B • .M. lD. <B.

A

PRACTICAL INTRODUCTION

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RHETORIC:
PRECEPTS AND EXERCISES.

BY

REV. CHARLES COPPENS, S.J.,

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A utlr.w of "Tiu A rt o/ Oratnrical Composi'ion."

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AUBURN UNI

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NEW YORK:

SCHWARTZ,· Kl RW IN & FAUSS,
2 6 Barclay Street.

LIBRARY

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SHIRi<' ·

CONTENTS.

( INTRODUCTORY, .

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BOOK !.-THE ELEMENTS OF COMPOSITION.
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Copyright, 188b.

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by

mE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY CO.

Tra.sterred to CATHOLIC SCHOOL BOOK CO.

CHAPTER
I. Object-Lessons :
Article
I. Nam es of Objects ; .
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II. Parts of Objects;
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III. Qualities of Objects;
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IV. Actions done by or to Objects ;
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V. Uses of Objects ;
" - VI. Composition.
CHAPTER II. Words:
Article
I. Purity; .
II. Propriety :
§ r. Suited to the idea expressed,
$\ 2. Suited to polite usage, .
§ 3. Suited to special circumstances;
§ 4. Suited to the subject treated;
Article III. Precision ..
CHAPTER III. Sentences : •
Article
I. Clearness ;
II. Precision ;
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III. Unity;
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IV. Strength ;
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Y. Harmony:
§ 1. Sources of harmony,
§ 2. The periodic construction,
§ 3. Period-building,
§ 4. Model sentences.

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ALL_ RIGHTS RRSRRVRD.

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Contents.

Contents.

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CHAPTER IV. Combination and Punctuation of Sentences:
Article I. Combination of Sentences-The Paragraph ;
" II. Punctuation :
§ I. The period,
§ 2. The colon,
§ 3. The semicolon,
§ 4. The comma,
§ 5. Interrogation and exclamation,
§ 6. The dash,
§ 7. Curves, brackets, and quotation marks.

BOOK IV.-SPECIES OF PROSE COMPOSITION.

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PAGI!:

CHAPTER
Article

BOOK 11.-THE ORNAMENTS OF COMPOSITION.
CHAPTER
I. Tropes:
Article
I. Metaphor;
II. Allegory ;
III. Synecdoche and Metonymy ;
IV. Irony, Hyperbole, and Personification.
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CHAPTER II. Figures of Words.
CHAPTER III. Figures of Thought.

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BOOK III.-STYLE IN LITERARY COMPOSITION.
CHAPTER
I. Beauty.
CHAPTER IL Sublimity, Wit, and Humor:
Article
I. Sublimity;
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II . Wit ;
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III. Humor. .
CHAPTER III. Taste.
CHAPTER IV. Varieties of Style:
Article
I. Sources of Variety;
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II. Ornament of Style.
CHAPTER V. Improvement of Style:
Article
I. Precepts ;
II. Practice of composition;
" III. Reading.

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107
108
III

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119
122
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I. Imitation :
I. Imitation on the same Subject;
II. Imitation on a different Subject ;
III. Selection of Models
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CHAPTER
IL Epistolary Composition :
Article
I. Official and Business Letters ;
II. Unofficial Letters. •
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( CHAPTER III. Narration:
Article
I. Narration in General ;
II. Simple Narration; .
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III . Complex Narration;
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IV. Style of Narration ..
CHAPTER IV. Description :
Article
I. Description of Things ; ,
II. Description of Characters.
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CHAPTER
V. Essays:
Article
I. Collecting Appropriate Thoughts:
§ 1. Nature and name of the subject,
§ 2. Causes and effects,
§ 3. Circumstances and antecedents,
§ 4. Resemblance and contrast, .
§ 5. Authorities and examples; ,
Article II. Various Kinds of Essays:
§ I. School essays,
§ 2. Magazine articles,
§ 3. Critical essa_fs,
§ 4. Scientific, historical, and political essays.
CHAPTER VI. Dialogues.
CHAPTER VII. Novels.
CHAPTER VIII. History : .
Article
I. Nature and General Laws of History; .
II. Sources of Historical Knowledge ;
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III. Qualities Required in the Historian;
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IV. History Generally Reliable;
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V . Special Sources of Error :
§ 1. False statements,

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139
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152
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158
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166
166
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181
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182
185
186
187
188
189
190
193
195
200

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Contents.

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Contents. ·

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PAGE

PAGE

§

Suppression of facts,
§ 3. Partiality,
§ 4. Hostility or prejudice,
§ 5. False theori es ;
Article VI. The Plan of a History; •
VII. Developm e nt of the Facts :
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~ 1. The artistic beauty of the narrative,
§ 2. Proper instruction for the reader ;
Articl e VIII. The Style of History;
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IX. Various Species of Historical Writings:
§ 1. History proper,
§ 2. Annals, memoirs, and travels,
§ 3. Philosophical histories,
§ 4. Biography.
2.

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239

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244
244
245
246
247

I. History and Nature of Versification ;
I. Its Rise and Importance ;
II. Its Influence at the Present Day;
III. The Nature of the Art.
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CHAPTER
II. Structure of Verse: •
Article
I. The Syllable : .
§ r. Accentuation,
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§ 2. Quantity,
§ 3. Influence of quantity and accent ;
Article II. The Foot:
§ I. Combination of syllables. into feet,
§ 2 . Principal and secondary feet;
Article II I. The Verse :
§ I. Species and length of the verse ;
§ 2. Acatalectic, catalectic, and hypermeter,
§ 3. Combining and dividing verses,
§ 4." Blending of different feet ; .
Article IV. Structure of the Stanza; •
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V. Rhyme: .
§ I. Alliteration and repetition,
§ 2. Nature and laws of rhyme,

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254
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261

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265
268
269

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274
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275
276
278
282

287
288
289

Article VI. Systems of Rhyming Verses : •
§ I. The short, common, and long metre,
§ 2. Tripl e t, elegiac, rhythm-royal, ottava rima, terza
rim a,
§ 3. The Spense rian stanza and the sonnet,
§ 4. The ode;
Article VI I. Blank Verse ; .
" VIII. Pauses in Ve rse:
§ r. The final pause,
§ 2. The cresural pause,
§ 3. The semi-cresural pause.

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BOOK V.-VERSIFICATION •.
CHAPTER

§ 3. Single, doubl e, and triple rhym es,
§ 4. Position of the rhyme in verse,
§ 5. Position of rhyming ve rses ;

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BOOK VI.-NATURE AND VARI,ETIES OF POETRY.
CHAPT ER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
Article

The Nature of Poetry.
Poetic Diction. •
Varieties of Poetry: .
I. Narrative and Descriptive Poetry:
§ I. N a rrative a nd d escriptive poetry in general,
§ 2. Epic poetry;
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Article II. Didactic ~ _.., , .f : .
§ I. Poetical epistles, •
§ 2 . Satire '. •
Article III. Lyric Poetry :
§ I. The od e,
§ 2. The psalms, .
§ 3. El egies ;
Article IV. Dramatic Poetry:
§ I. Tragedy,
§ 2 . Com edy;
Article V. Accidental Variations of Poetry:
§ I. Pastoral poetry.
§ 2. The poetrv of the Holy Scriptures.

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339
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349

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PREFACE.
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AFTER devoting nearly thirty years of his life to the
sacred cause of education, the author of this volume has
been requested by many of his friends to arrange for
publication the notes on Rhetoric and Poetry which he
had gradually accumulated. These consisted partly of
precepts carefully selected from the works of the best
critics, ancient and modern, partly of choice models
gathered from the works of the most distinguished
writers, to which were added the results of his own
observation and experience.
He began his task by publishing, last year, Tht Art
()f Oratorical Composition, for the benefit of those who
aim at success in public speaking. Encouraged by the
readiness with which that treatise has already been adopted in many leading colleges, and urged by his superiors
. and others to undertake a work of still wider usefulness,
he has now written this Practical Introduction to English
Rhetoric as a general text-book on Composition for the
use of Colleges and Academies.
He rests his claims to the patronage of such nstitutions on the following points:
1. The work is so comprehensive as to embrace all
the precepts of Rhetoric usually explained to the pupils
of academies. In conjunction with The Art of Oratori·

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Priface.

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cal Composition it contains the entire course of Rhetoric
~s studied in colleges 1and universities.
2. It is very practical, as will appear from even a cursory glance at the numerous exercises suggested in its
pages. In the first part of the work many matters are
explained and exercises suggested, which the teacher may
utilize for the improvement of even young children in
the lowest classes.
3. It contains a copious collection of choice quotations in prose and verse, to serve as models for the
imitation of pupils. But it does not contain long lists
of faulty sentences, etc., because the author thinks that
students, in their d aily exercises, supply the professor
with a sufficient amount of such matter for criticism.
4. Lastly, the work pretends to do what many textbooks on Rhetoric neglect, and what is really the most
important task of all-namely, to educate the heart as
well as the head of the student; or, as Southey expresses
it, "to throw his affections aright" : to guide the steps
of the young through the pleasant paths of litera.ture,
without exposing them to the danger of losing what is
far lnore precious than all the literature of the world~
the purity of their Faith and the innocence of their
hearts.
The treatise on "Versification " which forms part of
this work is from the able pen of Rev. Eugene H. Brady,
S.J., of St. Xavier College, Cincinnati, 0. It is highly
appreciated by the author of this volume ; and he does
not doubt that it will prove most acceptable to th9se
for whose benefit it is now published.
ST. Loms

UNIVERSITY,

April

13,

1886.

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INTR.O DUC'TORY.

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The foundation of all literary excellence is common

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"Scribendi recte sapere est et principium et fons,''

says Horace.
Poetry,

His translator, Francis, applies this rule to

"Good sense, the fountain of the Muse's art",

but it holds for all kinds of composition. Now, one of the
first dictates of common sense is that an exercise be not
above the power of the writer. The same critic remarks:
" Examine well, ye writers, weigh with care
What suits your genius, what your stre ng th will bear.
To him who shall his task with judgment choose
Nor words nor method shall their aid refuse."

School-exercises should therefore be carefully adapted

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the capacity of the pupils. A boy may be taught to corn~
pose a natural and interesting narration of an excursion_ a
favorite game, a festive celebration. a distressing accident:
etc. ; but he is as yet incapable of handling intricate or al>~
stract subjects. He will only write nonsense and acquire
a faulty taste and style, if his first theme is the descript;re
of an ancient or modern battle, an essay on 'The spirit of
progress,' or even on ' The Declaration of Independence."
2. The first requisite for success in any composition is
that the writer have clear and QQt:rect ideas on the matter

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Introductory.

to be treated. Therefore, before speaking of style or the
expression of thought, we shall premise a few exercises on
the acquisition of thought. Children acquire knowledge
readily and naturally by observing what is presented to
their senses. We shall follow nature's guidance, and begin
with such exercises as will promote or direct this habit of
observation, as a preparation for original composition.

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BOOK I.

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THE ELEMENTS OF COMPOSITION.
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CHAPTER I.

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OBJECT-LESSONS•
3. Object-Lessons are exercises on objects that fall undet
the senses. In these lessons children are trained to notice
such objects with care, to observe their parts, their qualities, their actions ; the sources whence they come, the
means by which they may be obtained, the uses to which
they may be applied, and so forth.
4. The chief advantages derived from object-lessons are:
t. They cultivate habits of attention ;
1. They lead to greater distinctness of perception ;
3. They store the mind with useful knowledge;
4. They cultivate a taste for what is real ;
5. They develop the habit of tracing effects to their
.· causes, and following out causes to their effects;
6. They make the child acquainted with numerous
words, not learned at random and vaguely understood, but exactly suited to the clear ideas thus
acquired;
7. The spelling of those same words can easily be
learned ·in connection with the objects studied.
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The Elements of r:omposztion.
8. The exercises may be so conducted as to introduce
various poi tions of grammar; for instance, the distinctions between nouns, adjectives, verbs ; proper
and common nouns; gender, number, and case; etc.
9. They afford the teacher opportunities to introduce
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m a natural and interesting way, information con·
cerning plants, animals, countries, nations, historical
facts ; above all, moral and religious maxims and
principles, and to point out the evident marks in all
things of the wisdom and love of the Creator.
ro. They may easily be directed to the cultivation of
good taste.

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ARTICLE

I.

NAMES

OF

OBJECTS.

5. The name of anything which exists or of which we
have any notion is a noun or substantive.

6: ls.t Ex~rcise.-Write the names of all the obj ects you
notice .m tlus clas~-room, in the school-yard, in a dining~oom,. rn a garden, m the church, at a picnic, at a funera~
m a 1ack-room, at a college exhibition, etc., etc.
.
;. 2d :Exercise.-Point out the agreeable objects collect·
ed by Goldsmith to describe a happy village :
" Sweet Auburn, loveli est village of the plain,
Where health and pl enty ·: nee red the laboring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's linge ring blooms delayed:
Dear lovely bowers of innoce nce and ease,
Seats of my youth where every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o'er thy green,
Where humble ha ppin es s end eared each scene J
How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm
The never-failing brook, the busy mili,
The decent church that topped the neighboring hill I"

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Object. L essons.

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8. 3d Exercise.-Point out separately the . gloomy and
the pleasing objects in the following lines of the same
poem, " The Deserted Village " :
"Amid thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green :
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a village stints the smiling plain.
No more the glassy brook refl ec ts the day,
But choked with sedges works its weary way;
Along the glades, a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks th e lap wing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvari ed cri ~s .
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Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin a ll ,
And the long grass o 'ertops the mould ering wall;
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
F a r, far away thy children leave the land."

9. 4th Exercise.-Mention the obj ects peculiar to morn.
ing, to noon, to evening, to night, to winter, to summer, to
s.pring, to autumn, a graveyard, a Sunday, a solemn fea st, etc
Example of an evening scene.
" Or when the plowman l eaves the task of day,
And trudging homeward whistles on the way ;
Wh e n the big-udd e red cows with patience stand,
Waiting the strokings of the damsel's hand.
No warbling cheers the wood: the feathered choir,
To court kind slumbers, to the sprays retire,
Where no rude gale disturbs th e sleeping trees,_
· No aspen leaves confess the gentlest breeze.
Engaged in thought, to N ep tune's bounds I stray,
To take my farewell of the parting d ay ;
Far in the deep the sun his glory hides,
A streak of gold the sea and sky divides;
The purple clouds th eir ambe r linin_gs sh.o w,
A~edged with flam e rolls every wave below:
Here pensive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the distant billows lose my sight."-Gay.

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The Elements of Composition.

Object-Lessons.

It must be remembered that object-lessons properly ap-

II.

PARTS OF OBJECTS.

Exercise.-Examine with care and mention the dif ·
ferem parts of the following objects : A pear, a rose, a
cherry-tree, a desk, a stove, a furnace, a carriage, a book,
a newspaper, a bookcase, a map, an engine; etc. This exercise is treated in detail and with great variety of illustration in many books on Object-Lessons; its main purpose
is the . promotion of close observation in the learner. It
will be sufficient to add here a few examples.
An apple has stem, peel, pulp, juice, veins, eye, dimples, core, seeds, seed-case.
A pocket-kmfe has handle, pivot, blade.
The handle has rivets, frame, heel, sides, back, spring,
grooves, plate.
The blade has edge, point, back, notch, sides, maker's
name.
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ARTICLE

III.

QUALITIES OF OBJECTS.

A quality of an object is expressed by an adjective; as
'new,' 'old,'' gentle,' etc.
11. 1st Exercise.-Write the names of the objects in this
room and add to each name a suitable adjective; as, 'a
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new chair,' 'a square table,' 'a hot stove,' 'a gentle voice,'
'a harsh tone,' etc.

2d Exercise.-Point out the adjectives occurring in
the verses . quoted in Nos. 7, 8, 9, distinguishing those that
make the objects more pleasing from those that produce
the opposite effect.
13. 3d Exercise.-Mention all the adjectives you know
which denote color, figure, size, place, time.
Example of size : Large, big, great, voluminous, bulky,
ample, capacious, huge, immense, enormous, vast, mon··
strous, gigantic, giant-like, colossal, Cyclopean, infinite,
boundless; middling, mediocre, moderate, ordinary, average ; little, small, minute, diminutive, inconsiderable,
tiny, puny. petty, dwarfed, dwarfish, stunted, Liliputian.
12.

ply to such obj ects only as are actually presented to the
senses of the learners. The exercises here set down enlarge this fi eld, so as to include other objects not actually observed, but known to exist under given circumstances.
Great fidelity in describing things as they really are is earnestly recommended: exactness is one of the chief qualities of good writing.
ARTICLE

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ARTICLE

IV.

ACTIONS DONE BY OR TO OBJECTS.

An action done by a person or thing is expressed by an
.
. • .'t o 1ove, '
active
ver b ; as, ' to run, , ' to rea d', 't o h onor,
etc . . An action suffered by a person or object is expressed
by a passive verb; as, 'to be seen,' 'to be loved.' 'to be rebuked,' etc.
14. Exercise.-Mention various actions which can be
done by or to flame, rain, air, steam ; the eyes, hands,
feet, tongue; by or to birds, fishes, paper, pen, ink, etc. ·
15. Example of actions done by and to water ("The
Cataract of Lodore ") :
" The Cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
Rising and leaping,
Sinki~ and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,

Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting
Around and around
With endless rebound;

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The Elements of Compositz"on.
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And curling and whirling,
And purling and twirling,
And thumping and plumping,
And bumping and jumping,
And dashing and fla~hing,
And splashing and clashing,"
Etc.

And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
Ami tossing and crossing,
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
ARTICLE

v.

USES OF OBJECTS.

i6. 1st Exercise.-Mention the uses of every article to
be seen in a school-room, a parlor, a kitchen, a :l~ak­
room, a dining-room, a church, a street-car, a s1ttmgroom.
. 2d Exercise.-Mention the purposes served by the
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various parts of a tree, a stove, an umbrella. a bridge, a
wagon, a trunk, a door, an apple.
Example: The parts of a hat.
Body: To cover the sides of the head and give shape
to the hat.
Brim : To protect the neck and the face from sun and
ram.
Crown: To protect the top of the head.
Band: To keep the hat in shape.
Binding: To keep the edge of the brim from wearing out.
Lining: To keep the sweat from soiling the material
of the hat.
Trt'mming: To give the hat an attractive appearance.
ARTICLE

VI.

COMPOSITION.

i8. 1st Exercise.-Write a connected description o~ a
fruit, a plaything, a plant, or an article of furnitu~e which
you have carefully examined, noting: (a) What kmd of a

Object-Lessons.
thing it is, what it resembles, how it differs from other
things ; (b) .What qualities it has; (c) What uses it serves;
(d) Whence it comes and how it is obtained ; (e) Its parts
and their relations, so as to give a full and clear idea of
the whole object.
19. Example : Description of the Cocoa-nut in the Encyclopcedia Americana :
" The cocoa nut is a woody fruit, of an oval shape, from three or
fom to six or eight inches in length, covered with a fibrous husk,
and lined internally with a white, firm, and fleshy kernel. The tree
(cocos nucifera) which produces the cocoa-nut is a kind of palm,
from 40 to 60 ·feet high, having on its summit · only leaves or
branches, appearing almost like immense feathers, each 14 or rs
feet long, 3 feet broad, and winged. Of these the :.:pper ones are
erect, the middle ones horizonta·1, and the lower ones drooping.
The trunk is straight, naked, and marked with the scars of the
fallen leaves. The nuts hang from the summit of the tree in clus.
ters of a dozen or more together. The external rind of the n:.its has
a smoOtK surface, and is of a triangular shape. This encloses an
extremely fibrous substance of considerable thickness which imme...
dia1.ely surrounds the nut. The latter has a thick and hard shell,
with three holes at the base, each closed with a black membrane,'
etc.
20. ·In writing these exercises be sure of every statement
you make. It is no shame for one to acknowledge himself ignorant of many things, but it is a shame to pretend
to know that of which he is ignorant. Attention to this rule
forms an upright character, besides imparting clearness to
the knowledge acquired.
2 I. Remark 1 .-Object-lessons may be indefinitely multi. plied and diversified with judicious applications to Botany,
Mineralogy, Geology, and other natural sciences. But care
should be taken not to attach undue importance to the
study of these subjects.
22. Remark 2.-A ru.an's own observation is necessarily

18

The Elements of Composition.

limited to a small number of objects, and even about these
he generally needs instruction from other persons. Reading opens up a wide field of knowledge; but in this field
many wander and lose much precious time by reading what
is of little or no use. Young people should accustom themselves early to seek for books that are instructive rather
than trifling. They may read to advantage books of
travel books on natural history, the lives of great men,
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the histories of various lands. But even among such works
they should be guided to select the most truthful and reliable. Works of fiction readily fill the mind with false
notions of men and things; still, when judiciously selected,
they may serve a useful purpose.

CHAPTER II.
OF WORDS.
23. Language is articulate sound expressive of thought.
Children learn it from their parents and from other persons
with whom they associate. But it is evident that the first
man Adam did not learn it in this manner. How did he
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acquire language? He was not created a child, but a man
with all his faculties fully developed ; far from being a savage, he was possessed of a much higher intellect before his
fall than any man has possessed since, We are not left
to conjecture how he formed a language, since the Holy
Scripture explains what happened :
"The Lord having formed out of the ground all the beasts of the
earth, and all the fowls of the air, brought them to Adam to see
what he would call them; for whatsoever Adam called any living
creature, the same is its name. And Adam called all the beasts by
their names, and all the fowls of the air, and all the cattle of the
field " (Genesis ii. 19, 20).

A Christian acts very absurdly if he sets aside this teaching for idle theories, such as Dr. Blair explains in his Rhetoric (Leet. vi.)
24. Object-Lessons, while giving the learner ideas of a
multitude of things, supply him at the same time with the
words or terms by which those ideas are to be expressed.
This way of learning words, in connection with the objects
signified, imparts clearness to knowledge; but it cannot
extend to a great variety of things. Most words in a language are to be acquired by reading and conversation. As
19

Ornaments of Composition.

96

agency He has b estowed, and m a ke our Columbia the bright exemplar for all the struggling s<?ns of liberty around the globe!"- Wirt.

13. Exclamation and Interrogation, when they are
used to adorn the style or move the heart ; as :
2 1 7.

"Has God rejected the beautiful in this temple of creation? ••.
Who was the first painter that touched with hi s brush th e flowers of
the valley and tinged with deep azure th e ocean? . . . Who was the
first inspirer of music? Who was the first decorator that studded
with gems the Milky Way, and spread his arch of splendor across
lhe concave of this his temple? "-Ai'cltbislwp P. J. Ryan.

14. Allusions hint at some fact sufficiently known,
in illustration of the present subj ect. These, as well as
Maxims and Quotations, are figures if they beautify the

BOOK III.
STYLE IN LITERARY COMPOSITION.

21 8.

style ; as :
"And why are these eternal gates thus lifted up? And why is
this sublime spectacle revealed, if not that we may be induced to
take the dove's wings and fly-fly from this earth, which th e waters
of bitterness and iniquity still cover, and bear the olive-branch of
our reconcili a tion to this open ark, where alone our feet can rest ? "
-Cardinal Wiseman.
" Slowly as out of the heavens with apocalyptical splendors
Sank the city of God, in the vision of J ohn the Apostle,
So with the clou:ly walls of chrysolite, jaspe r, and sapphire
Sank the broad, red sun, and over its turrets uplifted
Glimmered the golden reed of the angel who measured th e city."
-Longfellow .
219

.

Exercise' 1. Collect elegant figures from th e speeches

of Webster, Calhoun, Clay, Burke, Pitt, Chatham, Cardinals
Wiseman, Newman, Manning; Fathers Burke and Srnarius ;
or from any selections in prose or verse-e g., from your
reader or hand-book of elocution.
Exercise 2. Write an address, full of figures, to stir
22 0
up indolent students or to enkindle in an audience feeling~
of patriotism, generosity in behalf of a disabled soldier, or
any other noble sentiment.

2 2 I. We have so far considered the chief elements of
literary composition ; we now proceed to combine these
elements, and to study the more complex subject of style.
Style (from stylus, the ancient instrument for writing) is
the manner in which a person expresses his thoughts and
feelings by means of any of the fine arts. We speak of
different styles in music, painting, architecture, etc. In
literature style is the manner of expressing one's thoughts
and feelings by means of language. A man's thoughts and
' feelings are not, in themselves, perceptible to other men.
Style sets them forth in a sensible form; it gives them body
and shape, beauty to please, and power to influence others.
We study style with a view to increase this beauty and
power in our compositions.
222. For this purpose we are to consider in so many
chapters : 1. Beauty in itself ; 2, Sublimity, Wit, and Humor, which are species of beauty ; 3. Taste, which directs
the use of these sources of pleasure ; 4. Different species
of style; 5. Improv~ment of style.

91

I

\ Beauty.

CHAPTER I.
BEAUTY.
223. Beauty is the power which objects have of pleasing
the beholder: beautiful objects please by merely being considered ; quce visa placent, says St. Thomas.
Whence comes this power of an object to please? From
the perfection or excellence of the object itself. Is, then,
the beauty of an object the same as its excellence? It is
that excellence inasmuch as it is perceived, and thus made
capable of giving pleasure to the beholder ; if hidden or
obscured it could not please him. Beauty is "excellence
perceived," or "striking excellence "-splendor veri, "the
brightness of reality," as Plato puts it. Hence one point
is evident, that nothing can be beautiful inasmuch as it is
bad or imperfect : falsehood is not beautiful, sin is not
beautiful, disorder is not beautiful.
224. How, then, can works of fiction please, since they are
false? They do not please inasmuch as they are false,
but inasmuch as they are true to nature and contain beautiful characters, beautiful scenery, a beautiful plot, beautiful language, etc. But may not a vicious character be
beautiful? The description of it, done with skill and
fidelity to nature, may be so, but not the character itself.
225. But does not vice please the vicious?
The mere
beholding of vice does not please the mind, but a vice
may please by gratifying a passion of the heart ; thus, doing wrong to another may please an angry man. But the
heautiful pleases by the mere fact tliat it is perceived. What-

98

99

ever gratifies one of the passions pleases, and may, therefore be mistaken for true beauty; but it is false or only
app~rent beauty. True beauty pleases because its perfection is perceived and approved by the intellect.
22 6. We must here notice the difference between the
beautiful and the good: A thing is good when its posses··
sion pleases; beautiful, when its very perception gives
pleasure. Thus a ragged, soiled one-hundred-dollar note
may please the possessor, but not ~he beholder. .
From our definition of the beautiful so far explamed another consequence follows-namely, that those things which
are most perfect in themselves are also most beautiful to
those who clearly perceive them. Thus inanimate things
contain, as a class, the lowest degree of perfection · and are
least beautiful; vegetation rises higher, animals higher
still · man surpasses all other material beings in excellence
and in beauty, because he is intelligent ; angels are higher
still ; God is the highest possible beauty to those blessed
beings that behold Him as He is. If He does not always
seem so to us, it is because we know Him so little, and
also because we let our lower nature obscure the light of
our intellect. When, in a better world, God will stand
revealed to our sight as He is, our purified souls will see
in Him absolute beauty, which will make us supremely
happy ; therefore that sight is called the Beatific Vision.
227. The fact that man is more perfect and beautiful
than all lower beings is the reason why literature delights
in personification-that is, in attrihuting to lower objects the
actions and feelings of living and intelligent beings. Yet
even lower objects have their beauty: that color is more
beautiful which is better proportioned or adapted to our
organ of sight ; straight lines and fig ures are beautiful, as
suggestive of usefulness; curves and waving . lines, as com
bining regularity with variety · the w:iving line is called

J.00

Style zn Lz"terary Coniposz"tzon.

the line of beauty, the spiral that of grace ; motz"on is beau·
tiful, as exhibiting variety and as being suggestive of life.
This suggestiveness of higher beauty is founded on assocz'a·
tt'ons of t'deas, and is often a source of great pleasure to the
mind, even when things are beheld which are of a very inferior nature; thus the violet is suggestive of modesty, the
lily of purity, etc.
228. It is certain that unity, variety, proportion, design,
life, etc., are all sources of pleasure to the beholder. Som e
critics are of opinion that in all beauty there is one underlying principle. One class of writers maintain that this
principle is the blending of unz'ty wi"th varz'ety, others that
the one principle is order wz'th due proportt'on, or suita1leness to the faculties of the beholder. It is not clear that
all beauty can be traced to one such principle; but it is
certain that the very perfectz'on of an object, inasmuch as it
is properly considered, whether in itself or in its associations, is the real source of the pleasure produced.
229. We shall next consider artistic beauty. The mere
reproduction by human skill of some natural beauty is
doubly pleasing: first, on account of the natural beanty
reproduced, and, secondly, on account of the intellectual
power displayed by men in its reproduction.
Thus a
painted bunch of grapes which almost deceives the eye
is more admired than the bunch which nature produced.
And though photography gives us a more perfect likeness
than drawing can do, still the latter is more admired as
being more the effect of human skill and intellect. But ·
while all correct imitation is beautiful because skilful and
intellectual, still mere imitation of nature is only the lowest
beauty of art. Artistic skill of a higher kind aims at the
expression of more than natural beauty-namely, £deal
beauty.
230. Now, ideal beauty is that higher conception of

Beauty.

IOI

beautiful things which the artist forms to himself by removing from them all such imperfections as would hinder
the full appreciation of them, and by associating with them
suggestions of greater perfection than the objects themselves contain.
23r. The presentation of ideal beauty is the object of all
higher art, of the fine arts as such. The ancients aimed
at this when their painters and sculptors selected for their
subjects the ideal forms of Apollo, Hercules, etc., idealizing human perfections to represent their gods and demigods. Thus, too, Homer is not satisfied with the presentation of human heroes as they really existed, but he portrayed them as the mind loves to contemplate them ; and,
rising even higher, he presents to us a panorama of superior ideal beings, exhibiting far more power of intellect
and will than it is natural for man to possess. Thus he
gives us his gods and goddesses, the most wonderful creations of the pagan mind. In fact, the tendency of all true
art has ever been upward into the region of relig: -us
thought. Not until Christianity came to reveal to us a
far higher perfection did art produce its noblest creations.
The spirits, good and bad, described · by Milton in his
"Paradise Lost" are grander creations than Homer's ;
but especially the Saviour of the world, dying upon the
cross or reclining upon the straw of the manger, and by
His side the purest and fairest of mere created beings, the
Blessed Virgin Mother, are subjects for the pencil and the
pen which modern artists and poets have fully appreciated.
Hence Christian art is far more elevated in its ideals
than pagan art could possibly have been.

