (p. 133).
2, 3. "This propensity, as it appears in individuals, bns often
" been noticed both by laughing and by weeping philosophers. It
" was a favorite theme of Horace and of Pascal, of Voltaire and of
"Johnson." These two sentences might, with propriety, bo made
one·, the second is merely the specification of what, in tho first, is
stated generally.
4. "To its influence on tlie fate of great communities mny be
" nscribecl lnost of tho rovolutions nnd co11ntor-rovol11tions recorded
"in history." There is here another reason for joining the two
(oregoin~ sentences; in the expression 'fate of great communities'
8 balance lies with the phrase ' as it appears in individuals' in sen-

•

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EXTRACTS .ANALYZED.

[EL XIV,

tence No. 2. Now an iutervcniug sentence is an impediment to
the perception of the parallelism. The second sentence might havo
started thus:-" Aa appearing in individuals, this propensity-";
and the present sentence might Jiave answered to tho oonstruotion,-" Aa manifested in communities, to it may be ascribed-".
5. "A hundred generations have passed away sinco tho first
''great national emancipation, of which an account has come down
"to as." The Inst clause is a specimen of the disjointing effect of
our prevailing relative construction. The sentence is unnecessary;
the parade of 'the hundred generations' does not add to the forco
of the passage; still less should it have the prominence of tho subject of a sentence.
6. "We read in the most ancient of books that a people bowed
" to the dust under a cruel yoke, scourged to toil by hard tnskmns" ter~, not supplied with straw, yet compelled to furnish the daily
" tale of bricks, became sick of lifo, and raised such a cry as pierced
"the henvemi." A well-managed picture of distress. It passes tho
limits of poetic pathos, to answer nn oratorical purpose.
'T. "The slaves were wonderfully set free; at the moment of
" their liberation they raised a song of gratitude and triumph ; but,
"in a few hours, they began to regret their slavery, and to reproach
"the leader who decoyed them away from the savory fore of tho
"house of bondage to the dreary waste which stiU separated them
"from the land of milk and honey." Well-formed in every respect;
the increasing length and growing impressiveness of the members,
together with the flowing cadence, are such as to realize Addison's
best ideal of a sentence.
8, 9. "Since that time the history of every great deliverer hns
" been the history of Moses re-tol<l. Down to the present time,
"rejoicings like those on the shore of the Red Sea have ever boon
"speedily followed by murmurings, like those at the Waters of
"Strife." Excepting the gross exaggeration of historical facts,
nothing could be more happily expressed than these two sentences.
Tho balaucecl arrangement is perfect, and yet not painfully obtrusive.
10, 11. "The most just and salutary revolution must produce
"much suffering. The most just and salutary revolution cannot
"produce all the good that [not 'which' for a wonder] hnd been
" expected from it by men of uninstructed minds and sanguine tem" pers." Exemplifies :Macaulay's commendable defiance of the old
conventions against repenting the i;nme wordg.

EX.

xv.]

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CHAIN OF REASONING.-CA:MPilELL.

rtTWF"

335

12. "Even the wisc~t cnnnot, whilo it is st,i11 rccont.,.woi~l1.q11i~o
"fairly the evils wliich it has caused against the evils wlnch it
,, But 1l"or the parallelism with the sentence followromovet1.
•
d
'
'in' l insthe
burdensome relative ' which ' might hnve been. om1ttc .
E;;n as it is, the participial form might be used; 'the evils caused
by it ' ' the evils removed by it.'
.
"For the evils (which it has cnuse<l) 'caused ?Y, it' are felt,
" and the evils (which it has .remov:ed) 'removed by it nre felt no

13.

..
" longer."
.
.
This passage comes under the popular and mt~restrng expos1t10~
of truths imperfectly defined, and therefore serv1cealile for rhetorical effect (p. 133).

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Rhort extract is next given to show
the nicoty
•
E XTRAOT Xv . -A '

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required in stating n chain of reasoning (p. 210). It is .from Oampbell's Rhetoric. Uc is discussing tho circumstances mstrumcntal
in opernting on the passions.
.
"Tho first is probability, which is now consHlercd 0~1ly os an
"expedient for enlivening passion." The second clau~e is m~rely
to guard against supposing that probability is hern cons1dered.m all
its bearings; it would be bettor ~ispenscd with, the complexity of
the exposition requiring the dismissal of all superfluous statemen~s.
11 Here again there is commonly scope fo~ argume~t. . P~obnbil­
" ity results from evidence, nnd begets behef. Behef .mvigorntc.s
"our ideas. · Belief raised to the highest bec~mes certamty. Oer." tainty flows either from the force of the evidence, real or ap~a1" ent, that is produced ; or without any evidence produced by th:
" speaker, from the previons notoriety of the. fact. If the fact b
"notorious, it will not ouly be superfluous m ~he spoake.r. to nt" tempt to prove it [confusion of 'it-s '] but it will be permmons ~o
"his design. The reason is plain. By proving, he .supposeth ~t
1
" questionable and by supposing, actually renders it so to. hu
"audience: } 1 ~ brings thorn from viewing it in the s~r.ongc.r h~ht
"of certainty, to view it in tho weaker light of probnlnhty: ·~ hen
"of sunshine he gives them twilight." Considernblo study is .reuisite to disentangle this train of nrgumentation. The ren~omng
~ppcars to return to itself. We nt Inst discover .th~ nu~l1or s r.oal
thesis to be, the importance of Belief, or Conv1ct1~n, ~n mnk1~1g
people feel; whence it is desirable to <lo whatever will give conv~c­
tlon, and avoid whatever will shake it. If we hn.v~ .only proba~1l­
ity, we should nourish, nml not impair, thnt probability. Aml with

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EXTRACTS J.NALYZED.

(i.:x.

X\'le

this view, he indicates n nico stroke of mnnngcmcnt on the pnrt or
n speaker, namcJy, not to dh1turb o. settled conviction by nd<luclng
reasom, since to do so implies thnt t11e point is unsettled.
.
ExTRAOT XVI.-The folJowing passage from Adnm Smith slaows
the Expository Method as applied to Moral Suasion. The theme la
one that the author has often and carnestJy expoundc<l,-tho acquiescence in irremediabJe misfortunes.
1. "In the misfortunes for which tho nature of things ndmits, or
"seems to admit, of a remedy, but in which the means of applying
"that remedy are not within the reach of the sufferer his vain
"(and fruitless) attempts to restore himself to his former ~ituation
"his continual ·anxiety for their success, his repeated disnppoin~
" rnents upon their miscarriage, are what chiefly hinder him from
" resuming his natural tro.nqnillity, and frequently render miser" able, during the whole of (his) life, a man to whom a greater mis"fortune, but which plainly admitted of no remedy, wouJd not
"have given a fortnight's disturbance." Although composed on
nn intelligible plan, this sentence is excessive in length, and admits
of retrenchment. It may bo looked upon as stating and exemplifying a principle nt the same time (Ex. XIII. Sent. 1). We have
.
··
next a series of interesting and impressive examples.
· 2. "In. tlie fall from royal favor to disgrace, from power to in" significattcy, from riches to poverty, from liberty to confinement,
"from strong health to lingering, chronicnJ, and perhreps iocnrablo
"disease, the man who struggJes tho least, who most easily and
"readily acquiesces in the fortune which has fallen to him, very
" soon recovers his usual and natural tranquilJity, ancl surveys tho
"disagreeable circumstances of his actual situation in tho samo
"light, or perhaps, in a much less unfavorable light, than that in
"which the most indifferent spectator is disposed to survey them."
The latter part of this sentence also is wordy and diffuse. The examples given are not yet sufficiently concrete for effect. Detter uro
to come.
3. "Faction, intrigue, a~d cnbnl, disturb the quiet of the unfora tuoate statesman." The paralJel construction should now be attended to. "The statesman, under misfortune, is disquieted by
faction, intrigue, and cabal."
4. "Extravagant projects, visions of gold mines, interrupt the
"repose of the ruined bankrupt." The author seems aware that
the placing of the ptincipal subject at the close gives it an emplrn-

EX. XVI.]

q ·

MORAL SUASION.-ADAM SMITll.