Sublimity, Wit, and Humor.·

103

The ocean combines to a remarkable extent these two
sources of the sublime :

CHAPTER II.
SUBLIMITY, WIT, AND HUMOR.
232. Sublimity, Wit, and Humor give pleasure to the
mind by the very fact that they are perceived. They
come, therefore, under the definition of beauty, of which
they are species. Still, sometimes the term beauty is
taken in a narrower meaning, as distinguished from
them by certain peculiarities of these three species. We
shall next consider those · peculiarities.
ARTICLE

l.

SUBLIMITY.

233. Sublimity is that species of the beautiful which
imparts pleasure of a peculiarly elevated nature. As
beauty is striking perfection, so sublimity is striking greatness, which is a special kind of perfection. It produces
in the beholder a sort of internal elevation and expansion,
raises the mind above its ordinary state, and fills it with a
degree of astonishment which it cannot well express. The
emotion is delightful but serious ; when greatest it awes
the mind.
The sources of the sublime are various-some physical.
others moral.
234. 1. The physical are chiefly :
(a) Boundless views, in the contemplation of which the
mind is lost.
(b) The exhibition of vast power or strength, not accompanied by any apprehension of danger to ourselves.
lOll

" Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown."
-Byron.

(c) Unusual magnificence, as in Byron's lines on St.
Peter's at Rome:
" But lo ! the dome-the vast and wondrous dome,
To which Diana's marvel was a cellChrist's mighty shrine above his martyrs' tomb l
I have beheld the Ephesian miracleIts columns strew the wilderness, and dwell
The hyena and the jackal in their shade ;
I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell
Their glittering mass i' the sun, and have survey'd
Its sanctuary the while th' usurping Moslem pray'd;
" But thou, of temples old, or altars new,
Standest alone, with nothing like to thee:
Worthiest of God, the holy and the true,
Since Sion's desolation, when that He
Fcrsook his former city, what could be .
Of earthly structures, in His honor piled,
Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty,
Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled
In this eternal ark of worship undefiled. "-Id.

(d) Loud and deep sounds, spreading far and wide, as
that of the thunder.
(e) Solemn and awful objects, bordering on the terrible,
and whatever makes us sensible of our littleness

104

Style in Literary Composz'tion.
compared to the grandeur around us, as solitude,
deep silence, obscurity, mystery.

We have said that order is an element of beauty in its
usual acceptation ; but cJisorder is not unfavorable to the
sublime-not disorder in itself, but in connection with
grandeur, which it makes incomprehensible to the human
mind. The same holds of obscurity, mysteriousness, etc.
235 . 2. Moral sublimity arises from the exhibition of
such power of the mind and will as produces astonishment in the beholder. When two of the Horatii were
slain, and their fath er heard that his third son had fled,
he was indignant ; and when asked what the youth should
have done, "He should have died," he said. The history
of the Christian martyrs is full of such examples ; but
grander than all is the scene on Calvary, when nature
trembled at the crimes of men, and the Victim of all this
wickedness, the Son of God Himself, opened His lips, not
to complain, but to beg pardon for the perpetrators of the
deicide : " Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do."
236. The style in which the sublime is to be expressed
is either of the greatest simplicity or of the highest magnificence. We have seen specimens of magnificence in Byron ;
the style of Holy Writ, which contains the loftiest examples of the sublime, is usually of the simplest kind:
" In the beginning God created heaven and earth. And the earth
was void and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep:
and the spirit of God moved over the waters. And God said: Be
light made. And light was rnade."-Gen. i. 1-4.
"The sublime," says Lacordaire, " is elevation, profundity, and
simplicity, blended in a single trait." (See Lacordaire's J esus Christ,
p. 29.)

237. Other examples from Holy Writ:
" In the horror of

A VISION

by night, when deep sleep is wont to

Sub!z'mz'ty, Wz't, and Humor.

• 105

hold men, fear seized upon me, and trembling, and all my bones
were affrighted: and when a spirit passed before me, the hair of my
flt:sh stood up. There stood one whose countenance I knew not,
an image before my eyes, and I heard the voice as it were of a
gentle wind: Shall man be justified in comparison of God, or shall
a man be more pure than his maker? Behold, they that serve Hirn
are not steadfast, and in His angels He found wickedness: how much
more shall they that dwell in houses of clay, who have an earthly
foundation, be consumed as with the moth? "-Job iv. 13-19.
"Wilt Thou give strength to THE HORSE or clothe his neck with
neighing? Wilt Thou lift him up like the locusts . the glory of
his nostrils is terror. He breaketh up the earth with his hoof,
he pranceth boldly, he goeth forward to meet armed men. He
despiseth fear, he turneth not his back to the sword. Above him
shall the quiver rattle, the spear and shield shall glitter. Chafing
and raging he swalloweth the ground : n either doth he make account when the noise of the trumpet soundeth . When he heareth
the trumpet he saith : Ha, ha ! he srnelleth the battle afar off, the
encouraging of the captams, and the shouting of the army."-Job
xxxix. 19-25.
" Goo hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and
weighed the heavens with His palm ; He hath poised with three
fingers the bulk of the earth, and weighed the mountains in scales,
and the hills in a balance."-Isaias xi. 12.

The following passages are full of sublime thoughts and
images : the fifteenth chapter of Exodus, which contains
the Canticle of Moses, sung by the Jews after their miraculous crossing of the sea ; Psalm ciii.; the forty-third chapter of Ecclesiasticus ; the thirty-eighth of Job.
238. Exercise.-Point out the beautiful and the sublime
images accumulated in the following poem, "The Fairest
Fair":
" Mountains, that upwards to the clouds arise,
Odorous with thyme, whereon the wild bees linger
Jewelled with flowers of a thousand dyesTheir petals tinted by no mortal finger ;

106

Style zn Literary Composition.
How solemn in their gray-worn age they stand,
Hills piled on hills in silent majesty !
Lofty and strong, and beautiful, and grand:
All this and more is my Beloved to me.
"Come forth into the woods-in yonder valley,
Where rippling waters murmur through the glade ;
There, 'neath the rustling boughs of some green alley,
We'll watch the golden light and quivering shade:
Or couched on mossy banks we' ll lie and listen
To song-birds pouring forth their vernal glee.
Wave on, ye woods ; ye fairy fountains glisten:
But mor(;, far more, is my Beloved to me.
" Know ye the land where fragrant winds awaken
In spicy forests hic)d e n from the eye;
Where richest perfumes from the boughs are shaken,
And flowers unnoticed bloom, and blush, and die?
Sweet is the eternal spring that there reposes
On wondrous isles that gem the sunny sea,
And sweet the gales that breathe o'er beds of roses:
But sweeter far is my Beloved to me.
u The roaring torrents from the ice-cliffs leaping! see the m foaming down the mountain-side ;
Through the green d ells and valleys onward sweeping,
They fill the hollows with their mighty tide:
Their voice is as the voice of many waters;
Onward they rush, exulting to be free;
But ah ! their thunder fails, their music falters:
Far more than this is my Beloved to me.
" A gentler sound wak es in Che hush of even,
The whisper of a light and cooling breeze ;
It stirs when twilight shades are in the heaven,
And bows the tufted foliage of the trees ;
It fans my cheek ; its music softly stealing
Speaks to my heart in loving mystery.
Ah ! gentle breeze, full well thou art reve'1.ling
The joy that my Beloved is to me.

Sublimity, Wit, and Humor.

107

" Night comes at last, in mystic shadows folding
The nodding forest and the verdant lawn,
Till the day breaks, and nature starts, beholding
The golden chariot of the coming dawn :
Then on each bough the feathered chanter:;, waking,
Pour forth their music over bush and tree.
Cease, cease your songs, ye birds ; my heart-strings
breaking
Lack: words to say what JEsus is to me.
" Yea, all the fairest forms that Nature scatters,
And all melodious sounds that greet the ear ;
The murmuring music of the running waters,
The golden harvest-fields that crown the year,
The crimson morn, the calm and dewy even,
The tranquil moonlight on the slumbering seaAll are but shadows, forms of beauty given
To tell what my Beloved is to me."
-Augusta Theodosia Drane.
ARTICLE

II.

WIT.

239. Wit causes pleasure by a peculiar quickness in per·
ceiving, and felicity in expressing, such hidden relations of
things as amuse the hearers. Take this example : " You
must either be a knave or a fool," said two lawyers to an
Irishman sitting between them.
"No ; I am between
both," was the prompt reply. Here is a relation which
would not have struck one person in a thousand. To be
true wit, however, it is necessary that, as soon as the relation is pointed out, the hearers or readers understand it.
Besides, the unexpected thought must come apparently unsought, else no peculiar quickness of conception is noticed.
When a person evidently tries to be witty he disgusts instead of pleasing.
240. A pun is a witticism cons1stmg in a play on words.
Hancock, encouraging those who had signed the Declara-

108

Style

in

Literary Composition.

tion of Independence to mutual fidelity, remarked: "We
must all hang together." "Yes," said Franklin, "or we
shall all hang separately." An occasional pun, when truly
witty, undoubtedly gives pleasure. But an habitual punster like every professed wit, is universally pronounced a
bor~. And with reason : first, such persons evidently try
to be witty ; secondly, they often fail; thirdly, they acquire
a habit of trifling, and will often spoil a serious conversation for a wretched pun ; fourthly, they are often sarcastic
or otherwise offensive.
24 1. But wit, when united with common sense, kindness
of heart, and beauty of thought, is, in its own place, not
only an innocent charm of social inter~ourse, but also a
powerful weapon in the <i:rena of o.ratoncal co~tests.
It appears to be a kind dispen~at1on of Pr?v1dence that
the se~soning of wit and humor is often cop10usly granted
to those whose homely fare stands most in need of such
condiments to make life more supportable.
AR TIC LE

III.

HUMOR.

242 . Humor is not an elevated species of bea?ty, but it
is more valuable than wit ; it fills many a bnght page,
especially in English literature. One great advantage ~f
humor is that it is always good-natured, and thus contn~
butes directly to diffuse happiness all around.
La~!;,
"Hood, Thackeray, and Dickens, in England ; lTvmg,
~owell, Holmes, and Saxe, in the United S.tates, have
deserved rriuch credit for their genial product10ns.
243 . Humor is that species of beau.t~ whi.ch delights ~y
a good-natured exhibition of incongruities; 1t addresses it·
self to our perception of the ludicrous. So~e persons ap·
pear to be almost destitute of this perception; other~ are
overpowered by it beyond the bounds of reason.
The

Sub!z'1nity; iVz"t, and Humor.

109

ir,congruity itself is not beautiful, but the good-natured
& X[)Usition of it by the common ~ense of the humorist.
z44. Humor implies:
1. In the object, incongruity-i.e., want of proportion, as

big words and bad grammar. A humorist has a peculiar
rn1ent for perceiving and expressing such ludicrous things.
2. In the effect, surprise at finding such incongruity
where it was not expected : a thing is not ludicrous if it is
just what could be expected.
3. In the humorist, strong common sense and good
nature-i.e., kindliness, even towards the persons ridiculed.
245. In order to be truly pleasing, humor requires strict
regard to the laws of decorum: it must never attempt to
ridicule the unfortunate, the truly great and wise, nor be
employed on subjects held sacred by the hearers.
" It is a b eautiful thin g to observe the BOUNDARIES which nature
has affixed to the rid'culous, and to notice how soon it is swallowed
Lip by the more illustrious feelings of our minds. Where is the
heart so hard that could bear to see the awkward resources and contrivances of the poor turned into ridicule? Who could laugh at the
fractured, ruined body of a soldier? Who is so wicked as to amuse
himself with the infirmities of extreme old age? or to fi~d subject
for humor in the weakness of a perishing, dissolving body? Who
is there that does not feel himself disposed to overlook the little
peculiarities of the truly great and wise, and to throw a veil over
that ridicule which they have redeemed by the magnitude of their talents and the splendor of their virtues? Who ever thinks of turning
into ridicule our great and ardent hopes of a world to come? Whenever the man of humor meddles with these things, he is astonished
to find that in all th e great feelings of their nature the mass of mankind always act and think aright, that they are ready enough to
laugh, but that they are quite as ready to drive away with indignation and contempt the light fovi who comes, with the feather of wit,
to crumble the bulwarks of truth and to beat down the Temples of
. .God l "-Sydney Smith.

110

Style z'n Lz'terary Composz'tz'on.

246. The description of a humorous character supposes
in its subject a blending of strikingly incongruous traits; as
shrewdness with apparent simplicity in Sam Weller. Every
act and word must accord with the character, and frequently remind us of its incongruous elements, as in Shakspeare'9
Falstaff.

CHAPTER III.
TASTE
247. Taste is the power of perceiving and properly appreciating the beauties of nature and of art. Some call it
the Aisthetic faculty_; but it is no special faculty at all : it
is an exercise of the intellect. As such it is common to
all men, though in different degrees of perfection. This
difference is due partly to variety of natural powers, and
partly to difference of education and of early associations.
248. Good taste should be characterized by two qualities, delicacy and correctness. The former, when highly
deV'eloped, enables it to distinguish the nicest shades and
varieties of beauty, in the same manner as some persons
have so delicate a palate as to distinguish readily the
flavor of any viand. The latter quality-correCtness-enables it to discern accurately what is true from what is
false beauty. ,
249. Of the two characteristics, correctness ought to be
chiefly taught, both because it is more capable of being developed and because the want of it is more offensive. If
correctness be carefully taught by precepts and examples 1
delicacy will follow of itself. The direct object of rhetorical rules is to accustom the student to appreciate true and
reject false beauty. The difference between these two is
that true beauty pleases, not only at first sight, but also
after the closest scrutiny, and receives the full approbation
of man's highest faculty-the · intellect ; while false beauty
~annot bear to be clos.ely examined without displaying a
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St)1le zn Literary Composition.
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want of good sense, of naturalness, delicacy, appropriateness, etc.
250. The precepts of rhetoric are not arbitrary laws, but
the conclusions which the greatest thinkers have drawn
from a careful study of literature. Aristotle's mind, the
keenest, perhaps, that ever existed, examined the productions of the greatest geniuses that had preceded him, and
drew a clear line between true and false beauty. Cicero,
Horace, Quintilian, and others continued his labors, and
subsequent ages have accepted most of their decisions, because these were found to be conformable to human reason.
Still later critics have added their share to this trea:rnry of
common sense.
251. Human reason itself is the judge of beauty. Now,
in matters of taste human reason speaks through the great
critics and rhetoricians who have been recognized for ages
as the judges of literature. Their unanimous verdict is
practically the utterance of mankind itself. This is the
standard of taste: what it approves is true beauty, what ·
it condemns is false beauty. From time to time some eccentric genius will appear to set at naught all the rules of
rhetoricians, imagining that his conceited mind is the great
luminary of the world. His brilliant imagination may attract to him a number of admiring followers. Carlyle, in
England, was a man of this character, but his departures
from the laws of taste were too glaring to mislead many.
Other geniuses of less offensive eccentricities have done
:inore real harm to good taste by blending minor faults with
superior beauties. It is the part of criticism to point out
in the works of even the greatest geniuses any admixture
of false beauty. It blames many long speeches and other
extravagances in Homer ; a want of spirit in some passages
of Virgil ; excessive self-pr~ise and labored periods in
Cicero ; a considerable amount of coarse language~ wan-

AS

·-

---·

---- -- - - --

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

.ton irregularities, ill-placed puns, etc., in Shakspeare. In
fact, this last author, with all his uncommon beauties, is
anything but a safe model on v·hich to fashion the taste
of young writers.
252. May there be, then, no varieties in good taste~
There may be in different men a preference for different
'kinds of true beauty, and still all these may have good
taste. One loves more what is bold or grand, another
what is gentle and modest ; one admires more the ideal,
another the real ; one loves .sentiment and imagination, another sober sense. But if one person pronounces an object
beautiful and another not beautiful, under the same. circumstances, one or the other is clearly mistaken. In this
sense it is not true that there is no disputing about taste.
Varieties of taste are a kind dispensation of Providence
that diversifies the aspect of human society as it diversifies
the flowers of the field.
253. We add a few general rules regarding taste which
apply to all kinds of composition.
Rule 1.-Let good sense pervade every literary production. This rule applies to poetry as well as to prose, to
pleasantry as well as to philosophy and religion. But it
is · often violated by two kinds of writers : first, by those
whose imagination and feelings are too lively to be controlled by their judgment, as are many orators, poets,
and novelists ; and, secondly, by some conceited philosophers and literati who put their individual views above the
wisdom of all the world b ·sides. Such are, for instance,
the Transcendentalists, as they are called, Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Matthew Arnold, and others, who extol culture
and delicacy of taste above common sense.
254. Such, too, are the members of what is called "the
Satanic School." Southey, in the preface to his "Vision
of Judgment," was the first to use this degradin(i!; appella-

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Varieties of Style.

---- .- - - - --- - - - - -- -- - -- - -- -

CHAPTER IV.
VARIETIES OF STYLE. ,
257. Literary style is th e mann er in which a person ex·
presses his thou ghts and feelings. by means of lan?uage. ) It
is not a person's language merely. The expression of the
thought and feel in gs is intimately connected with the conception of them. Hence style d epends on our conceptions
as well as on our language. In fact, a work may be translated from one language into anoth er, and the chief peculiarities of its style remain the same.
ARTICLE

I.

SOURCES OF

v ARIETY

IN STYLE.

258. To understand the sources of variety in style, consider the different ways in which the same thought or feeling may be c~nceived by the mind. Thus suppose I become convinced that the pleasures of this world cannot
satisfy the human heart. I may reach this conviction intel·
lectually, by considering that our h earts long for infinite
and lasting happiness, and that this world is necessarily
finite and of short duration. I may express this reasoning
in abstract language, and my style will be philosophical.
259. But in conceiving and expressing the same conviction I may be powerfully assisted by my imagination, and
I may thus d esc ribe the fle eting show of this world's delights under various images, in a figurative and descriptive
style, as is done in the fifth chapter of the Book of Wis·
dom:

l I

7

" A ll those things a re passed away lik e a shadow, and lik e a post
that runneth on,
" And as a ship that passe th through the wave s ; wh ereof when it
is go n e by, the trace cannot be found, nor the path of its k eel in the
waters:
" Or as whe n a bird flieth through the a ir, of the passage of
whi ch no mark can be found, but only the sound of th e wings beatin g the lig ht air, and parting it by th e force of her flight; she moved
he r wings, and hath flown throug h, and th ere is no mark found
afte rwa rds of h e r way :
"Or as when an arrow is shot a t a mark, th e divid ed air presently
ccm e th toge th e r again, so th a t the passage th ereof is not kn own .
"So we also being born, forthwith ceased to b e ; a nd have belQn
able to show no m a rk of virtue ; but are consumed in our wicked
ness.''
260 . While this brief passage is descriptive, the whole
fifth chapter develops the same thou ght in a narrative
style, bordering on th e dramatic. It will be readily perceived that the chap ter needs only metre to give it the
poetic style. Thus language and mode of thought combine to shape th e style of any composition.
z6r. "Wolsey's Soliloquy" presents the same thought as
the Book of Wisdom, and exp resses it in poetic language :

"This is th e s tate of man: to-day he puts forth
The te nd e r leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him:
The third day com es a fro s t, a killing frost ;
And .• when he thinks, good easy m a n, full surely
His greatness is a-rip e ning, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like littl e wanton boys tha t sw im o n bladders,
This many summers in a sea of g lory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke und e r m e, ,and now has left me,
\Veary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude s tream, that mu s t for ever hide me.
Vain pomp a nd glory of this world, I hate ye .;
J feel my h ~ art new-ope ned."-Shakspea?'C'.

n6

•

118

Style in Literary Composz"tion.

262. Horace deplores the shortness of earthly joys in thr
See the fourteenth ode of his second book:

lyric style.

" Swift fly the rolling years, my friend !
Nor can your anxious prayers extend
The fleeting joys of youth ;
The trembling hand, the wrinkled cheek,
Too plainly life's decay bespeak
With sad but silent truth.
The purple vineyard's luscious stores,
Secured by trebly-bolted doors,
Excite in vain your care:
Soon shall the rich and sparkling hoard
Flow largely o'er the festive board
Of your unsparing heir."-Ralph Bernal.

263. When thoughts are fully developed, as in the fifth
chapte.r of Wisdom, just quoted, we have the diffuse style;
when briefly expressed, the concise. Each of these is beautiful in its proper place (see Nos. 71, 72).
If an author grasps his subject vigorously and expresses
it forcibly, his style is said to be nervous and strong; this
is always a desirable quality, while its opposite, feebleness,
is always a defect.
The vehement style is characterized by a glowing ardor,
pouring out strong feelings with the rapidity and fulness of
a torrent, as in most speeches of Demosthenes; it adds
strong feeling to strong thought.
264. A chief source of difference in style, among various
persons who write on the same subjects, is the difference of
their characters. A firm character will produce a manly
style, a weak, vacillating character a confused style ; a
generous, open character is favorable to clearness, richness, beauty of expression, while narrow-minded and deceitful dispositions will give a very different coloring to the
thought. Whatever improves a person's character improves

•

Varz'etzes

of Style.

his style. The social virtues are the sources of charming
ornaments to all literature.
ARTICLE

II.

ORNAMENT OF STYLE.

26.5. ~ne of the principal sources of variety in style
consists m the ornament used to adorn the thought and the
expression, in tropes, figures of thought, figures of diction,
and ~armoni?u~ co?structions. In this respect Blair appropnatel y d1stmgmshes five kinds of style, according to
five degrees of ornament.
. 266. 1.( The dry style rejects all ornament/; ft is proper
m tex~-books on grammar, arithmetic, and any exact science, m legal documents, in business transactions, etc.
The language of an educated man should always be correct
and . ~erspicuous, exhibiting great purity, propriety, and
prec1s10n ; but what is merely ornamental would in the
..
.
.
.
'
wntmgs Jlft ment10ned, savor of affectation.
267. 2'. r he pl~in style uses ornament sparingly. ) Whatever .subject admits of any play of the imagination or the
emot10ns affords room for the ornaments of composition.
All such productions are properly styled literature, and no
~thers.
Now, ~mong these the plain style is appropriate
to sue? as are either too exact to allow the imagination any
great indulgence or too familiar pr insignificant to justify
much pain.staking. Plain facts are best expressed in plain
langu~ge, m proper words, with refined feeling, and with an
occ'l.s10nal admixture of modest ornament.
Dean Swift
.
'
even on. important subjects, always wrote in the plain
style, which best suited his earnest character. Clearness,
strength, and a blunt honesty are his peculiar qualities.
268;
The neat style uses ornament more freely, but
not cop10usly ; and its ornament is ever modest never
strikingly brilliant or bold. It is a style equally ca;able of
manly beauty and the most delicate refinement. To thii

3:

120

Varzelies of

Style £n L£terary Composz"tion.

middle region belongs the bulk of good literature. Subjects
of any elevation should be treated with neatness as a rule;
plainness is an exception already explained ; while the ·
highest ornaments should be reserved for subjects and
occasions of unusual dignity or excellence.
Washington Irving's prose works and Golcl rrnith's poems
exhibit the perfection of the neat style.
269. 4. The elegant style possesses all the virtues of
ornament without any of its defects. / The noblest subjects, especially the loftiest portions of such subjects, call
for the highest refinement and magnificence that human
thought and human language can bestow. The solemn
panegyrical oration, the highest efforts of eloquence at the
bar, in the pulpit, and in · the popular assembly; the most
important events narrated in dignified histories, real or
fictitious; the description of the grandest scenes in nature;
the most pathetic emotions puured out in lyric verse-present proper occasions for elegance of style.
270. Most great historians, philosophers, orators, novelists, and essayists compose habitually in the neat style,
being more taken up with the matter treated than with the
beauty of the expression : such are Lingard, Blair, Pij:t,
Chatham, Calhoun, Dickens, Cooper; Archbishop Spal- .
ding, Cardinals Newman and Manning, Brownson, and such
poets as Pope, Longfellow, and Scott, and many other
writers of didactic and ballad poetry. All these, however, rise to the elegant style when the occasion requires.
Others aim more habitually at elegant language, such as
Prescott, Father Faber, Edmund Burke. Webster, Irving,
Cardinal Wiseman, Lowell; and in poetry Shaksp eare,
Milton, Willis, Moore, Byron, Young, etc.
271. Compare the following three descriptions of mcrning, noticing how they rise · in ornament above one an·
other:

~cyle.

121

" See, the day b egins to break
And the light shoots like a streak
Of subtile fire ; the wind blows cold,
While the morning doth unfold ;
Now the birds begin to rouse,
And the squirrel from the boughs
Leaps to get him nuts and fruit ;
The early lark, that erst was mute,
Carols to the rising day .
Many a note and many a lay."-Fletcher.
•• Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in .his majesty;
Who doth the world so g loriously behold,
The cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold." .
-Shakspeart'.
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy."
-Shakspeare.

5. The :florid style is marked by an excess of orna ..
ment, so that the reader is distracted from the matter
treated and forced to notice how the writer labors to adorn
his composition. This excess is always objectionable, but
esp~cially in serious works. Still, it may be combined with
considerable excellences, and thus leave the composition
valuable, though not perfect. This is the case with Harvey's Meditations among the Tombs and Rev. Xavier McLeod's Devotion to the Blessed Virgin in North America.
:Both these works are well suited to develop a taste for
ornament in prose composition.
272.

·--------r--------------·
Improvement

CHAPTER V.
IMPROVEMENT OF STYLE.
ARTICLE

l.

PRACTICAL RULES FOR STYLE.

2 73. There are certain rules regarding style that should
be observed by all writers on all subjects. The chief are

these :
1. The Rule of Clearness.~Write so that no one can help
seeing your exact meaning at the first glance. This is the
most important rule of all. To write with clearness the
great means is to have clear ideas yourself ; else how can
you convey them to others? Study your subject diligently
be_fore you write.
274. 2. The Rule of Strength.-Make your thoughts impressive by presenting them strikingly, with proper ornaments and feelings. A languid, feeble style is worthless.
Still, distinguish strength from vehemence, as explained
above (No. 263).
275. 3. The Rule of Simplicity.-The word simplicity has
many meanings : such as the absence of many parts, as in
a simple story; the absence of much ornament, as in the
dry and the plain style; the absence of refinement, as in
the simple manners of rustics ; the absence of shrewdness
or intelligence, as in the simplicity of the credulous. \ Our
rule means, write with naturalness, so as to avoid all appearance of labor. 1Labor there must be in writing ; but
the labor should not be noticed by the reader. Virgil and
Gibbon labored at their productions with uncommon industry, striving to express every thought to the best advan-

,,',l1A~

. '

~ .J

of Style.

123

tage . . Virgil's l~n es flo.w smoothly and as naturally as the
warblmg of a bird ; Gibbon's sentences are evidently labored, and often harsh and strained.
27.6. A. simpl e style often appears so artless that a beginner imagmes nothing is easier than to imitate it· it is the
~erfection of art to reach all its purposes witho~t making
itself known.
Such is th e style in the Sketch-Book of
Washington Irving, many essays of Addison the novels of
Co~science, r:awthorne' s Tanglewood Tales, ;he Stories for
Children of Canon Schmid, the fables of JEsop, of Phrodrus, of La Fontaine, Rosa Mulholland's Robinson Crusoe.
The ancients had more of this apparent artlessne~s than
the moderns : Herod·o tus, Theocritus Anacreon Homer
Virgil, and Ovi.d abound in it. There is, h;wever, i~
many recent wnters, a return to the simplicity of classic
taste.
277. When this simplicity assumes the character of childlike innocence it is called by the French term naive!!. of
':hich Xenophon furnishes a pleasing example in his na;rative of Cyn~s· conversation at the court of Astyages.
278. A slight appearance of carelessness in the midst of
~·efinement is not unpleasant in proper season as in familiar
letters; it resembles the manners of a truly ;efined gentleman among his intimate friends. But young people .cannot
let themselves down to it with safety. An appearance of
carelessness is admi~ed in those only who have establish ed
a name for superiority of mind.
279. 4. The Rule of Appropriateness is the most difficult
of all to observe, and ' is necessary on all r ccasions. It requires that we adapt our style to our sU.,ject, to our hearers or readers, to our own talent and our age, and to circumstances of place, time, etc. "H~ is truly eloquent"
'
~ays C'icero, " wh o can express what is simple plainly, what
ts great nobly, and what is ordinary with decency and mo-

Styce £n Literary Composz'fion.

Improvement o.f Style.

deration "-Is est e/oquens qui et humilia subtiliter, et magna
graviter, et mediocria temperate potest dicere "(Or., 29). Dr.
Johnson, though a writer of great eminence, · c.ould n.ot
adapt his style to his th eme, and it was wittily said of hnn
that. if he made little fishes talk he would make them speak
like whales. ~xcess of ornament is a violation of appropriateness. It is bad taste, in language as in dress, to be
ever displaying fineries.
28o. Still, this excess is more easily excused in the young,
whose imarrinations are more developed than their judgcicero is not displeased with the youth whose
men.ts.
compositions are rather flow ery :

282. For the writing of original composition these rules
c;;hould be carefully observed by the pupil:
Rule 1.-He should think over the whole matter to be
treated, and trace a plan of it in his mind or on paper before he writes the first line of the composition itself.
Rule 2.-He should compose slowly, doing the best he
can in the first draught ; he will thus improve far more
than by putting down every word or idea that presents
itself.
As in penmanship, so in composition, by writing
well we learn to write rapidly, but by writing ~apidly we
do not learn ·to write well.
Rule 3.-Still, when the mind is warmed up by the subject the writer may allow himself, to some extent, to be carried away by his ardor, provided he does not wander from
his theme.

124

"I wish to see exuherance in the youthful mind," he says;" for
as it is easier to prune the superfluous branches of a vine than to add
to its growth, so I like to see in the youth's production something
to lop off" (De Or, ii. 21).

ARTICLE

II.

WRITING AS A MEANS OF IMPROVEMENT.

281. Writing is the most important source of improvement in style and in all tlie other parts of literary composition. "The pen," says Cicero, "is the best and most
efficient teacher of eloq ue r.ce "·- Stylus optimus et prmstantissz'mus dicendi effector ac magister. Without practice no
precepts are of ~ny avail. ~or this re~son we have so far
proposed a variety of exercises, applymg the .several pr:cepts in appropriate ways. Through t~1e ~em ai~der of this
·work however, fewer sugges tions of this kmd will be needed. '1~he precepts themselves will directly suggest the ex-,
ercises. All that the teacher need do is to select models;
for imitation and themes or subjects for narrations, de.. '
.
scriptions, ' etc., suited to the age and other :cncumstances
of his pupils. But the exercises should by no means. be
\').eglected: in them lies the solid fruit of literary studt.es

125

Rule 4.-After writing should come correction-a task
often neglected because less interesting. But the mind of
the master should rule here, not the whim of the scholar.
The lima; labor-the careful finish-is the straight road to
perfection in any art.
Rule 5.-When a composition is written for th~ eye of
the public it should, if possible, be laid by for a while, and
then carefully retouched. No one should ever publish
what an honest and judicious friend condemns, no matte-;-·
how perfect . the composition appears to himself.
ARTICLE

JI!.