337

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·
Still we must continue to mvert · 1s or e •
sis.
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· ects and
,
bankrupt bas his repose interrupted by extravagan proJ
visions of gold mines."
•
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"The prisoner who is continually plottmg to esc~pe
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Inch even
"(bis) confinement, cannot en,joy that care ess secur1 Y w .
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b 't • tparallel order is here attended to. . A. more empho.t1c rev~ y ts a
taino.ble. " The prisoner, continually plotting .to escn~o, ~issc~, the
satisfaction he might gain in the careless secunty of lns prison.
·. . 6. "The medicines of the physician are of~en .the gr~atest tor" ment of the incurable patient." "Under rncut·nble ~ise~~, t~e
medicines of the physician tantalize and torment the patte~t.
. 'T. "The monk who, in order to comfort Joan~a of Castile, upo:
"the death of her husband, Philip, told her of a ki.ng, wh?, fonrtee
"years after his decease, had been rest~red to hfe (ago.m), by the
u prayers of his afflicted queen, was not hkely to ~estore sedateness
11 to the distempered mind of that unhappy prmcess."
A m~st
plausible period, yet radically disarranged. "Joann~ .of Castile,
driven to distraction by the death of her husband; Plnhp, was ~ot
likely to have her mind quieted by t~e .monk that told her of a kmg
restored to life,· fourteen years after hts decease, by
of
. the. prayers
.
his afflicted queen."
.
.
s: ' ''She endeavored to repeat the (same) experu~ent m hopes
"of the same success; resisted for a long time the burial of her. bus" band, soon ufter raised his body from the gro.ve, atten?ed 1t. al" most constantly 11erself, and w~tchecl, . with nll the 1mpn~1ent
"anxiety of frantic expectation, the happy moment whe~ ~10~ 1w1sb~s
" were to be gratified by the revival of her beloved ~h1hp.
Tb~s
incident is perhaps made too much of; the linrrowmg effect~~ 1t
the reader is not favorable to the author's lesson of tranqmlhty
:d contentment. This is a state of mind; to be nourished, through
the so.me precautions as courage, by not .exposing th~ subject to the
opposite condition more than 11e can benr at the time. The sentence might be improved by changing the first member to the participial form. "Endeavoring to ~e_veat the exper~ment,'' &c.
Excepting the mistake of g1vmg too exclusively ~be cases .of
persons faiJing to achieve contentment, the passage is a good msto.nce of expository persuasion by example. · The style of the author here and elsewhere, would be greatly improved, by mixture
with the short and balanced sentences of Maca~o.y.

15

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EXTRACTS ANALYZED,

(EX, X\'U.

ExTRAOT XVII.-In connection with Oratory, we quote tho
celebrated Adjuration of Demosthenes, in the speech on tho Crown i
probably the greatest effort ever made to soothe and reconcile men
under calamity and defeat. Demosthenes had himself boon tho
chief adviser of strenuous resistance to Philip ; the resistance hnd
been unsuccessful, nod yet he claimed honor for the intentions and
the exertions of those engaged in it.
"If I then undertook to say that it was I that brought you to
"entertain sentiments worthy of your ancestors, there is no man
"but could justly blame me. [Delicate insinuation ; ho would bo
"blamable if he claimed the credit of infusing patriotic sentiments;
"these existed independent of him.] I nssert that such tendoncios
" are your own ; I declure that before my time the Athenian Stnto
" was thus minded. Yet I do say, that I too have had a share in
" the several transactions themselves. But this man (.lEschines),
" by censuring everything, and urging you to bitterness against mo
"as the author of the alarms and dangers of the State, seeks to rob
"me of my present honor, and deprives you of your o'·erlasting
"fame. For if ye condemn Ktesiphon, on the ground that my pol" icy has not been for the best, ye will then nppenr to l1ave commit"ted error, and not merely to hnve suffered reverses by tho unkind" ness of Fortune. But ye cannot, yo cannot have crreil, 0 .Athe" nians, in braving peril for the safety, tho liberty of all. No I By
"your ancestors who fronted danger at Marathon; and stood or" rn.yed at Platroa, by those who fought on sea at Salamis, and at
"Artemisium, and by the many other galJnnt men, lying interred in
"the public sepulchres; whom all alike the city held worthy of
"honor and buried ; and not nlone the successful and the victors I
"With justice; since all did the work of brn.ve men, though each
"had the fortune that the Deity assigned him." Tho orator lins
here skilfully touched the most powerful chords in the minds of his
audience, and, trusting to the effects of his address, hns dared the
highest flight of figurative boldness.
EXTRA.OT XVIII.-The following lines from the "Pleasures of
Hope " exemplify the Poetic Figures and Qualities. I select for
notice the more important points.
"At summer's eve, when Heaven's aerial bow
Spans, with bright arch, the glittering hills below,
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky?"

EX. XVIII.]

CAMPDELL's rLEASURES OF HOPE.