READING AS A MEANS OF IMPROVEMENT.

_ 283. That reading is a copious source of improvement
_in . c.pmposition is beyond dispute. '· :Still; on this subject
many vague and some erroneous notions are entertained
We .shall enter ~nto some details, sugge.s ted i~ vart
President Porters Books and Reading.
.i84. I. As to the matter or thought, reflect that when

b;

Style zn Literary Compos£tion.

Improvement of Style.

you read you listen to a real person, speaking deliberately
and for definite purposes, who .undertakes to instru ct or
to please you. Therefore :
285. 1. If you read for instruction, begin by ascertaining
whether the author is capable of · imparting correct information. (a) Is he a ma1l of authority on those matters?
Or is he simply a fluent writer who can converse plausibly
'on any subject, though his knowl edge of it may be very
!iupcrficial? Such are many essayists. (b) Is he a man
of sound principles? Can you abandon yourself with perIect confid ence to his gu id ance? If you have reaso n to
distrust him, sec wh ether it would not be more expedient
to look for information else where, or at least whether there
are not some points on whi ch you ought to mistrust his insinuations.
286. Remark that nearly every book instils certain principles which may do the more evil as they are less suspected-e.g., Gibbon's History of t!te Decline and Fall of
the Roman Empire instils unbelief, seeing in the exchange
of a temporal for a spiritual supremacy nothing but decay:
it is thus that a pagan would have written. Hume, in his
History of England, fails to appreciate any virtuous intentions in the nobles and the people ; sneering at all things,
he chills enthusiasm for every public and private virtue.
Blackwood's Magazine, a Tory organ, is devoted to
6trengthen the throne and the Church of England ; while
the Westmin&ter Review, with an opposite aim, tends to
undermine the foundations of both.
As the Fabiola of Cardinal Wiseman instils purity, generosity, piety, thus many novels instil licentiousness, scepticism, worldliness.
287. 2. If you read forpleasare, see (a) whether the writer
is a moral and conscientious man. If he is, do not stop to
quarrel with every expression to which an improper meanint;

might be attached. Like the bee, sip the honey and leave
the poison for the spider. If he is not, ascertain first from
others whether it is proper to read that work at all or
'
whether, at least, you are not to be on your guard against
some particular danger. If such information cannot be had
1
s~e (b) whether the pleasure afforded is of a healthy kind
which not only cheers but also expands and elevates th~
mind, or at least produces a calm serenity.
288. Southey's rule may be of use:

126

"Would you know whether the tendency of a book .s good or
evil, examine in what state of mind you lay it down. Has it in·
duced you to suspect that that which yo u have been accustomed t.i.
think unlawful may, after all, be innocent, and that that may hA
harmless which you hitherto have bee n taught to think dangerous?
Has it tended to make you dissatisfied and impatient under the control of others? and disposed you to relax in that self-government
without which both the laws of God and man tell us there can be
no virtue and consequently no happiness? Has it attempted to
abate your reverence for what is great and good ? . . . has it defiled the imagination with what is loathsome? Throw the book into
the fire."

. 289. II. As to the s~yle: 1. We improve more by readmg a few excellent writers than by reading a multitude of
indifferent ones.
2. Even in reading the best authors we learn more by
reading a few select passages carefully and frequently than
entire books cursorily-non multa sed mu/tum.
3. There is an abundance of good writings of which the
thoughts are proper, so that for style alone we need never
read anything really dangerous.
4. The best should be read from earliest childhood.
5. Faulty writers do positive harm to the style of the
young ; now, many modern writers, highly admired by
some, are full of faults.

Style z"n Literary Composit-ion.
6. Not mere reading, but a careful study by analyzing,
is necessary for the acquisition of a good style.
7. Even in select mod els distinguish the perfect from the
faulty ; but be slow to cond emn before understanding well.
290. III. To read critically is to judge for yourself of
the real value of a book. This supposes the reader to be
well versed in the matter treated, and to have read several other works on the same or on a similar subject, so as
to be able to compare. Young people are rarely qualified
to do so; it will be safer for them to Sl'ek information
in particular cases from those of greater experience. Still,
some few hints may be suggesfed :
1. See what the book professes to treat, what end to obt:ain. Is that end in it~elf desirable? Is it of present
utility ?
2. Can it be reasonably expected that the author, as far
.qs he- is known, is qualified to attain it?
3. Does he actually attain it ?
4.. Does he do so better than is done by any book yet
published on that subject in the same language? else what
is the use of a new book?
2 1. IV. Read attentively.-1. Do not, as a rule, read a
9
book that cannot keep you awake and interested.
2. Read for a definite purpose-e.g., to know such an
author's views on such a question.
3. Know, however, that not every book reqmres the
same closeness of attention.
4. Distracted reading does no good ; pause when there
occurs a thought worth entertaining.
5· In serious reading pause from time to time-e.g., at a
new chapter-to review in mind the matter read.
6. Some readings are so suggestive that but little should
be read at a time ; the more we reflect, the more we im· ·

prove.

Improvement of Style.

129

292. V. What shall I read 1 Answer: 1. On what matter do you need most information to do well what is expected of you ? After settling this you may next inquire
what book will best supply this particular want-e.g., one
engaged in studying the ancient languages will do well to
read Ancient History, that he may understand the facts
and circumstances to which classical literature constantly
refers.
2. Generally prefer what is of present use to the information which may perhaps be useful some future day.
Still, do not so confine yourself to your present narrow
sphere as to neglect acquiring a certain amount of general
information to fit you for a wider field of action in afterlife.
-

3. Do not read what you cannot at present understand,
and be honest enough to acknowledge your ignorance; but
adapt your reading to your age and circumstances. Children should generally read narrations, desc riptions, etc.,
in prose and verse, but these should always be such as
inculcate sound principles ; later on they will read essays,
treatises, etc.
4. Generally avoid wordy writers, who say little in many
words.
293. VI. Poetry.-r. As all will not enjoy the same authors and.the same pieces, read only such as you can appreciate. You cannot readily enjoy poetry when you cannot- sympathize with the writer; and as we should never
sympathize with what is vicious, we must be most careful
to select pure-minded authors.
2. The moral influence of a piece i~ good, no matter
what the subject, if it throws our affections aright and
leaves ~n the mind fit images and contemplations. Milton makes Satan odious, Byron and Goethe make the
reader sympathize with the evil spirit against Gou.

lmz"tati'on.

BOOK IV.
VARIOUS SPECIES OF PROSE COMPOSITIONS.

CHAPTER I.
IMITATION.
294. The young are gifted with a remarkable power of

imitation; it is the mo!5t important instinct which the allwise Creator has provided for their early development, and
it suggests the m ethod to be followed by the educator. No
kind of exercise is better adapted to their age than the imitation of whatever is excelle:it in thought and style. It
must be noticed, however, that they can be made to imitate advantageously those literary beauties only which they
can to some extent understand and appreciate.
Hence
some exercises in imitat ion are suitable to children, others
to those whose judgment is more mature and whose education is more advanced.
295. The importance of imitation is even greater than
that of precepts: precepts without models to imitate would
not carry a learner far on the road to literary excellence;
while many have become skilful writers without the guidance of precepts, by the sole means of imitation, supposing, of course, a fair amount of natural talent.
Lonyum iter per prcecepta, says Seneca, brevis et ejjicax pt1
I.~o

131

txempla-" The way that leads throu gh precepts is long,
that through examples is short and direct. ·'
296. Still, imitation is not all-sufficient, for its productions a re usually inferior to the originals, not having their
naturalness and their power. Besides, what is most valuable in a writer, his ge11ius, ease, tact, etc., cannot be imitated. Exercises of imitation may be almost infinitely
varied, but all may be redu ced to two kinds. We may
imitate a model either by writing on the same subject or on
another subject.
ARTICLE

l.

IMITATIONS ON THE SAME SUBJECT.

297. The ways in which learners may imitate a model by
writing on the same subject are chiefly five :
I. They may read a composition, or hear it read, and
then try to reproduce the same thoughts in their own words;
and they may even attempt to improve on the original.
These models should be suited to the age, degree of progress, a nd other circumstances of the pupils; a judicious
choice of the proper models must be made by th e teacher.
He will find a supply of such pieces in readers, selections
for elocution, etc.
This exercise may be improved by dictating a brief ana·
lysis of the model, so that the pupil may develop it more
re gularly.
298. II. Pupils may write a prose composition, reproducing in their own style the thoughts con tained in a piece
of poetry. For instance, let them write a description of a
happy village, or of the village inn, the village schoolmaster, etc., in imitation of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village."
Or let them read the poem "Evangeline " of Longfellow
and then narrate the same story in prose.
299. III. They may translate a masterpiece of compos1•

-·

..

-

..,..

.

.,..

.

-

-·

.

----

~-

~.._. . ~

.

- ~~·:- -~

.,.

.

. ...

-

..

-

.

.

---·

Various.Species of Prose Compositions.

Imitation.

tion from an ancient or a modern language into their mother-tongue. Such exercises are of constant use in a classical course of education. They are highly recommended by
Cicero (De Or., i. 34) and by Quintilian (x. 5). Pliny
points out the following advantages of such translation:

thenes' closeness and energy ; Livy's ease; Cresar's exactness ; Ovid's sweetness ; Homer's rapidity and fire ; Virgil's delicacy, etc. (See Newman's .Eiistorical Sketches, vol.
ii., advertisement.)
302. I~. A fourth kind of imitation consists in a double
tran~latio~.J If the ??ject is, for instance, to perf e.ct one's
self m Latm compos1t10n, a passage of Cicero or Livy may
be translated into English ; then, after some interval of
time, it is to be translated back into Latin, and the result
to be compared with the original. This exercise is well
suited for self-improvement, especially with persons of more
mature minds.
303. V. A very useful kind of imitation consists in first
analyzing a model-for instance, a~ oration-and then developing this analysis, so as to produce a composition resembling the original. (See for the preparation of such
analysis our Art o.f Oratorical Composition, b. iii. c. iv.)

132

" It gives the learner propriety and beauty of expression, a copious
supply of figures, faciiity in explaining every thoug ht; and, by the
power of imitation, it stimulates him to invent for himself beauties
similar to those of his models. Shades of thought which a reader
might not notice cannot escape the attention of the translator, and
thus his understanding and his judgment are improved by constant
practice."-Letters, vii. 9, § 2.

300. That these and other advantages may be secured,
the translation must be carefully and judiciously done, so
that the full and exact · meaning of the original be expressed with great propriety in the vernacular. It is not
at all nect"ssary that there be a word in English to correspond to every word of the original, nor that. the sentences in both be of the same length and construction. But
two extremes must be avoided : on the one hand, we
should not give a mere paraphrase instead of a translation,
and, on the other, we should not follow the original so
closely as to do violence to our own idiom.
·
or. Two further directions for translation may usefully
3
be added:
1. The manner of translation should be regulated by the
object to be attained : thus for a legal or theological document fidelity and closeness are more important than beauty
of style; while the latter should receive more care in works
of less exact thought which are transla.t ed for the general
reader.
2. In works of literary merit the translation should retain the characteristic beauties of the original style ; for
instance, Cicero's fulness, fluency, and harmony;· Demos:-

I ·'

ARTICLE

ll.

133

IMITATION ON A DIFFERENT SUBJECT.

304. We may strive to reproduce the beauties of a model by applying them to a different subject in three principal ways, of which the first two are suited .to younger persons, the third to more advanced students.
305. I. The first manner consists in taking the elegant
words and phrases, constructions and figures of our model,
and applying them, with some judicious changes, to a similar subject.
Take as an example the following extract
from a speech by Patrick Henry {March, 1775):
"They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But wh e n shall we be stronger? Will it be
the next week? or the next year? Will it be when we are totally
disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every
house? Shall we gather st_rength by irresolution and inaction 1

--

~

134

Various Species of Prose ·composz"tz"ons.

Shall we acquire the means of effectu al resistance by lying su~inely
on our backs and hugging th e delusive phantom of hop e, until our
clnemies shall have bound us hand a nd foot? Sir, we are n o t weak,
if we make a proper use of those means which the God of 1:ature
hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, a~med 111 the
holy cause of liberty, and in su ch a country as that which we ~os­
sess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send aga~nst
us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is. a
just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will
raise up friends to fight our battles for us.''

In close imitation of this write a strong appeal to sinful
men who put off their conversion:
" You may tell me that you are weak, unable at present to su~­
due your unruly passions. But when will you be stronger? Will
it be the next week? or the next year? Will it be when these passions shall have grown still stronger by more protracted indulgence?
when your wills shall have been further weakened ~y h~bitual e~­
cesses? Will you gather strength by irresolution and 111act10n? .W1~l
you acquire the means of effectual resistance to you~ depraved in~h­
nations by lying supinely on your backs and hugg111g the delusive
phantom of hope that you shall be able to shake off the yok e at some
future day, when your passions shall have bound you hand and
foot? No ; you are not too weak now, if you make proper. use of
those means which a merciful God has placed at your disposal.
Men so intelligent and noble in many other respects, men accustomed to make sacrifices for other purposes, which they fully appreciate, are capable of accomplishing any object to which they generously devote their attention. Besides, you are n~t to fight y~ur
battles alone. There is a good God who earnestly wishes every s111ner to be converted, who speaks to your hearts this very day, and
who is ready now to second your earnest efforts''; etc.

3 06. II. The second is a much looser method of ~m~ta·
tion: it consists in reading carefully a story, a descnpt10n,
a letter, or any elegant passage of a good author, an~ then
endeavoring to compose on a similar subject, profitmg by
any hint which the model may suggest with regard to styl~,
or plan, or anything else that may improve the composl·

Imita""on.

135

tion. This method of imitation is not subject to definite
rules, but it relies on that instinctive power of imitation
which is productive of the happiest results, provided the
models be judiciously chosen ; that is, provided they be excellent in themselves and well suited to the stage of the
learner's progress. An example would be The Combat of
Goliath and David written in imitation of The Combat of
the Horatii and Curiatii, as related by Livy (ii. 10 ).
307. III. The more advanced exercise consists in first
studying a model thoroughly, examining its excellence~
of various kinds-the beauty and appropriateness of the
thoughts, the order in which they are developed, the
harmony of the periods, the elegance and power of the
figures, the closeness of the reasoning, the clearness of
the arguments, th'=! delicate politeness of the refutation,
etc.-and then writing a similar composition on another
theme which is capable of analogous treatment.
:~08. For instance, in imitation of the .first oration
of Cicero against Catiline a speech may be written denouncing some evil practices or some wicked men that are
ruining the youth of the country: such as the reading of obscene literature or the wretches who spread it broadcast
over the land. It is not necessary that the imitation follow the entire model step by step. Sometimes we may imitate the main division only and the general spirit of a
model.
309. Thus we find, for instance, that Demosthenes, 'in his
1. Shows the necessity of seizing the proffered opportunity ; 2. Explains how it is to be
improved ; 3. Enforces these measures by proving that success is certain, if that plan be adopted, and that action is
imperativt (Art of Orat. Comp., p . 120). Now, on this plan
an address to the members of a debating society may readily be composed: I. Showing the necessity of profiting by