339

These Jines contnin n description i11<1ivid11nlizcd by tho point of
time given ('at summer's eve'), and enlivened by _circum~t~nc~s of
action-' spans with bright arC1h,' ' turns tho 1:1'11s1.ng e~e! "!1'in~lc11
with the sky.' The touches conveyed in' briglit arch, glittering
hill ' '
-bright summit ' are graphically selected, and can be
if there be
to object to, it is the three-fold
iteration of the one idea of light.

casi~~ res~~ed;

~nything

"Why do ihose hills of shadowy tint nppenr
More sweet thnn nil the lnndscnpc smiling ncnr Y"

Another graphic touch that cloes not require much Jnbor of
comprehension. 'Shadowy tint' is not very happy;. and ' sweet'
is scarcely the word. 'Smiling near ' is mere fi11mg up.. The
rhyme fa11s upon ineignificant words; a fault not alway~ avoidable,
but worth remarking on, as a great effect may be attamed. by ns··
signing the position of emphasis to something really emphatic.
"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue."

The first line is a stroke of felicitous condensation ; the three
abstract nouns are vivified by a familiar and. forci.ble verb; .the
melody is good ; and a sentiment is conveyed m a hne. The succeeding line calls for no special remark.
"Thus, with delight., we linger to survey
The promis' d joys of life's unmeasured wny; "

A good line might have been made out of these two, by omitting the subjective designations, 'with dcli(!lit,' 'promis'd joy~,' nnd
combining the remaining figures.
"Thus from nfnr cneh dim-discovered sccuo
'
More' pleasing seems
thnn all the pnst hnth been. "

I

kI

Space and time are here mixed in one figure, with a confusing
effect. The occasional lameness of rhyme could not be better
shown than by bringing under its emphasis such a word as 'been!
"And every form thnt Fancy can repnir
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there.'

Notwithstanding tl1e profusion of nbstrnct nouns, the lnngttRge
is tcJJing t11rough action. The rcforonco of tho concluding word
'there' is not obvious.
" Whnt potent spirit guides the rnptur' d eye
To pierce the ehndes of dim futurity ? "

Tho interroantion is suitnbJy introduced: but tho lnnirnnao is

! !
I.

i

J

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rzrzzzrz

340

EXTRACTS ANALYZED.

[Ex. xvm.

somewhat in excess; 'potent spirit,' 'raptur'd eye,' 'ahades ofdlm
futurity.'
"

(J~n

Wisdo,m lend,_ with all her boasted power, ·
The_pledge, of Joy's anticipated hour?" ·.

We ha~e had 'lend ' .already, and there are words more apt in ·
this connection. · T~e language is otherwise unexceptionable; and
the rhyme brings into prominence two important words. The
order of the sentence is good.
"Ah.no I she darkly sees the fate of man,
Her dim horizon bounded to a span; "

The first line is both simple and effective. The second iterates
'darkly' in ' dim; ' the Dlixture of the two figures of darkness and
contraction is not favorable to a. distinct conception; and the .
word ' span,' made energetic .by the rhyme, is not in · keeping with ·
a contracting and vanishfog effect; it has already been used for the
wide compass of the rainbow, ·

EX. XVIII.]

.

'

-

-

" Thine is the cbnrm of life's bewildered way,
That calls each slumbering passion into play.'

The first line is admirable in every respect. The participial adjective construction 'bewildered way,' is here set off by the choice
of the strongest and aptest epithet. The second line by no means
supports the first. The figure is departed from, and another introduced having only a loose connection. 'Slumbering passion' is not
very original ; ' cnlling into play' is not very poetical, nor in special
harmony of figure; nnd the complement 'into play' is still less
adnpted to the closing place.
We give now the splendiuly soaring climax:" Eternal Hope I when yonder spheres sublime
Peal'd their first notes to sound the march of Time,
Thy joyous youth began-but not to fade."

.

"With thee, sweet Hope, resides the heavenly iight,
That pours remotest rapture on the sight ; "

The adjective 'ewe~t' iidds no force to the line, whose 111.ngungo
otherwise is apt, . and its arrangement .uerfect. In snite of the

341

drawbacks of alliteration and abruptness of sound, the combination
'remotest rapture' is energetically concise; the co~cisene~s a~d
originality pass off the noun, although a word so eas~ly. lendm~ itself to sentimental inflation. The place of emphasis is not filled
by an unimportant phrase.

;, Or, .if she bolds· an image to the view,
'Tis Nature pictured too severely true."