Third Olynthiac Oration,

~~~·

t

...

..

'I'

••

•

-~-.: 71-."'

•

.- ~..-. .......... ~,..

. -

-

.

, .... ;-.;.

136 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
the opporturnties for self-improvement which the. society
affords ; 2 • Explaining what must be done t~ denve frmt
from the exercises; 3. Enforcing these suggest10ns by proving that the task is easy, but that earnest application is absolutely necessary to insure success.
The greatest writers of all ages have ma.de use of such
imitations while striving to improve on their models. Cicero imitated Plato in his dialogues; Virgil imitated Homer
and Theocritus ; Horace, Pindar ; Pope imitates Virgil!s
Eclogues, etc.
ARTICLE

Ill.

SELECTION OF MODELS.

310 . Much depends on the judicious choice of mode.ls
to be proposed for imitation. Even for the youngest ch~l­
dren none but excellent examples should be selected, smted to their tender age, of course, but exquisite in their
kind. In fact, perfection in the model is more necessary
in proportion as the pupils' judgment is less dev~lop:d;
for such learners have no other guide than the mstmct
of imitation, and cannot discern what sh.0t~ld. be .imitated in
the model from what is unworthy of their im1tat10n.
311 . Besides, what is thus learned in early years can
scarcely be unlearned later on; V ~ry many. children have
their taste depraved for life by their first picture-books or
sensational stories. Quintilian, in his excellent work on
the Education of an Orator, insists earnestly on the necessity of putting nothing before children that _they may not
imitate to advantage. Optima quidem et statzm et semper" Choose the best models at once and ever after." He
would have the very talk of the child 's nurse to be gram·

matical:
"First of all, let the talk of the child's nurses not be ungrarnrna•

·-

,,..

"

.. ··-

.

....

.

.

.
-- - -

Imitation.

- ~·

- -

- ,_., .,. . -

~

- 137

tical. Chrysippus wi$hed them, if possible, ~o be women bf some
knowledge ·; at any rate he would have th e best chosen that circumstances may allow. To their morals, doubtless, attention is first to
be paid ; but let them also speak with propriety. It is they th at the
child will hear first ; it is their words that he will try to imitate. We
are naturally most tenacious of what we have imbibed in our infant
years , as the flavor with which you scent new vessels remains in
them ; nor can the colors with which wool is stained be effaced
hereafter.
Those very habits which are of a more objectionable
nature adh e re with the greater tenacity; for good ones are easi ly
changed for the worse, but when will you change bad ones int'J
good? Do not, then, accustom the child, even when yet an infant,
to phraseol0gy which must be unlearned" (b. i. c. i. 4, 5).

31 2. Those writers, as a rule, are the best models for imitation who combine regularity of plan with ease and natu-

ralness of development. Such are chie!ly Cicero and I::emosthenes, Livy and Herodotus, Ccesar and Xenophon,
among the ancients ; and among the moderns, Edmund
Burke and Erskine, Pitt and Chatham, Webster and Calhoun, Clay and Everett ; Lingard and Alison, Prescott and
Irving; Addison and Walter Scott, Dickens and Cooper i
Cardinals Wiseman, Manning, and Newman.
3 r 3. Some writers are useful models for the acq ms1t1on
of special excellences; thus we may learn vigor and condensation of thought from Thucydides and Tacitus, vivid.
description from Sallust, a forcible and direct style from
Macaulay, Brownson, and Father Burke. While perhaps
no author is commendable in every r espect, beginners
especially should confine themselves to those who approach nearest to perfection ; or, better still, such pas·
lages from any good author should be selected for them
by a prudent teacher as are every way fit models for imitation.
3 14. The teacher will, besides, r. Vary his selections to
suit the capacities and circumsta:nc:;~~ of his pupils ; 2

138

•

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

Point out in what the beauty of those pieces consists, and
in what particular respects they are chiefly to be imitated;
3. Vary his selections so as to improve, now some, then
other talents of his pupils.
A learner trained on one
model or to one kind of style only, would not bring all his
powers into play ; he would not acquire a well-developed
mind. nor all the beauty of language which is within his
reach.

CHAPTER II.
LETTERS.

315. A letter is a written communication on any sub1Pct
from one person to another. Letters deserve most careful
study; for, 1. No species of composition is more generally
usecl by all classes of persons. 2. A negligently written
letter may entail very injurious consequences. 3. Many
will judge of a person's character and attainments from his
epistolary correspondence.
It makes a considerable difference in our style whether
we write as officials or business men, or as individual members of society. We may, therefore, usefully distinguish
letters into two kinds-official or business letters and unojfidal letters. We class official and business letters together, because they are mainly subject to the same rules.
ARTICLE

I.

OFFICIAL OR BUSINESS LETTERS.

316. We call official or business letters all those written
by a person in the capacity of an officer, a professional
man, a merchant, or a tradesman. In all such correspondence the following are the leading rules:
Rule 1.-Be very clear, so that your exact meaning cannot fail to be understood at first sight. Read your letter
over with close attention to see that all your thoughts are
correctly, fully, and clearly expressed.
Rule 2.-Take care that the handwriting be legible,
else you may get boots for books, matches for hatchets or
latches, two ponies instead of 100 pansies.
1 39

Letters.

140 Various Species of Prose Compositions.,
Rule 3.-Be brief and to the point; business men have
no time to waste.
Rule 4.-~ onfine yourself to strict business. If you wish
to add matters of friendship, it is well to write them on a
separate leaf, that the business portion may be separately
filed.
Ritle 5.-Write grammatical and idiomatic English, but
without any attempt at figures-in the plain style.
Rule 6.-0bserve the received formalities, which are now
to be explained.
The formalities of epistolary correspondence are not uniform in all countries. The general tendency of Americans
is towards simplicity in .forms: they consult the convenience
of all persons concerned, showing proper respect for every
one, but using few idle compliments. We shall notice the
points most generally agreed upon, without condemning
such departures from these directions as are authorized
by common sense and respectable practice. ,
3 1 7. Here is an example of official correspondence. It
is taken from General Sherman's Memoirs~· most of the
'etters in that work are on the same simple plan:
HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES, l
CITY Po1wr, VIRGINIA, December 26, 1864. )
Major-General W. T. Sherman, Savannah, Georg ia:
GENERAL: Your very interesting letter of the 22d inst, brought
Ly Major Gray, of General Foster's staff, is just at hand. As the
major starts back at once, I can do no more at present than simply
acknowledge its receipt .. The capture of Savannah, with all its immense stores, must tell upon the people of the South. All well
here.
Yours truly,
U. S. GRANT, Lie_u tenant-Gemral.

318. We call attention to some special formalitiee- in
l.l;eneral use.

1. Write on white paper with black ink, leaving a halfinch margin at the left side. Use letter or note size, but
never tear nor cut off a part. Decided colors, odd patterns,
gaudy pictures are in bad taste.
2. Leave at least one inch vacant on the top of the first
page.
3. Put on the first line, and to the right, your own postoffice address; and, either on the same line or on the
next, the date-that is, the month, day, and year ; also the
hour, if necessary.
3 19· 4. On the next line, and beginning near the margin,
put the name, title; and address of the person or firm you
write to. This inside address, as it has been called, may
occupy one or two, or even three, lines. It should be complete enough to distinguish the party addressed ftom all
others (as the letter will be filed without the envelope);
but it need not be so detailed as · the outside address on the
envelope.
It is more formal, when add'r essing dignitaries, to omit
or abridge the directions at the head of the letter, and to
write the whole address below the signatu re to the left.
320. Care should be taken to give every one his proper
t,~~.~e, The following titles a re in common use :
· In writing to the Pope, "His Holiness, Leo XIII."
To a cardinal, "His Eminence."
To an archbishop, "The Most Rev. P. R. Kenrick (with
qr without D. D.)"
·
To ~bishop, "The Rt. Rev.-·(D.D.)"
To a priest, "Rev. --."
To the President and Vice-President of the United
States, "The President," "The Vice-President."
To a governor or foreign minister, " His Excellency."
To members of Congress and other high officers of the
3tate, to judges, aldermen, etc., "The. Hon."
0

.

0

142 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
After the name of a lawyer or a justice of peace, "Esq."
(nothing before it).
To a military officer, " G enera1," " C o Ione 1, " " Capta1·n ,"
"Lieutenant."
To private persons, ''Mr.," "Master" (for a young boy),
"Messrs." or 1'1sses (for a firm), "Mrs. John Brown" (for
the wife of John Brown), " Mrs. Mary Brown" (f ~r ~is
1
widow) "Miss Brown" (for his eldest daughter), Miss
'
'
Julia Brown"
(for a younger daughter), etc.
321. 5. Next comes the salutation:
"Holy Father" or "Your Holiness," "Your Grace,"
"Your Lordship," " Rev. Father," or "Your Reverence."
"Mr. President," "Ivlr. Vice-President."
"Your Excellency," "Your Honor."
"General," "Colonel," etc.
'~ Sir," "Gentlemen" or " La d.ies, '' "M a d am, " "M'iss. ''
The word "Dear" denotes acquaintance and respect, but
· : t11e terms "s·ir, " " M a d am, " "Miss" look
not familiarity
rather formal without " Dear." "My Dear" is considered
by some as more familiar, by others as less so.
322 . 6. Begin the first paragraph at the point w~1ere the
salutation ends, or on the next line just below it. The
other paragraphs will ,commence about half an inch from
the margin.
. .
.
7.
The
letter
should
end
with
the
subscription,
which
2
.
3 3
consists of two parts-viz., an expression of respect and the
signature. The expression of respe~t often forms part of
the last paragraph ; at other times it stands separately, and
then it usually begins about the middle of the line. The
following forms are common in official correspondence:
.
" I am, with respect, your obedient
servant ";" I I1ave
the honor to be your obedient servant " ; " Very respectfully yours" ; " Yours truly " ; " s·mcere1y yours " ; " v ours
thankfully," etc.

Letters.

143

324. 8. Make as few folds in the letter as possible. With
a full-sized sheet turn the lower on the upper edge and
make a fold in the middle; fold the double into three parts.
See that the letter does not adhere to the inside of the envelope. The envelope should be suitable to the paper,
and both should be of an approved pattern.
325. 9. On the envelope put the stamp near the right
upper corner. About the middle of the envelope write the
name and title of the party addressed ; on the next line, a
little more to the right, the number of the house and the
name of the street (or, for small places, of the town and
county); below, the name of the city; and, lastly, that of
the State. Take great care that the directions be so explicit as to prevent all possibility of mistake.
i o. In answering business letters (or any letters that require a direct answer) begin by mentioning the items to
which you are replying ; thus:
"Yours of the 25th inst. came to hand. You desire to
know . . . "
"Your order for . . . is received."
"Your favor of the 30th ult. enclosing check for seventyfive dollars ($75) on Farmers' Bank, St. Louis, is received
. and credited to your account, in full payment for . . . "
326. 11. A note may be written in the third person
throughout; e.g. :
"Mr. Jno. Green will call on Mr. W. Smith on next
Thursday at three P.M."
This is often a convenient form for postal cards.
3 27. 1 2. When sending a telegram. the great rule is to
convey all the necessary information briefly and in such
language as is most apt to be correctly transmitted. Proper names are often mistaken and punctuation marks utter. ly neglected in the transmission. The formalities of titles,
etc., may be dispensed with in telegrams.

/

Letters.

144 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
328. 13. When it is necessary to add an item after the letter is finished, we begin by making P. S. (postscript) n ear
the margin below the last line of the letter, and then state
briefly what we have to say ; if there is no evident reason
for our ·former omission, we premise a word of excuse.
329. Exercise 1.-Write a letter purporting to order from
the · publisher a dozen copies of this text-book, or of another book designated by the teacher; and submit the
letter to him for criticism on all particulars.
330. Exer~se 2.-Write a letter purporting to send pay~
ment for the books received.
33 r Exercise 3.-Write in the name of the book·firm to
acknowledge receipt of . payment.
332. Examples :
· A Note .

An
i nf or 111al,

145

No. - H Street,
Waslzington.

familiar

Letter.

Dear Julia,
Will you not co1ne to .dine
with .us to-morrow, Saturday, at 7 o'clock .rt
ive shall be so glad to see you. I hope
that you !tave no otlzer engagement.
Affectionately yours,
Agnes Smith.
Jan. 2d, Friday
An Enz,elofe.

[Stamp]
Mrs. L£ly Tulip,
Elm Grove Mans£on,
Acacia,
Linwood Co.,
Florida.

Mr. & Mrs. - - request t!te pleasure .of
•.•................ . Co1npany
at dinner on Friday,
Jan. 19th, at 7Yz o'clock.

Merrydale Co., Ind.,
April 1, 1886.

ROSEBUD VILLAGE,

M rs. Lily Tulip,
A cacia, Florida.
MY DEAR MOTHER:

A Card.

Mr. &Mrs.
At Honu ,
Wednesday, April the eleventlz,
from four until six o'clock,
and from eight until eleven o'clock.
No. Second Avenue.

I have just received your kind favor
of the 25th ult. in which you inform me tha t you desire me to return
as so~n as convenient.
Much as I enjoy the scenery here, and
especially the affection of my excellent uncle and aunt. I shall be
. happy to comply with yo ur wishes. You may look for me on next
Saturday mo~ning: . I h a ve so many goo d things to say to you, but
the postboy 1s wa1trng for this letter. Do take good care of your
health : here all are well and send love.
Y oµ.r loving daughte~,
FLORA.

146 Various Species of Prose Compositz'ons.
ARTICLE

II.

UNOFFICIAL LETTERS.

333. Unofficial letters are such as .re written by any
person in his private capacity, as an individual member of
society. They may be dictated by friendship, by charity or
kindness, by politeness, by respect, by gratitude, by self·
interest, or by any other reasonable motive.
There is one important difference between official and
unofficial letters-,, namely, that the former exclude sentiment, and the latter admit it freely; the former proceed
solely from the head, the latter often from the heart,
though, of course, under the guidance of the head. Now,
when the heart is interested the imagination is stirred, and
literature in the strict meaning of the word, is the result ;
.
then there is room for tropes
and figures and other ornaments of style, and, in particular, for the display of the
most delicate taste. Epistolary correspondence does not
admit the bolder figures of oratory : any attempt at splendor is objectionable in letters. We must charm by gentler
beauties, by appropriateness, by modest plays of the imagination, by genial warmth of sentiment.
334. The style of these letters should generally be:
(a) Correct, as is the language of educated men in conversation ; still, somewhat more chastened-i.e., free from
all that is rather tolerated than approved. Apparent negligence may be sometimes agreeable ; real negligence never.
(b) Appropriate to the subject, the persons, the occasion,
etc.; on important matters grave, on common ones neat,
elegant and playful on trifling ones, etc.
(c) Concise, pruning away long introductions, unnecessary
developments, diffuse reasoning, especially to men of little
leisure. Familiar letters may be more diffuse.
(d) Modest, avoiding long periods, bold figures, etc.
(e) Graceful, selecting neat constructions and all kinds

•'

Letters.

147

of modest ornaments, such as obvious comparisons natural
m.etaphors, brief narrations and descriptions, pithy' sayings,
witty and humorous reflections, etc.
335· We shall treat with some detail of the principal
species of such letters :
I. Lette.rs of friendship are such as are dictated by mutual affection between relatives and friends. They should
be natural, easy, frank, without the least affectation. "I
wish you to open to ~.me your soul, not your library," said
Mme. de Sevigne, who _ wrote exquisitely herself. Such
letters may treat of any subject of common interest to the
parties concerned.~ Their language is that of the heart.
Kindness, affection, charity, good-nature should dictate
'
prudence and common sense supervise them.
336. The~r charm will depend chiefly on the intelligence
and the amiable character of the writer. Whatever theref~re, will quicken or develop our intelligence, bu~ especial_Jy whatever w~ll improve our character, making us more
s.oc1able, unselfish, considerate, etc., will improve our famihar correspondence: Persons too dull to have any original thoughts, those mcapable of warm feelings, pretentious
persons who can?ot write wi.thout affectation, vainglorious
ones who can thmk of nothmg but self, deceitful characters incapable of candor, are not likely to succeed in this
species of composition. On the other hand intelligent
persons with warm-hearted, modest, and ope~ characters
a:e sure to. succeed, provided they do not take a wrong
view of th eir task. What is that task? It is to make
others h.appy for time and eternity. See what your friend
would like to hear ; anticipate his queries; speak of yourself fo~ the ~a~e ''.f your friend. Avoid overwrought sentimentality : 1t is distasteful, because unreal. Genuine goodness and gentle piety are attractive.
337. "A light, easy, playful style is most appropriate in

Varz"ous Specz"es of Prose Compositions.

Letters.

friendship " (American Gentleman). Still, the modest ornaments of style are here in place. Happy turns of expression, delicate allusions, innocent hints, ingenious faultfinding, pleasing anecdotes, and pen-pictures have a pleasant effect, but all must be natural. "If you run after.
wit," says Montesquieu, "you will catch folly." "Most
persons write ill," says Chesterfield, "because they aim at
writing better than they can, by which means they acquire
a formal and unnatural style ; whereas to write well you
must write easily and naturally."
338. In telling news be not a gossip, do not make known
the secrets of others ; handle the names of others with respect, so that, if they should happen to see · the letter (as
they may sooner or later), they could not be offended with
you ; be charitable and prudent. ' Relate facts with order
and clearness, in a pleasant . style.
339. I~ Letters of Congratulation-such as are written
on occasion of the New Year, a birthday, a patronal feast,
or when a friend has met with some uncommon good-fortune-should be dictated by genuine friendship and sincere
esteem, and . expressed modestly without any exaggerated
pr9.ise.
Never flatter-i.e., never praise what you feel
does not deserve it-but let your friend See that you love
him and that you rejoice with him for his sake, not for the
advantage his success may bring you.
340. In New Year's letters, etc., express gratitude for
all that parents and others have done for you, sorrow for
the grief you may have caused them, a promise of more
tho.ughtful conduct in the future, with a hope that God
will grant 'JOU time to fulfil your promise. Add gond
wishes, and a prayer for the blessings of Heaven on the
new year. The writing should be most careful, to show respect and to prove you have profited by your opportunities
to learn. In all such letters one good thought, one happy

hit, is more pleasing than four rambling pages : it is more
credit~ble to the writer and more acceptable to the reader.
· 341. III. Letters of Condolence.
These require great
skill anc care" A"t like the humane surgeon who touches
the wound gentlys :rnd only to heal it. If your correspondent knows the sao news already, sympathize sincerely with
him: "What a lo!?s sustained ! what hopes disappointed ! "
Hit a.> it were .: ccidentall y on a motive of consolation
drawn from reason, or, better, from religion, and develop it
skilfuily. If you are to announce the bad news yourself
prepare the way slowly ; suggest motives of resignation to
God's will befoff:hand ; state the news at last as delicately
as you can. Express your grief again before you conclude,
342. IV. Letters of Introduction or Recommendation require special prndence. Think first whether it is proper to
write such a letter at all for such a person.

148

149

"Consider well for whom you pledge your name,
Lest w thout guilt you bear another's shame."-Horace.

Avoid two dangers : do not offend the applicant for a recommendation; do not deceive your correspondent by
exaggerated praise of the one recommended.
If the applicant is wortlty state his merits, express reasonable confidence in him, ask your friend's interest in his behalf as a personal favor to yourself. If he is unworthy or
doubtfully worthy, give him a letter which he will prefer
not to present ; for every such letter is an open letter,
which the bearer is expected to read before delivering. It
may be necessary to write by mail to the third party, informing him, before the letter is presented to him, of certain facts which could not be mentioned in the recommendation. Write on the envelope, below the address,
~owards the left : "To introduce Mr.
."

150

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

343. V. Letters of Petition should be modest and every
way moderate.
Ingratiate yourself in a manly way ; state
your reasons briefly but forcibly ; show your appreciation
of the trouble your correspondent m ay be put to in consequence of the favor; promise gratitude.
In answering such letters favorably be brief and show
your pleasure at rendering the little service asked. Say
as little as possible of the trouble it costs, or of limitation
or conditions. In refusing show how reluctantly you do
so ; give good reasons for it. Express your hope of finding, some other time, a better opportunity of showing your
affection or esteem.
344. VI. Letters of Thanks should never be neglected
when a favor has been received. Express your appreciation both of the favor and of the kindness with which it
was bestowed.
Hope for an opportunity, not of repaying
the person, but of showing your gratitude.
345· We add some further directions for epistolary correspondence in general :
1. Give advice sparingly : do not volunteer it except for
very special reasons ; if asked give it cautiously, modestly,
appearing to mistrust your views unless there: is a principle
at stake.
If there is, state it mod , stly but firmly: in this,
as in all things else, honesty is the best policy.
2. If you must find fault, do so reluctantly and as gently
as circumstances will allow; but if it is your cltar duty to
do it at all, do it with manly firmness.
3. To excuse yourself rather exaggerate than hide your
·fault ; express sorrow ; then touch upon palliating circumstances, or explain how the mistake arose ; promise care
for the future.
346. Eminent letter- writers are few.
Cicero's is the
best collection: he corresponded in a charming style with
the greatest men of his age on all manners of subjects;

Letters.
but he wrote simply what the circumstances actually suggested, without any intention of publishing his letters.
Pliny's are higlily, even excessively, polished.
Dean Swift's are unaffected, but they want discretion
and betray many of his defects of character.
Pope's are entertaining, witty, and refined, but too evidently labored.
Chesterfield's are natural, but often indelicate, and in
other ways wanting in a Christian spirit.
Lady Mary Montagu has much ease and vivacity, and a
very agreeable epistolary style.
In French, Madame de Sevigne is considered a charming model of familiar correspondence; still, she is too talkative for English taste.
The letters of Eugenie de Guerin are among the most
perfect models in this species of literature.
347. Exercises.-Write one letter of each species, the particular circumstances being suggested by your teacher.

Narratz"on.

CHAPTER III.
NARRATION.

348. Narration is defined a species of composition which
relates the particulars of a real or fictitious event. In a
wider meaning, narration is the statement of successive
facts; it enters into histories, biographies, travels, novels,
etc. We shall consider : 1. The general rules for all good
narration ; 2. The rules for Simple Narration J. 3. Those
for Complex Narration J. 4. The style of narration.
ARTICLE

I.

RULES FOR NARRATION IN GENERAL.

349. The first rule regards the choice of a subject.
Rule 1.-The writer should select a subject with which
he is sufficiently acquainted, else he cannot expect to write
a sensible composition.
350. Rule 2.-He should choose a subject not too lofty
for his talents, nor too intricate for his ability to handle
successfully.
These two rules apply to all compositions ; but they are
often violated in the choice of subjects for narration. The
reason is that many of the most perfect specimens of narration, in ancient and modern writers, are of wars and battles, and other stirring subjects, which are too intricate and
too little under~tood by the young to be good subjects for
imitation . . Such subjects accustom beginners to unreality
and conceit, and do more harm than good.
351. Rule 3.-The subject should suit the end intended
by the writer. If he desires to please let him choose facts
153

153

which are beautiful or interesting in themselves, or which
may readily be beautified ; if he aims at moving his readers
he must select a story that speaks to their hearts; if he
wishes to instruct he must relate an event that is itself instructive, or from which he can draw a useful lesson. If
all these ends be intended together he should choose very
carefully some matter which is suited for all these purposes.
352. If the subject deals with real facts the rule of fidelity to the truth is essential. It requires that not only the
main facts shall be true as they are narrated, but also that
all the striking and important details be faithfully stated
as they are known to have happened. Little details which
are only the filling-up of the picture may be supplied by
the writer's knowledge of human nature. But care must
be taken that the author does not give a false coloring to
his picture by offering his own speculations as real facts.
It would be a, great fault to introduce any important but
fictitious circumstance into the narrative of a real event.
353. Rule 4.-The rule of probability applies to both
real and fictitious narratives. It requires that everything
narrated must appear natural, plausible, or true to nature.
To make a narration look probable or plausible the writer
must show how far the effects mentioned proceeded from
known causes, and how far they were merely accidental.
He must exhibit the words and actions as in keeping with
the characters of the persons, with the times, places, etc.
He must do all this without appearing to reason much,
simply by presenting the facts and circumstances in a natural manner.
354. Rule 5.-To make a narration truly artistic-i.e.,
a beautiful piece of literary composition-the rule of unity .
is important. All the details of the narrative must be so
selected and disposed as to appear parts of one whole
story, so that all the attention of the re~der is concen·

154 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
trated upon a single fact. When the story is brief and
simple the rule of unity is easily observed ; but not so
when the details are many and the narrative is prolonged.
355. The art of telling a good story well lies ch{efly in
this process : that, after a proper introduction, you excite
.and partly satisfy the curiosity of the reader without hurrying the events too much, suspending the action occa:sionally without allowing it to languish . Such suspense
1often adds intense interest to the narrative, which must
,:ifterwards be brought to a natural and full close, satisfying all reasonable curiosity and expectation.
ARTICLE

II.

SIMPLE NARRATION.

356. A narrative is simple if it is free from intricacy
.and multiplicity of details, and so brief that, when it has
been read, the whole story is easily remembered-taken in,
.as it were, at one glance; else it is complex. Addison illustrates the truth, "The humble are exalted," by this simple
story, "The Drop of Water":
"A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the sea, and, finding itself lost in such an immensity of fluid matter, broke out into the following reflection : 'Alas ! what an insignificant creature am I in this
prodigious ocean of waters ; my ex istence is of no concern to the
universe; I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and am less than the
least of the works of God.' It so happened that an oyster, which
lay in the neighborhood of this drop, chanced to gape and swallow
it up in the midst of this its humble soliloquy. The drop lay a great
whlle hardening in the shell, till by degrees it was ripened into a ·
pearl, which, falling into the hands of a diver, after a long series of
adventures, is at present that famous pearl which is fixed on the
top of the Persian diadem."

35 7. Dodsley inculcates moderation m pleasure by the
" Fable of the Two Bees " :
" On a fine morning in May two bees set forward in quest of honey;

N arratz'on.

' 1 55

the one wise and temp e rate, the oth e r careless and extravagant.
They soon arrived at a garden enriched with arom atic h e rbs, the most
fragrant a nd the most delicious fruits. They regaled themselves
for a time on the various dainties that were spread before them ; the
one loading himself at intervals with provisions for the hive against
the distant winter, the other revelling in sweets without regard to
an ything but his present gratification. At length they found a widemouthed vial, that hung beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled
with honey ready temp ered and exposed to their taste in the most
alluring manner. The thoughtl ess epicure, in ~pit e of all his friend 's
remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself in ;,JI the pleasurt:s of sensuality. The philosopher,
on the othe r hand, sipped a little with caution ; but, being suspicious of da nger, fl e w off to fruits and flowers, where, by the moderation of his meals, he improved his re lish for the true enjoyment
of them. In the evening, however, h e called upon his friend to
inquire \vhether he would return to th e hive ; bu.the found him surfeited in sweets, which he was as unabl e to lea ve as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his feet, a nd his whole frame totally
enervated, he was but ju st able to bid his friend adieu, and to lament
with his latest breath that, though a taste of pleasure mig ht quicken
the relish of life, an unrestrained indulgence is inevitable destruction ."

358. One of the most perfect models that can be proposed of a simple narration is from the masterly pen of
Cicero, " Dionysius and Damocles" :
"Dionys1us, the tyrant of Sicily, showed how far he was from being happy, even whilst abounding in riches and all the pleasures
which rich es can procure. Damocles, one of his flatterers, was complimenting him one day u pon his powe r, his treasures, and the magnificence of his royal state, and affirming that no monarch ever was
greater or happier than he. ' Have you a mind, Damocles,' said the
ki~g, 'to taste this happiness, and know by experi e nce what my
enJoyments are, of which you entertain so high an appreciation?'
Damocles glaidly accept ed the offer. Th e n the king ord e red that a
royal banquet sh o uld be prepared , and a gilded cour.h placed for
him, covered with rich embroidery, and sideboards loaded with gold
and silver plate of immense value. Pages of extraordinary beauty

156

Varz"ous Specz"es of Prose Composz"tz"ons.

Narration.

were ordered to wait on him at tabl e, an d to obey his commands with
the greatest readiness and the most profound submissi on. Neither .
ointments, chaplets of flowers, nor rich perfumes were wanting.
The table was loaded with the most exquisite delicacies of every
kind. Damocles fancied himself a mongst the gods. · In the midst
of all his happiness he see~, le t down from the roof, exac tly over his
head as he lay indulging himself in state, a glittering sword hung
by .a single hair . . The sight of destruction, thus threatening him
fro~ on high, soon put a stop to hi s joy and revelling.
Th e pomp
of his attendants and th e gUtter of the carved plate gave him no
longer any pleasure. He dreads to stretch forth his hand to the
tab!~ . He throws off the chaplet of roses. H e hastens to escape
from his dangerous situation, and at last begs th e king to restore
him to his former humbl e condition, having no desire to enjoy any
. long.e r so dreadful a kind of happiness."

359. If we study this piece with care we shall notiee

·the

There is a brief intro~
du~tion to the story. 2. The facts are related in the natural order. 3. The quotation of the tyrant's words enlivens the narrative. 4. The description of the feast adds·
elegance. 5. Every detail either throws light' upon th~ '
facts, or makes them tnore interesting or impressive. No '
item could be omitted without detracting from the happy
effect of the whole. 6. We see the reason . of evt+rything ,
that is said or done. All these are .points wo;thy of imit<:ttion .
360: ·care ought always to be ·taken to select those cir
cumstances of an event which mark it $trikingly. A feyi1.
well-chosen details may convey a more. vivid impression, of.
a fact . than a multitude . of · less telling incidents. · Thus
Walter Scott, in narrating the, " Taking of Roxburgh Cas-:
tle," selects only a few items ; but they stamp the imores-·
sion of the sudden surprise indelibly on 'the mind :

following points in particular :

1.

''You must know Roxburgh was then a very large castle, situated nea.r where two fine rivers, the Twee\i and the Teviot, bin eacb

157

other.. Being within five or six miles of England, the English were
extremely d esirous of retaining it, and the Scots equally eager to
obtain possession of it. I will tell you · how it was taken.
"It was upon the night of what is call ed Sbrovetide, a holiday
which people. paid great respe~ t to and solemnized with much gayety
and feas ting. Most of the garrison of Roxburgh castle were drink·
ing and carousing, but still they had set watches on the battlements
of the castle, in case of any sudden attack ; for as the Scots had
succeeded in so many enterprises of the kind, and as Douglas was
know n to be in the neighborhood, they conceived themselves obliged to keep a very strict guard.
"An Englishwoman, the wife of one of the officers, was sitting
on the battlements with her child in her arms, and looking out on
the fields below. She saw some black objects, lik_e a herd of cattle,
straggling near th e foot of the wall and approaching the ditch or
moa t <:> f the castle. She pointed them out to the sentinel, and asked
h:m what they were. ' Pooh, pooh ! ' said the soldier, 'it is Farmer
Such-a-one's cattl e ' (naming a man whose farm lay near the castle).
'The good m a n is keeping a jolly Shrovetide, and has forgot to shut
up his bullocks in their yard; but if the Douglas come across them
before morning he is likely to rue his n eglige nce.' Now, those
creeping objects which they saw from the castle-wall were no real
cattle, but Douglas himself and his soldiers, who had put black
cloaks above their armor, and were creeping about on hands and
feet, in order, without being observed, to get so nea r to the foot of
the castle-wall as to be able to set ladders to it. The poor woman,
who knew . not:h,ing of this, sat quietly on the wall, and began to sing
to her child. You must know that the name of Douglas had become so terrible to the Engli sh that the women used to frighten
their children with it, and say to them when they behaved ill that
they 'would make the Black Douglas take them.' And the soldier's
wife was :-i nging to her child :
'Hush ' ye, hush ye, little pet ye;
Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye:
The Black Douglas shall not get ye.'
" ' You are not so sure of that,' said a voice close beside her.
She . felt at the sam e time a heavy hand, with an iron glove, laid on
Iler shoulder, and when she looked round she saw the very 'Black
Dougl.as ,. she had been singing about standing close beside her. a'

I

58 Various Species of Prose Compositions.

tall, swarthy, strong man. At the same time another Scotsman was
seen ascending the walls, near to the sent ine!. The soldier gave the
alarm and rushed at the Scotsman, whose name was Simon Ledehouse, with his lance; but Simon parried · the stroke, and, closing
with the sentinel, struck him a deadly blow with his dagger. The
rest of the Scots followed up to assist Douglas and L edeh o use, and
the castle was taken. Many of th e soldiers were put to death, but
Douglas protected the woman a nd the child . I dare say she made
no more song about the Black Douglas."

361. Washington Irving, in narrating the first landing of
Columbus, was naturally led by the importance of the event
to give a full and detailed account of what took place on
that solemn occasion. But he has carefully avoided overloading his picture with useless circumstances; his narration is in exquisite taste. (See Life of Columbus, vol. i.
b. iv. c. i.)
ARTICLE

III.

COMPLEX NARRATION.

362. It is not easy to draw the line between simple and
complex narration ; nor do es it matte r much by what name
we call a narrative, provided it be clear and interesting.
But the reason we speak of Complex Narrations is, to show .
how certain difficulties are to be overcome which do not
occur in the pieces so far explained. These difficulties
are: (a) multiplicity of detail; (b) a want of obvious connection between various events; and (c) intricacy, when
various sei-ies of facts run into one another.
363. These difficulties are to be overcome by the study
of order-i.e., a skilful disposition of the parts with a view
to obtaining certain results ; here the results aimed at are
clearness and interest.
364. There are various kinds of order. 1. The most
common is the order of ti~, called also the historical
order. An example of this order is found in the history O!

Narration.

159

Joseph and his brothers (Genesis xxxvii. to xlvi.). Another example is "The Sorrowful Night" (Prescott's Conquest of .Mexico, ii. p. 361 ). All that is necessary in the historical order is that the events unfold themselves naturally before the eyes of the reader, without confusion.
365. 2. The order of importance relates first the principal events, omitting such details as might cause confusion, and returning afterwards to supply them. This order
is partly historical, and is often the clearest in relating complicated facts. It is used by Livy in his account of the
passage of the Rhine by Hannibal. He narrates first how
the soldiers effected the crossing of that rapid stream in
the face of a numerous army of hostile Gauls, and then
returns to relate other matters omitted in the first account
(Livy, xxi. 26-29).
366. 3. The distributive order consists in relating separately two or more series of facts which happen about the
same time in different places, and which conspire to produce one main result. Thus Livy, in narrating the battle of
Cannre, tells first what was done on one wing, then in the
centre, and then on the other wing; thus enabling the
reader to follow the account with ease and pleasure. He
does not give us three separate narrations ; but, by presenting both the armies together to our view before the battle,
and as soon again as the rout of the Romans began, he
exhibits all the events as the parts of one harmonious .
whole.
367. 4. The romantic order arranges events not so much
with a view to clearness as to interest, beginning with a.
striking fact or scene which is not the first in the order of
time, but which is suitable to arouse attention : the writer
later on supplies such other facts as had first been omitted.
This order is often pursued where the purpose is pleasure
and the story is long. In the body of the narration in.

160

Various Species o.f Prose Compositions.

terest may similarly be promoted by delaying the explanation of some fc;i.cts till a proper degree of suspense has been
attained. But invers ions are by no means necessary, and
the most regular order is usually the most tastefu l and
pleasing. First-class writers create sufficient interest by
the naturalness of th eir story, their felicity in the ch oice of
item s, and the propriety and elegance of th eir expressions ;
but inferior writers make constant use of tricks and artificial contrivances, as bad cooks do of strong condim ents to
atone for th e absence of the genuine flavors which please a
healthy taste.
368. Classical taste favors neatness and regularity, in arrG1,ngement as in everything else; but romantic taste loves
wildness and striking peculiarities as productive of more
excitement. This is at present the prevailing taste of the
general reader, but by no means of our best writers nor
of the refined portion of society. Goldsmith, Ir' in g, Pres. cott, Lingard, Wiseman, Newman, and many others are
classical in their taste and resemble Livy, Ovid, Virgil,
Homer, Plato, Cicero, and Demosthenes. Whatever order
is adopted, a long story should be divided into chapters,
each of which should exhibit some particular group of
facts, so that a bri"ef heading may comprise the whole matter of that division.
369. To insure unity in a complex narration one fact
must be made more prominent than all the rest, the centre
of attention and interest, or th e issue to which everything
tends. For this purpose the narrator may give prominence to one leading character in whom the interest of
the narrative is centred ; su ch would be either N apoleon
or Wellington in th e battle of Waterloo. When the story
is long or very intricate there may be secondary centres
of interest, and distinct groups of events, provided the
groups and the persons be themselves . clm;tere~ around one

Narration.

l6I

striking or commanding figure, and directed to one important result.
370. It is a useful exercise to compare in detail two dis·
tinct accounts of th e same event as given by two different
writers ; for in stance, the defeat of Braddock, in Bancroft's
H istory of the United States (vol. iv., pp. 186~192, Ed. 1852),
and in Irving's Life of George Washington (vol. i. pp. 17 3182, Ed. 1860) . It will be observed that Irving premises
a clear description of the battle-ground, concentrates attention on one army, keeps Braddock and Washington ever in
sight, making the general the central figure, which we can
easily follow; while in Bancroft, who is less attentive to
these points, there appears to be confusion. This will be
seen more clearly if we read the latter account first ; else,
without noticing it, we are apt to allow the distinct views of
Irving to guide us through the less distinct account of Bancroft. With Irving's clear narration of the battle we may
compare the no less distinct description of the battle of
Poictiers in Lingard's History of E ngland (vol. ii. pp. 314 to
316, Ed. of 1840). Lingard appears to gain by the comparison. He concentrates attention more effectllally upon
the leading points. If we compare with his narrative the
taking of .Badajos as related by Alison (vol. iii. pp. 467469, Ed. 1848), we shall notice that Alison describes very
graphically, and distributes the events judiciously and most
carefully. But he seems to overload his account with
minor details, which make it difficult to follow.
371. This last remark is further illustrated by a comparison of Alison's narrative of the Battle of Waterloo
(History of Europe, vol. iv. c. lxxvii. pp. 532-539; Ed. of
1848) with Abbott's in his life of Napoleon (Griswold's
Prose Writers of America, pp. 609 to 612). Both are very
able narrations of one of the most important events in the
history of the world ; and they are worthy specimens of

Various Species of Prose ComposZ:ti'ons.

Narration.

the style of both distinguished authors. The two passages
should be carefully read, and compared together in detail.
They offer some striking points of difference:
Abbott's sympathies are entirely with Napoleon, Alison's
are decidedly with Wellington. Both make their favorite
hero the centre of the action. Hence results at once a
striking difference in the style. The dashing spirit of
Napoleon and of his enthusiastic followers pervades the
account of the former; the cool, calculating skill of the
Iron Duke and of his unyielding legions characterizes the
elaborate narration of the latter. Abbott writes as the
biographer of one man in whom all interest is naturally
centred; Alison, as the painstaking historian of modern
Europe, strives to do j~stice to many individual heroes.
Abbott writes for the general reader; Alison for the careful student of history and military tactics. Hence the
farmer's account is more pleasing, more artistic ; the latter's more useful and more scientific. As a specimen of
literature Abbott's is singularly beautiful ; the charge of
the Imperial Guard in particular is sublime.

be polished accordingly, not by loading it with gaudy ornaments, but by setting forth the subject with becoming
dignity and elegance.
Familiar facts can be most gracefully related in what the
ancients called the stylus tenuis-a style of simplicity and
neatness combined, which is unpretending but may be very
charming in its apparent artlessness.

162

AR TIC LE IV;

STYLE OF NARRATIONS.

372. The style ought to be regulated by the end or pur·
pose of the writer: 1. When instruction is ' aimed at clearness ought to be the chief quality. It should, however, be
accompanied by neatness, and even elegance, as the occasion may require, and as the writer's talents can afford:
no one should aim higher than he can reasonably expect
to reach.
2. If emotion or persuasion is aimed at vividness is the
chief quality, exhibiting, as if present to the view, whatever
can move the heart.
3. If pleasure is the chief object the language 0ught to

'' Ut sibi quivis
Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret
Ausus ide111.''-An Poet., 240.
·'From well-known tales such fictions would I raise
As all might hope to imitate with ·ease;
Yet while they strive the same success to gain,
Should find their labor and their hopes are vain."
-Francis.

As a specimen of this style in narration we may refer to
Irving's well-known story of Rip Van Winkle in his SketchBook.
373. Persons who have not acquired a cultivated style
should aim at narrating briefly and clearly, in correct language, without attempting any great elegance of style.
3 '74. Narration is said to be graphic when the various
scenes are so painted that the imagination is arrested by
them. This quality of style is obtain~d by mingling descriptions with the narrative. Long descriptions are rarely appropriate ; but brief descriptions and characteristic
epithets may occur at every step. Of this style of narration we find a beautiful example in the acc,punt of the
Romans surrounded in the defile of Caudium (Livy, ix.

2-6).
375. The story should, as a rule, be told feelingly;
that is, the writer should enter into the sentiments, the
spirit of the narration : now exulting, now sympathizing,
now indignant, now grateful, etc. The expression itself

Description.

CHAPTER IV.
DESCRIPTION.
.)81. We mean by a description the delineation of some
object or scene. Narration deals with successive facts ·' .
description with objects that exist at the same time. We
rarely find any literary production of great length which is
entirely descriptive; but descriptions are often introduced
into narratives with happy effect. Sometimes they serve
the purpose of making the narration impressive, by moving
the passions of the reader. At other times they are intended to make the events more intelligible. Thus we
have seen that some narratives of battles are hard to follow because the writer has neglected to give us a clear
description of the battle-field. Descriptions frequently
serve as ornaments, affording an agreeable variety to the
narration, and presenting scenes of striking interest to
the imagination.
We shall di vi de this chapter so as to treat, first, of the
description of things ; secondly, of the description of persons or characters.
ARTICLE

I.

I6j

384. To acquire skill in description it is necessary to
form a habit of close observation, to study natural objects
and the various characters of men. The exercises laid
down in a preceding chapter on Object-Lessons are a useful preparation for descriptive compositions.
385. \Ve have already remarked, when tr,·ating of narrations, that brief descriptions are constantly blended with
them to great advantage, making them vivid and impressive. But long descriptions are not of very frequent occurrence, because they labor u~der serious difficulties ;
the study of these difficulties and of the ways to overcome them will suggest the chief precepts for the management of descriptions.
386. I. The first difficulty is that it is impossible to expr'ess in words all that the eye would take in if the scene
were actually witnessed.
This difficulty is . obviated by making a judicious choice
of the salient features of the scene. For, in reality, when
we behold a landscape, for example, the mind does not pay
attention to an the particulars presented to the eye ; it
notices distinctly a few striking points, and sees the rest
vaguely or not at all. Hence we learn that the great art of
description, as of painting and drawing, consists chiefly in
the skilful selection of those very items which the . eye
would rest on if the whole scene were present. We may
apply to description what Macaulay remarks of history:

DESCRIPTION OF THINGS.

382. Rule 1.-In all cases the description should be of
a piece with the rest of the composition, and not look
like a purple patch sewed on a r.ommon garment.
383. Rule 2.-Descriptive passages must have a natural
connection with the main subject, or be properly intro·
duced.

"No history and no picture can present us with the whole truth;
but those are the best pictures and the best histories which exhibit
such parts of the truth as most nearly produce the effect of the
whole . . . . An outline scrawled with a pen which seizes the marked
features of a countenance will give a much stronger idea of it than
a bad painting in oils. Yet the worst painting in oils that ever hung
in Somerset House resembles the original in many more particulars. "-Essays, History.

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

Description.

Though Macaulay's practical us.e of this principle is not
always defensible, the p~inciple itself is universally acknowledged
387. Another point of comparison between history and
painting is likewise applicable to description :

to come a t once to the pier. It was thronged with people, some
idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of friends or relatives. I
could distinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consigned ;
I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands
were thrust into his pockets; he was whistling thoughtfully, and
walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the
crowd in deference to his temporary importance. There were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged between the shore
and the ship as friends happened to recognize each other.
"All was now hurry and bustle-the m eetings of acquaintances,
the greetings of friends, the consultations of men of business I
alone was solitary and idle. I had no friend to meet, no cheering
to receive. I stepped upon the land of my forefathers, but felt
that I was a stranger in the land."

168

. "History has its foreground and its background, and it is prin·
cipally in the management of its perspective that one artist differs
from another. Some events must be represented on a large scale,
others diminished; the great majority will be lost in the dimness of
the horizon, and a general idea of their joint effect will be given by
a few slight touches. "-Id.

So in description a few objects will be fully dwelt upon,
others briefly pointed out, and the res~ will be suggested
by some general terms. ·
388. We quote as an example of this process a passage
of Washington Irving's Sketch-Book in which he describes
his first landing in England :
"It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of 'Land! _'
was given from the masthead. None but those who have ex.perienced it can form an idea of the delicious throng of sensations
whi ch rush into an American's bosom when he first comes in sight
of Europe. There is a volume of associations with the very name.
It is the land of promise, teeming with eve rything of which his
childhood has heard or on which his studious years have pon-

dered.
''From that time until the moment of arrival it was all feverish
excitement. The ships-of-war that prowled like guardian giants
along the coast, the headlands of Ireland stretching out into the
Channel, the Welsh mountains towering into the clouds-all were '
objects of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey I recon:.
noitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight
on neat cottages with their trim shrubberies and green grass plots.
I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the
taper spire of a village church rising from the brow of a neighboritig hill. All were characteristic of England.
"The tide and wind were so favorable that the ship was enabled

389. The same happy selection of cii.:cumstances may be
noticed in his description of a poor man's funeral in the
sketch entitled "The Widow and her Son," and in the following pen-picture by Longfellow :
"The first snow came. How beautiful it was, falling so silently
all day long, all night long, on the mountains, on the meadows, on
the roofs of the living, on the graves of the dead ! All white save
the river, that marked its course by a winding black line across the
landscape ; and the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now
revealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacies of their
branches. What silence, too, came with the snow, and what seclusion ! Every sound was muffled, every noise changed to something
soft and musical.
No more tramping hoofs, no more rattling
wheels! Only the chiming sleigh-bells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of children."

390. II. The second difficulty arises from the fact that a
description, unlike a painting, can present only one feature
at a time. To realize the whole scene the reader must
exert himself and group the various features in his imagination.
Now, ordinary readers are not apt to take so
much trouble, unless they feel an unusual interest in the

170

Description.

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

scene presented ; they soon fail to follow the guidance of
the writer, the scene becomes confused, and all effort to
follow the d escription is abandoned.
391. One means of removing this inconvenience is never
to attempt a long description, except when sufficient atten,
tion has been a roused, either by the importance of the
matter itself or by some special sympathy or curiosity
awakened in the reader.
Th e main points, then, to be
studied in this connection are :
1. To see ·by what process we can arouse the reader's attention ; and especially,
2. To study how we can lessen the strain on his imagination.
392. 1. To arouse attention we may show the importance of conceiving the scene distinctly ; we may also enlist
the feelings of the reader in our subject. Nothing is more
conducive to attention than a deep interest felt in the objects described. Whatever will inspire sympathy, love, affection, or any of the gentler emotion s or stronger passions,
will quicken the imagination to realize the scene described.
We may instance the lengthy description of Westminster
Abbey in Irving's Sketclz-Book.
The reflections introduced at every step sustain the attention amid scenes
which it is difficult to d elineate in a striking manner.
Instead of such reflections as Irving introduces in that
description, we may keep the reader's sympathies enlisted
in a subject by viewing it in connection with one of the
persons or characters in whom special interest is felt.
Thus Irving describes the scene at the landing of Columbus as seen by that hero ; and Abbott, the various phases
of the battle of Waterloo as observed by Napoleon . Thus,
too, Homer describes the chief Grecian heroes through the
lips of Helen, who points them out to Priam from th(l
top of the Trojan walls.

393.

2.

To lessen the exertion required of the reader's

imagination several means may be suggested :
(a) Place the reader in a favorable position to observe
the whole scene.

394· (b) Begin with a striking feature, or with a view of
the general ot:tline, and proceed next to fill up the scene in
~n or?erly manner. Both these rules are well exemplified
m ..this
from Prescott's Connuest
··
0'J+ Mexico ( VO 1• 11,
, extract
)
.,
b . Ill. c. 6 :
"Nothing could be more grand than rne view which met the eye
from the area on the truncated summit of the pyramid. Toward tiie
west stretched that bold barrier of porphyritic rock which nature
has reared around
. the Vall ey of Mexico , wi' th the I1uge p opocatepetl and lztacc1huatl <;landing like two colossal sentinels to guard
the entrance . to the enchanted region. Far away to the east was
seen the comcal head of Orizaba soaring high into the clouds, and
neare~ th~ barren though beautifully-shaped Sierra de Malinche
throwrng Its broad shadows over the plains of Tlascala. Three of
these are volcanoes h_igher than the highest mountain peak in
Europe, and shrouded rn snows which never melt under the ti
f h
.
erce
sun o t e t_rop.1cs. _At the foot of the spectator lay th e sacred city of
Cholula, w11l~ its bnght towe rs and pinnacles sparkling in th e ;un,
reposing amidst gardens anJ verdant gr,1ves, which then thickly
studded the cultivated environs of the capital Such
c ,L .
"ti
·
wa _ , .. e magIll cent prospect which met the gaze of the conqu e ror~
d
·11
· h 1·
- ·an may
st1 ' WI! s 1ght change, meet that of the modern traveller, as from
the ~latform of the great pyramid his eye wanders over the fairest
portion of the beautiful plateau of Puebla."

39.5· (c_) U:se all the ornaments of style that may please
the 1magmat1on; as Irving does in this description of a
farm-yard:
"A. great elm-tree spread its broad branches over it, at the foot
?f wh.1ch bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetest water,
m a little well formed of a barrel, and then stole sparkling away
through the grass to a neighboring brook that babbled along
among the alders and dwarf willows. Hard bv the farm house was

'I

Descnptzon.

72 Various Species of Prose Compositions.

a vast barn that might have served for a church, every window and
crevice of which seemed bursting forth with the treasures of the
farm; the flail was busily resounding within it from morning to
night ; swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the eaves ,;
and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if watching
the weather, some with their heads under their wings or buried in
their bosoms, and others swelling and cooing and bowing about
their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance of
their pens, whence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking
pigs, as if to snuff the air.
A stately squadron of snowy geese
were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets of ducks;
regiments of turkeys were gobbling through the farm-yard, and
guinea-fowls fretting about it, like ill-tempered house-wives, with
th eir peevish, discontented cry. Before the barn-door strutted the
gallant cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman, clapping his burnished wings and crowing in the pride and
gladness of his heart-sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet,
and then generously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and
children to enjoy the rir:h morsel which he had discovered."

396. (d) Let the rule of unity, necessary in all compositions, be strictly observed in every description-that is, let
only one object be described, or.let a variety of objects be
united by one leading idea into a moral whole, the embodiment of one sentiment. Thus Bancroft, in his History
of the United States;{vol. ii. p. 266, old edition), describes
the site where New York was afterwards built, and gives
unity to all the leading parts by means of the one dominant
idea of wildness ; next . (p. 268) he presents the site a~ it
is now, as an embodiment of civilization.
397. (e) It is a great help, where it can be done, to in
troduce into a long description a connected narrative tha<
will unite the various parts of the scene, as when a person
is made to visit successively various portions of a ,l andscape .
.~08. (f) Sometimes we may introduce brief narratives

I

73

. of incidents or of historical reminiscences ; at other times
reflections of an agreeable or elevated kind. These pre·
cepts are exemplified in numerous passages of Prescott's
Conquest of Mex£co, in particular in his description of the
Valley of Mexico (vol. ii. p. 68).
399. The style in description should be concise: every
word should add light to the picture, and no useless feature
should be presented to the imagination. Still, description
need not be bare of ornament ; on the contrary, it may be
richly adorned, as we have explained (No. 395). We add
one instance in point from the pen of Fenimore Cooper,
"Venice at Night":

., . '

" The moon was at the height. I ts rays fell in a flood on the
swelling dom es and massive roofs of Venice, whil e the margin of
the town was brilli an tly defined by the glittering bay. The natural
and gorgeous setting was more than worthy of that picture of human
m agn ifice nce ; for at th a t mom e nt,. rich as was the Queen of the
Adriatic in her ·w orks of art, the grandeur of her public monuments,
the number and splendor of her palaces, and most else that the ingenui1y and ambition of man could attempt, she was but secondary in
.the glories of the hour.
"Above was the firmament gemmed with worlds and sublime in
immensity. Beneath lay the broad expanse of the Adriatic, endless ·
to the eye, tranquil as the vault it reflect ed, and luminous with its
borrowed light. Here and there a low island, reclaimed from the
sea by the patient toil of a thousand years, dotted the lagunes, burdened by the group of some conventual dwellings, or picturesque
with th e modest roofs of a hamlet of the fishermen. Neither oar,
nor song, nor laugh, nor flap of sail, nor jest of mariner disturbed the
stilln ess. All in the near view was clothed in midni g ht loveliness,
and all in the distance bespoke the solemnity of nature at peace.
The city and the lagunes, the gulf and the dreamy Alps, the intermin able plain of Lombardy and the blue void of heaven, lay alike
_in a common. and grand repose."
400. 1st Exercise.-Analyze vanous model passages of
the best authors, noticing :

..
1 74

Various Specz"es o/ Prose Composziions.
What object or aim the author wishes to attain ;
2 . What features he has selected for distinct treatment.
what others for a brief sketch ;
3. How he starts out;
4. What order he follows in the development ;
5. What sentiments he has introduced;
6. What special artifices he has used to excite interest,
or to enable the read er to follow him with ease .
7. How naturally the description is introduced, and
how naturally it is laid aside to return to the narration.
1.

4 01. 2d Exercise.-Compare the descriptions of the same
or of analogous subjects a~ drawn by various great writers,
noticing how the style will differ with the general aspect
of their works. For instance, compare the Pestilence in
.Athens, by Thucydides (book ii.), with the London Pestilence of A.D. 1665 as desc ribed by Lingard (vol. yii. pp.
278-282), by De Foe (Chambers' Cyclopcedia of Literature;
vol. i. p . 621), by Armstrong (id. ii. p. 69).
40 2. The study of description is one of the best means
of improving the style of narrations, and, in fact, of all
literary compositions.
It is to his remarkable descriptive power that Prescott, for instance, owes that special
charm which makes him so popular among all classes of
readers, so that children, who find unadorned history
too dry for their taste, will pore over his pictured page
as they would over a touching story.
As one more
specimen of the descriptive style of this author we
will ref er to the crossing of the Sierra (vol. ii. pp. 461-

465).
4 o 3 . 3d Exercise.-Mention briefly the items you would
select to describe a city, a village, river, picnic-ground,
country-putting all the items in good order.

Description.

I

75

404. 4th Exercise.-Point out the faults against order m
this sketch, a description of a room :
1. The room is nearly square.
2. It is dark and unattractive, having but two small
· windows on the east side.
3. It is twenty-four feet long and twenty-two feet
wide.
4. It is in the southeast corner of the building:
5. It is a low room, the ceiling being only nine feet
from the floor.
6. It has a recess on the west side.
7. The walls are plaster.ed.
405. 5th Exercise.-Describe a pleasant scene in spring,
a busy scene in a city, a pompous funeral, a scene of devotion in a church, a scene of distress, one of lively enjoyment, one of solemn grandeur.
ARTICLE

II.

DESCRIPTIONS OF CHARACTERS.

406. We mea~ by descriptions of characters the pointingout of those peculiarities by which certain persons are distinguished from the generality of men. Such compositions
are far less in use than descriptions of things ; but they are
occasionally very appropriate in historical or fictitious works,
and as beautiful, when skilfully drawn, as they are difficult
to compose.
407. "The drawing of characters," says Blair, "is one of the
most splendid and, at the same time, one of the most difficult
ornaments of historical composition. For characters are generally considered as professed exhibitions of fine writing; and an historian who seeks to shine in them is frequently in danger of carrying
refinement to excess from a desire of appearing very profound and
penetrating. He brings together so many contrasts and subtile oppositions of qualities that we are rather dazzled with sparkling expressions than entertained with any r.lear <;Qnception of a human charac-

1 76

Various Specz"es o.f Prose C01npos£t£ons.

ter. A writer who would characterize in an instruc tive an d masterly
manner should be simple in his style and should avoid all quaintness
and affectation; at the same tim e not contenting himse lf with g iving
us general outlines only, but descending into th ose peculiarities
which mark a character in its most strong and distinctive features."
-Blair, Leet. xxxvi.

408. There are two kinds of these descriptions : one depicts general and one individual characters. Th e latter describes a real or imaginary person by a multiplicity of traits;
the former presents one trait only, common to a whole class
of men. The former usually occurs in the co urse of histories, biographies, or novels ; of the latter kind Theophrastus among the ancients has left us some good specimens. Marshall, in his Comedy o.f Convocation, gives us
some general characters as elegant as th ey are unpretending., See also " The Bashful Man " (llfodels o.f English

Lit., p. 59).
409. One of the most admired descriptions of individual
character is that of the great Carthaginian gene ral Hannibal, which occurs in the twenty-first book of Livy's history of Rome; another, th at of Catiline in Sallust's history of that depraved Roman (n. 5). The following by
Walter Scott is distinct and truthful:
u Robespierre possessed thi s advantage over Danton, that he did
not seem to seek for wealth, e ith er for hoard ing o r ex pen din g, but
lived in strict and eco nomical reti remen t, to justify th e n a me of the
'Incorruptible' with which h e was ho nored by his partisans. He
appears to have possessed little tale nt, savi ng a deep fund of h ypo ~
crisy, considerable powers of so phistry, and a cold, exaggerated
strain of oratory as foreign to a good taste as the measures he recommended were to ordinary humanity. It seemed wonderful that
even the seething a nd boiling of the revolutionary caldron should
have sent up from the bottom, and lo ng supported on the surface, a
thing so miserably void of claims to public distinction; but Robespierre had to impose upon the minds of the vulgar, and he knew _

Descriptz"on.

177

- -- - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - how to b egu ile them by accommodating his flattery to their passions
and scale of understanding, and by acts of cunning and hypocri sy,
which weigh more with th e multitud e than the words- of eloquence
or the argumen ts of wisdom. The people listened as to their Cicero
when h e twanged out his apostroP.hes of 'Pauvre Peuple, Peuple
vertu e ux ! ' ·and hastened to execute whatever came reco mmended
by such hone)•ed phrases, though d evise d by the worst of men for
the worst and most inhuman of purposes," etc.

4 10. The general character is exemplified in this selection from Marshall's Comedy o.f Convocation:

•• The Good and Easy Clergyman was a more agreeable type,
and one which he had frequent opportunities of studying. One of
this school was incumbent of a large and fashionable chapel not
h alf a mile from his own parish church. His voice and manner were
so te nder that he seemed to be always on the point of making everybody an offer of marriage. His life appeared to glide away in a mild
and amiable conflict between the cl aims of piety and good breeding.
Som etimes his eye would kindle, a nd you would have said he was
going to launch a rebuke against some popular sin ; but good taste
came promptly to the rescue, a.nd the sinner's sensibility was greatly
spared. His sermons were generally a te nder panegyric of the natural virtues. He considered th em in every aspect, and drew such
ravishing pictures of the 'devoted mother,' or 'the Christian at
home,' or 'the good parent's reward,' that people said his sermons
were as good as a novel; and so th ey were. He was quite sure he
never once alluded to hell durin g his whole career," etc.
41 r. Rules for the Description of Characters.
1st Rule.-They should present the individual, or the
class of persons described, by striking traits which will
enable the reader to form a lively and distinct conception
of the subject.
2d Ru!e.-These traits of character must be consistent
with one another, c.nd the whole picture must be true to
nature, so th at the highest probability be attained.
3d Rule.-Above all, the characters of real persons tl'Ust
be presented with strict regard to truth. For truth is the

1 78

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

chief quality of all historical compos1t10ns; and no good
can come to mankind from falsehood and misrepresentation. And still it is certain that many descriptions of
character, occ urring in works of great reputation, are very
untruthful, often very unjtist to the persons d escribed.
412. There are two chief causes of this defect. The
first is the difficulty of finding out the truth. It is hard
enough for us to understand fully those with whom we
daily converse, and to picture them to others in their true
light without exaggerating or lessening th eir merit; it is far
.more difficult to do so with persons who lived in distant
ages and in foreign lands. The second source of difficulty
lies in the fact that a character dravvn with strict regard for
the truth is apt to be too tame for the taste of ordinary
readers. Most persons,· especially the uneducated, want
what is striking and sensational in literature. It is easy
e~ough to pander to such taste and to draw flashy portraits
in the brightest colors, or, like Carlyle, "to give sketches
alternately in chalk or charcoal, that exhibit his saints and
his demons, now in ghastliest white and then in the most
appalling blackness" (President Porter, Books and R eading,
p. 162 ). But to qualify discreetly our praise and blame, to
trace those delicate lineaments of the mind and heart which
make up a man's individual character, is a task which few
can successfully accomplish.
413. How far a straining after effect has injured the
truthfulness of historical writings is well explained by
President Porter :
"The fact deserves notice in this connection that, of late, professed historians have indulged somewhat freely in romancing, and
so ·m a sense turned their histori e s into quasi-historical novels; especially when they attempt to give elaborate and eloquent portraitures of th e ir leading person ages, in which th e most lavish use is
made of effective epithets and pointed antitheses," etc.-Id.

Description.
414. As much light may be thrown upon one character

by compa11ng or contrasting it with another, we sometimes
meet with Parallel Characters, as such descriptions are
called. In these, two characters are explained at the same
time, every trait in the one being compared with an analogous trait in the other.
415. The following is a specimen of this kind, as elegant
in style as it is judicious in thought.
"Homer and Virgil compared " :
"Homer was th e greater genius, Virgil the better artist. In one
we most admire the man, in the other the work. Homer hurries and ·
transports us with a commanding impetuosity, Virgil leads us with
attractive maje sty. Homer scatters with a generous profusion, Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the Nil e,
pours out his rich es with a boundless overflow; Virgil, like a river
in its banks, with a gentle and constant stream . When we behold
their battles, methinks the two poets resemble the heroes th ey
cel ebrate : Homer, boundless and irresistible as A chilies, bears all
before him, and shines more and more as th e tumult increases·
Virgil, calmly daring like LEneas, ap pears undisturbed in the mids;
of the action, disposes all about him, and conqu ers with tranquillity. And when we look upon th eir machines, Hnmer seems like his
own Jupiter in his terrors shaking Olympus, scattering the lightnings and firing the heavens; Virgil, like the same power in his
benevolence, counselling with the gods, laying plans for empires,
and regularly ordering his whole creation."-Pope.

See a similar passage with which Blair concludes Lecture xliii. The ancients have left us admirable models of
parallel characters ; for instance, the comparison between
Cresar and Cato in Sallust's history of Catiline's Conspiracy (liv.)
.
416. To facilitate the writing of exercises in this species
of composition attention is called to the following items:
I. A general appreciation of the person's worth.
2. His race, family, age, fortune, station, resources.

-

-

180

- -

- - - - -- -

Various Species of Prose Composit£ons.

3. Bodily aspect, general bearing, complexion, looks,
voice, gesture, manners.
4. Qualities of mind and heart, virtues, vices, inclinations.
5. Intercourse with superiors, equals, inferiors, relations, friends, enemies, strangers.
6. Influences acting on him, and exerted by him on
others. Etc.
For an analysis of Parallel Characters see " Socrates and
Seneca," in Zanders' Outlines of Composition (p. 167 ).
4 1 7. Exercises :

Write a general character of a fop, a troublesome
(Compare
friend, a politician, a spendthrift, a miser.
Saxe's "My Familiar.")
2. Write an individual character of Washington, Napoleon I., St. Francis Xavier, Mary Queen of Scots.
3. Write a contrast between a rich man and a poor man
from the cradle to the ;; rave.
1

- ---

-

CHAPTER V.
ESSAYS.

I

I'

I

418. Essays are attempts to state one's own reflections
upon a given subject. Th ey are of different lengths and
kinds, ranging from learned treatises to the first attempts
of a school-boy at putting his own thoughts on paper. As
school exercises, to be beneficial they require careful management. Nothing is easier than for a teacher to tell a
pupil to write an essay "On the beautiful" or "On the
sublime," etc. ; but nothing is more difficult for a pupil
than, unassisted, to carry out such an order. Or, if he finds
·no difficulty in the task, it is perhaps owing to the fact that
sense and nonsense are equally welcome to his youthful
mind, provided he can cover a few pages of foolscap with
well-sounding sentences.
'
419. The main difficulty in this matter is that the boy is
thus called upon to express his thoughts on a subject on
which he has no clear thoughts to express, and he has not
been instructed how to gather thoughts for himself. The
first step, therefore, in treating of essay-writing is to teach
pupils how to collect appropriate thoughts by a thorough
study of the subject assigned.
420. We have said appropriate thoughts, for we wish to
w~rn both teachers and learners against an error which has
gained ground in our day, and which directs pupils to write
their minds ' no matter
down any thought that comes to
.
how little it be to the point. "At first," says a modern
rhetorician, "aim only at copiousness, correcting no faults
181

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

Essays.

except those of grammar and punctuation, and encouraging the pupil to write freely whatever thoughts come up
about the subject, and in whatever order they happen to
come up." This will teach fluency, no doubt, but not excellence of composition. Let all remember that good sense
is ever the foundation of literary success; that, as Quintilian
remarks, nothing but what is excellent should be proposed
for the imitation of the young, and children should learn
nothing which they a~e afterwards to unlearn (b. i. c. i.
4, 5 ). A boy who can write ten lines of good sense on
a given subject is really further aqvanced in composition
than one who can dash off a hundred lines of mixed sense
and nonsense. The first task, then, is to collect appropriate
thoughts.

portions it is made up-the enumeration of its parts;
4. The name by which it is called.
423. 1. A definition is a brief explanation stating what is
meant by the subject, and how it is distinguished from all
others. This is often the most important of all the topics.
It makes the writer conceive a clear idea of his subject, and
enables him to write a sensible explanation of the same.
Thus the essay "On Honor," in the Guardian, is mostly
taken up with the discussion of the true idea or definition of ' Honor' ; that " On Modesty," in the Spectator,
discusses the definitions of 'Modesty,' of 'Assurance,' and
of 'Impudence' ; while Addison begins his essay "On
Cheerfulness," in the same paper, by a brief explanation of
what 'Cheerfulness' is, showing how it differs from 'Mirth,'
with which unreflecting minds often confound it.

182

ARTICLE

I.

COLLECTING APPROPRIATE THOUGHTS.

42 1. To study a subject is to consider carefully all that

belongs to that subject, its nature and its name, its causes
and its effects, its circumstances and its antecedents, its resemblance to other subjects or its contrast with them ; recalling also to mind, or reading, what others have done or
said concerning the matter in question, etc., etc.
These are called by rhetoricians the topics of thoughts ;
they are fully explained in the study of oratory (see Art
of Oratorical Composition, b. ii. "On the Invention of
Thought"). We shall confine ourselves here to a brief
explanation of them.

§

1.

The Nature and Name of the Subject.

422. When
tions are apt
really meant
of things it

we begin to study a subject four consideraat once to present themselves : 1. What is
by the subject-its definition _; 2. What class
belongs to-its genus or kind~· 3. Of what

I

"I have al ways preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I
·consider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. Mirth is
short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. Those are
often raised into the greatest transports of mirth who are subject to
the greatest depressions of melancholy. On the contrary, cheerfulness, though it does not give the min_d such exquisite gladness, prevents us from falling into any depths of sorrow. Mirth is like a
flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds and glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in the
mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual serenity.' '

These last lines show how figures may be used to set off
a definition to advantage.
424. 2. Genus or Kind.-It is often useful to examine to
what kind or class of things the subject belongs. Thus