The second line could · hardly be improved. The rhyme gives
emphasis to a really emphatic wonl; equally good, but not better,
would have been the ending 'truthfully severe.' The first line is
enfeebled by the weak complement ofthe·ver~' holds ·eo the view'
-receiving the place of honor and the stress .of rhyme.
These last six lines afford a good example of Contrast; after
which the main theme is resumed with increased effect. Such
contrasts are matter of delicate handling in poetry. When they
are the painful obverse of a joyous subject, the principles of Art
require them to be kept within the narrowest limits. In Tbomson 's "Oastle of Indolence," Book I., the poet introduces into his
picture of delicious quietisrn, a contrasting description of the
harshness of labor such as to damp the enjoyment of the scene,
while it can hardly be deemed requisite for the mass of readers, all
too familiar with the 8ubject. The present contrast of Oampbell's
is not too painfu1, nor too protracted, to be redeemed, and more
than redeemed, by the heightened gfow of the main subject. ·

CAl\IPllELL'S PLEASURES OF uorE.

Notice first the grammar shaped to the periorl. The invocation
contains nothing more than aptness to the subject, which can always redeem the triteness of the phraseology. A fine coherent
figure is then worked up (the 8phere-~usic being. allowed for the
occasion), from the vocabulary of the highest sublime.
1

"Whf'n all the sister planets bnve decnycd;
'Vhen wrapt in fire the realms of ether glo,v,
And heaven's last thunder shakes the world below;
Thou undismayed, shalt o'er the ruins smile,
'
And light
thy torch at Nature's funera l p1'lc I "
EXTRA.OT XIX.-W e give a portion of Coleridge's Mont Blanc, to
be stndi(\(_1 for the various nrts involved i~ tho poetic rendering of

Nature.

" Hnst thou n chnrm to stny the morning stnr
In his steep course ? So long he seems to pauso
On thy bald awful head, 0 sovran Diane I
The Arve nnd Arveiron nt thy bnse
Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form t
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently I Around thee and above,
T\--- : ...

n ... ~ "'~,. ""~ ~ .... rlr anhe1t.n.ntin1- hln.r.k.

842

EXTRACTS .ANALYZED.

[EX. XX. XXl .

An ebon mnss; methink!! thou piercest it,
As with a wedge I But when I look again,
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity I
0 dread and silent mount I I gazed upon thee,
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
Didst vanish from my thought; entranced in prayer,
I worshipped the invisible alone."
ExTRAOT XX.-It is interesting now to compare with still-life
Description, at its utmost sublimity, the greater impressivenes!I of
action. The passage is Byron's Thunderstorm.

"The sky is changed I-and such n change I O night,
· And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman I Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder I not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who cnll to her aloud I
"And this is in the night ;-most glorious night I
Thou wert not sent for slumber I let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,A portion of the tempest and of thee I
How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,
And the big rain comes dancing t.o the earth I
And now again 'tis black,-and now the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.''
ExTRAOT XXI.-Dyer's " Grongar Ilill" is reckoned one of the
best Descriptive poems of the language. A very few Jines wilJ
show how indispensable activity, rcol or fictitious, is to a good
poetical description.

I.

I
~I

"Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landscape lies below I
No clouds, no vapors intervene, ·
But the gay, the open scene,
Does the face of Nature show,
In all the hues of heaven's bow;
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.
Old castles on the clitls arise,

EX.

xxn.]

POETICAL DESCRIPTIONS.

34~

Proudly towering in the skies I
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires I
Half his beams Apollo sheds
On the yellow mountain heads ;
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
Aud glitters on the broken rocks I"
ExTRAOT XXII.-Tho following pnssnge from the "Seasons
will serve to illustrate tho Ideal in Poetry. It is the lasting ide~
11ubject-tho Golden Ago.

"The first fresh dawn then wak' d the gladden' d race
Of uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to see
The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam ;
For their light slumbers gently fum'd away;
And up they rose as vig'rous as the sun,
Or to the culture of the willing glebe,
Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock.
Meantime the song went round; and dance nnd sport,
Wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole
Their hours away ; while in the rosy vale
Love brealh'd his infant sighs, from angnish free,
And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain,
That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.
Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed,
Was known among those happy sons of Heav'n;
For reason and benevolence were law.
Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on;
Clear shone the skies, cool' d with eternal gales,
And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun
Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds
Dropp' d fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead,
The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure."

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