Cardinal Wiseman, in his essay " On the Miracles of the
New Testament," shows how these may be viewed either
as exhibitions of Christ's power, proving that he was God ;
or as works of mercy, wrought to relieve the sufferings of
men ; or as teachings of certain truths, as when He healed

184 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
the paralytic to prove that a man may receive from God
the power to forgive sin.
.
425. 3. Enumeration of Parts.-This topic opens a wide
field for the development of thought. In our chapter on
"Object-Lessons" we have suggested a useful exercise,
which consists in pointing out the parts of an object presented to the senses (b. i. c. i. a. 2 ). A similar process may
often be applied to moral subjects. Thus Henry Giles begins his essay "On the Worth of Liberty " with this paragraph:
"What is the worth of liberty? Within the limits of this inquiry
all that I propose to say on the present occasion will be confined.
Of course I refer mainly to civil liberty, although I do not exclude
all reference to liberty in · its more spiritual relations.
I do not
attempt to define liberty either civil or moral. What civil liberty is
we all practically comprehend; and if we do not, defining it would
not enable us. I will simply mention the following as a few of the
attributes that belong to it: supremacy of the law; equality of all
before the law; the representation of all in the enactment or
changes of the law. To these we may add the provisions which wisdom and experience suggest by which such conditions can be most
thoroughly attained and most inviolately preserved."

In the last lines he enumerates the attributes or moral
parts which make up liberty. He would have done well to
begin with a good definition of liberty ; for it is not true
that "we all practically comprehend what civil liberty"
orr any other kind of liberty is. Many think it is the absence of all restraint, whereas it is only the absence of all
undue restraint.
426. 4. Name.-Sometimes the very name of the subject
will suggest some appropriate thoughts. For instance, if
the subject were "The United States, a Land of True Liberty," the name' United States' may remind us that the
wisdom of our forefathers knew how to combine in the

Essays.
Union all the advantages of a strong government, respected
by all the world, with most of the advantages of independent legislation for the different States of the Union, so
that every part of the land may enjoy as large a share of
independence as is compatible with the common good.

§

2.

Causes and Effects.

427. 1. Causes.-The author of the essay "On Cheerfulness," in the Spectator, raises the question, what causes produce this happy disposition in the mind, and devotes to
these causes a considerable portion of his paper. The consideration of the causes throws much light on every kind
of subjects. The essay "On Gratitude," in the Tatler,
examines in particular the reasons why we should be grateful to the Creator :
"If gratitude is due from man to man, how much more from
man to his Maker? The Supreme Being does not only confer on
us those bounties which proceed more immediately from His hand,
but even those benefits which are conveyed to us by others. Every
blessing we enjoy, by what means soever it may be derived upon
us, is the gift of Him who is the great Author of good and Father
of mercies."

The essay of Addison "On Laughter," in the Spectator
{No. 52), is almost entirely drawn from the topic of causes.
428. 2. Effects.-Effects suggest still more abundant
thoughts, and such as are more easy of development.
Often a whole essay is nothing more than a description of
effects. Such is an essay in the Spectator " On the Advantages of a Good Education," and one in the Rambler" On
the Disadvantages of a Bad Education."
Exercise._;_Write an essay on bad company, on intemperance, on war, on music, on steam, on electricity, draw
ing all the thoughts from this one topic of effects.
4

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that they could never have accomplished their great mission without the assistance of a higher power, that of God
Himself.
From this same topic an essay on Hume, in the Dublin
Review for May, 1842, shows that this writer was utterly
unqualified by his antecedents to become the historian of
England, and therefore that truth cannot be expected from
such a source.

§ 3. Circumstances a11d Antecedents.
42 9 . I. Circumstanc:es.-Every subject may be viewed as
connected with various r. irr.11mstances, under which it exists or may be supposed to exist. For instance, if I am to
write an essay on" Our National Banner," I may speak of
it as displayed in war and in peace, on land and on sea, at
home and abroad, and in various events of our national history. If I write on "Water," I may view it in the rain, in
the ocean, in the destructive torrent, in the quiet stream, in
the bubbling brook, in the refreshing spring, in the clouds
of heaven, in the form of falling .snow or of the floating ice-.

§ 4. Resemblance and Contrast.

berg, etc.

4 3 0. Exercise.-Describe a good-natured man, a peevish
man ; the display of heroism, of cowardice ; the power of
music, of eloquence viewed in various circumstances or
situations.
4 3 1. 2. Antecedents.-It may often be useful in an essay
to describe what a man or a thing was at a former time, in
order to conjecture thence what may be expected from the
same on future occasions. Thus in an essay "On the
Early Propagation of Christianity," I may invite the reader
to go back in spirit and consider that those wonderful men.
the Apostles, who established so sublime a religion in so
many lands, had been ignorant and timid fishermen, and

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Essays.

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

" How common, and yet how beautiful and how pure, is a drop
of water! See it as it issues from the rock to supply the spring
and the stream below. See how its meanderings through the plains
and its torrents over the · cliffs add to the richness and the bea uty
of the landscape. Look into a fa ctory standing by a waterfall, in
which every drop is faithful to pe rform its part, and hear the groaning and rustling of the wh eels, the clattering of shuttles, and the
buzz of spindles, which, under the direction of their fair attendants,
are supplying myriads of purch asers with fabrics from the cottonplant, the sheep, and the silkworm."

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1.

432. One of the readiest means to understand a subject
clearly and to explain it to others is to compare it with
other matters and trace out certain points of resemblance
or opposition.
1. Resemblance.-We may take as an example the labors
of an educator, and compare them with those of the gardener, who raises young plants. The consideration of what
the latter does to foster, to protect from harm, to quicken,
to prune, etc., the objects of his assiduous care, may suggest many analogous duties incumbent on the educator of
human hearts and minds. Again, the enriching of the soul
for heaven may be compared to advantage with the indefatigable industry of merchants, who gather wealth for
earth, etc.
Our American essayist, E. P. Whipple, in his essay "On
Words," illustrates the various styles of English writers by
playfully comparing them to various kinds of soldiers.
"Words are more effective when arranged in that order called
style. The great secret of a good style, we are told, is to have pro·
per words in proper places. To marshal one's verbal battalions in
uuch order that they may bear at once upon all quarters of a subject
is certainly a great art. This is done in different ways . . . . The
tread of Johnson's style is heavy and sonorous, resembling that of au
elephant or a mail-clad warrior. He is fond of levelling '!a ,Oj~t

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· 188

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Essays.

Various Species of Prose Co1J.!:Positions.

by a pol ysyllabic batterin g - ra m. Burk e's w ords are continu ally
practising th e broa d- s word exe rc ise a nd sweep ing d own ad ve rsa ri es
at e ve ry st ro k e . Arbuthn o t 'pl ays his w ea pon lik e a to ngu e of
flam e.' Addiso n draw s up hi s li g ht infantry in orderl y array , and
march es thro ugh se nt e nce a ft e r se nt ence without h a ving his ra nks
disordered or his 1in c brok e n,'' etc.

Addison, in the 153d numb er of the Tatler, compared
different ch a rac ters in conv ersation to different instruments
of music.
433 . 2. Contrast.-M any subj ects may be appropriately
illustrated by contrastin g th em with their opposites, as
when modesty is inculc a ted by makin g boastfuln ess odions, when th e useful c iti zen is praised by cont rasting him
with a man who is a burden to th e state. Thus Addison, in
the Guardian (No. I I r), makes the indolen ce of th e British
youth of his d ay odious by contrasting it with the love of
knowledge displa yed by Julius Ccesar, by Alexander the
Great, and by King Solomon.

§ 5. A utl10rities and Examples.
434. Lastly, it may b e very useful to consider what
others have said and done in conne ction with the subj ect
on which we are to write. For this purpose we must study
authorities and examples.
I. Authorities are the sayings of men whose word inspires confidence. Now, though an essay-writer i~ suppo sed to give his own views on the subj ect before l~1m,. he
is not expected to form those views without cons1d enng
wh at thou ghtful and well-in fo rm ed men have said on the
same matter. H e will exhibit a pleasing modesty by leaning on the judgment of others; and the auth~rities _quoted,
besides showing him to b e po ssessed of learnmg, will oftei;i
inspire mu ch more confidence than his own speculations
could command. An appropriate quotation of some excel·

lent authority is like a gem in a composition, adding considerably to its 'brilliancy and its real value. Noti ce the
happy effect of this topic in the following passage of Washington Irving :
" How vain, how fleeting, how uncertain are all those gaudy
bubbles after which we are panting and toiling in this world of fair
delusion! The w ealth which the miser has a massed with so many
w eary d ays, so many sleepl ess night s, a spendthrift h eir may squander away in joyl e ss prodigality. The noblest monuments which
pride has ever reared to perp e tuate a name th e hand of time will
sho rtly tumbl e into ruins, and even the brightest laurels gained by
feats of arms may wither and be for ever blighted by the chilling
n egl e ct of mankind . 'H ow m a ny illustrious h e roes,' says th e good
Bo ethius, 'who we re once th e prid e and glory of the age, has the
sil ence of historians buried in oblivion ! ' And this it was that induced the Spartans, when they we nt to battl e, to sacrifice to the
Muses, supplicating that th e ir achievements should be worthily re.
cord ed . 'H ad no t H o m er tun ed his lofty lyre;' obse rves the elegant Cicero, 'the valor of Achilles had remained unsung.'"

435. 2. Examples are remarkable actions of great men
proposed for imitation, or referred to as confirming our
opmion. Addison, in the Tatler (No. 133), begins his essay
"On Silence" thus : "Silence is something more magnificent and sublime than the most noble and expressive eloquence, and is, on many occasions, an indication of a· great
mind." · He then refers to several facts of illustrious personages , to confirm · his proposition, in particular to the
silence. of the Son of God under calumny and defamation.
) i

ARTICLE

II.

VARIOUS KINDS OF ESSAYS.

436. The topics just explained will furnish appropriate
thoughts for every kind of essays. But the use of these
topics, and the treatment and development of them; will
<liffer considerably for the various kinds.

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Varz"ous Spedes of Prose Compositions.

J 90

§

1.

School Essays.

437. Essays have been written as school exercises from
time immemorial.
The ancient rhetorician Aphthonius
explains them with some detail, and in a manner well suited to develop in the student habits of orderly and sensible
compos1t10n. He proposes to the pupils what he calls a
cliria (XpEla)-that is, a pregnant or suggestive sentence,
borrowed from some author and dev c li)ped by certain rules.
There are three species of this chria:
438. (a) The verbal chria proposes a wise · maxim, as
'vould be the advice Shakspeare puts on the lips of Wolsey:
"Cromwell, I charge th ee, fling away ambition."

439. (b) The historical chria proposes a fact which implies, though it does not express, an important lesson ; as:
"Pythagoras req uired of hi s disciples that, to learn how to speak,
they should be silent for fi ve yea rs."

440. (c) The mixed chria proposes a fact containing the
statement of a maxim; as :
"The mother of the Gracchi exhibited no gold nor p earls; . but
pointing to her young boys she said, 'These are my jewels.'"

441. To develop any of these species of chria Aphthonius proposes eight heads or considerations :
A Commendatz"on of the sentence proposed, or of its
author, by way of introduction. Let it be brief and
modest.
2. A Paraplzrase, expressing the meaning of the sentence in other words, with some further development
or explanation.
3. The Cause or reason why the maxim is true, or
why the fact is such as stated.

I.

Essays.
4. Resemblance, illustrating by comparison with similar

.·

things.
5. Contrast, illustrating by comparison with contrary
things.
6. Examples.
7. Testimonies or authorities.
8. Conclusion addressed to the mind or the heart
of the reader.
Care should be taken that the ,
transition from one point to another appear natural.
442. One advantage derived from so regular an exercise
is that the young learn to think and write in an orderly
mann er, which result is, or ~should be, one of the great
aims of all literary education; for it is one of the chief
elements of literary excellen ce. Still, it is not necessary
that the same amount of regularity be observed in all essays, whether written as school exercises or not.
443. There is, besides the regular chria, the free or loosq
chria, as some rhetoricians call it, which allows much more
variety of a:rangement. Sometimes one or two topi( s will
supply a sufficient amount of appropriate thought, and
there is a special advantage in fully developing a few
points. In fact, it may be laid down as a rule that one
consideration well developed will produce a more effective
~om position than a · great number of separate reflections,
each briefly expressed. If we analyze the essays of great
writers we shall find that they usually confine their treatment of a subject to few topics.
444. Example 1.-Let us consider how Blair does this
in his third lecture on Rhetoric. In it he treats of four
suhjects, giving us, as it were, four different essays, on
"C n"t'ic1sm,
.
" on "G emus,
. " on t h e "Pl easures o f T aste, "
and on "Sublimity in Objects."
On Criticism, he examines its definition and its nature.

192

Varz'ous Spec-ies of Prose Composz'tzons.

On Genius, its nature and a comparison between
Genius and T aste.
On the Pleasures of Taste, he considers the sources of
those pleasures and the authority of Addison.
On Sublimity in Objects, the nature and the sources of'
sublimity.
445. Example 2.-His fourteenth lecture is "On Figurative Language." After some introductory remarks he
treats:
I. Of the cause or origin and of the nature of figures.
2. Of the circumstances of time, showing that language ·
is most figurative in early ages.
3. Of the effects or advantages of figures .
4. He enumerates · and explains various kinds of figures.
(On Blair's treatment of the topics, see Art of Oratorical
Composition, 1 2 7.)
446. Let the student, then, apply to the study of his subject such topics as he thinks may give him suitable thoughts.
He will do well to examine all the topics, and then select for
treatment those thoughts which appear most appropriate
and most within his power of treatment. Let him nGte in
the margin the topic he is developing and the various
thoughts suggested by it.
For instance, if, with Blair,
he considers the nature and the sources of sublimity, let
him write in the margin 'Nature,' and ·then explain what
he has to say on that topic ; further on he will write
'Sources ,' and then mark ' in the order in which he treats
them, the different sources, 'Obscurity,' ' Disorder,' 'Moral
Sublimity,' and, lastly, the general source, the 'Foundation of the Sublime.'
447. With pupils not sufficiently advanced the teacher may usefully point out the sources which are most likely
to furnish appropriate thoughts, and even make out a

Essays.

1 93

sketch to be developed by them, adding special hints for
the development of every part.
If he assigns an essay upon a sensible object, he will do
well to remind the pupils of what has b een explained in
the chapter on " Object-Les sons," and lay down as a plan
the division suggested in Exercise I. of Lesson VI.
It will be proper to begin with such sensible objects as
are well known to the students, or on which they can gather
information from books put at their disposal.
448. Next will come insensible or abstract subjects, such
as virtues and vices-for instance, diligence or sloth, courage or cowardice, generosity or selfishness. For the treatment of these the following plan may be suggested :
1. Definition or description of the virtue or vice ;
2. Causes in which it originates ;
3. Circumstances in which it is apt to be exhibited ;
4. Effects which it produces ;
5. Comparisons and contrasts ;
6. Authorities and examples.
For the thorough treatment of Order or Arrangement we
must refer the student to our Art of Oratorical Composition
(book iii.)

§ 2. Magazine Articles.
449. Modern literature abounds in essays. They fill the
pages of our Quarterly Reviews, Monthly Magazines, Weekly and Daily Papers in endless variety and profusion.
Many essays in periodicals are written with great ability,
being the productions of cultivated minds, who strive to
condense and to set forth with clearness, for the benefit of
the general reader, what has cost them years, perhaps, of
study and meditation. But the vast majority of periodical
articles are compositions of a very different kind. Even
when written by authors of considerable reputation they

I

94 Various Species o.f Prose Compositions.

are dashed off in haste with a view to excite the interest
and to please the craving for novelty of the thoughtless
public.
450. As a na tural consequence mo st periodical essays are
both unreliable in matter and defective in form: far from
being good models for the imitation of the young, they
falsify taste by preferring apparent to real excellences.
"A magazine," says Macaulay, "i s certainly a deli gh tful inven.
lion for a very idle or a very busy man. He is not compelled to
complete his plan or adhere to his subject. He may ramble as far
as he is inclined, and stop as soon as h e is tired. No one tak es the
trouble to recollect his contradictory opinions or his unredee med
pledges. He may be as superficial, as inconsistent, and as careless ·
as he chooses" (EssaJ•s, "Ath eni an Orators").

451. Macaulay's Essays are striking proofs of these assertions. Th ey contain, ind eed, an abundance of original
thoughts, suggestive and bold speculations, of real facts
and plausible theories; but.in many of th em truth is blended with fiction, facts are distorted and exaggerated, as if
the author were sometimes trying to see to what extent an
able pen can trifle with the convictions of ages and still
remain within the sphere of plausible argumentation.
45 2. One of the worst features of periodical essays is
th at order, so essential to real beauty of composition, is
much neglected in them, and the minds both of readers
and writers lose all power of regular development of
thought. Even Orestes A. Brownson, probably the great·
est of American essayists, acknowledged in his R epublic
that constant essay-writing had disqualified him for the
composition of a regular treatise.
In order that essay-writing may be truly beneficial, systematic arrangement and dev elopment must ever be made
a prominent point in it, as in all other species of compo·
sition. With these cautions great benefit may be derived

Essays.
from the study of our lead ing essayists, whose productions
constitute a rich arid important portion of English literature.
453. But while order is necessary in essays, we can lay
down no definite plan upon which such composition should
be written. Maturer minds, at least, must be allowed considerable liberty. Let them study the matter thoroughly
and then draw up such a plan in each case as will display
th eir matter to the best advantage. For the study of such
power of com bi natio n and divi sion we must refe r them to
the Art of Oratorical Composition (book iii.) An essay is
in many respects similar to an oration, and we can conceive
no better precepts for it th an those which ancient and
modern rhetoricians have laid do,~n tor oratorical composition. Periodical essays may be critical, philosophical,
historical, or political.

§ 3. Critical Essays.
454. Two things require special explanation in connection with critical essays: ~. The general laws of criticism;
and 2. The special points to which the critic should attend
in composing his essay.
455. I. General Laws of Criticism.
The critic is not to be guided by his individual preferences, his likes and dislikes; but he is to judge of literature
by the universally received laws of composition. These
precepts are not the arbitrary dictates of any man or any
body of men, but the systematized expression of the judgments pronounced by the mo st judicious minds in the civiliz ed world, and .confirmed by the approbation of many
generations Every new work on Rheto'ric or· Belles-Lettres is but anothe r attempt to restate those laws or precepts with new illustrations and with particular applica-

Essays.

196 - Various Species of Prose Compositions.
tion to special circumstances. In our language Alexander
Pope has written a beautiful poetical essay, showing, both
by his own example and by his judicious precepts, how the
laws of composition G re to be applied by the critic. His
little work d eserves careful study; but we must here confine ourselves to those directions which are most necessary
for the composition of critical essays.
456. The chief laws of criticism are these:
1 . Let the critic consider '~ith care what is the real value
of the work he undertakes to criticise. For this purpose
it will be useful to compare it with other works written
on the same subject, and see in what respects it is superior.
Publications which are not, in some important
particulars, superior to .a ll other works already existing
in the same language are not deserving
of recommenda.
ti on.
457. 2 ~ In judging of the value of a recent work let the
critic not be misled by the manner in which it has been
received by the press or the general public. The first welcome given to a book is not always the result of genuine
admiration. "Puffers," says Macaulay," are a class of people who have more than once talked the people into the
most absurd errors, but who surely never played a more
curious or more difficult trick than when they passed Mr.
Robert Montgomery off upon the world as a great poet."
But one of his poems had already gone through eleven
editions before Macaulay, by his critique in the Edinburgh Review (April, 1830 ), stemmed the tide of genel'al
admiration.
458. 3. Nor should the critic allow himself to b e captivated by the fashions of. the day, or by the mannerism of a
prevalent !'lchool of art.
Acknowledging what is really
good in such fashions, which are often reactions against
nther species of depraved taste, he should judge of per'

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I.,.

fection by the old universal standard and the undoubted
maxims of genuine taste.
459. 4. Still, he should not be so pedantic as to refuse to
see real b eauti es because marred by some flagrant violations of admitted rules. Shakspeare and others have uncommon beauties mixed with great defects. To reject both
were not reasonable ; to praise both is not judicious. It i5
the part of the critic carefully to draw the line between
what is good and what is bad.
460. 5. In writing the critique of a commendable composition, more trouble should generally be taken to bring
to view its excellences than its shortcomings. Students in
th eir essays should occupy themselves almost exclusively in
showing forth what is really worthy of approbation. To
do so will practise their skill and improve their appreciation of the beautiful.
461. 6. Let praise or blame be given with due modera·

ti on.
"Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such
Who still are pleased too little or too much.
At every trifle scorn to take offe nce,
That always shows great pride or little sense:
Those heads or stomachs are not sure the best
Which nauseate all and no thing can digest.
Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move :
For fools admire, but men of sense approve;
As things seem large which we through mists descry,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify."
-Pope's Essay on Criticism.

462. 7. When defects are to be pointed out let it be
done with politeness and delicacy of speech, so as not to
wound susceptibilities more than is n,ecessary. Still, there
are occasions when more emphasis is required to counteract the evil which violations of good taste would otherwise
produce. Whatever would do injury to religion or moral-

I

98 Various Spec£es of Prose Composilz'ons.

ity should be openly condemned ; and it will generally be
found that what is hurtful to these is at the same time a departure from true artistic beauty.
463. 8. Lastly, we must guard the critic against an odious
but not uncommon mist ake-that of condemning what he
does not thoroughly understand.
" But yo u who seek to give and merit fame,
An<l justly bear a critic's noble nam e ,
Be sure yo urself and your own reach tu know,
How far yo ur genius, tast e, and learn ing go;
Launch not beyond yo ur depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet."
-Id.

464. II. The composition of a critical essay.
It is useful to begin by analyzing the work which is to be
criticised, and writing a clear synopsis of the same. (See
the precepts for Analysis and Synopsis in the Art of Oratorical Composition, book iii. c. iv.) This synopsis need not
form a part of the critical essay; but it will aid the writer
to understand thoroughly the subject of his criticism. In
preparing it he will notice in particular the following
points :
1. What the author criticised pretends to prove or to
explain, or what appears to be the purpose of his
work.
z. What are the difficulties which he has had to overcome.
3. How he enters upon his subject ; what proposition
he lays down, if any ; what process he chiefly adopts
-whether narrating, discussing, theorizing, etc.
4. What line of thought he follows from the beginning
to the end of his composition.
5. What original thoughts occur in the course of tlie
work.

Essays.
6. To what species of composition the work belongs.
7. What appears to be its chief merit in thoughts,
style, etc.
8. How far it accomplishes the purpose for which it
was written.
465. The writer should ca-:-efully examine the rules
ivhich rhetoricians have laid down for the species of
composition to which th e work criticised b elongs, and see
how they are followed by the author.
After these preparations he will proceed to write the
plan of his own criticism; in doing which he may profit
by the following suggestions :
1. It is often appropriate to begin with a general appreciation of the work critici sed ; this appreciation should be
expressed with accuracy, in a spirit of moderation, and
usually of kindness.
2. After this, and sometimes before if, the principles
should be explained upon which the criticism is based. If
these principles are not generally recognized they should
be supported by proofs drawn from reason or from authority.
3. In proceeding to details a lucid order should be followed. It is usually proper to treat first of those items for
which the work criticised deserves praise; then to proceed,
with expressiol)s of regret, to those items which call for
censure.
466. The style most appropriate for critical essays is
that which is called the neat (supra, book iii. c. iv. art.
2).
As proper models of style we may propose Prescott's,
Bancroft's, and Spalding's Miscellanies, Cardinals Wiseman's and Newman's Essays, and Lingard's Tracts.
467. The tone of the criticism should usually be kind
and respectful, observant of the oratorical precautions and
all the laws of literary politeness, even when dealing with

Various Species of Prose Composilions.

Essays.

authors who ignore such precepts. (On Politeness and
Oratorical Precautions see Art of Oratorical Composition,
book iv. c. iv. art. 2.)
468. As an example we insert a synopsis of Archbishop
Spalding's criticism on Prescott's Conquest of Mexico:
r. General appreciation of the work, remarks on the
style.
2. Brief criticism on the introduction-i.e., the Aztec
Civilization.
3. General principles of historical writing-stated,
proved, and applied :
(a) Research: diligent and thorough.
(b) Accuracy : general, not universal.
(c) Impartiality: much wanting, proved by quotations.
4. A synopsis of the history, with quotations.
5. Special moral questions debated.
(a) Was the Conquest justifiable? Yes, as shown
not a priori, but from the facts and from the
principles of natural and international law.~
The Pope's interference.
(b) Was it stained with wanton cruelty? No.
Discussion of details.

everything in common with orations: the invention, the
arrangement, the development of thought.
470. Therefore the precepts for essay-writing are nearly
identical with those treated fully in the Art of Oratorical
Composit£on. The chief difference is that essays are read,
not spoken. This will affect the style and the use of
pathos. But even the difference of style is confined to
very few points. The essay is not composed in the direct
style, which is suitable to speeches (Ib. No. 308), nor does
it require the same copiousness of treatment (No. 313).
Still, this last difference does not affect essays intended for
the general reader, especially in an age when readers do so
little thinking for themselves.
The earnest pupil who wishes to perfect himself in essaywriting should study thoroughly the work referred to. We
shall here add such points as belong more directly to the
composition of various essays.

200

§ 4. Sdenttjic, Historical, and Political Essays.
469. All the remaining species of essays belong to one of
three kinds : Scientific or Philosophical, Historical, and
Political Essays. The first deal with abstract principles,
the second with past facts, and the third with future measures. This distinction bears a close resemblance to the
division of oratory into Demonstrative, Judicial or Forensic, and Deliberative discourses. (See Art of Oratorical
Composition, book vi No. 334.) In fact, essays have almost

201

4 7 1. I. Scientific or Philosophical Essays.
Science traces the connection between particular conclusions and general principles. It may treat of religion, of
philosophy proper, or of the physical sciences. A Scientific Essay usually takes the form of a Thesis-i.e., it lays
down a proposition which it undertakes to prove, as 'Man
is a free agent' ; 'The soul of man is immortal'; 'The
theory of spontaneous generation is untenable.'
472. The plan of a Thesis usually comprises:
I. An introduction to awaken interest.
(See Art of
Or. Comp., b. iv. c. i.)
2. A statement and an explanation of the proposition
which we undertake to prove.
This should be clear, pointed, and concisely expressed.
Any vagueness on this point would be a great defes:t.
Vb. c. ii.)
3. The proof or argumentation~ GQntaining two parts:

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202

Various Species o.f Prose Compositions.
(a) Lay down carefull y and establish firmly the

first principles from which you intend to dra\\:'
your conclusion. Do not hurry your readers
on to your deductions till they have fully
agreed to your principles. Finish this part by
reminding them of the truths so far established.
(b) Show by logical and lucid reasoning th at your
Th esis or proposition follows from those truths
Propose your reasoning in various forms, if
necessary; mak e it striking to every class of
your readers. (Ib. c. iv. a rt. i. § 2.)
4. A refutation of objections. (Ib. § 3.)
5. A conclusion, drawing infe rences or making practical
applications.
473. Scientific essays are at present extensively printed
and read in magazines and other periodicals. When in·
tended for the general public they should be written in a
popular style, elegant and racy, substituting for abstract
thoughts al! kinds of clear . and apt illustrations. How to
adapt such a composition to different classes of readers is
explained in connection with Academic Lectures in the
Art of Oratorical Composition (b. vi. c. iii. art. 3). A noble
model for such essays is found in the lectures of Cardinal
Manning "On the Four Great Evils of the Day."
474. II. An Historical Essay treats of an historical event
or an historical character. It may assume various forms;
the following are the principal:
475. 1. A connected Narrative of an historical event;
such an essay is nothing else than a narration, and the precepts for it have already been given (book iv. c. iii.)
476. 2. A Biographical Sketch of an historical personage ; this will be treated und er Biography ( c. vii.)
477. 3. A Thesis to be l)ro·v ed by historical facts; this

-- __:___

·---

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---~------- ~-----

~

Essays.
will follow a plan similar to the scientific thesis just explain ed. Archbishop M. J. Spalding, in the eleventh article of his Miscellanea ("On the Spanish Inquisition"), lays
down and proves these three th eses :
(a) The Spanish Inquisition was mainly a political in.
stitution, and the result of extraordinary political
circumstances ;
(b) Its cruelties have been greatly exaggerated ;
(c) The Catholic Church is not responsible for the institution itself, much less for its abuses, real or alleged (p. 222 ).
His whole "Chapter on Mobs" (p. 619) is an historical
thesis proving that "mobs cannot put down truth and
virtue."
478. 4. A Dissertation, presenting different views enterta in ed by different historians on some event or character:
This kind of essay is not bound down to any definite plan;
still, it should observe the rules of all good compositions respectin g unity of subject, an orderly process, and clear development,
Of this species is the essay of J. C. Calhoun which he
entitles "A Di scourse on the Consti~ution and Government of the United States" ( Works, vol. i.)
Other examples are found in various chapters of Balmes·
European CiZJilization ~· or, Protestantism and Catholicity com-.
pared in their Effects on the Civilization of Europe, a work
of extraordinary ability. Chapter ii. contains a brief dissertation "On the Causes of Protestantism."
479. 5. A disquisition or systematic inquiry into a special historical question. The essay must confine itself to
that one question, and explain lucidly:
(a) What is the exact point a t issue;
(b) What views are entertained by different parties regarding it:

204

Varz"ous Species o.f Prose Composz"tz'ons.
(c) What reasons are urged by them in support of their
several views ;

(d) What the author considers to be the true solution,
and how far it appears to be certain ;

(e) What reasons support his conclusion.
See J. C. Calhoun's "Disquisition · on Government "
( Works, vol. i.)
Another example is found in Archbishop M. J. Spalding's .
criticism of Prescott's Conquest of Mexico (analyzed in No.
468) ; he discusses in particular :
(a) Was Cortez justifiable in attempting the subjugation of Mexico?
(b) Were the conquerors wantonly cruel?
480. III. Political Essays, like political speeches, are of
a practical nature, regarding measures advocated or opposed. They occur most commonly as editorials in newspapers. Editorials are such leading articles as formally
express the editor's opinions on the current topics of the
day ; they must be distinguished from mere news reports,
communications, clippings, etc.
481. News articles simply record the facts of the day,
while editorials discuss the leading events, commending or
condemning, explaining or defending, convincing and exhorting, assigning causes and suggesting remedies, also
pointing out tendencies and probable consequences-in a
word, giving the philosophy of present history. Hence the
style is very different : news must be stated clearly, accurately, briefly; editorials must be written eloquently.
482. The importance of Editorials at present is uncommonly great. They are the teachers of the age, exerting
t.he widest and most telling influence for good or evil, truth
or falsehood, sound or corrupt morality. They replace
songs in O'Connell's saying: "Give me the making of a
nation's songs, and I care not who makes its laws." ·

Essays. ·

205

483. Their aim should be to inculcate and defend sound
principles of private morality and public virtue, expose
present events in their true light, trace their true causes,
tendencies, and probable consequences ; expose public vice
and falsehood, unmask false pretenders and public quacks,
uphold the noble traditions and aspirations of the country.
Editors should be the advocates of right and truth at .the
bar of public opinion.
484. The style of editorials is of a high order, combining popularity with judicial dignity, vigor with moderation,
simplicity with the various charms of eloquence.
Editorials, and all essays written for practical purposes,
bear a very close resemblance to speeches addressed to
popular assemblies. No better precepts can be laid down
for the thorough st_udy of them than the rules given for
Deliberative Oratory ; these should be as carefully studied
by editors as by popular orators. (See Art tf Oratorical
Composition, book vi. c. i.)

Dialogues.

CHAPTER VI.
DIALOGUES.
485. A Dialogue is a conversation between two or more
persons. Among the ancients this species of composition
was carried to great pcrf ection. Their di alogu es were of
two kinds, the descriptive and the didactic or philosophical.
486. The descriptive kind was used by Lucian for the
portrayal of characters.
vVe have elsewhere spoken of
the description of characters. Lucian, instead of describing them in his own words, introdu ces his personages as
speaking. He makes th e pagan: gods and the souls of the
dead converse among themselves in such a way as to exhibit marked traits of c h arac ter, and he does this in a .
· lively, interesting manner. His object is to show forth the
absurdities of pagan superstitions.
487. Didactic or philosophical dialogues were written
with great elegance by Plato, and, after his example, b~
Cicero. These authors introduced learn ed m en discussd
ing some importan t subject, in an easy and na tural manner, with great refinemen t of thought and language. Their
purpose was the same as that of philosophical essays ;
but the conversational form added special charm to the
compos1t1on. The personages introduced were such as
would command attention ; they were placed in situations
interesting to the reader, and made to converse in language
consistent with their respective characters.
488. As an example we may take the dialogue of Plato
styled Phcedon. A disco urc:e on the immortality of the
2o6

\.,.

207

soul is put on the lips of the philosopher Socrates, and
addressed by him to his disciples, under circumstances
which make it remarkably impressive. It was the day at
the close of which the philosopher was to drink hemlock
in punishment of his teachings. His disciples had gathered round him in his prison to show their esteem and affection for their master. Every one must feel that such
circumstances add far more weight to the philosopher's
words than an abstract essay could possess.
489. Plato in his dialogues never speaks in his own person ; but Cicero proceeds differently. He dedicates his
compositions to some friend, and explains to him who his
ch arac ters are, why he has chosen them, and under what
circums tances they are supposed to discourse. His conversations "On Old Age," "On Friendship," and "On the
Orator" are special favorites with classical scholars.
490. English literature has not produced any acknowledged masterpieces in this species of composition. But
we h ave many scenes in · dramas and in novels exhibiting
c harac ters as strikingly as do the dialogues of Lucian-e.g.,
the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius in Shakspeare's
"Julius C~sar"; the examination of Sam Weller by Sergeant Buzfuz in Dickens' Pickwick Papers_; the character
of the Martyr's Boy in Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola (c. ii.).
491. Of the philosophical dialogue we have a good specimen in Brownson's Rev£ew for 1854, styled "Uncle Jack
and his Nephew," and another in the Month for November, 1869, styled "The Dialogues of Sydney." A late
work by St. George Mivart, entitled Nature and Thoug ht,
is an imitation of Cicero's dialogues. In modern times
didac tic treatises usually assume the form of essays ; when
conversation is introduced at all it is wont to be combined
with so much incident as to be classed among Novels.
Samuel Johnson's Rasselas is of this nature.

208

Various Spedes of Prose Comjosz"tz'ons.

492. Dialogues are subject to the following rules:
1. They must create interest by presenting lifelike char·
acters, placed in interesting situations, and conversing in
a natural and unaffected manner.
2. If didactic they must treat of some theme, and develop it with sufficient regularity, so as to give a clear insight into the views of the author on that subject.
3. They must be replete with wisdom, or at least with
good sense.
4. They must be couched in refined language, with
tasteful and modest ornament.
493. Exercise I. Write a descriptive dialogue exhibiting
the character of a miser, a spendthrift, a fo}i>, a flatterer,
a young hero. (For a model see Fabiola, c. ii.)
494. Exercise II. Write a didactic conversation on the
advantages of a thorough education, of music, of good
company; on the Crusades, the Inquisition, on Galileo.
(For a model see a dialogue between Fabiola and her slave
Syra in the sixteenth chapter of Fabiola.)

CHAPTER VII.
. NOVELS.
495· A Novel is a fictitious narrative in prose, embracing
a complete series of events, and exhibiting some phase of
human life.
Such phases of human life are, for instance:
(a) Peculiar conditions of society, as in Dickens' Oliver
Twist, Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans, his Leatherstocking Tales, etc.
(b) The manners of certain periods of history, as in historical novels generally. Such are Cardinal Wiseman's
Fabiola, Cardinal Newman's Callista, B. O'Reilly's Victims
of the Mamertine, McKeon's Dion and the Sibyls, Bailey's
Pearl of Antioch, Conscience's Lion of Flanders, Lady
Fullerton's Constance Sherwood and Too Strange not to be
True.
(c) The workings of the passions, as in Goldsmith's Vicar
of Wake.field, Thackeray's Vanity Fair, etc.
(d) The tendencies of institutions and popular movements,
as in Bresciani's J'ew of Verona and Lionel!~, and in
Brownson's Spirit-Rapper.
(e) Peculiar views of the world, as m Dickens' Christmas Carols.
496. Some novels may be called philosophical, being intended to set forth special views and systems of doctrine.
To this class belong religious novels. In all such it is
important that not only the doctrines inculcated be sound,
but also that the composition possess literary beauty an'"1
209

210

Various Specz'es of Prose Composzlz'ons.

proper interest, and that ·the moral tone of the characters
be favorable to virtue. We can mention no more excellent
model than the Fabiola ref erred to above. Gen. Lew
Wallace's Ben-Hur deserves praise.
497. Others are called Society Novels : these are usually
written to ridicule the extravagances of prevalent tastes
and practices, thus answering the same purpose as comedy.
Such is Bulwer's My Novel.
Many of these give little
attention to plot, being chiefly taken up with the exhibition
of character. All such compositions may be useful in
their way; but unfortunately not many can be recom~
mended for the perusal of those who care to keep their
hearts undefiled by the contamination of vice.
498. Sensational Nove~s are still more objectionable.
These stir up the passions by frequent .vivid sketches of
exaggerated and unreal scenes. They create a morbid
craving for exciting stories, and impair that calm of mind
which is an essential element of a prudent and considerate
character.
499. Well-written novels possess certain advantages over
other species of literature:
I. They reach those who will not read more serious
books;
2. They may fill up profitably an occasional hour of
needed relaxation, even with earnest men ;
3. They may widen the reader's knowledge of the
world;
4. If well chosen they may improve his heart;
5. They may enlarge his stock of words and phrase'l
500. The objections universally urged against promiscu ous novel-reading are numerous ; the principal are :
1. They cause great waste of time ;
2. They produce desultory habits of mind, which dis•
qualify a person for earnest attention to duty;

Novels.

211

3. They give false views of life ;
4. They make the ·reader familiar with vice and vicious characters, thus lowering his standard ol virtue by showing that many others are worse than
himself;
5. They often m ake vices look like virtues, or at least
like excusable foibles ;
6. They develop in the reader that spirit of the world
which is diametrically opposed to the spirit of
Christ.
(See further objections to novel-reading in Jenkins'
British and American Literature, pp. 3 2 2, etc.)
501. There are two schools of novelists, the realistic and
the ideal. The ideal is the older school ; it has more of
the spirit of poetry. It presents men not as they usually
are, but as they may exceptionally be, and as we love to
imagine them-more noble, more disinterested, more heroic. Such novels are called Romances ; most French
novels belong to this class. Their effect on the reader is
often elevating, analogous to that produced by epic and
tragic poetry ; but they are apt to become unreal and extravagant, as were the tales of knight-errantry in the Middle Ages. They are also liable to another objection, for
they often exalt passions that should rather be checked, in
particular the passion of love, which up to the time of
Walter Scott made up the plot of nearly all novels.
502. The realistic school is more prosaic ; it is also more
favorable to common sense. It is well exemplified in the
novels of Charles Dickens. It describes men and things
just as they are, and makes persons act in a probable,
natural manner. This process also has its inconveniences.
Brownson is severe on Dickens for making his readers so
familiar with vulgar and vicious characters.
503. Most of the precepts that should direct this specn: ..
;;.

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--

·-- -

-

-

-

-

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

Novels.

of composition have been treated in this work under the
heads of Narration (book iv. c. iii.) and Description (c. iv.)
We shall here add a few special rules.
Rule r.-Let the novel be interesting to the class of readers for whom it is intended ; some novels written for very
laudable purposes are undeniably dull.
Rule 2.-It should aim at a higher purpose than mere
amusement-namely, to deck valuable knowledge and true
wisdom in the pleasing garb of fiction, so as to captivate
the imagination, and . thus more readily gain mind and
heart to what is worthy of man.
Rule 3.-It should give a right direction and a healthy
tone to the passions.
No amount of interest can atone
for the slightest injury .to mind and heart.
Rule 4. -- It should, in order to be a true work of art,
either portray characters in a very natural and pleasing
manner, or excite great interest by a well-developed plot,
combining variety of incident with unity of the general
plan.
504. Novelists.-De Foe was the father of the English novel as distinguished from the more romantic tales of
knight-errantry; Fielding and Richardson soon followed
him ; but those novelists are now almost forgotten by the
general public. Every year brings new authors into general notice. But none, perhaps, have gained so continued
and general favor as Walter Scott.
Novelists are by this time so numerous that it were vain
to attempt a criticism upon their respective merits. Gerald Griffin, the )3anim Brothers, Marion Crawford, Miss
Rosa Mulholland, Christian Reid, Kathleen O'Meara-also
known as Grace Ramsay-and especially Bolanden, may be
mentioned, in addition to those referred to with praise in
the above precepts, as novelists that have written in a
moral spirit ; while George Eliot, Victor Hugo, Charles

Reade Wilkie Collins, George Sand, Balzac, and many
others ' are immoral and often blasphemous.
Bu 1wer ' s
early novels are objectionable, but his later ones are"
better.
5o5. Exercise.-Analyze a novel according to the following plan :
r. What is known of the author?
2. To what school or class of novels does tbe work
belong?
.
3 Is a definite purpose, philosophical, political, mora1,
or religious, discernible in the novel?
4. What is the plot? Analyze it briefly.
5. In what lies the principal excellence of the work?
6. What are its leading characters and how naturally
are they presented throughout ?
7. Is the style beautiful and properly varied to suit
the different characters?
8. What of the' descriptions ? the narration? the dia
logues?

212

213

History.

CHAPTER VIII.
HISTORY.

506. History is one of the noblest studies to which man
can devote himself. Cicero styles it:
"The witness of ages, the lig ht of truth, the life of our memory,
the teacher of our lives, a messenger from the distant past" (De Or.,
ii. 9).

Frederick Schlegel remarks :
"History constitutes the appare ntly easy and first elements of all
instruction; and yet the more cultivated th e mind of a man becomes,
the more multipli ed opportunities will he find of applying it a nd
turning it to use, the more will h e discern its ri chness and divine its
deeper sense. Indeed, no think er is so profound as to be able to
anticipate with accuracy the course of history, no scholar so learned
as to think he has exhausted it, and no sovereign so powerful that
he may with impunity disregard its silent teachings" (Lectu res on
Modem History, I.)

507. The kind of instruction that history affords is
most precious, for it enables us to gather with comparatively little trouble that knowledge which others have acquired by long, and often bitter, experience ; it enables
one man to profit by the liv es ot millions. As he travels
in mind through various lands and successive ages, he observes the customs of diverse nations, th eir manners of
worship, of government, of warfare, of commerce, and of
agriculture ; their cultivation or their neglect of the liberal
and the useful arts ; and he becomes acquainted with the
characters of men and the workings of the human pas214

sions. Thus his mind is enlarged, his views are extended,
and h e gathers wisdom for his own conduct, learning what
course of life leads to success, and what other course leads
to destruction.
ARTICLE

I.

NATURE AND GENERAL LAWS OF HISTORY.

508. History is defined as the narrative of past events
for the instruction of mankind . Instruction then is its
'
'
end or purpose. Should this in struction embrace all the
information that can be drawn from the study of past
ages? Macaulay would require this (Essay on Mitford's
Greece) ; but in doing so he departs from the approved
way and he aims at what is visionary and unattainable.
He acknowledges that such an historian as he desires has
never existed ; and Prescott remarks : " Such a monster
never did and never can exist" (Essay on Irving's Conquest of Granada).
The historian who strives to compass more than he can
will necessarily neglect some part of his task ; and the
danger is that he will neglect what is less attractive but
more truly important.
509. There are two classes of details which the historian
will properly omit and leave to other writers :
1.
Whatever affords mere gratification of curiosity
rather than valuable information. Such matters as Mac'
aulay acknowledges, are usually left to the historical
novelist :
"Mr. Sismondi publishes a grave and stately history, very valuable a nd a little tedious. He then sends forth as a companion to it
a novel, in which he attempts to give a lively representation of characters and manners . . . . We manage these things better in England. Sir Walter Scott gives us a novel ; Mr. Hallam a critical and
argumentative history. Both are occupied with the sa;n e matter"
\Essays, " Hall am'').

216

Various Species of Prose Compos£t£ons.

Macaulay has striven to unite both elements, but with little
success. His I-Iistory of England has all the charms of a
novel ; but "it is not a student's book, and could no more
be quoted as an authority than Shakspeare" (Dublin Re,
view, June, 1856, "Hallam"). "Everybody reads, every,
body admires, but nobody believes in .Macaulay" (Blackwood's Magazine, August, 1856).
5 10. 2. What is of no importance for the general student, but interesting to specialists only, should not overload the pages of a general history. There are special
histories of painting, music, commerce, etc. ; but history
proper deals with such matters in so far only as they are
intimately connected with great events and lessons of wisdom, which are the specialty of history as such. For history is not a collection of universal knowledge, but a special department of study.
5 11. What knowledge, then, or what special instruction is the historian to impart 1 We answer, the know~edge of the great events and important changes which
have affected mankind, in as far as the knowledge of these
increases the wisdom of succeeding generations. This is
what the greatest historians have endeavored to record,
and for the proper recording of which they have been considered as great historians. Tacitus troubled himself very
little about "rummaging the old-fashioned wardrobe" of
Tiberius-a task which Macaulay would impose upon the
historian-but he unmasked the hypocrisy of that prince and
showed the world how he destroyed the liberty of Rome.
512. Among the great events and important changes that
the historian is to record, the principal are those which
affect religion and systems of government, military achievements, the progress or decay of liberty, of general enlightenment, or of the arts and sciences, and whatever is promi·
nent in the civilization of a people.

History.

217

5 13. There is one line of thought in which modern historians are expected to improve on the ancients. We attach more importance now to the welfare of the people
than to the splendor of public exploits, and justly so, because we understand better than the ancients did that the
true end of government is the happiness of the governed.
The modern historian must therefore take more pains to
point out what measures led to the happiness and what to
the sufferings of the com.m on people. This task is more
important than the descriptions of battles and sieges, which
make up so ,extensive a portion of ancient histories. On
this point Macaulay is correct :
"The circumstances which have most influenced the happiness
of mankind, the changes of manners and morals, the transition of
communities from poverty to wealth, from knowledge to ignorance,
from ferocity to humanity-these are for the most part noiseless revolutions. Their progress is rarely indicated by what historians are
pleased to call important events . . . • The upper-current of society
presents no certain criterion by which we can judge of the direction
in which the under-current flows, We read of defeats and victories.
but we know that nations may be miserable amidst victories and
prosperous amidst defeats . . . . We have read books called histories of England, under the reign of George II., in which the rise
of Methodism is not even mentioned" (Essays, "History").

514. Since the purpose of history is instruction, the great
law for history is that it shall impart sound knowledge,
giving us true facts, faithfully presented and correctly
interpreted. Truth is to the mind what food is to the
body-an essential requisite for its proper development and
healthy condition'. For the absence of truth from histories
nothing can atone-no style, however beautiful; no name,
however popular.
515. Still, all ·errors are not equally important. If an
historian is somewhat mistaken about the number of men
who perished in a given battle, about the armor of certain

2 r8

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

troops or the name of their commander, s~ch errors. do not
seriously interfere with the lessons of wisdom which the
reader is expected to learn. But those errors are most
pernicious which affect practical c~nclus~ons; abov e all,
when those conclusions regard the highest mterests of mankind. Thus Hume, who so misrepresents many facts as _to
instil infidelity; Gibbon, who labors to undermine ~h.ns­
tianity; Macaulay, who incessantly carps at_ ~athol~c 1ty;
a nd Bancroft ' who ' while patronizing all rehg10ns, mcul.
cates indiff erentism to all positive teaching-far from mstructing, lead men astray on subj ects which it is their
highest interest to understand aright.
6. It is not here supposed that all these historians
51
have set themselves deliberately to work to misrepresent
what they knew to be the truth. The critic deals with the
literary productions themselves, and with the motives of
the writers in so far only as they throw light upon the value
of the works. As for the student of history, he ought to
3nquire before reading whether the aut~10r_ is a reliable
guide, whether he is sound on the first pnnc1ples_ of reason
and revelation. If he is not sound on these he will be sure
to mislead. " Can the blind lead the blind? do they not
both fall into the ditch?" (Luke vi. 39).
ARTICLE

II.

SOURCES OF HISTORICAL KNOWLEDGE.

517. Rule 1.-In gathering materials for a .h~story the
writer should, as far as possible, consult the ongmal docu~
ments and not be satisfied with taking statements at secondhand.' Lingard's conduct in this respect is worthy of imitation:
"To render these volumes more deserving of public approbation'' he writes in his preface to the History of England, "I did not
hesi~ate, at the commencement of 1ny labors, to impose on myself a

Hz'story.

219

severe obligation from which I am not conscious of having on any
occasion materially swerved: to take nothing upon trust; to c:onfint>
my re searches, in the first instan ce, to original documents and the
more ancient writers, and only to consult the modern historians
when I had satisfied my own judgment and composed my own na rrative. My object was to preserve myself from copying the mistak e s of others, to keep my mind unbiassed by their opinions and
prejudices, and to present to the reader from authentic sources a
full and correct relation of events."

518. It is owing in great part to the neglect of this rul.e
that misconceptions and misstatements are handed down
from one historian to another. For instance, how often d9
we not hear of the cruel dungeon in which Galileo is supposed to have been incarcerated, when in reality he was
simply forbidden to leave for some time the halls and gardens of a magnificent palace? (See the collection of original documents regarding Galileo in the Dublin Review, vol.
xvii., New Series. On the transmission of false statements
from one historian to another, see an interesting chapter in
Cardinal Newman's Present .Position of Catholics in Eng-,
land, pp. 226, etc.)
519. The original documents to be consulted are not only
books, deeds, journals, chronicles, memoirs, official records,
private letters, etc., but even such relics of the past as
buildings, tombs, coins, paintings, tools, and so forth.
Lately much light has been thrown on some portions of
history by the study of such relics. Still, we must distinguish between the real facts which these studies have discovered and the mere theories which historians and scientists are ever inventing to fill up the void left by the
facts.
5 20. The Holy Scriptures are, of course, the most venerable and the most reliable source of historic knowledge:
besides being inspired by the Holy Spirit, they are, even
from a human point of view, the most ancient and the most

Various Species of Prose Composit£ons.

History.

authentic documents. (See Southwall's Recent Orig in oj
Man, Preface.) Vain men are ever building up theories,
and exploring every remnant of form er ages, with the view
to find contradictions between God's word and the records
of time. But the highest authorities in antiquarian researches, such as the two brothers Rawlinson, Lenormant,
Chevallier, and others, have sufficiently shown that there is
no real conflict between science and revelation.
521. Rule 2.-Distinguish carefully between reliable and
unreliable documents. Not every document, however ancient is truthful · nor is it enough that a writer is a con'
'
temporary of an event to be a reliable witness of it. The
historian must know how to sift his evidence with acute
discrimination, as a judge must do with conflicting testimony. Within this century there has been considerable
earnestness displayed by leading historians in di~c overing
the truth on many points which had been misunderstood
for ages. Niebuhr has made important discoveries bearing
on the history of ancient Rome. Voigt and Roscoe, though
not Catholics, have restored the honor of Gregory VII. and
of Leo X. ; Hallam and Ranke have ·labored zealously in
the cause of truth, though both are prejudiced witnesses ;
Maitland has, to a considerable extent, changed the views
of the learned in favor of the middle ages ; and the Cathotholic historian Digby has set forth the true grandeur of
those Ages of Faith. (On Hallam see Dublin R eview, vols.
xix., xx., New Series. See also Maitland's Reformation, Essay I. "On Puritan Veracity.")
522. As examples of unreliable documents from which
writers have often drawn gross falsehoods, we may mention
the two historians of the Spanish Inquisition, Limborch and
Llorente, who have supplied Prescott with most of his mis·
representations on that subject. Both are utterly unreliable writers, as is proved to evidence in Archbishop M. J

Spalding's Miscellanea (pp. 2 16, etc. ; see also Balmes'
· European C£vilzzatio11, appendix). Prescott admits the extravagant exaggerations of Llorente ; but unfortunately he
has thought it proper to consign this important admission
to a foot-note which he puts near the end of his work
(History of Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. iii. p. 492), while he
takes special trouble to exalt the authority of Llorente in
the chapter on the Inquisition (vol. i. p. 265), to which he
purposely appends a sketch of Llorente's life.
523. Late historians owe much of their reliability to the
fact that they have gained more free access to authentic
documents than was granted to th eir predecessors. For instance, Agnes Strickland in her Lives of t!te Queens of Eng~
land and Scotland, and Lingard in his Hz'story of England,
have been allowed to consult the English State papers ;
and now the Vatican archives have been thrown open t<i'
all comers.

220

ARTICLE

Ill.

221

QUALITIES REQUIRED IN AN HISTORIAN.

524. The first quality which an historian wjll need in col
lecting his materials is industry-hard long and persever•
ing labor. Lucian, in his Treatz'se on the Manner of Wrz't·
z'ng History, correctly remarks:
'

'

I

'

"This is not a task for fluent writers or careless compilers ; but
more than any oth e r species of literature it requires much thought,
·if the historian wishe s to produce what Thucydides calls a treasure
that will endure for ever" (ch. v.)

525. Of industry the ancients have given us bright examples. Herodotus travelled over the greater part of the
then known world.
Thucydides began to collect his
d_o cuments at the beginning of the war of which he intended to become the historian. Polybius travelled much

Various Species of Prose Composz"tz"ons.

History.

to visit those places with which remarkable events were
connected.
From him we hav e this celebrated maxim:
"Truth is to history what eyes are to animals. As animals
are of no use without sight, so history without truth is only
am using and unprofitable narration ."
5 26. Most eminent historians of modern times have dis ~
played no less industry. Prescott's laborious research is
unquestionable.

primary impul se, affected by various circumstances ," etc. (E1;glish
Literature, vol. ii. p. 407).

222

"He has thoroughly exam in ed ," says Archbishop M . ] . Spalding, "and seems to have care fully sifted all th e original documents
relating to the Conquest [of M '~x ico]. . . . He obtained no less than
8,ooo pages of unpublish ed documents. He was also g reatly aided
in this task by men of distingu ish ed talent in Mexico" (Miscellanea,
p. 252).

527. David Hume, on the contrary, is notoriously defi-

cient in res earch.
He wrote before the critical school of
history began; he consulted no original documents; he did
not weigh his second-hand authorities; he simply wished to
write a pleasant narrative in a faultless style. Hence the
North American Review says of nim : "That any instructor in OJ.!r day should place Hume's work in the hands of a
youth, leaving him to suppose that it contained the truth, is
to us a matter of no little surprise." (See a thorough criticism of Hume in the Dublin R eview for May, 1842.)
5 28. The second qualz"ty needed by an historian is impartiality. This does not consist in being indifferent to justice and injustice, good and evil, as the infidel critic Taine
pretends to be.
"What matters it," h e writes, " if Peter or Paul is a rascal? That
is the business of his contemporaries; th ey suffered from his vices,
and ought to think only of despising or contemni ng him. Now we
are beyond his reach, and hatred has disappeared with th e danger.
At this distance, and in th e historic perspective, I see in him but
a mental machine, provided with certain springs, animated by a

223

This is an absurd indifference, which can only be justified
on Taine's own theory : " Vice and virtue are products,
like vitriol and sugar" (vol. i. Introduction). Still, such
indifference is not seldom exhibited by writers of unsound
principles.
529. The impar tiality required of the historian is the
absence of such prejudice as would prevent him from discovering or from acknowledging the truth. For instance,
a person raised in a mercantile community and destitute of
a liberal education is apt to app reciate no enterprise which
does not add to the wealth of the nation. He may readily
be blinded by prejudice to s uch a point th at he will judge
a grand enterprise like th e Crusades by no other rule than
that of cold utilitarianism.
How far prejudice has affected historians in regard to
religious questions is ably explained by Cardinal Newman
in his L ectures on the P resent Position of Catholics in England (L. i., etc.)
_
5 30. The third quality needed by the historian is discrimination, which will enable him to determine:
(a) What documents are reliable;
(b) What is the real meaning of obscure passages m
reliable documents ; and
(c) Which is the true or the most probable among conflicting testimonies.
The ancients did not generally manifest this critical
spmt. Still, even Herodotu s takes care to distinguish between what he witnessed and what he heard, between what
he considered as probable and what as fabulous. In the
present century history is become muc:h more critical than
ever before; but it is far from perfection as yet. For
instance, Fra Paolo, alias Pietro Sarpi, continues to be

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

History.

quoted as an authority about the Council of Trent, though
it 'is clearly proved that he wrote under the dictation of
passion and bitter hatred.
Judicious discrimination supposes in the historian a keen
insight into the characters and the passions of men, so as
to discern the selfish motives which may impair the value
of his authorities.

thors. When history is thus read it will be found that the
vast majority of past events are agreed on by historians,
and therefore it would be folly to refuse credence to them.
It will appear, besides, that falsifications concurred in by
many historians ~re confined to special classes of events.
If copious streams of error have been poured out upon the
earth, those streams can be shown to flow from certain
sources and along determined channels which it is quite
possible to distinguish from the general currents of reliable
· information.
533. Against our thesis, "history is generally reliable"
it may be objected that so great an authority as Count de
Maistre has said : "The history of the last three centuries
is a general conspiracy against the truth." And our Su·
preme Pontiff, Leo XIII., in a late encyclical letter on historical studies, writes: "Now, if ever, it may justly be said
that the art of writing history would seem to be a conspiracy against the truth." But it must be noticed that
both these authorities speak of special. departments of history, of such as bear upon the Catholic Church.
534. That the history of the Church should have been
greatly misrepresented by her opponents need not surprise
us. Christ had foretold that His Church should be persecuted. "If you had been of the world, the world would
love its own," etc. (John xv. 18-22). The persecution of
the sword has ceased, but other methods of attack are continuing in all ages.

224

ARTICLE

IV.

HISTORY GENERALLY RELIABLE.

531. Mankind has exhibited in all ages a high appreciation of fidelity in historical records; and historians have,
as a rule, striven earnestly to discover and transmit the
truth. It may, therefore, be safely asserted that history is
generally reliable. Several reasons contribute to make it so:
r. Man is naturally desirous of discovering the truth on
important matters ;
2. It is a principle of Ethics that men do not deceive
wantonly when important interests are at stake· and
'
'
therefore, even questions of life and death are unhesitatingly decided by the testimony of proper witnesses;
3. When historians have gone to great trouble to discover the truth with regard to events, they are not apt to
trifle with knowledge so 1aboriously acquired;
4. If one is tempted by special considerations to misrepresent some weighty events, others will unite their testimony to contradict him, and thus no gross errors are apt
to be universally received.
532. What, then, must we think of the well-known saying
of Sir Robert Walpole to his son Horace, "Quote me not
history; for that I know to be false"? This means that
not every assertion found in a history is to be at once received as decisive. Thus understood, the caution is a wise
one. We should read history with a critical spirit, with
careful discrimination between reliable and unreliable au-

225

· "It was natural," says the Pontiff, "that those who were attacking the Papacy by every means in their power should not spare history, the witness of such great facts. They have tampered with her
·integrity, and that with such persistent art as to turn into weapons of
offence the very arms that were most suited to the purpose of ward.
ing off aggression. The Centuriators of Magdeburgh made them·
selves conspicuous by their adoption of this system," etc.

Varlous .Specz'es o/ Prose Compos-itzons.

History.

He proceeds to show that their example was follow ed by
the opponents of the Church generally.
Unfortunately
most English writers have ranked themselves with her
enemies. How this hostility has led to various systems of
falsificati c n we shall have occasion to explain in the next
article.

them as an account of the chain of principal events in Egyptian 'Jr
Abyssinian history, . : . would convey an absolutely untrue idea"
(ii1sto1y of the East, Introduction).

2 26

ARTICLE

v.

SPECIAL SOURCES OF ERROR.

535. The law of truthfulness in historical writings is
thus expressed by Cicero :
"Who does not know that the first law of history is that it shall
dare say nothing false, next that it shall not fear to tell the whole
truth, again that the narration suggest no suspicion of favor or enmity?" (De Or., ii. 15).

This wise rule may be violated in four ways, which constitute so many sources of error-namely, by false assertions, by the suppression of facts, by partiality, by prejudice
or lzostility. There is a fifth source of error, less familiar
to the ancients-i.e., the misrepresentation of facts by
false theories.

§

I.

False Statements.

536. No truly great historian would deliberately stain ·
his pages with false statements. When these occur they
are usually the result of misinformation, of prejudice, or
of such party spirit as blinds the mind to the light of
truth. As examples of false statements, the results of
misinformation, we may refer to the works of Herodotus
and Diodorus Siculus, and to the portions of Rollin which
are drawn from those unreliable authorities. Lenormant
and Chevalier speak with great respect of those authors ;
but they judiciously add :
"To reproduce as a whole the facts which they relate, and to give

Happily, Rawlinson's notes in his edition of Herodotus
correct most of the errors in the original. Lenormant and
Chevalier's History of the East now replaces the correspo 11ding parts of Rollin.
5 37. Of false statements resulting from a violent partisan spirit James M r line points out many examples occurring in Froude's History of England. (See a series of
articles on Froude in the Catlzolic World for 1870.)
538. Misquoting and mistranslating documents is a
method of falsification that comes under the head of
false statements. , In this connection it has been said "Mr.
Froude does not seem to have fully grasped the meaning
of inverted commas." (For examples of this defect see
Catholic World for October, 1870, p. 73 ; and Month for
1879, p. 142.)
539. It is usual for great historians to give in marginal
notes references to their authorities for every important
statement. Prescott blames the earlier editions of Bancroft's History of the United States for discarding notes
and abridging references, and he points out the evil results of this practice (Miscellanies, p. 327 ). The last edition of Bancroft has omitted references, and is now merely
a popular book, no longer a work of great authority. (See
articles on Bancroft in the Catholic World for 1883-84.)
540. How documents may be distorted from their real
meaning by designing men is exemplified by the efforts of
Gibbon to cast a doubt on the testimony of the Sacred
Scriptures. Three Evangelists narrate that there was darkness over all the earth at the death of our Blessed Saviour. Gibbon, to invalidate their testimony, says among
other things : " A distinct chapter of Pliny is designed for

Various Specz"es of Prose Compositions.

History.

eclipses of an extraordinary nature and unusual duration"
(chap. xv.) Now, Pliny pretends to give only an example,
and the distinct chapter referred to is only this brief paragraph, which we quote entire :

way contribute to this purpose is to be omitted ; for instance, the scandalous details of the voluptuous lives of
Tiberius and Heliogabalus. But only details are to be
suppressed, not important facts ; thus the life of David
would be incomplete without the story of his fall into
sin. Such events are important for the instruction of
mankind, and as such they are related both by profane
and sacred writers. It is not usually expedient, in writing
the life of Luther, to quote freely from the shocking vulgarities of his Table Talk _; but it is a falsification of history to garble some of the extracts without warning the
reader, as is done in Bohn's edition.
543. In encyclop::edias, and similar works of reference,
falsification by suppression of facts is often carried very
far. Thus in the latest edition of the Encyclopcedia Britannica, a work of high pretensions, the article on "Missions to
the Heathens " suppresses and ignores almost all the facts
regarding Catholic missions. (See a detailed criticism of
the article in the Dublin Review for July, 1884.)

228

"There happen w~nuerful aml protracted eclipses" [notice the
plural number], "as was the one which occurred when Ca:sar had
been slain, and while the war of Antony was carried on, at which
time the sun was pale for a whole year continuously" (Pliny, Hist.
Nat., ii. 30).

§

2.

Suppression of Facts.

541. Witnesses before our courts of justice are made to
swear that they will tell "the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth." .The reason is that the suppression of facts may be, and often is, equivalent to a false
statement. This suppression is another of the disingenuous methods by which Gibbon attacks the Christian relig10n. Prescott writes :
"He [Gibbon] has often slurred over in the text such particulars
as might reflect most credit on the character of the religion, or
shuffled them into a note at the bottom of the page, while all that
admits of a doubtful complexion in its early propagation is ostentatiously blazoned and set in contrast to the most amiable features
of paganism," etc. (Essay on Conquest of Granada).

It is a remarkable illustration of the power of prejudice
that Prescott, who has written this correct criticism of Gibbon, should have incurred a similar reproach in his writings. He has described the conversion of Mexico to
Christianity in a manner analogous to Gibbon's method
of accounting for the early rise of Christianity in the
Roman Empire. (See Spalding's Miscellanea, p. 293.)
542. Are there not some details which an historian
may properly suppress 1 There certainly are; for as
history aims at useful instruction, whatever can in nu

§ 3. Partiality.
544. It is not required, nor is it even. desirable, that the
historian shall feel no special affection for the nation whose
history he writes. In fact, unless he can sincerely sympathize with the actors of his story he will scarcely do justice to their motives:
"Who would think," asks Prescott, "of looking to a Frenchman
for a history of England? to an Englishman for the best history of
France? Ill fares it with the nation that c~nnot find writers of genius
to tell its own story. What foreign hand could have painted like
Herodotus and Thucydides the achievements of the Greeks? Who
like Livy and Tacitus have portrayed the shifting character of the
Roman in his rise, meridian, and fall? Had the Greeks trusted their
story to these same · Romans, what would have been their fate with
oosteritv? Let the Carthaginiani tell" (Miscellanies, "Bancroft").

''

Various Species of Prose Coniposz'lions.

History.

Washington Irving d1d not sympathize with ti1e Spaniards in their struggle for independence from Moorish
domination : the result is that his Conquest of Granada
fails to bring out the true spirit of that heroic enterprise;
the work looks like the parody of a history.
545. But, on the other hand, excessive sympathy with a
cause often leads to serious misrepresentations, and gross
injustice towards its opponents. Livy is severely blamed
for such partiality to Rome. Still, it must be rememb ered
that Livy is not our only authority on the subject which he
has treated.
Several Greek historians support his statements concerning the virtues and the glory of the early
Romans. The criticism passed on Livy by Macaulay in
his " Essay on History" is exaggerated, as are many other
statements in that unreliable essay (supra No. 5 1 ).

most reliable authorities prove him to have deserved, he
continues thus: "It has been added, however, that he had
more bigotry than religion, that his ambition was craving
rather than magnanimous," etc. Irving does not say that
such charges rested on good authority; he merely bre~thes
suspicion on a character which he appears unwilling to
assail openly (History of Columbus, book ii. c. ii.) Another species of innuendo consists in suggesting unworthy
motives where the actions related are honorable, as Irving
.does in attributing to Ferdinand unworthy motives for encouraging Columbus; and he introduces these motives with
a mere perhaps (c. iii.)

230

§ 4. Prejudice or Hostility.
546. We have seen that prejudice may readily prevent
an author from discovering the truth ; but it often goes
further and under the form of hostility it leads the his'
.
torian to make unjust attacks upon his opponents. This
hostility sometimes manifests itself by direct charges, as
when Prescott writes : "In that day the principle that the
end justifies the means was fully recognized " (History of
Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. i. p. 245).
547. False charges are often disguised under the form
of innuendoes.
"Gibbon." says Prescott, "by a style of innuendo that conveys
more than me e ts the ear, h as contrived, with Iago-like duplicity, to
breathe a taint of suspicion on the purity which he dares not openly
assail " (" Essay on Irving .").

This unmanly system of warfare is not uncommon. After
Irving has given us such a character of Ferdinand as the

231

§ 5. False Theories.
548. False theories are a source of falsification which requires special attention, both because they are extensively
used by late writers, and because they escape detection on
the part of many readers. Macaulay gives a lucid expla' nation nf them :
"The best historians of later times have been seduced from truth,
not by their imagination, but by their reason. They far excel their
predecessors in the art of deducing general principles from facts.
But unhappily they have fallen into the error of dist()rting facts to
, suit general principles. They arrive at a theory from looking at some
of the phenomena, and the remaining phenomena they strain or curtail to suit the theory. For this purpose it is not necessary that they
should assert what is absolutely false . . . . In every human character
and transaction there is a mixture of good and evil : a little exaggeration, a little suppression, a judicious use of epithets. a watchful and
searching scepticism with respect to the evidence on one side, a convenient credulity with respect to every report or tradition on the
· other, may easily make a saint of Laud or a tyrant of Henry the
Fourth. This species of misrepresentation abounds in the most
valuable works of modern historians" (Essays, "History").

549. Macaulay applies this criticism to Hume and to

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

History.

Gibbon, and especially to Mitford's !Hstory of· Greece.
Orestes A. Brownson, in his Quarterly Review for 1852
(p. 423), applies it to several others :

whose conduct is law for us. Such are Oliver Cromwell,
Mahomet, Napoleon I., Frederick the Great, as well as
St. Paul, Shakspeare, Dante, Burns, Luther, and Calvin ;
not Voltaire, who only pulled down. "It is from the
heart of the world that he [the Hero] comes ; he is a portion of the primal reality of things" (Carlyle).
(b) The world is all wrong now: "God's laws are become a Great Happiness Principle, a .Parliamentary expediency." "The Universe-a swine's trough," all scrambling for felicity.
(c) Religion is very necessary. It is moral rectitude as
understood by Cromwell and the Puritans. They read
their duty in themselves; the Bible only aided them. At
need they did violence to it. Carlyle is so much their brother that he excuses or admires their excesses. He sets
th em before us as models, <lnd judges both past and present
by them alone. "Carlyle's style has introduced into this
country a thoroughly fals e method of writing history"
(Justin MacCarthy).
552 . Macaulay, in his History of England, disclaims all
theory; but, unconsciously perhaps, he inculcates the
"Great Happiness P~inciple," which Carlyle condemns.
By this standard everything is judged. Puritanism is
good, the Establishment bad, Catholicity worst of all.
This last did some good in the Dark Ages, when "the
priests, with all their faults, were by far the wisest portion
of society" ; it is now become "an unjust and noxious
tyranny" (Hist. of England, chap. i.)
H erice he is more severe on blunders than on crimes.
While "under Cromwell hell was the dread of being found
guilty before the just Judge, now it is the dread of making
a bad speculation or of transgressing etiquette" (Carlyle).
Macaulay is the impersonation of the spirit of the world. (See
also Dublin Review for April, 1886, "Studies of History.")

232

"Herder, Kant, Hegel, Guizot, Cousin, Michelet, and even Carlyle and Macaulay," he says, "are instances in point, as all who are
familiar with their writings n eed not be informed. None of them
give us genuine history; they merely give us their speculations on
what is not history, and what, according to those speculations,
ought to be history. It is th e common error of the mod e rn school
of so-called philosophical historians, and to which school Mr. Bancroft belongs, though he is not by any means the worst of the school,
to suppose that history may b e reduced to the terms of a sp ec ulative .
science, and be written, as it we re, a priori. ' Give me the geographi cal position of a peopl e ,' says the brilliant and eloquent Cousin,
'and I will give you its history.' "

550. Brownson gives the following examples of false

theories:
"Herder finds in all history only his ideas of human progress;
Kant finds -nothing but his ca tegories ; Hegel finds the s ignificance
and end of all history, the operations of divine Providence, of all
mankind, and of all nature, to have been the establishment of the
Prussian monarchy; Mr. Bancroft finds that the original purpose of
creation, of God and the universe, is fulfill ed in the establishment
of American democracy."

The same article of Brownson's, in analyzing the entire
theory of Bancroft, shows conclusively that the philosophical speculations of that historian are not merely visionary,
but fraught with false principles of government and morality tending to the ruin of society. The article d eserves
most careful study (Brownson's Quarterly Review for 1852:
"Bancroft").
55 r. Carlyle' s theory is :
(a) That the world is ever tending to go wrong. From
time to time appear great minds that labor to set it right.
These are his "Heroes," who are not to be judged, but

233

234 Var£ous Spedes of Prose Compos£t£ons.
ARTICLE

VI.

THE PLAN OF A HISTORY.

553. To erec t a building th at shall unite beauty with
usefulnes s we need, besides so und material, a suitab le
plan drawn by a skilful a rchitect. In the same manner
the historian must conceive an artistic plan for the composition of his work. Now, everythin g artistic supposes
unity of design. The events that make up a history must
be bound together by some connecting principle, which en ables the mind to see them in their bearing on one another, and to view them as the portions of one en tire
group.
554. Thi s un ity is easily attained in particular histories
-that is, in those which narrate one event, such as the
Conspiracy of Catiline, the French Revolution of 1789,
etc.
But the difficulty is much greater in general or universal histories, which deal with various nations, each of
which presents an independent series of events. In such
works both utility and artistic beauty require that some
leading idea shall combine those separate parts into a harmonious whole. The ancients, with their well-known perfection . of tas te, are h ere again our models.
555. Thus H erodotus, while embracing in his work all the
nations known in his day, arranges the parts so as to develop this one idea: "that the whole empire of Persia, after
subjugating and in corporating with itself all the nations of
the East, was in its turn conquered by united Greece."
His history resembles an h eroic poem, in which one great
enterprise or action is related. We find ourselves at once
in the midst of the events, and we are gradually informed
of all that preceded by long episodes appropriately introduced. Both in the main narration, whic~ is the history
of the Persian war, and in the various episodes or partial

History.

2 35

histories of different lands, one philosophic thought is
ever held before us-that of a N emesis or avenging deity
which causes the exalted to be humbled.
'
556. Polybius, whom Blair pronounces the most successful of all ancient historians in respec t to unity, wrote what
~e calls a Universal I£istory-not, indeed, co mprising all
times, but all nations within a given period ; he maintains
unity by professing to show "how an d by what sort of
policy almost all the co untries of the inh ab ited earth in
'
less than fifty-three years, passed into the power of Rome."
5 5 7. Livy exhibits "the power of Rome arising from
humble beginnings and extending through gradual conquests to universal empire."
Thus Livy begins at the
centre and spreads to the circumferen ce of Roman power,
while Polybius begins at the circumference and unites all
its parts with the centre.
558. Thucydides, on the contrary, in his History of the
Peloponnesian War, has entirely n<:>gl ected this source of
light and beauty. Though his subject possessed the closest
unity, as Di onysius of Halicarnassus observes, his account
o~ it has non e, but it is cut up into various campaigns, into
':mters an.d summers; he leaves one enterprise or expedit10n unfimsh ed, to carry us away to disconnected events in
other parts of Greece. (See Dionys. Halie. Letter to Cn, ius
Pompey.)
559· Among modern historians Archibald Alison is Vl ry
successful in maintaining unity. H e had a difficult task to
perform, as h e had undertake n to write the I£istory of Europe from the Comnze1r&e11tent of the French Revolution in 178)
to the Restoration of tlte Bourbons in 1815, which he afterwards continued to the accession of Louis Napoleon in
1852. His bond of unity is expressed in the following
lines of his preface :
"Its earliest years [i.e. of the French Revolution] suggest at

.

236 Various Specz'es o.f Prose Composz'tzons.
every page reflf':ctions on the evils of political fanaticism, and the
terrible consequences of democ ratic fervor; th e latter on the debasing effec ts of absolute despotism and the sanguinary march of military ambition,"

Alison's is truly a learned work, but it bears a partisan
character. To his 1uind the English constitution is the
ideal of perfection politically, and the Church of England
religiously ; everything else is measured by its approach to
these two standards.
560. The different parts also of a large history must
have their own principles of unity. For instance, one
period of a nation's history may be marked by the steady
growth of popular freedom, anoth er by the constant increase of absolutism in tli.e ruling power.
561. It is evident that the selection of a false principle
or leading idea will cause misconceptions of many events,
as if in the history of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the author should pretend to see the growth of liberty, whereas those centuries rather promoted the principles
of absolutism . When the philosophic ideas which connect
or underlie a history are made so prominent that the facts
are not fu_lly considered, but only in so far as they bear on
the theory or the thesis, the work is then called a philosophical history, or the philosophy of history, of which
species we are yet to treat.
ARTICLE

VII.

DEVELOPMENT

OF THE FACTS.

562. The facts should be so developed as to secure two
results-the artistt'c beauty of the narrative, and proper instruction for the reader.

§

I.

The Artistic Beauty of the Narrative.

563. The artistic beauty of the narrative is attained by

•

I

History.

2 37

the observance of the precepts laid down for narration
(supra, book iv. c. iii.)
. As an example of the application of these precepts to a
history, we shall here add a criticism of Sallust's " Conspiracy of Catiline," confining our remarks to the utistic
beauty of the narrative.
564. It is evident that not all the circumstances of that
intricate plot, all that was said and done in Rome and elsewhere in connection with it, can be or need be narrated
by the historian.
He m'ust "exhibit such parts of the
truth as most nearly produce the effect of the whole."
Let us suppose that we see Sallust at work. How does
~ e go about it? He has formed to himself a clear concept1~n of the events. He knows that the conspiracy did not
anse suddenly and of itself, nor was it entirely the work of
one designing man; but it was the natural outcome of a
combination of causes, which had been some time developing before they produced so vast an effect.
565. He will, then, begin by showing us those causes at
work.' Th~s, ho~ever, he does not attempt to do by a philosophical discuss10n, but .by an exhibition of the facts. For
the sake o~ unity he seizes upon one prominent figure,
around which all the separate facts are made to cluster
as the parts in a group o.f statuary are gathered around on;
c~nt:al figure. This prominent figure is Catiline. After
his mtroduction, therefore, the historian at once makes us
acquainted with that personage, who is to remain prominently before us during the whole !!a.rrative, like the hero
of an epic poem.
~6?. T~is sketch, or Character of Catiline, is certainly a
stnkmg picture, perhaps overdrawn so far as truth is concern~d, but artistically adapted to arouse interest from the
openmg of the story.
567. With this commanding figure before us, we are next

li?ii'

.., .

I

p

-

a

Varz'ous Specz'es of Prose Coniposz'tzons.

Hi'story.

made to review the history of Rome, from its simple begin.
nings to its full development, from the patriarchal virtues
of its early founders to the luxury and depravity of those
latter days. All this account is expressed in terms pregnant with meaning, l.rnt very rapidly, esl?ecially the description of former virtues, which forms the background to the
picture. Soon we see Rome abandoned to the designing
ambition of wicked men, the laws violated with impunity,
and wealth and lust replacing all higher aspirations.
568. As a natural consequence we see the Roman youth
corrupt, leading a life of extravagance and dissipation.
Here we have the materials which are to be kindled into
a vast conflagration.
Now Catiline, whose commanding
figure has struck us fr~nn the beginning, steps forward to
apply the match. His methods of corrupting still further
the Roman nobility, the intended tools of his ambition, and
of next gaining them and binding them to himself, are most
vividly described. With this comes a brief sketch of Catiline's former career, which makes the whole narrative more
probable.
569. With No. XVII. begins the narration of the Conspiracy itself. So far great skill was required to keep unity
in view while tracing the various remote and proximate
cause of the events ; but unity has been well maintained ,
all is clear and interesting. Now the narrative becomes
more exciting; it reads like a novel or a tragedy. We see
the most desperate of the young Roman nobles assembled
at night around Catiliae. We have his speech almost in
his own words-and an artful speech it is, showing the jus•
tice and net:essity of conspiring. For Sallust understood
human nature well : he knew that the most vicious men
will hide their wickedness from their own eyes under the
cloak of justice, or at least of a sad necessity. Then the
plan of action intended by Catiline is more fully <level~

ryped ; there are stirring scenes, as that of the conspirators
iledging themselves to each other in cups of human blood.
570. But now a · new personage, Furius, is introduced,
whose foolish vanity must lead to the discovery of the
criminal plot. All this is as naturally developed as in a
well-conceived novel. Rome takes the alarm . Cicero is
made consul. Here, however, it appears that private rancor
in Sallust against the noble "Father of his country " prevented the historian from adding another great source of
beauty and interest to his narrative. For as every element
of evil had skilfully been gathered around Catiline, so now
Cicero might and should have been made the central figure
of the opposing group. Artistic beauty suggested it; truth
required it ; and the story would have gained from it in
thrilling interest.
571. It will be a useful study to compare with Sallust's
account of Catiline's Conspiracy the narrative of the Gunpowder Plot in Lingard's History o.f Ellgland (vol. vi. c. 1 ),
or, better still, Father Gerard's Narratz"v,~ o.f the Gunpowder Plot, which is more reliable.

§

2.

2 39

Proper Instruction .for the Reader.

572 . That a history may impart proper instruction to the
reader, two rules must be observed :
Rule 1 .-The facts must be narrated without false coloring, so that they may appear to the reader such as they
really are.
Rule 2.-The historian should not be constantly interrupting his narrative to preach a sermon or point a
moral ; such practice would be inartistic, blending the
historical with the didactic style of composition-as great
a fault against good taste as the blending of two styles in
architecture.
573. But should the histod~n :never 11h.ow himself, never

240

Various Species of Prose Compositions.

aid his readers directly to take the right view of the facts,
by saying honestly what he himself thinks of them? This
is the point on which critics and historians differ considerably, so that they may be divided into three distinct
schools.
574. One school may be called the Fatalistic School of
history. It wishes the historian not only to utter no judgment on the facts presented, approving some and condemning others, but not even to form such a judgment in his
own mind. Writers of this school in reality admit no radical or essential difference between right and wrong ; or at
most they consider this distinction as a matter of opinion
only, which therefore the historian may leave to the taste
of the reader. Of this school Thiers and Mignet are the
leaders among the French. Bancroft is one of their i_mitators in this country. As scepticism is spreading, there is
a tendency in many late historians to adopt the same
course.
575. The second may be called the J:escriptive School.
It allows the historian to form his own judgment, but di- ·
rects him never to utter it in so many words, but to describe or represent the facts in such a manner as to inculcate his own conclusions on the reader. This is, at present,
a very popular school, adopted by some very good men and
by many writers of unsound principles.
576. The third may be called the Judicial School, in
which the historian, like a judge, after fully examining the
evidence on both sides, boldly pronounces his judgment,
approving ·and condemning as important occasions may require. This school is that of the ancients; it is best exemplified in Tacitus, the prince of historians, who brands with
ignominy the human monsters that bore the sceptre of the
Roman Empire during so many calamitous years. To the
same school belong, among the moderns, Bossuet in his

History.
Discourse on Universal History, Alz:og and Darras in their
Histories of the Church, Ranke in his History of tlie Popes,
and a multitude of others of the best historians.
577. The Fatalistic .school is utterly unsound in principle and pernicious in practice. Of the two other schools
the Judicial is, we think, preferable for several reasons:
r. It appears to be more honest on the part of the historian to state clearly his views on important events.
2. It is more useful; for the historian, who is supposed
to be a man of maturity and wisdom, is better qualified to
form such a judgment than ordinary readers, and thus can
guide them aright.
3. It is the practice sanctioned by the approbation of
ages.
5 78. 4. The only plausible objection brought against itviz., that the historian may misjudge the facts-vanishes if
we consider that the Descriptive school may mislead its
readers as well, and that in a more pernicious manner.
For in ~he Descriptive school the historian inculcates his
private judgments by the coloring :which he gives to the
facts ; he does not lead the reader to judge for himself,
but he forces his own conclusions on him.
579. 5· The Judicial school adds to the narrative the
warmth of genuine passion, which, as the readers of Tacitus well know, contributes more to interest than any degree of ornament. In fact, without such honest warmth
that defect is felt for which Prescott blames Gibbon when
he says ("Essay on Irving"):
"It is a consequence of this scepticism in Gibbon, as with Voltaire, that his writings are nowhere warmed with a generous moral
sentiment. The most sublime of all spectacles, that of the martyr
who suffers for conscience' sake, . . . is contemplated by the his·
torian with the smile, or rather sneer, of philosophic indifference.
· This is not only bad taste, as he is addressing a Christian audience,

History.
242 Various Species of Prose Composilions.

to become tiresome. But he should be careful never to d escen d too
far; and on occasions when a li gh t or ludicrou s anecdote is proper
to be recorded, it is generally better to throw it into a note than to
hazard becoming to o familiar by introducing it into the body of th<>
work" (Lecture xx xvi.)

but he thus voluntarily relinquishes one of the most powerful en.
gines for the movement of human passion, which is never so easily
excited as by deeds of suffering, self -devoted heroism."

Certainly, the Judicial manner of writing history may be
abused; but every good thing may be abused, and the Descriptive manner is still more liable to this objection.
ARTICLE

VIII.

THE STYLE OF HISTORY.

580. As history is one of the noblest and most dignified
species of composition, all critics mention dignity as the
chief quality of historical style. But dignity does not
mean pomposity ; and such writers as Gibbon, Robertson, and Bancroft become less interesting by their excess of stateliness. Prescott says :
"The historian of the D ecline and Fall too rarely forgets his own
importance in that of his subject. The consequence which he at·
taches to his personal labors is shown in a bloated dignity of ex •
pression and an ostentation of ornament that con trast whimsical\}
enough with the trifling topics and commonplace thoughts on which,
in the course of his long work, they are occasionally employed. He
nowhere moves along with the easy freedom of nature, but seems to
leap, as it were, from triad to triad by a succession of strained, convulsive efforts" (Miscell., "Irving").

In what, then, consists the dignity of style which history

requires?

581. Dignity consists, (a) in a proper gravity, which Blair
explains thus :
"Gravity must always be maintained in the narration.
There
must be no meanness nor vulgarity in the styl e ; no quaint nor colloquial phrases; no affectation of pertness or wit. The smart or the
sneering manner of telling a story is inconsiste nt with the historical
character. I do not say that the historian is never to let himself
down. He may sometimes do it with propriety, in order to diversify the s•rain of his narration, which, if it be perfectly uniform, is apt

243

c

582. It consists, (b) in the use of such ornaments of style
as will set off the thoughts to the best ad vantage, without,
however, diverting the attention of the reader from the
thoughts to the figures, from the march of the events to the
harmonious flow of the sentences. History admits of a rich
style, as rich as any other species of prose composition;
but no writing admits of bombast-i.e., of more sound than
sense, such as we find in the following lines of Bancroft
· (Hist. of U. S., vol. i. p. 209) :
"It is one of th e surprising results of moral power that langu age,
composed of fl ee ting sounds, reta in s and transmits the remembranr.e
of past oc;currences long after every monument has passed away.
· Of the labors of the Indians on the soil of Virginia there remains
nothing so respectable as would be a common ditch for the draining
of lands; the memorials of their former existence are found only in
the names of their rivers and th eir mountains. Unchanging nature
retains the appellations which were given by those whose villages
have disappeared and whose tribes have become extinct."

The middle sentence would have been all-sufficient.
583. Exactness is a second quality of style in history. It
consists in expressing just what the historian means, and
not merely something like it. For instance, one of the
sources of vagueness in the first sentence of the passage
just quoted is the use of the word moral in a meaning
which the word does not properly bear ; for 'moral' regards law, or the distinction of right and wrong, which is
not in question here.
584. Exactness should affect even the smallest words and
the apparently insignificant portions of a sentence ; an illchosen or ill-placed adjective or adverb is often enough tc

I

'-

History.

244 Various Species of Prose Conipos£tions.
give a wrong notion to the reader which will accompany
him through life. But this quality is particularly required
with regard to the names of men and places, the dates of
events, and similar minuti~, which perhaps make no great
show in the work, but which must be distinctly and carefully noted if the events are to be rightly understood. It
has often happened that an inexactness in. such details has
involved historical events in considerable confusion.
585. Calmness is a third quality which should belong to
historical style.
For the historian is like a judge who
has examined a cause thoroughly, and who gives us the wise
conclusions at which his mind has coolly and deliberately arrived. Strong passion is inimical to correctness of
thought and expression. - Macaulay, for example, is evidently too passionate on many occasions ; and the sensational style of Carly le would strip history of that calm dignity which so becomes its character. Still, we have seen
that a certain glow of feeling is highly proper in the language of an honest historian, and we have quoted Prescott
as censuring Gibbon and Voltaire for their apathy at the
sight of heroic virtue (No. 579).
ARTICLE

IX.

VARIOUS SPECIES OF HISTORICAL WRITING.

586. The following are the principal species of histori. cal writing: history proper ; annals, memoirs, and travels ;
philosophical histories ; and biographies.

§

1.

History proper.

587. History proper, called by Polybius and by German
critics 'Pragmatical,' embraces general, particular, and special histories.
588. A general history treats of several nations, as Alison's History of Modern Europe. If it embraces all nations
and times it is properly called universal General histo·

245

nes should (a) suppress minor details, so that the important events, names, and dates stand out prominently;·' (b)
observe due proportion among the parts-for instance, in a
general history of the Church one country should not engross most of the attention of the writer.
589. A particular history treats of one nation, one province, one event, as Lingard's I:fistory of England, Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, etc. It enters more into detail,
offers more picturesque passages, more dramatic scenes.
590. A special history relates events in as far only a!'.
they bear on one science, one art, one special consideration ; such is Bossuet's History of the Variations of Protes'
tantism, any history of painting, commerce, literature, etc.
'fhe advantage of special histories is that they throw a concentrated light on one particular branch of study.

§

2.

Annals, Memoirs, and Travels.

591. Annals or Chronicles are not so much histories as a
supply of materials for future histories. Being mere records of events penned down from day to day, they require
no plan nor deep thought, but fidelity and distinctness
throughout, and completeness with regard to au · matters
of importance. They need not be elegantly worded; still,
as Prescott observes, we find that some chronicles of the
middle ages, in spite of their ill-formed ar: d obsolete idiom,
. are read with more delight than many moJern histories of
high pretensions, because their narrative . is more spirited
(Miscell., p. 107 ).
·
We may mention here the Acta Sanctorum of the Bollandists, S.J., a learned collection of biographies and of
record5 from which the lives of the saints are usually written. Baronius' Annales Ecclesiastici contain the history of
the Church from the first to the sixteehth century. Both

History.

244 Various Species of Prose Compositions.
give a wrong notion to the reader which will ac1Lompany
him through life. But this quality is particularly required
with regard to the names of men and places, the dates of
events, and similar minuti ~ , which perhaps make no great
show in the work, but which must be distinctly and carefully noted if the events are to be rightly understood. It
has of ten happened that an inexactness in. such details has
involved historical events in considerable confusion.
585. Calmness is a third quality which should belong to
historical style.
For the historian is like a judge who
has examined a cause thoroughly, and who gives us the wise
conclusions at which his mind has coolly and deliberately arrived. Strong pa's sion is inimical to correctness of
thought and expression. · Macaulay, for example, is evidently too passionate on many occasions; and the sensational style of Carlyle would strip history of that calm dignity which so becomes its character. Still, we have seen
that a certain glow of feeling is highly proper in the language of an honest historian, and we have quoted Prescott
as censuring Gibbon and Voltaire for their apathy at the
sight of heroic virtue (No. 579).
ARTICLE

IX.

VARIOUS SPECIES OF HISTORICAL WRITING.

586. The following are the principal species of histori. cal writing: history proper ; annals, memoirs, and travels ;
philosophical histories ; and biographies.

§ 1. History proper.
587. History proper, called by Polybius and by German
critics 'Pragmatical,' embraces general, particular, and special histories.
588. A general history treats of several nations, as Alison's History of Modern Europe. If it embraces all nations
and times it is properly called universal General histo·

245

nes should (a) suppress minor details, so that the important events, names, and dates stand out prominently;" (b)
observe due proportion among the parts-for instance, in a
general history of the Church one country should not engross most of the attention of the writer.
589. A particular history treats of one nation, one province, one event, as Lingard's History of England, Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, etc. It enters more into detail
.
'
offers more picturesque passages, more dramatic scenes.
590. A special history relates events in as far only as
they pear on one science, one art, one special consideration ; such is Bossuet's History of the Variations of Protes~
tantism, any history of painting, commerce, literature, etc.
'rhe advantage of special histories is that they throw a concentrated light on one particular branch of study.

§

2.

Annals, Memoirs, and Travels.

591. Annals or Chronicles are not so much histories as a
supply of materials for future histories. Being mere records of events penned down from day to day, they require
no plan nor deep thought, but fidelity and distinttness
throughout, and completeness with regard to . all matters
of importance. They need not be elegantly worded· still
.
'
'
as Prescott observes, we find that some chronicles of the
middle ages, in spite of their ill-formed ar: d obsolete idiom,
. are read with more delight than many rnoJern histories of
. high pretensions, because their narrative is more spirited
(Miscell., p. 107 ).
· ·
We may mention here the Acta Sanctorum of the Bollandists, S.J ., a learned collection of biographies and of
records from which the lives of the saints are usually written. Baronius' Annales Ecclesiastici contain the history of
the Church from the first to the sixteenth century. Both

246

Various Species of Prose Comjosz'tz"ons.

these most valuable works rise far above the dignity of ordinary annals.
592. Memoirs relate such facts as have fallen under the
personal observation of the writer. They descend from the
stateliness of the historic style; they should be sprightly
and interesting, give useful inforrnation with regard to facts
and characteristic traits of persons. Cardinal Wiseman's
Recollections o.f the Four Last Popes, General Sherman's
Memoirs, are examples in point. Cresar's Commentaries of
.the Gallic and the Civil Wars are the most perfect memoirs
in existence.
593. Travels may be ~anked with memoirs as furnishing
the materials for future histories. Such are the graphic
narratives of the great American missionary Father De
Smet, Livingstone's African and Kane's Arctic Explorations, Vetromile's Travels in the Holy Land, etc.

§ 3. P ltilosophicaJ Histories.
594. Philosophical histories are those in which the principles derived from the facts are made more prominent
than the facts themselves. When the work is so taken up
with theories that it resembles an essay rather than a narrative, it is called a philosophy of history.
595. Philosophical histories are of comparatively recent
ongm. The first in time, and so far the grandest in co.n ception, is Bossuet's Discourse on Universal History, the
English version of which is unfortunately garbled, omitting
whatever is distinctively Catholic. The work enables us
to realize the definition which Bum;en gives of history, as
"that most sacred epic or dramatic poem, of which God
is the' author, humanity the hero, and the historian the
philosophical interpreter." Bossuet's idea is to unveil the
workings of Providence in the government of mankind.
596. Voltaire, in his Essai sur les Maurs and in his His·

History.

247

tory o.f Louis XIV., exhibits his anti-Christian theories
which made Prescott say : " He resembled the allegoricai
agents of Milton, paving the way across the gulf of Chaos
for the spirits of mischief to enter more easily upon the
earth" (Miscell., p. 99 ).
597. Montesquieu, in his Grandeur et Decadence des Romains, used the facts of history simply as the arguments of
a thesis, or, as Prescott calls it, "the ingredients from which
the spirit was to be extracted. But this was not always the
spirit of truth" (Ib. p. 100 ).
598. B~ckle's Hisi'ory o.f Civilization is but a fragment of
what was mtended to be a voluminous work. It is brilliant
in style but weak in logic; its spirit is infidel.
599· Guizot wrote his History o.f Civilization in a Christ~an spirit. It .is full of novel views, of sagacious inductions, of pathetic eloquence, but also of capital errors. It
pays some glowing tributes to the _Catholic Church; but the
author, being an alien, often fails to understand this divine
· institution, and grossly misconceives its legislation.
600. The most valuable Philosophy of History is Balmes'
noble work, Protestantism and Catholidty co1npared in their
Effects on the Civilization o.f Europe. It analyzes the histor! of modern. times, <ind discusses all the vital questions
which have agitated the civilized world in the last three
centuries: .rt combines varied information, lofty views1
sound principles, close reasoning, all expressed in a noble
style, whose eloquence is preserved in the English translation.

§ 4· Biography.
6or. Biography is the history of the life and chararter
of a particular person. Such writings present two advantages:
T.

ThPv t.hrnw Hoo ht nnnn "'""""-" 1

l.!-L--- _

r

,

----

~-

-

-

.

~

248 Various Spec£es of Prose Compos£tions.
common saying that the history of the world is to a great
extent the record of the great men of the world. Such
men exert a powerful influence upon all around them, and
usually contribute greatly to shape the events of the age
in which "they live, and even of future ages. Their influence, however, has b een exaggerated by some writers, particularly by Carlyle in his lectures on Heroes. The great
events of th e world's history have generally deeper and
wider causes than th e character of one or two individuals.
Still, it is true that Almighty God raises up great geniuses
at proper times to accomplish His designs of mercy or justice on the nations.. Thus He raised Cyrus for the establishment and Alexander for the overthrow, of the Per'
sian empire, and both these conquerors for the protection of His chosen people (Josephus, Antiq., xi. c. 8 ; Daniel viii.)
602. 2. Biographies aiP, the reader to understand human nature more thoroughly when he studies it in the
passions, the virtues, and the foibles of remarkable characters. He will there find that man, as such, is in many respects a feeble and very defective being, elevated, however,
at times by the principles which he imbibes, and by the natural or supernatural strength of will and intellect with
which he carries these principles into effect.
603. Knowing now the two advantages to be aimed at,
we shall readily discover the rules which the biographer

must follow.
Rule r.-Only very remukable men and women should
be made the subjects of biographies-such persons as have
widely influenced public events, or such as afford the read·
er special opportunities for studying the workings of human
nature or the operations of divine grace.
Rule 2.-The writer should clearly trace the influence
which the subject of his biography exercised over uerson:S

History.

249

or events, avoiding the common mistake of introducing irrel~vant facts with which he had but little to do.

Rule 3.-He must exhibit the true character of his hero:
the motives of his conduct, the grasp of his intellect, the
principles which he has adopted, the promptings of his
passions, the power or the weakness of his will, the causes
that have contributed to the development of his virtues or
his vices. We may refer to Father Morris' Lzfe of St.
Thomas Becket as a model in this respect. Characters are
often better represented by mentioning sayings, in cidents,
etc., than by the description .:if battles and other public
exploits. Boswell's Life of J'o lznson is replete with familiar
traits.
1

Rule 4.-The facts narrated, even the familiar traits
and incidents, must be dravvn from authentic sources or
from personal knowledge. Of late the practice has gained
ground of quoting liberally in biographies from the letters
and other writings of the persons concerned ; and the results of this innovation are very gratifying. Thus Father
Coleridge gives us the Life and Letters of St. Francis
Xavier, Father Bowden those of F. W. Faber. Bouhours
had . already written in French an excellent biography of
St. Xavier, which the poet Dryden thought it worth his
while to translate into English. It seemed difficult to surpass this masterpiece, but extensive quotations from the
Saint's own letters have enabled Coleridge to overcome the
difficulty.

604. A danger to be guarded against in biographies is
an excess of admiration or hatred for the character described.
Ca rlyle idolizes his hero Oliver Cromwell ·
Abbott extols Napoleon I., while Scott undervalues the'
11
qualities of this great genius. No human work is perfect.
605. Still, literature is rich in successful biographies; the

250

Various Species. of Prose Compos£tzons.

History.

Latin Lives of Cornelius N epos and the Greek Lives of
Plutarch are deservedl y admired. The latter gains much
interest for his biographies by presenting them in pairs,
comparing a Grecian with a Roman character ; but fidelity
to truth is often wanting. Xenophon's Cyropa:dia is highly
praised for its literary qualities, but not for the truth of its
narrative. Tacitus' Lzfe of Agricola is a work unsurpassed in merit.
606. Of French biographies we may mention with special
praise Audin's Lives of Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII., and
Leo X.; Baunard's Life of Madame Barat, the foundress
of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, and his .Life of Madame
Duchesne. (See also American Catholic · Quarterly Review,
187 8, p. 3 2 1, on Pope Alexander VI.)
607. In English model biographies are numerous; in
particular, Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England and of Scotland, Johnson's Lives of the Poets, Alban
Butler's Lives of tlze Saints, Sparks' American Biographies, Clarke's Deceased Bishops of the Catholic Clzurclz
in the United States, Kathleen O'Meara's Life of Ozanam,
Thompson's Lives of St. Aloysius and St. Stanislaus. The
Life of Washington, by Washington Irving, is probably the
most elaborate and most successful biography written in
the English language.
608. There are many modern works of considerable historical and literary value which comprise not merely the
life, but the life and times together, of some distinguished
personage. In such books the hero must never be lost
sight of; for unity requires that only those events be introduced which have some real connection with the leading
character.- All must be made to cluster around him, without, however, attributing to him more influence than he
really exercised. Among the most valuable works of this
kind are Hurter's Life of Innocent III., Voigt's Life of ·

Grea·o;y VII. H"b
'
·
v ·
M ont I '~ b ' .,. u ner s Szxtus V ., Hefele' s Li.imenes,
a em ert s Lzfe anti Times of St. Elizabeth o.r r.ru
6
I
1 .
'J .u • 11gary.
. o.9. n c~nc us1on we may remark that while in man
:p~c1es ~f literature the highest point of perfection appear~
Io 1~e een reached, and a decline to have set in history
t~as een remarka~ly improved within this centt:ry, and
.ere .seems to be:. Ill the minds of many, an earnest deter
mmat10n to establish on earth the reign of historic truth.

..

.,

